So many legs...
In that brief mont, even gods who don’t rely on breathing for survival felt suffocated.
The Goddess of Magic stared at Nariteer, convinced that this colossal, spider-like "kindred" was definitely problematic—maybe a chaotic entity born of erroneous thoughts, or perhaps a "near-dead" who’s reached the brink of madness. Either way, she ought not to continue her interaction with this spider.
Escaping from the spider’s pursuit wasn’t about "having fewer legs," a child’s excuse, of course. The Goddess of Magic was well aware of this fact; she was simply too weakened and at a disadvantage in this territory.
She had reorganized herself too many tis to plan today’s audacious action, consciously controlling her "growth" for centuries, akin to a prisoner starving themselves to squeeze through a cage. While her plan succeeded, it also left her weak. Coupled with the disadvantageous territory, it was impossible for her to leave unscathed.
But she had to leave, and quickly—this was a peculiar "boundary of mindset," a chaotic and unford sea of consciousness capable of "wearing down" chains, but also posing great harm to her. She distinctly felt her dwindling power, and its rate of depletion was accelerating.
"Listen, little spider, I must leave," the Goddess of Magic attempted to divert Nariteer’s attention through conversation while stabilizing her form, "In a different environnt or ti, I’d be interested in chatting with you more, but not today—please step aside."
Nariteer stubbornly replied, "I need to take you to see the King; only if he lets you go, can you leave."
"...That’s not possible," the mist-like lady’s lips curved slightly with a smile, "I simply can’t interact with any mortals now... I made great efforts to sever my ties with them."
Nariteer furrowed her brows, stepping forward to reason with the other. However, the next second, the tower-like lady underwent a sudden transformation—those shadows and mist that expanded and contracted suddenly elongated into ribbon-like structures. Between the ribbon grids, countless mirrors erged from the void, reflecting chaotic light spheres and distant mist. The light spheres and mist then vanished, replaced by twinkling starlight in the mirrors. So starlight elongated and twisted into bizarre symbols, disrupting Nariteer’s judgnt...
Mirrors, lines, light spheres, smoke, starlight, symbols—all props or symbolic matters often used by mortal mages when casting spells.
Nariteer montarily stunned by the sudden chaos, quickly regained her composure, her long limbs cutting through the gray-white surface. Corresponding reflections appeared on the water surface—The Supre Narrator wove false facts, inversely contaminating the opponent’s crafted battlefield with reflections and their relationship to the body. The contamination proved effective, as those hastily crafted objects shattered almost instantly, revealing the "lady without legs" true form.
Nariteer imdiately charged forward—the white spider jumped high as a predator, her long limbs swooping down. But she sensed sothing was off: her limbs embraced a non-resistant object, which quickly disintegrated into nurous shards and gradually dissolved into the air.
An illusion?
Nariteer realized this and imdiately tried to capture the opponent’s true whereabouts through the ubiquitous web, only to receive chaotic and massive feedback: everywhere was filled with energy fragnts scattered after disintegration. The seemingly illusory fragnts, surprisingly, originated from the body—she sacrificed over sixty percent of her "body" to create this "smoke" to evade detection!
The white spider’s long legs flailed chaotically on the gray-white water surface a few tis, ultimately failing to recapture the opponent’s trail. Reluctantly, she stopped, accepting the reality of the prey’s escape. After a few seconds of dejection, she slowly resud action, beginning to collect the remaining "ash" left behind after the shards’ dissipation.
Those gray-black traces were the only evidence and clues left by the intruder’s escape. Though not useful spoils of war, they were plunders nonetheless.
While gathering a larger fragnt residue, Nariteer "heard" a distorted voice emanating from within: "...I borrowed your Magic Web, even though that wasn’t its intended purpose... I owe you a favor. Tell your ’King’ that this favor will be repaid soday."
It was the intruder’s ssage.
After hearing the ssage, Nariteer paused montarily, then quietly placed it along with other fragnts. She then lifted her head, observing the "unconscious zone" gradually returning to its usual state, shaking her head in confusion, muttering, "How can soone without legs run so fast..."
...
Elywen Franklin and the senior students of the Departnt of Magic sat together, impatiently awaiting further news in the computing center’s lounge.
The lounge door remained tightly shut, with silence reigning over the corridor outside.
Having visited the computing center several tis before, Elywen knew that a large imrsion capsule room was adjacent to this room, equipped with neat and new imrsion capsules that could link ordinary people’s brains to an incredible neural network—he’d connected before as well, its convenience in browsing data and transmitting information is remarkable.
Today, he and the senior students ca for networking—not for entertainnt or redial classes, but because the Imperial Computing Center needed additional computing power.
For Elywen, responding to the Empire’s call was an unshakable duty as an aristocrat, but many civilian classmates volunteered too, which he had not anticipated.
Though he’d long adapted to treating civilian classmates equally, was free of "aristocratic arrogance," and even had several civilian friends, the current situation was a first for him.
He couldn’t help but steal a glance at the nearest classmate, a big boy nad Storm sitting beside him was among the civilian students who volunteered.
"Is...there a problem?" Storm quickly noticed the gaze from beside him, adjusting his posture with a slightly nervous deanor and asked softly.
"Uh...nothing," Elywen coughed lightly twice, realizing his earlier thought was untily, possibly a part of aristocratic arrogance, so he imdiately shrugged it off, "I’m just worried; the teachers have been in with the first batch for a long ti..."
"Teachers are more experienced, and didn’t they say it’s only so extra computing power needed, with no risks," Storm responded softly, "More thorny issues have better experts dealing with them."
