Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1274: Chapter 1273: Front End

Amon looked in surprise at Milmina, who had already risen from that high stone "throne." A flicker of confusion passed through her eyes, molten like crystals: "Why did you retract your avatar ahead of time? Did something go wrong with the exploratory operation over there?"

"No... the exploration is still ongoing. I came back early," Milmina’s figure stood in the defied Court like a lighthouse. In the cloudlike hem of her dress, countless magic symbols flickered in and out of sight, overlapping and recombining—but unlike in days past, all those symbols now manifested in a kind of "double image" state, their hazy edges diffusing layer upon layer of phantasm. The "Supreme Magus" tilted her head, glanced at the Holy Giant Stag beside her, and gently rubbed her forehead. "Ran into a bit of a problem. I need to... recalibrate myself."

"Something went wrong!? Are you alright?" At this, Amon immediately grew tense. "Did something over in the War God’s Divine Realm have an effect on you?"

"It has nothing to do with the War God’s Divine Realm." Milmina stepped down from the high platform. The rings of symbols coiled around her, meant to suppress and isolate psychic pollution, quietly disintegrated in the air, turning into motes of light that drifted away. "...We completed an experiment—and during the experiment, we confirmed the wave-like nature displayed by Magic Power."

"...Oh, the wave nature of Magic Power..." Amon hesitated for half a second, then nodded slightly. "So you’re..."

Milmina silently looked at Amon. Only after two or three seconds of hesitation did she speak, with a touch of helplessness: "With your level of intellect, it’s very hard to explain this to you clearly..."

Amon: "..."

What rough words—he wanted to loudly rebuke her so. But he suspected Milmina had a point. If this "Mystery Overlord" really hurled tons of theoretical jargon at him, then as a God of Nature he’d certainly be unable to withstand it, and in the end he’d only embarrass himself.

Once he was sure Milmina had no intention of explaining the matter in detail, Amon actually took it quite well in his heart. He merely swayed his head side to side, and after confirming that this "freeloader who came without being invited" showed no abnormalities besides looking a bit tired, he relaxed. As he walked toward the spot where he usually lay sprawled online, he said, "Since you’re done early, I’m going back to rest as well. I’ll just leave these devices here for now—those technical personnel said we don’t have to bother with them... In future, if we ever want to send an avatar ’out’ to get some air, the apparatus here can still be put to use."

Milmina stood before the high platform without commenting. She had not given Amon a detailed account of the Magic Power observation experiment, yet just as he was about to turn and walk away, she couldn’t help speaking: "Amon, have you ever felt curious about all things in existence—curious about the... explanations hidden beneath the surface of this world?"

"You mean curiosity?" Amon halted, turning his head toward Milmina. "Of course I have curiosity. Any sapient being does. Though what I’m curious about may not be the same as you. You’re curious about the mysteries of Magic and the order of elementals; I focus on the changes of life and the laws of evolution... But in essence, we both feel curiosity about the ’explanations’ behind all things in the world... Even the most inflexible War God—I believe He, too, has things He was once curious about."

Here, the God of Nature paused, gazing into Milmina’s eyes. "Why do you suddenly ask this?"

"I was just thinking... in what form does the world we live in persist and operate? How do all the seemingly unrelated things coordinate to exist within this dimension? The boundary between Magic Power and matter looks clear, yet is in truth blurred; the power of mind can interfere with the state of the material world... Behind these phenomena that everyone takes for granted, is it possible there exists a single, unified explanation that is perfectly self-consistent?" Milmina spoke softly, her voice carrying a faint tremor—a tremor that felt almost like a kind of ’reverence.’ "Amon, the way our world presents itself now—is it necessity or accident? Or is it merely a fleeting instant in some far greater framework of evolution?"

Amon held his previous posture. "...Huh?"

Milmina seemed oblivious to her old friend’s reaction, as though she had fallen into some uncontrollable mental vortex, letting her thoughts scatter at will: "Perhaps we’re like a tiny insect living in a vast pond, drifting on the surface in ignorant confusion, with a lifespan short as a single instant. A gust of wind comes, driving the pond into layer upon layer of ripples, and in that instant we feel as though we’ve glimpsed the truth of the universe, and conclude that the universe is a surface covered in waves—but the wind soon dies down, the ripples gradually still, and our limited lifespan and cognition will never be able to perceive that..."

