The lights and magic symbols on the various magic-guide devices flickered continuously, and a low hum emanated from the magic web at the laboratory’s base. A stream of light flashed across the surface of a recording device not far away, and Kal approached the young researcher, Cohen Bell.
"The auxiliary equipnt is ready, Cohen," the Great Arcanist buzzed, "prepare to conduct the third connection experint."
The young technician on the chair nodded: "I’m ready."
As he spoke, he looked up, winking at Pea, who had curiously co over to watch: "Keep a good eye on this; it’s the real use of the Neural Thorn."
After spending so ti together, nearly everyone in this laboratory had beco familiar with Pea.
Pea blinked as she saw two more assistants approach. One opened a device next to Cohen’s chair; it appeared to be so kind of terminal for connecting other magic-guide devices, shaped like a cylinder with magic symbols flickering on top. anwhile, the other assistant ca behind Cohen, pulled out the Neural Thorn from the back of his neck, and from that cylindrical device, drew out a cable resembling an artificial nerve cord, bringing it close to the end of the Neural Thorn.
"Consciousness Extension Project, third connection test, all units, please record the data."
Kal reminded the team mbers nearby, then nodded at the laboratory assistant standing beside Cohen. The assistant then connected the Neural Thorn and the artificial nerve cord extending from the cylinder — the connector at the end of the Neural Thorn seed to co alive instantly, imdiately intertwining with the corresponding structure on the nerve cord to form a whole.
In the next second, Pea saw the young researcher’s body tense up instantly, and a whistling sound echoed almost simultaneously from many magic-guide devices in the laboratory. Unknown instrunts humd, nearby recording devices spit out long punch tapes in an instant, and the lighting in the laboratory seed to be affected, beginning to flicker.
Kal and Pittman watched Cohen, the test subject, intently, observing as he forcibly regained composure after an initial spasm and slowly recovered his ability to communicate. Pittman stepped forward first: "Cohen, can you hear ?"
"Many voices... overlapping..." Cohen barely managed to open his eyes, looking at Pittman standing before him, "Perception... chaotic... but it seems... no, I can’t control it anymore..."
Accompanied by a final shriek from all the devices, the light at the top of the tal cylinder standing next to the chair instantly dimd, and the connectors between the artificial nerve cord and the Neural Thorn also automatically disconnected. The laboratory’s lighting suddenly dimd, then gradually returned to normal — while Cohen Bell, seated on the chair, was already covered in sweat.
"Don’t move yet," Pittman pressed down on Cohen’s shoulder, "Let’s check the situation first."
After a temporary physical examination, Pittman and Kal confird that the test subject had not been hard. Then Pittman shook his head and sighed: "Still not successful..."
"But it lasted an additional one point two five seconds compared to last ti," Kal buzzed, "This extra one point two five seconds is enough for us to record more data."
"True... These data should be sowhat useful," Pittman smacked his lips, looking at the slightly defeated Cohen Bell, "Was there any difference between this connection and the previous ones? What did you see at the end of the interruption?"
"There was basically no change; after the connection, I could instantly feel my perception greatly expanded, but it was mixed with countless indistinguishable... impurities. The information from the auxiliary equipnt did not completely transform into harmless control signals but beca sothing I couldn’t understand..." Cohen furrowed his brows, seeming montarily at a loss on how to describe his feelings, finally saying a word he deed barely fitting, "So kind of ’perception’ I can’t understand."
"As we speculated in the last eting, human perception boundaries fall into chaos when directly encountering ’strange cognition.’ Our brain can’t comprehend how a Magic Web Terminal ’thinks’... This is not purely a brain-machine translation issue," Kal shook his head, "The connection depth between the Neural Thorn and the brain is greater than that of traditional artificial nerve cords, so much so that the barrier between brain and machine becos increasingly blurred. This ’blur’ is currently the biggest hurdle."
"So, it’s still a bit early to have the human brain directly control machines?" Pittman rubbed his sparse beard on his chin, "But fortunately, the experint to control the magic-guide terminal directly using the Neural Thorn was relatively smooth... At least this hassle over the period wasn’t for nothing."
However, Pea didn’t understand the deep technical concepts Kal and Pittman were discussing. She rely lay on the isolation railing beside the experintal area, craning her neck to look at Cohen Bell, who was wiping his sweat, eyes wide open: "Uncle Cohen, is this the thing you told to watch? You seem sowhat embarrassed, huh..."
Cohen Bell was instantly more disheartened, subconsciously pressing his hand against his forehead, while one of the researchers beside him couldn’t help but tease: "I told you not to boast rashly— getting teased by a little girl."
Pea glared at the researcher who spoke, her eyes full of discontent — almost an adult now, she was at an age where she was sensitive to others treating her like a child, so she imdiately began to murmur: "Who says I’m a little girl? I’m going to be an adult in two years! And what do you an teasing, I was just speaking the truth, Uncle Cohen didn’t mind it himself, right Uncle Cohen? By the way, Uncle Cohen, your face is still a bit pale, is it uncomfortable from sweating too much? Do you need..."
Pea started chattering away unceasingly, her breathless way of speaking left no room for the person being addressed to interject, making Kal and Pittman, standing to the side, unable to help but step back a little. Pittman even muttered under his breath: "Why didn’t we think to install a switch for her then..."
