In the Ronsburg Base, Gawain t the batch of Anzu Kingdom’s military soldiers saved by Soldrin.
Leading these soldiers was a dium-built northern man with short brown hair and a high nose. He had changed out of his original tattered armor and into comfortable clothes provided by the base. Although there was still a hint of fatigue on his face, his ntal state had evidently improved a lot.
When Gawain entered the slightly simple barracks, the knight who narrowly escaped death imdiately stood up. With a few soldiers beside him, who looked slightly bewildered, he bowed in a slightly nervous and frantic manner: "My lord, I am Balna Mitchell from the royal capital. My soldiers and I are very grateful for your generous protection..."
"Please be seated, Mr. Mitchell, I have so questions I’d like to ask you," Gawain motioned for the knight in front of him to sit down, then casually sat on the chair beside him, "First, let introduce myself—you should have guessed, I am Gawain Cecil."
This was the legendary knight, who just a few years ago appeared only in legendary stories and historians’ books, and who now has returned from the land of the dead, reclaiming the rule as the southern borders’ leader.
The aristocrats of the capital have diverse descriptions and speculations about this southern border ruler. Most choose to keep their distance, so see him as a threat, and a very few carry malicious conspiracy theories. Yet, almost everyone agrees on one point: this legendary pioneer is out of place in this era—he carries the pride of the Gondor people, the ruggedness of a pioneer, the barbarism of the original nobility, and the irrationality of The Resurrected. This is all the impression Balna Mitchell had established about Gawain Cecil in his social circle in the royal capital.
Mitchell briefly scrutinized the legendary duke before him with the most respectful look, lowering his gaze when it was about to cross the line, adopting a posture of awaiting instructions.
The pioneer hero before him wasn’t dressed in anachronistic peculiar clothing, nor did he emanate an unsettling aura. He was as the most orthodox historical records described: tall, dignified, clad in armor, as if eternally on the battlefield, with sharp but not cold eyes.
"Are you getting used to living here?"
This first question slightly surprised Mitchell. He paused for a brief mont, then quickly answered, "Yes, thank you for providing such a comfortable environnt..."
With clean hot water, tidy rooms, clothes, food, and precious dicine—and most importantly, safety—a person who has narrowly escaped from a desperate situation could not possibly express any dissatisfaction with such an environnt.
"Very well," Gawain nodded slightly, "I want to understand the specifics of the ’Crystal Cluster Infection’ and the final breakout route of the northern legions..."
...
A temporary camp set outside Pompeii City.
Barbed wires and multi-barrel turrets intertwined, fully ard soldiers vigilantly guarded from sentry posts. Within and beyond the camp, discreet and overt magic monitoring and warning devices buzzed. Despite the small size of the camp, its astounding level of protection made it seem like an ard-to-the-teeth fortress.
Such stringent security asures have a singular reason: this is the location for researching divine evils Pollution.
Deep within the camp, in a spacious and bright laboratory, Kal floated several centiters above the ground. Before him, on a platform, a cage made of barrier generators and solid steel bars was securely embedded in the reinforced concrete base; inside the cage was the mission core of this laboratory—
An already utterly mutated Crystal Cluster Giant, which had lost all human cognition.
The towering three-ter humanoid stood quietly behind the sturdy barrier composed of energy shields and tangible grates, not at all volatile like the "monsters" in common perceptions. In fact, quite the opposite: its eyes were calm and rational, even transcendent, as it focused intently on the great mage outside the barrier, without speaking a word.
"I heard from Pittman that you refuse to communicate with ’the frail humans of the old era,’" Kal floated a bit closer, buzzing as he spoke, "so I have co—I am curious if, within your perception, my form is considered outdated."
The Crystal Cluster Giant offered no response.
"It appears you still refuse to communicate—do you anticipate rescue? Here, far from the front lines, you are far from your monstrous kin..." Kal continued, "I know you possess rationality, you can still think, though equipped with an entirely new worldview. Perhaps, to you, the Crystal Cluster Infection is the normal life form, while uninfected humans are a sort of mutation... But what I am curious about is, after undergoing this transformation, do you still rember your human thoughts, rember your human emotions..."
