Chapter 105: Nicholas Egg’s New Identity

It was clear the sphere had been cooped up in this world for a long time—considering how it had pretended to be a stone ball before, even someone like Gawain, who had been hanging around in the skies for years, couldn’t help but admire its incredible self-control. Such patience wasn’t something any ordinary monk could explain.

After enduring so long living as a stone, the moment it could finally open up, the sphere just wouldn’t stop rambling. It kept marveling at the joy of conversation, then lamenting how dull and boring the people of this era and world were.

“Sigh, if it weren’t for the facts staring us in the face, who’d believe your civilization has actually regressed this far? Those big-headed guards don’t even know what an atmosphere or geomagnetic field is…”

“That druid named Pittman? I swear, that guy’s got something wrong upstairs. He’s come by so many times these past few days, and every time it’s the same topic—trying to convince me to admit I’m a dragon egg. He even asked if dragons have to hatch twice from their shells or something. Seriously, it’s driving me nuts! I’ve already broken out of my shell, okay? If I crack it again, I’m toast!”

“And that female human in the red dress? She’s always waving around all kinds of weird magical gadgets, poking at me, and even wants to scrape some flakes off me for research. Eek—scared the heck out of me! Just like those old magisters back in the day—totally unhinged…”

Gawain couldn’t help but interrupt at this point: “Uh, that red-dress woman you’re talking about? She’s family—my granddaughter.”

“Oh! Then you really need to teach her better. Research isn’t done like that; she’ll end up with some mental breakdown sooner or later,” the sphere bobbed up and down, sounding a bit embarrassed. “But honestly, those magisters from a thousand years ago actually knew a thing or two. At first, I wanted to communicate with them, maybe figure out a way home. But all they cared about was studying me. Tsk, if only those guys had been as reasonable as you.”

Gawain looked at it curiously. “How long have you been in this world? Or rather, how long after you arrived did those magisters catch you?”

“Sigh, I got caught as soon as I arrived,” the sphere said dejectedly. “Then I was locked up in that lab for what seemed like ages—long enough to learn your language.”

Gawain sized it up. “Did those magisters never realize you were actually a sentient being?”

“Heh, I was careful,” the sphere said proudly. “When I first landed here, I instinctively made myself a protective shell out of metal and rock, then put myself into a semi-hibernation state—no signs of life at all. Since I didn’t understand the language or the situation, I just pretended to be a rock and observed quietly.

“Later, when the magisters found me and took me to the lab, I tried to escape at first, but they were too good. Any little movement would alert them, so I stopped moving altogether. Luckily, they noticed strange phenomena happening around me and assumed I was some ancient sealed artifact. So they didn’t cut me open right away…”

The sphere’s voice suddenly grew a little fearful. “But it was close. I remember when they finished the first phase of research and were about to cut me open, a sudden order came through demanding everyone evacuate immediately—and forbidding them from taking any local samples with them. That’s how I survived. But those magisters were mean enough to seal the lab before leaving, so I ended up sleeping for many years. After that, well, you know the rest.”

After hearing the sphere’s story, Gawain immediately focused on the last part. “You said those researchers suddenly got an order to evacuate quickly and leave all local samples behind?”

“Yeah,” the sphere replied casually. “They never realized I was alive, so they didn’t hide anything from me. That order was read out loud in the lab—I remember it clearly.”

Gawain frowned, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

The sphere noticed and asked, “What’s wrong? Something bothering you?”

“Orders like that aren’t normal,” Gawain explained. “Back when the Gondor Empire pulled back their exploration teams, it was because the cost outweighed the benefits, not due to emergencies. But the evacuation order you heard was clearly urgent—and forbade taking any local samples. Why wouldn’t they take the samples?”

The sphere thought for a moment. “Maybe the samples were contaminated? Or some research equipment went out of control and they couldn’t save the samples?”

