Chapter 1106: Behind the Scenes

In the vast, empty expanse of the Shadow Realm, two former gods exchanged uneasy glances. Not far away, a demon-net terminal still projected the highlights of that day’s grand event, but neither Myrmeena nor Amon’s attention was on the broadcast anymore.

After a long silence, Myrmeena finally broke it. “How about… you scratch it yourself?”

Amon’s voice grew even stranger than before. “Are you serious?”

Myrmeena stood still for a couple of seconds, suddenly feeling a bit at a loss—though she never really had hands or feet to begin with. In all her long memories as a deity, she had never encountered anything like this. “Well… then, how about I scratch it for you?”

“…For letting you use the demon-net terminal these past few days…” Amon’s voice faltered, “I’m feeling weirder and weirder…”

“Alright then.” Myrmeena sighed in resignation and stepped toward the holy giant stag. As she walked, she casually asked, “I’m curious—haven’t you ever faced something like this in the past three thousand years?”

Amon’s voice sounded muffled. “I have.”

“And how did you deal with it?”

“…”

“Okay, I get it.”

Myrmeena reached Amon’s side and looked at the former god, nailed to the shattered earth by the legacy of the Starfarers. His massive, sacred body was pierced through by jagged metal and crystalline structures. The shards embedded in him were so grotesque that even a god would recoil. Though, considering that gods exist somewhere between spirit and matter, and that such wounds, once solidified, no longer cause pain, Myrmeena still found herself silently troubled by the sight. Amon noticed her gaze and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Myrmeena reached out her hand and casually asked, “These wounds look terrifying… is it this spot?”

“Higher, a bit higher… Ah, that’s better…” Amon sighed softly. “I can’t see what’s behind me, but these things only look scary. The initial trauma is over. Now, I’m in a kind of symbiosis with them—I don’t feel anything.”

Myrmeena nodded thoughtfully, then her eyes fixed on one of the alloy shards piercing the stag’s body. She stared at the fragment, watching the illusory form where it merged with flesh. Her brief silence piqued Amon’s curiosity again. “Myrmeena, what did you find?”

“…You really can’t move?” Myrmeena lifted her eyelids slightly, looking toward Amon’s eyes. “Not even a little?”

“Of course not. These things have nailed me to this broken land. Didn’t you notice?” Amon sighed. “Nailed me so firmly… Honestly, sometimes I regret it. When I crashed into the space station, I shouldn’t have gone all out. I almost died. Hmm? Why are you quiet again?”

Myrmeena didn’t answer, just kept staring at the Starfarers’ relics for a long time, lost in thought. After a while, she shook her head gently. “Nothing.”

“Really? That’s strange…”

…

The world’s eyes were fixed on the successful conclusion of the 112th Conference. News of the alliance’s formation spread like wildfire through every mortal nation’s information channels. This world-changing event rippled outward like waves across the sea, reaching every corner of mortal civilization. Before these messages settled among the people and began to ferment and influence every industry and field, the leaders and plenipotentiaries who attended the conference had already left the meeting hall on the edge of the wasteland, embarking on their long journeys home.

In the eastern region of Cecil, in the southern part of the East Territory, a warm breeze swept across the open fields, bending the tall red pine leaves and wild grasses by the roadside. The increasingly lush farmland was crisscrossed with paths, with caravans and agricultural machines speeding along the main roads. Towering magic energy hubs pointed toward the blue sky at the edge of the fields, their constant magical output nourishing all the arcane devices across the vast region. Projection crystals beneath the towers displayed real-time information on time, weather, magical radiation, and imperial decrees. A magi-powered train roared past on the charging tracks at the edge of the wilderness, its whistle echoing far across the plains.

Gawain sat in his seat, watching the scenery outside the window, feeling a rare moment of relaxation—he was finally back on Cecil’s soil, in the country he had built with his own hands. It gave him an indescribable sense of peace. Opposite him, the Silver Empress gazed out the window with a curious expression, while a high-ranking attendant named Ilian sat beside her.

After the 112th Conference, the Silver Empress had not returned south with the elven delegation. Instead, she accompanied Gawain to Cecil. Officially, she was here to respond to a special “invitation” and to conduct a state visit for “further discussions on technological sharing” with the Cecil Empire.

“Such beautiful scenery…” Belsethia finally tore her gaze away from the window, her voice tinged with awe. “Though it lacks the dense vitality and lushness of our great forests, there’s a different kind of vibrancy radiating from this land… I can even sense the deep emotions of those who built this place, stored within the earth itself.” She sighed softly. “It reminds me of the pioneering cities from centuries ago… I haven’t felt anything like this in the last few hundred years.”

Gawain chuckled. He knew Belsethia wasn’t just flattering or waxing poetic—elves perceived the world differently, with senses and neural structures unlike humans. They could “see” or “hear” things other races couldn’t detect. In their perception, the collective emotions and memories left by living beings on the land were as vivid and natural as colors or scents. If the Silver Empress said she felt those things here, then they must truly exist.

He said, “Many regions have undergone difficult reconstruction after the war. The East Territory line isn’t actually the area with the most rebuilding. The biggest changes are on the eastern wing of the Holy Spirit Plains—there, the land has been utterly transformed. Solderin once said the whole area ‘glows with a bright, burning light.’ I can’t see what that light looks like, but I can feel it.”

“I’m looking forward to visiting the Holy Spirit Plains. I’ve long yearned to see the legendary ‘Sorin Great Tree,’” Belsethia said earnestly. “Are there tall arcane devices like these scattered around there as well?”

“…If you follow the railway or the riverbanks, you’ll see many. But most of the empire’s other lands remain relatively undeveloped,” Gawain admitted. “We have advanced arcane technology now, but construction has to proceed step by step. Modern transportation covers the prosperous areas; other regions still need work.”