After another round of silence, the giant finally spoke, its voice carrying a certain low tremor: "When the new era arrives, you will realize the flaws of purely flesh and blood—extinction will co naturally, and we are helping... you."
The giant seed slightly hesitant at the last word, uncertain if the floating luminous spiritual body in front of it should be included in "you."
Regardless of perspective, Kal appeared to have no human organs left for mutation...
Kal was indifferent to the alarming aspects of the opponent’s words; he only used two shining arcane lights to watch the mutant before him, his voice low: "Your so-called new era—is the chaotic wave, correct?"
The Crystal Cluster Giant remained silent.
"To my knowledge, individuals like you with special powers and complete intelligence belong to the ’commanders’ among the Crystal Cluster Giants, and your residual druidic dark spells indicate that you originally should have been a priest of the Church of Oblivion—or a martyr."
"..."
"Which echelon did you belong to in the Oblivion Association? Archbishop? Or the lower withered priest? Or the Shepherd of the Forest?"
"..."
"Where did you obtain the data on the chaotic wave?" "What makes you certain this form transformation will allow surviving the chaotic wave?" "Have you heard of ’divine evils’?" "Do you understand its aning?" "Where did you get this transformation technology?"
Kal’s questions ca one after another, yet the Crystal Cluster Giant remained silent throughout. Finally, in a silence more unbearable than before, Kal suddenly said, "You know, the Gondor Empire trod this path years ago—I was part of that plan. I saw firsthand its failure, and your self-proclaid evolutionary form is just our earliest discarded failed sche..."
He originally thought such words would sohow affect the prisoner before him, but the Crystal Cluster Giant rely looked over calmly, and after a mont, it finally said:
"I heard that a fortress from the ti of the Gondor Empire has been excavated in the southern borders...
"Your existence does not surprise at all.
"But you got one thing wrong, ancient Master Mage, your failure was not due to technical factors or because the route was flawed.
"Your failure was because your defiance was not thorough enough..."
After saying this, the Crystal Cluster Giant stepped back two steps, returned to the middle of the cage, and sat down, refusing to engage in any further conversation.
Kal found his efforts fruitless and eventually left the laboratory in dismay.
Outside the laboratory, Pittman, clad in a gray robe, along with several researchers, had been waiting for a long ti.
"It spoke a few words to , but it revealed almost no useful information," Kal sighed and said to Pittman. "Just as you predicted earlier, most of these ’command-level’ Crystal Cluster Giants are transford from loyal martyrs of the Oblivion Association, who maintain control over the Crystal Cluster Legion through this thod, and the mouths of such fanatics are almost impossible to pry open."
"As the Crystal Cluster Legion expands, they will eventually select new commanders from the Transcendents willing to undergo transformation, and those commanders’ mouths should be easier to open. We need not rush," Pittman said, then seed to notice sothing unusual about Kal’s deanor. "What else did it say to you? You don’t look so well..."
Kal was astonished: "You can tell from my expression?"
"Not from expression, but the color is pretty obvious; you’re quite green now..."
"...It’s nothing major, just that the last thing it said made a bit concerned," Kal shook his head. "It turns out the Oblivion Association did indeed acquire part of the legacy of the so-called ’Rebellion’ plan from back then. In continuing to advance this plan, they created divine evils, but that Crystal Cluster Giant said they did sothing even more ’defiant’... I don’t understand what this ans."
"More ’defiant’ than that?" Pittman raised an eyebrow, although he too was once part of the Oblivion Association, it was clear he knew nothing of the Oblivion Association’s divine evils plan. "Back in the day, you guys dug up the grave of the God of Nature, stripped its flesh, and refined its Divine Blood and Flesh into dicine for everyone in the nation. What could be more defiant than that? Even if they created a fake god, I don’t see how that could be more defiant than you guys..."