Amon completely halted mid-step, turning around. His eyes, radiant with brilliance, rested on Milmina for a long time, and he suddenly felt that with his IQ he really couldn’t understand what the hell she was saying...

Yet soon the God of Nature gave his head a light shake. He didn’t grasp the deeper meaning behind the "scene" Milmina described, but he seemed to guess the reason for such emotion. He lowered his head slightly and spoke with great seriousness: "You glimpsed certain truths during that ’experiment’—but that truth does not align with your ’common sense,’ so now you’re doubting your understanding of this world... or perhaps doubting the world itself?"

Milmina’s expression froze for a moment, as though she hadn’t expected Amon to hit the mark so directly. Then she gave a self-mocking smile. "...That really doesn’t sound like the kind of thought a ’God’ is supposed to have, does it?"

"But it’s a feeling mortals often experience—every time they move forward along the path of exploration, every time they come into contact with something entirely new, every time their civilization takes another step. Mortals, born weak, have grown accustomed to the vastness of this world and the ’surprises’ waiting behind every step they take. In contrast, we so-called ’gods’ end up floundering like you when faced with new truths. But... Milmina, the state you’re in right now is actually a good thing."

"A good thing?"

"You’ve touched something beyond your prior cognition, and by the sound of it, that thing is deeply subversive to your understanding. Now you’ve come back, carrying a mind full of curiosity and doubt, and you can still stand here sharing all this with me—think of the War God who went mad before the ’trade war,’ think of the Dragon Gods when they lost control... You’re rational and clear-headed right now. Haven’t you noticed?"

Milmina’s eyes widened slightly, as though waking from a long dream. Some time passed before a smile slowly surfaced on her face.

She looked at Amon, recalling the "scenes" she had witnessed and the conjectures that had arisen in that strange state not long ago. She imagined, sketched out a vantage point from a higher dimension—and from that vantage point, she seemed to see another "appearance" of her old friend before her, to see this being called "Amon," formed of countless constants and variables, a ripple whose oscillations both intersect with uncountable waves and continually tremble on its own... floating within the omnipresent cosmic background radiation.

...

Fyrna lifted her head, gazing up at the filthy, heavy cloud layer high above that blocked out the sunlight. She watched the thin, feeble radiance of the sun struggle to seep through to the underside of the clouds, forming in the sky a dim curtain like perpetual dusk. Amid the shifting of the high-altitude clouds, she suddenly broke the silence in a soft voice: "The wind direction up there has changed again..."

"Yes, ’again’—the atmospheric system, shrouded in chaotic magic, is forever undergoing changes beyond prediction," Lelena’s voice came from the side, carrying an air of effortless calm, "but no matter how it changes, this wasteland remains the same."

"Just like this pitiful world... the wind keeps shifting, all things change without rest, yet are forever trapped in these brief cycles of Samsara, unable to escape. Gravity itself is this planet’s ’great walls’; beyond the walls lies the starry sky that mortals are not worthy to touch..."

The two elf sisters, whose faces were almost identical, echoed each other like opera performers upon a massive boulder, and behind them, on the open ground, a vast spatial rift—like a vortex of mirrored glass—was slowly stabilizing.

The rift was filled with a dazzling azure radiance. Currents of light rushed swiftly through the vast space deep within the fissure; the slight overflow of energy churned the nearby air, drawing out a wind that sounded almost like whistling around the rift.

Two aberration Giants, their entire bodies covered in flowing, blood-and-mud-like flesh, were striding with heavy steps toward that rift, which looked dangerous at a mere glance. One ahead and one behind, they carried enormous and intricate Rune Stones; upon the surface of the stones, a dim magical brilliance was gradually awakening.

The Rune Stones were cast into the cleft; the moment they passed through this "door," they shot toward one of the blue mana currents within, driven by some automatic guidance mechanism. The finely wrought device sank silently into the surging torrent of Magic Power. Only then did the Treant Priest responsible for controlling the aberration Giants walk down from a nearby hillside, speaking with a tone of palpable relief: "All right, we’ve secured another node... Archbishops, we are one step closer to success."

