Chapter 1107: Each on Their Own Side
Inside a brightly lit, expansive laboratory, Kamail hovered high above the ground, monitoring the operation of the equipment before him—
At the center of the room’s floor sat a complex alloy apparatus resembling a nozzle, formed from multiple concentric rings and sleeves. Surrounding it, a crystal conduit stretched upward, connecting to the ceiling. Intricate runes and mithril conductive structures were embedded in the floor around the device in precise, orderly patterns. Along the walls on either side, various control panels and auxiliary devices were neatly arranged.
Kamail’s gaze was fixed intently on the crystal conduit at the center of the floor, specifically on the alloy “nozzle” at its base. A steady blue-white magical flame streamed quietly from the nozzle, forming a straight beam of energy within the conduit. The crystal assembly at the top emitted a low hum, continuously releasing this pure, potent energy into the high-energy circuits surrounding the lab, maintaining a delicate and dangerous balance.
Suddenly, a nearby arcane network terminal beeped sharply. Kamail glanced up at the mechanical clock mounted on the wall, then lowered his altitude to approach the communication console. As the device activated, a clear holographic projection materialized above the crystal—an elegant elven woman with golden hair swept high, her mature beauty unmistakable, appeared in the image.
“Master Kamail, good day,” she greeted.
“Grant Star Mage Verania, good day,” Kamail responded with a slight nod—his head’s swirling arcane cloud rippling subtly in acknowledgment. “Your timing is impeccable. How are the experimental results? Has our new process worked?”
“Regrettably,” the grand star mage sighed through the projection, “although we successfully created a shielding field that blocks all magical effects, the dark chamber at its center remains affected by ambient natural mana. The images on the projection panel are blurred beyond recognition.”
The arcane glow around Kamail flickered briefly before he let out a deep, echoing sigh. “Ah… that’s unfortunate news. Our experimental design was theoretically flawless.”
“It seems we underestimated just how pervasive natural mana truly is,” Verania said. “Every observational method we’ve tried—venturing into the Shadow Realm, the Elemental Planes, even semi-planes, descending underground, climbing mountains—none can eliminate interference from the primal mana field. Even…”
“Even conducting experiments in the Umbral Realm,” Kamail finished with a weary sigh. “We cannot exclude interference from the natural primal mana. So no matter how pure our arcane energy source becomes, we still cannot observe the theoretical interference patterns…”
Verania’s expression was one of regret as her gaze drifted past Kamail to the massive crystal conduit at the room’s center. The arcane beam within it shone with a steady, brilliant light—beautiful to behold. Her eyes widened slightly. “You’ve succeeded in creating a new emission source?”
“I modified the mana focus device from the Gondor era using contemporary arcane theory,” Kamail explained, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. “The purity of the arcane stream has improved by about three percentage points, and its intensity even more so.” His mood brightened briefly before fading again. “But as I said, until we solve the interference problem, no matter how pure our source, we cannot prove the wave nature of mana…”
The two scholars fell silent, weighed down by the frustration of this persistent problem.
Proving the wave nature of mana had long troubled Kamail and Verania—especially Verania, who had devoted nearly half a century to this pursuit.
What exactly is mana? Why is it everywhere? Is it a special kind of substance, or an invisible wave? These fundamental questions held a deadly allure for the two scholars, matched only by their difficulty. The hardest part wasn’t the theory—it was the proof. Theoretically, Verania had completed her treatise on mana’s wave nature over forty years ago. But in practice, neither she nor Kamail had found conclusive evidence.
The biggest obstacle was interference—the omnipresent primal mana field in nature. To prove mana is a wave, the most direct method is to observe wave phenomena, such as interference fringes. But in real experiments, any medium capable of showing interference patterns is also flooded with the natural “primal mana noise,” a background radiation mapped onto the very fabric of the world. This noise pervades even the Umbral and Shadow Realms and all elemental worlds, forming a thick fog that obscures all researchers’ vision. Even the most senior mages of Gondor and the grand star mages of the elves cannot find a clear “gap” in this fog.