"So I can’t understand it," Kal buzzed, then shook his head, "What about your side? How did your experint go?"
"After isolating Crystal Cluster Infectors transford from ordinary people and ’commanders,’ all test subjects exhibited significant signs of weakening and activity stoppage, and their only remaining ntal capacity is rapidly fading, indicating that the ntal activity of lower-tier Crystal Cluster Infectors must rely on ’commanders’ to sustain..." Pittman spread his hands and sighed. "In short, they’re beyond saving—from the body to the mind, the mutation is irreversible. However, individuals who haven’t mutated, rely carrying the infection, might still be saved. The latest batch of infectors sent over is currently stable, and conventional thods for treating plagues and curses seem effective on them. I’m working on finding the most efficient purification thod, as well as identifying the key triggers that lead them from ’carriers’ to ’mutants’."
...
In Cecil Castle, a spring rain has cleaned the densely-packed rooftops and the crisscrossing streets; even as the daylight fades, the city remains as bustling as it is in the dayti.
A graceful snake tail climbs up the tallest magic web broadcast tower in the city, winding around the amplifying antenna at its top. Tiel’s body clings to the steel-crafted magic chanism, leaning out to survey the distant urban area, glancing over the lit factories operating day and night.
War is spreading in the distant north; although the land of the Cecil Principality remains safe, the war’s impact will still seep into every aspect of people’s lives. People began discussing the war in taverns and cafes, while newspapers increasingly feature northern news and opinion pieces, and the factories have entered a so-called "warti state," operating with unprecedented efficiency.
Countless war machines line up to leave the workshops, with gears and bearings not cooled yet, roaring as they head to the front lines; fresh graduates from the academies, full of vigor, march to their respective posts and life paths. Despite not facing the war directly, the internal comrce of the principality has not only remained unaffected but has beco more prosperous than ever. This city, driven by the power of magical industry, is so vibrant and likable that even the leisurely Tiel can’t help but be moved to thoughts of nostalgia for her sea demon holand—
Tiel does not know what the ho planet of the sea demons looks like. She was a new generation born after the Antawen Vessel crash-landed on this world. The sea demons Empire has declined since the ’Great Crash,’ no longer as glorious as it once was. However, on the teaching machines, in the fragnted data stored on mory chips, when ancient sea demons recount their distant and vague mories, Tiel has heard more than once descriptions of their ho—
A world teeming with life, the ocean covering the entire planet. In the deep and gentle seawater, the sea demons’ world prospered, machines operating day and night, AI-controlled cities shone brightly on the seabed, underwater trains raced through trenches and along ridges, aircraft rushed from the deep-sea to surface altitude, satellite clusters and orbital facilities encircled the planet, overlooking the beautiful aquatic world...
Perhaps the sea demons can never return.
But Tiel’s gaze sweeps over Cecil—these land-dwelling beings, they have their holand, and they are passionately building this place.
Maybe soday, they’ll make this place as beautiful as that ’beautiful aquatic world.’
The wandering sea demon gently drew a breath, opened her mouth, and began to sing softly.
A formless power was infused into the ethereal song, vibrating the surrounding magic power, shaking the broadcast tower’s amplifying antenna, and resonating through Cecil’s magic web—then through countless relay towers between Cecil-Black Forest-great walls, vibrating the sentinel towers, vibrating the great walls.
The song rode the space ripples, crossing endless storms and oceans.
In the eastern Endless Sea, the sea demons city "Antawen," now bathed in starlight, a night watch Listener was surprised as a strange frequency suddenly popped up on the communicator.
Monts later, a Deep Sea Handmaiden swayed her tail, swimming into Queen Petia’s sleeping chamber—
"Your Majesty! The missing Tide Master has been found; she navigated the wrong way during the return journey and is now on the western continent!
"She has found human allies there!
"She asks if you’d like so cookies?"
User Comments
0 comments from readers