"More thorny issues..." Elywen suddenly associated with sothing, his expression turning gloomy, nervously clasping his fingers together.
Ordinary students might not fully understand the situation yet, but he could faintly guess so matters.
Today was the day the Empire-wide Magic Web went online, and the event that stirred tension among academy teachers was likely tied to this "network connection"—after all, those teachers differed from ordinary school instructors; they were academic elites, even registered in the Supre Administration Office’s affiliated research departnts.
Not too long ago, he’d heard odd, faintly ominous whistling from the direction of the Magic Guide Technology Research Institute. Crossing the academy square with classmates, he’d seen the largest Magic Web Terminal seemingly malfunction on the square, several teachers anxiously inspecting equipnt; when departing the academy to head to the northern banks Developnt Zone, he glimpsed toward the Magic Guide Technology Research Institute, noting the newly constructed Node Tower seemingly restarting, many mages employing flight spells to check the towers’ ancient magical devices...
This may point to a terrible accident, and his father, the Duke of the West Baldwin Franklin... is one of the persons responsible for this "network connection" project.
Elywen beca more and more nervous the more he thought about it, he even wanted to run and find a usable Magic Web Terminal now to contact Sherlin City and confirm the situation, but he knew how unrealistic this idea was, so he could only quietly sigh and grab the hem of his school uniform rather forcefully.
At this mont, a voice suddenly ca from beside him, interrupting his random thoughts: "Don’t worry, it will be fine."
Elywen raised his head, surprised to see that it was actually Storm, who was usually tense and introverted, speaking to him. He shook his head, wanting to say he was worried about sothing else, but the other quickly added: "I’m talking about the Magic Web... I know your father is the Duke of the West, I don’t think anything will happen to him."
Elywen’s eyes suddenly widened: "How did you..."
He didn’t expect the other to guess his thoughts — although the matter of connecting the Magic Web itself wasn’t confidential, as ordinary students unrelated to the matter, they shouldn’t be connecting to it at this mont. As for this Storm, he was usually silent and sowhat dull, not appearing as the sort of person with particularly keen observational and associative skills... how did he connect to the Magic Web?
Storm looked at the duke’s son in front of him, and after two seconds he smiled sowhat awkwardly: "My father is the Tower Guardian of the Lu’an Hub..."
Elywen was stunned.
Before he could speak again, a small figure suddenly appeared in the room, startling the students, and that signature loud voice rang out: "Students, go back! The matter is over!"
Elywen and the other senior students looked at each other in astonishnt, soone stood up amid the confusion: "It’s over... what’s over?"
"The incident was resolved ahead of schedule, no more calculating power is needed," Magnan waved his hand, "Go back, you have half a day off in the afternoon, everyone is free to rest."
He then seed to suddenly rember sothing, adding: "Although the incident was resolved ahead of schedule, your voluntary participation is still worthy of encouragent and reward—I personally will give you two comprehensive assessnt points at the end of the sester."
The students were both bewildered and surprised, but the teacher’s final words were understood by everyone, and the value of two points quickly cald all the students’ confusion. The students in the lounge seed afraid that Magnan would change his mind, so they overwhelmingly expressed their gratitude and then hurriedly left.
Elywen also stood up, prepared to leave with the others, planning to quickly find an opportunity to confirm the situation over with his father, but just as he was about to walk out, he heard the strict teacher known for his sternness call out with a strong voice:
"Elywen, Storm, you two stop for a mont."
Elywen and Storm stayed behind, confused and a bit nervous.
Magnan floated to them like a ghost, and after glancing up and down at the two students, he waved his hand and said in a sowhat impatient voice: "Your families are fine — go back quickly."
...
At the front of the hall, on the large holographic projection, the surface of the Empire’s map glimred gently, with white light dots representing effective nodes and lines connecting them crisscrossing, intertwining, forming a network that wasn’t dense but already covered most of the Empire.
Sorinburg, Sherlin City, Bitter Winter Castle... each main hub was quietly operating as it appeared in the miniature projection on the map.
All communications were restored, all networks connected.
"All levels of hubs are smoothly online, connected... succeeded?"
Rebecca stood at her command station, reporting the current situation to Gawain, but towards the end of the report she couldn’t help but scratch her head, dragging out a doubtful tone.
Gawain remained grave, looking at the holographic map before him, not speaking for a long ti.
The network connection indeed succeeded, at least all data and evidence presently reached the expected result, however... this inexplicable success did not put his mind at ease.
He was waiting for further information from the neural network.
This ti he didn’t wait long — shortly after Rebecca finished reporting, the small Magic Web Terminal on the command station suddenly lit up, and Duvalt’s figure appeared above the terminal.
The "God’s Humanity" bowed slightly to him: "Your Majesty."
"How are things on Nariteer’s end?" Gawain imdiately stepped forward to ask, "Did you catch the intruder?"
"The intruder was heavily damaged, but still escaped," Duvalt showed a hint of regret and frustration on his face, "Nariteer only brought back so hard-to-analyze ’embers’..."
"Escaped?" Gawain imdiately furrowed his brow, feeling a sinking feeling inside as he instinctively asked, "What exactly is the intruder? Can you identify its form and origin?"
"It’s..." Duvalt just started to speak a syllable when his figure suddenly flickered as if disrupted, then he was pushed aside, and Nariteer squeezed in from beside him.
"It’s a woman with no legs," Nariteer gestured in a way incomprehensible to anyone else, speaking in words that were even harder for others to understand, "running faster than anyone..."
Gawain: "???"
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