Fyrna nodded slightly and gave the Treant Priest, who was walking toward them, a sweet smile. "Yes, and thank you for your hard work."

Lelena, standing to the side, did not speak. She merely lifted her right hand a little, and pale blue phantom radiance formed above her palm. In the clear projection of Magic Power, a meshwork structure appeared, crisscrossing like blood vessels, and within it a portion of the light-currents glowed more brightly, as though deliberately highlighted.

These particular currents clearly stretched far longer than the others, sending out more branches. Their ends intertwined and overlapped; faintly, it was as if they were converging into a sphere.

"Yes, we are a little closer to success again," Lelena said softly, smiling, "this meaningless Samsara that has persisted generation after generation... is finally about to gain some meaning."

...

The sharp whistle of the train entering the station rang across the entire strongpoint, then spread far, far away over the open plains. Blues Panstone, the Grand Architect, ascended a tower near the southern city wall. This outstanding craftsman, who bore dwarf blood, gazed into the distance, and only after a moment did he nod slightly. "We’ve planted our feet firmly here. Very good."

On either side of the towers, a solid wall of reinforced concrete stretched toward east and west. The outer layer of the high wall was clad in strengthened steel Armor, and Barrier Generators embedded within the wall raised a semi-transparent energy field screen, further warding off the dangerous roaming things on these plains. Atop the high wall, one could see fixed fortress Giant Cannons, as well as mobile rails laid along the parapet; movable turrets that could be shifted at any time were standing by upon those tracks.

Inside the high walls lay orderly barracks, warehouses, and, at the center, the "Frontline Command."

A straight charging rail extended from the northern direction of the Black Forest. Neat relay pylons lined both sides of the track, and above the rails a semi-transparent barrier screen arched overhead. It was like a metal-forged artery that connects the rear to the outpost, binding this base at the foot of the great walls tightly to the Empire’s heartland on the far side of the Dark Mountain Range.

The heavy, solemn armored war train Iron Throne-Winter General Number had completed its "test run" and was now standing steadily beside the armed platform on the eastern side of the base. This newly built engine of war was exhaling heat-dispersing steam; the power magic symbols in every part of the train were gradually dimming back down, while its four large Demon Crystal Rail Cannons fore and aft, together with four large Rainbow Light Generators, were undergoing inspection by the technical personnel, looking impressive and formidable.

Blues Panstone stared at that imposing armored train for a long time, his eyes filled with admiration and appreciation—though he was not a War Engineer capable of creating armored trains, he firmly believed that no craftsman in his right mind could refuse the overwhelming allure of such a "work of destructive Art."

He coveted the body of this war machine, coveted every Repulsion mechanism, every main cannon, and every sheet of cold, rock-hard Armor plating upon it—he was very honest about this.

But in the end, the Grand Architect forced himself to look away and turned his gaze back toward the direction of the great walls.

From here, that energy field screen built seven hundred years ago by the Silver Empire and human beings together was no longer a distant spectacle.

It stood less than a thousand meters south of the forward base. Considering its colossal scale, it was practically pressed up against Blues’s eyes. That heavy, staggering energy barrier floated and flowed before him like a curtain of unending, falling water; and beyond that curtain lay the desolate, corrupted scenery of the wasteland.

The towering sentinel towers stood to the southeast of the base. Just now, the angle of the sun was perfect, and their lengthened shadows spilled over the base. Anyone in the base needed only to look up to see that awe-inspiring ancient tower looming within their sight, while the gigantic floating Stele hung in midair, glittering in the daylight.

As Grand Architect Blues Panstone gazed toward the Gondor wasteland, planning the next scheme for establishing a Forward Base within the high walls, the other Grand Architect stationed here, Gordon, had already arrived at the armed platform to receive The First Legion of the Empire that had come together with the armored train.

On the platform, Gordon met the legion’s commanders—Marshal Philip, his blonde hair gleaming, his bearing far more steady and restrained than in past years; at his side stood his adjutant Payne, a young man with bronzed skin, and behind Philip and Payne stood another young man, silver-haired and short-cropped, whose demeanor seemed humble and courteous.