“…In most countries, it’s enough for cities connected directly to main roads to be prosperous,” Belsethia said calmly. Outside the window beside her, a newly built village slowly receded into the distance, sunlight glinting off its fresh rooftops. “Even in Typhon, this is true… You seem determined to extend the demon-net and arcane machinery to every village. That’s quite an ambition.”

“It’s not ambition. I just think it’s only right for all people to be freed from poverty and ignorance,” Gawain said, then casually shifted the topic. “Speaking of arcane technology, I’m curious about the demon-net and rune logic’s application in the Silver Empire… I heard you’ve successfully restored the anti-gravity engine of the Stars’ Sanctuary?”

“We haven’t fully repaired the engine yet, but with the demon-net, we’ve restored the core power of the Stars’ Sanctuary to at least what it was a thousand years ago. That’s already thrilled countless magisters,” Belsethia smiled. “Our next goal is to truly repair those ancient engines. It’s a bold restoration plan—no elf dared attempt it for many years. Luckily, my chief star mage, Virania, supports it.”

“…Virania. That name rings a bell,” Gawain recalled memories he had inherited, a strange smile tugging at his lips. “Ah, I remember Anthony drunkenly confessing his love to Lady Virania once… That was the biggest embarrassment of the ‘Sacred Covenant Night.’ Charlie and I even had to team up to tie that bull down with ropes.”

“The bigger embarrassment actually happened after the conference,” Belsethia’s expression shifted subtly. “The arch-star mage only realized it was a confession after returning to the Silver Empire—she’d never been confessed to by anyone, let alone a humanoid. When she realized the arcane missile she’d panicked and fired was aimed at a suitor, she regretted it for many years… Of course, very few know this, not even Virania’s chief disciple.”

“…How do you know?”

“I snuck into her lab to steal honey and overheard her muttering behind a cabinet—don’t look at me like that, I was very young then.”

The atmosphere in the carriage turned a bit awkward. Gawain wasn’t sure why the conversation had taken such a strange turn. He glanced at the high-ranking attendant sitting next to the Silver Empress, about to say something, when Belsethia suddenly said, “Ilian, forget everything you just heard.”

The attendant nodded without expression. “Yes, Your Majesty. Already forgotten.”

Gawain: “…That casual?”

He almost wanted to summon Amber right then and there to make her forget too, but worried she might appear holding a notebook and jotting everything down, he awkwardly ended the topic. “We probably shouldn’t talk about a lady behind her back, especially when she’s your chief star mage.”

“You started the ‘private topic,’” Belsethia replied.

“…Alright. We’d better not discuss this kind of thing in front of Virania in the future,” Gawain said, scratching his cheek awkwardly. Then he noticed Belsethia’s expression had changed—she was smiling brightly, her eyes sparkling. “What’s got you so happy all of a sudden?”

“I feel like I’m chatting with the ‘old’ Uncle Gawain,” Belsethia said with a laugh.

…

In the Silver Empire, deep within the Stars’ Sanctuary’s arcane laboratory, Arch-Star Mage Virania stood atop a high platform, controlling the complex and massive rune array. Suddenly, she sneezed loudly, followed by several more sneezes in quick succession.

One of the apprentices waiting near the monitoring rune immediately rushed over. “Master, are you feeling unwell?”

Clad in a pale purple robe styled like a dress, her long golden hair swept up high, the Grant Star Mage shook her head, a trace of puzzlement flickering across her still-beautiful face. “No need to worry, just a few sneezes… More importantly, what about the observation results?”

“We were still exposed to noise interference, Master,” the apprentice replied, regret immediately clouding his expression. He waved his hand toward a nearby device console, and a metal plate—made from inert magic-conducting metal and coated with a special absorption and solidification layer—floated over. On the surface of the plate, the absorption layer was marred by large, spreading blotches of color and chaotic noise patterns. “The new purification field doesn’t seem to be working. The magical flow patterns formed inside the dark chamber are completely obscured by these interference lines—there wasn’t even time to observe them properly.”

Verania frowned slightly, her gaze lingering on the now-useless metal plate. A clear look of disappointment slowly settled over her features.

The apprentice couldn’t help but show a hint of concern. “Master…”

“Nearly half a century ago, I proposed a theoretical hypothesis about the nature of magical fluctuations,” Verania said with a self-deprecating smile. “And yet, to this day, we still haven’t found any evidence to prove it.” She quickly waved her hand. “Don’t let my mood affect you. I’m just feeling a bit nostalgic. Pack up the equipment and shut it down for now. We’ll review our findings later and design a new experimental procedure.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Oh, before you go,” Verania suddenly remembered something just as the apprentice was about to leave. “When is the scheduled contact time with Master Kamail?”

“In two hours,” the apprentice glanced at the clock not far away. “Would you like to rest first? Mr. Sockwell came by earlier and invited you to have afternoon tea at the Golden Leaf Pavilion…”

“The Sockwell from the AI team?”

“No, the AI team leader is Mr. Sockvelin. Mr. Sockwell is in charge of the palace’s east wing…”

Verania waved her hand dismissively, lightly descending from the high platform. As she walked toward the door, she said, “Oh, then I won’t go. I thought there might be some progress from the AI team… I’ll head to the library to look up some materials. Two hours should be enough.”

“And what about Mr. Sockwell…?”

“You can tell him the midday special at the Golden Leaf Pavilion doesn’t require two people. He can go alone.”

With those words, the Grant Star Mage’s figure disappeared beyond the nearby door. The apprentice stood amid a cluster of runic arrays now running on automatic, watching his master’s retreating back for a long moment before sighing helplessly. “…Yes, Master.”

(A special surprise for our loyal readers without fan titles yet—details in the comments section.)

(End of chapter)