“If we could prove mana is a wave, we could explain a huge portion of magical phenomena in this world,” Verania said, the recording and auxiliary crystals floating beside her dimming slightly. “And if we find the right observational method, it would mean we could accurately measure and even control fundamental mana—controlling it at the ‘wave’ level. Imagine how revolutionary that would be.”
“Yes, yes, I can imagine it—we could even artificially create Deep Blue Wells, mass-produce them,” Kamail spread his hands. “But the prerequisite is finding that method…”
He shook his head, muttering with a complicated expression, “In truth, we’re almost certain mana is a wave, aren’t we? Think of all the indirect evidence—the foundational principles of communication spells, the rainbow light generators. None of these make sense if mana isn’t a wave.”
“But we still need direct evidence, and more importantly—a practical observational tool that is quantifiable, controllable, and repeatable,” Verania shook her head. “Sigh, let’s set this long-term problem aside for now. I want to discuss some interesting patterns we’ve recently found while compiling solar observation records…”
“Solar observations from the southern continent?” Kamail’s glow brightened noticeably. “Now that’s something I’m interested in.”
…
Though most of the Loren continent was warming with the coming spring, the Saint Dragon Principality in the far north remained blanketed in snow. Dragon’s Reach Castle, perched atop the mountain peaks, was still surrounded by ice and snow. The slanting morning light spilled over the western mountains, casting sharp contrasts along the snow line. Below it, the slopes and gentler foothills were turning green, while the palace district above the snow line remained pure white.
Dragonblood Duke Balogher sat in a study on the castle’s upper floor. A warm fire crackled quietly nearby as he bent over documents concerning grain procurement and foreign exchange adjustments. Outside the window beside him, a gust of wind swept snow from the eaves, sending it fluttering past the stone walls and drifting down toward the city below.
In this dragonborn realm, many cities were built along the mountainsides, their massive stone structures rising in terraces from the foothills to the peaks. This unique style resembled Tal’Rond’s architecture but carried a more rugged, primal feel. Today’s clear weather had the dragonborn bustling about, repairing homes, cleaning streets, and preparing for a spring that arrived nearly a month later than in the southern continent.
This year’s cities were livelier than ever. New shops had opened below the snow line, exotic merchants mingled with locals dressed in the latest fashions, and children ran and played along the uneven slopes. They clutched candies from the human world, shouting out human-style moves and names—borrowed from colorful picture books that trickled in from the human lands, scarce and often delayed by months, but highly coveted.
The ripple effects of the “Opening of the Gates” were gradually manifesting in the dragonborn world.
Young dragonborn were fascinated by the strange, vibrant southern world—depicted in fairy tale books as a land of dazzling colors.
But another group of children preferred tradition. On the city’s outskirts, in steep areas where the walls opened, they cheered as they leapt down the polished slopes, tumbling and rolling toward the mountain base. Their joyous screams echoed as their exasperated parents appeared atop the walls, shouting warnings. Playing on the slopes at this hour was unwise—climbing back from the foot of the mountain meant missing dinner. Responsible parents always worried about their children’s health, and skipping meals was clearly harmful.
More importantly, with winter over and the snow melting, the icy slides were gone. Rolling down rocky, steep cliffs was dangerous, and brand-new clothes often ended up torn and tattered. Though garments made from magical beast hides were far tougher than human textiles, even they couldn’t withstand such reckless play.
Melita Pernia, dressed in a flowing blue gown, walked through the lively city streets, her eyes wide with curiosity. The daily life of the dragonborn amazed her. Beside her, Sir Gorosh Shikel and Dragonblood Witch Asalina acted as guides.
“This is the dragonborn realm…” Melita murmured to herself. “I’ve traveled across Loren for so long, yet this is my first time here…”
“After all, there was an ancient taboo between us,” Sir Gorosh said. “Observers from Tal’Rond were forbidden to enter the Saint Dragon Principality, and dragonborn could not cross the northern border. Fortunately, that barrier has ended. The two branches of the dragon race are finally reuniting.”
“Physical separation can be removed, but the distance in hearts isn’t so easily bridged,” Melita said, looking at the dragonborn noble beside her. “Many dragonborn probably don’t want to accept Tal’Rond in this way—especially after what Tal’Rond has become.”