Kal flashed twice, buzzing: "...Oversight."
...
"A daughter? Do you already have a daughter?" The red-haired Dragonborn widened her eyes in surprise, looking at her forr leader after being apart for twenty years, but quickly she realized, "Ah, right, it’s been twenty years. As a human, that’s a long ti; you should have a family... But now that I think about it, do you only just have a child? She just learned to speak?"
"Ah, my situation is sowhat... complicated," Byron quickly realized the ambiguity in his words, hastily waved his hand, and when he wanted to explain, he realized the special bond he had with Pea, and he couldn’t help but show a sentintal smile on his face, "She’s an adopted child; she’s already fifteen this year. As for just learning to speak... that’s because she was mute for many years."
"Mute?" Asharena was even more surprised, and couldn’t help but show more curiosity in her tone, "Is... it cured?"
Byron looked at Asharena and suddenly showed a hint of pride: "It’s a miracle brought about by Magic Guide Technology."
"Magic Guide Technology..." Asharena lightly frowned and repeated the phrase softly, with a trace of contemplation, "This term has recently spread to the Sacred Dragon Kingdom. It’s said to be the foundation of the sudden rise of the Cecil Empire. A significant part of our reason for traveling south this ti is to see this brand-new thing with our own eyes."
"The new things on this land are far more than just Magic Guide Technology," Byron smiled proudly, "You’ve been away for twenty years and missed all the earth-shattering changes. Now you’re returning to the southern borders. Trust , everything there will leave you astounded."
With that, he raised his wine glass. In the crystal-clear glass container, the deep red wine reflected the light: "Welco to Cecil."
Asharena also raised her glass, and the crisp clink echoed in the air. After taking a sip of fine wine, the red-haired Dragonborn couldn’t help but shake her head with a laugh: "I do miss those days in the cheap bars when everyone drank poor-quality beer with oak cups—mixed water making it taste awful, but the cups clink joyously."
Byron smiled, then glanced secretly at Victoria, who was not far away, talking to Sir Golosh. He stealthily leaned closer to Asharena and said softly, "If you’re interested, when you return to Bitter Winter Castle, I’ll treat you to sothing even stronger—do you know our Cecil Frost Resistance Potion? Fifty-two degrees, sauce aroma type, drinking it by the barrel, it’s thrilling..."
"Looking forward to it," Asharena leaned in as well, speaking softly with a smile, "But for now, tell about your experiences over the years. What’s your foster daughter’s na? What kind of child is she?"
Byron couldn’t help but laugh pleasantly: "Her na is Pea, she’s a good child..."
...
In the eastern continent, night had already shrouded Aldernon.
A court noble walks briskly through the deep and secluded corridors of the Obsidian Palace in a dark coat. The light from the magic crystal lamps illuminates his face, which is slightly beaded with sweat. The crisp sound of his leather boots echoes against the pillars and doors, eventually reaching the entrance to Emperor Rosetta Augustus’s chambers.
A guard in light black armor, holding a battle blade, stepped forward and blocked the noble: "Lord Bomai, His Majesty is preparing to rest, and you do not have the authority to enter the inner chamber at this ti."
The noble known as Lord Bomai looked at the guard in front of him. His face was unusually pale, apparently tense. More beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and such abnormal behavior made the fully armored guard more vigilant.
"I... I have sothing important to report to His Majesty," Lord Bomai said, opening his arms with an almost pleading attitude, "It’s very important. If delayed, it might be too late!"
The court guard looked at the man in front of him, briefly thought, and nodded: "Lord, I can relay the ssage."
"No, I can’t say it now... I might only have one opportunity to speak, I must tell His Majesty personally..." Lord Bomai gripped the hem of his coat as if sothing terrifying was watching him from behind, battling a fear born from instinct, yet insisted on eting Emperor Rosetta Augustus, "Please inform him I am here at least..."
The two guards at the door exchanged troubled glances: "Lord, please do not make us..."
But the guard’s words were interrupted halfway by a voice suddenly coming from behind the door, a gentle yet imperious female voice said, "Let him co in—it’s His Majesty’s order."
Upon hearing this, the guards imdiately stood upright and responded solemnly: "Yes, Miss Diana."
Then, the magically sealed inner chamber doors silently slid open to the sides. The guards at the entrance nodded to Lord Bomai: "You may enter."
Lord Bomai stepped through the doors, past the heavy, ornate, gold-inlaid doors. Inside, he saw a young woman with black hair and black eyes, her features both dignified and gentle, but her face expressionless. She wore the highest-ranking maid’s dress and her gaze fell quietly on him.
This was the Royal Head Maid of the Obsidian Palace, the highest-ranking female officer in the inner court, a "maid"—yet represented part of Emperor Rosetta’s voice here.
"Thank you for your assistance, Miss Diana..." Bomai said.
"No need," the Royal Head Maid said indifferently, taking a step and slightly raising her right hand to point forward, "Please follow . His Majesty is waiting for you."
(Recomnded book, "Cyberspace Hero Saga," Why recomnd? It’s all in the title! ps: Personally feel it’s worth reading, at least the beginning has that cyberpunk vibe.)
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