“The first is possible; the second less so,” Gawain recalled the mountain ruins. “Though it was an emergency evacuation, I observed that the ruins were cleared out in an orderly fashion. They took many large devices with them—there was no rush that would prevent sample transfer. By the way, what exactly were they researching in those mountains?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a researcher—I’m the subject,” the sphere said helplessly. “But a few times when they moved me between labs, I saw some things. They pushed some swollen, mutated corpses into the incinerator. I suspect those were humans experimented on—though they looked nothing like humans anymore, you could tell at a glance they once were.”

“Human experiments?” Gawain was taken aback. He hadn’t expected such dark secrets in Gondor’s research facilities. “Did those test subjects have any other features?”

“Let me think… Oh right, besides being taller than normal and having deformed limbs, their bodies were covered with crystal-like growths, as if crystals had precipitated from their tissues. One researcher called them…” The sphere struggled to recall the word, then finally said, “‘Divine Blight.’ But I don’t know if that referred to the crystals on the subjects or the subjects themselves. Your language is complicated.”

“Divine Blight?” Gawain repeated the term, frowning deeply.

This wasn’t a word to be used lightly.

“Divine Blight”—things forbidden, defying rules, betraying divine will, born of divine power but never meant to exist. Some say it’s the negative force released when a god loses their true nature and falls into corruption; others say it’s the punishment sent by gods when mortals dare to wield divine authority. Either way, the term is deeply tied to the divine.

During the Gondor Empire, faith in the gods was as strong as it is today. Those researchers wouldn’t casually use such a loaded term for their experimental subjects.

A thousand years ago, an urgent order emptied the research facility in the Dark Mountains, forbidding the removal of any local samples. So what connection did those “human experiments” have to the “local samples” mentioned in the order?

Were the samples the raw materials? The energy source? The technical foundation?

Of course, these weren’t Gawain’s main concern. What he really wanted to know was—are those samples still left in the ruins of the Dark Mountains after a thousand years?

Have they weathered away? Decayed? Disintegrated? Or have they remained intact, subtly influencing the area even now?

“You seem a bit tense,” the metal sphere said, having learned to read human emotions after long observation. “Why worry? That was a project from a thousand years ago. The people are dead, the facility abandoned. What harm could it do?”

“I’m worried about those samples they left behind,” Gawain said, frowning. “Do you know where they stored them?”

The sphere wobbled side to side. “No idea. Even though I was classified as a ‘local sample’ back then, the magisters weren’t stupid—they wouldn’t confuse me with the real samples. So I never got near the facility’s core. Why, you want to find them?”

Gawain smirked. “At least to know what they are.”

The mountain ruins were vast—almost unbelievably so. Gawain had led an expedition once, but he suspected they’d only explored less than a fifth of the entire site. In other words, anything could be hidden in the remaining four-fifths.

“If you want to explore, be careful,” the metal sphere kindly warned, reading Gawain’s thoughts. “Given the size and danger of that facility, it’s almost impossible for your camp’s team to fully explore it.”

“I know,” Gawain nodded. “I’ll be cautious. Enough about that—let’s talk about you.”

The metal sphere paused. “Me? What’s there to say?”

“Don’t you realize how eye-catching you are in this world?” Gawain said with a wry smile. “There’s no creature like you here. If you just wander around, how will you introduce yourself to people?”

The sphere replied, “Saint Nicholas Egg, sir.”

Gawain: “…”

“Okay, I’m joking,” Nicholas Egg slowly sank closer to the ground, almost touching it. “Most people in this era are idiots. Smart, communicative folks like you are rare. So, you tell me—how do you want to handle my identity?”

“I’m currently telling others you’re a magical device storing an ancient soul. But only some soldiers know this; most civilians in the camp haven’t even seen you yet. If you’re okay with it, you can appear in the camp under this identity from now on.”

“Ah, that sounds pretty cool!”

Clearly, Mr. (or Ms.) Nicholas Egg was quite pleased with Gawain’s plan.

By the way, for that animation event on the app, everyone should just push for Xiling… no need to push for the anomalies…

(End of chapter)