Chapter 607
At that moment, a quest completion window popped up in front of Ian. The quest that he had received upon failing the previous summoning was finally complete. Fighting back a wave of nausea, he barely closed the window before doubling over again.
"Please understand why I have brought you here. It was an unavoidable choice. Had I descended to the mortal realm myself, the heavens would have noticed at once," Archeas explained gently, approaching and settling beside him.
Ian then felt a hand patting his back. It seemed even a dragon could do little to help with these aftereffects.
The sympathetic voice continued, "The punishment would’ve been immediate. It wouldn’t be strange if even Tir En or Karha’s avatars descended."
So not just a punishment, but a divine retribution.
Ian heaved and coughed. He had, of course, expected the gods’ anger, but it seemed the sentence handed down was far more severe than he had imagined. Then again, the Platinum Dragon had always been a thorn in the gods’ side.
"Of course, I would be able to evade it somehow. With the help of you and your friends, I might even be able to win, once," Archeas said softly, its hand continuing to rub Ian’s back. "But either way, the surroundings would be laid to waste, and lives would be lost. I could not allow such a situation to occur, could I?"
"Absolutely... not..." Ian replied between shallow breaths. The retching had subsided, though the coughing hadn’t.
Archeas’s hand gently across his back. "I knew you were not in the middle of a battle, but it seems you were resting comfortably. I was worried the Great Church or the Empire might be chasing you. I’m relieved that’s not the case."
"How did you... know I wasn’t fighting?" Ian asked, suppressing another cough. Though he felt drained, the dizziness was at last beginning to fade.
"My spell circuits are engraved upon you, are they not? And you have kindly kept the talisman on yourself. Through that resonance, I can sense fragments of your state."
Nodding at Archeas’s answer, Ian spat a thick glob of saliva onto the floor. His mouth and nose felt foul, a result of having thrown up all the wine. A puddle of vomit stained the smooth, marble-like stone floor.