“Dragonborn feelings toward the primal dragons are indeed complicated,” Asalina said softly. “I imagine that’s part of why you chose to come with us in this form, rather than flying here in your true dragon shape?”
“That’s one reason,” Melita replied. “Another is that I wanted to observe your way of life up close. We’ve been apart too long; there’s so much to rebuild. Speaker Andal ordered me to visit the Saint Dragon Principality before returning to Tal’Rond—this is a mission that requires serious attention.”
“Indeed, there’s a lot we need to rebuild,” Sir Gorosh nodded. “And that’s exactly what I wanted to say. While many Dragonborn do harbor complicated and somewhat resistant feelings toward Tal’Rond, overall, most don’t truly resent their homeland once they learn the truth. Especially after seeing the current state of Tal’Rond, the strong opposition that once existed among the common folk has even shifted significantly.”
Melita couldn’t help but stop in her tracks, looking at Gorosh with surprise. “But it’s become a wasteland now, no longer the perfect ‘homeland paradise’ of ancient legend—”
Gorosh nodded. “Yes, everyone can see that.”
“Why? Sympathy?” Melita asked, genuinely curious. “Did they feel pity when they saw the primal dragons who once ‘exiled’ them reduced to this state?”
“No, admiration,” the Dragonblood Witch beside them said calmly.
…
The city of Cecil was decked out in colorful banners, the festive atmosphere spreading through every street. Flags fluttered along the avenues, and public maginet terminals in the squares repeatedly projected historic scenes from the 112th Conference alongside the soaring Alliance banners. Citizens celebrated with the enthusiasm of a grand festival, marking an event destined to be recorded in history. Countless shops found new reasons to launch sales and promotions.
Of course, for Hetty, the Empire’s steward who tirelessly managed the land day in and day out, none of this was the main point. The real focus was—Cecil’s emperor had returned.
The old ancestor was finally back, which meant long-awaited holidays were just around the corner; Rebecca, who had been taken out to see the world, was back as well, promising peaceful nights free from constant worry.
Though the fact that the old ancestor had also brought back an elven queen was a bit unexpected—adding one more thing to arrange—overall, Hetty was in very good spirits.
Inside Cecil Palace, now back in his familiar home, Gawain finally allowed himself to fully relax.
The Silver Queen Belsethia and her elven entourage had been settled in the highest-grade quarters of the Autumn Palace. Rebecca had already joyfully rushed back to her room, and Amber had slipped away almost as fast—by the time Gawain realized it, the room had suddenly grown quiet.
After changing into casual clothes, he sank into a sofa in the hall and let out a soft sigh. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hetty approaching with a smile, dressed in a flowing red court gown. Though the great-granddaughter of the goddess looked visibly tired, her smile was unusually bright.
Yet, for some reason, Gawain felt there was something… odd hidden beneath that smile.
“Ancestor, it’s truly a joy to see you return safely. This time, history has once again deeply engraved your glorious name,” Hetty said, always mindful of etiquette even in private moments. She bowed respectfully before relaxing. “Rebecca hasn’t caused any trouble outside, has she?”
Gawain thought for a moment, quickly deleting a mental list of minor ‘incidents,’ then shook his head with a smile. “She’s been well-behaved this time, much improved.”
Hetty visibly relaxed. “That’s good.”
She then gave a brief update on the latest from the High Council and asked about the conference. The conversation gradually shifted to lighter, everyday topics. After a few casual remarks, her expression suddenly took on a strange look.
“By the way, Ancestor, there’s something… I think I should mention.”
“It’s rare to see you with that expression,” Gawain said, curious. “What is it?”
“I only heard about it this morning and haven’t had time to verify,” Hetty glanced around instinctively, then leaned in close, lowering her voice. “I heard… Betty’s been acting strange these past few days.”
“Betty? Strange?” Gawain was taken aback. “She’s usually so well-behaved… what’s she done?”
“They say she’s been watering that egg…”
“Egg? What egg?”
“The one the dragons sent.”
“?!”
(Note: I’ll be attending a conference in Haikou over the next few days, so updates might be irregular. I’ll do my best to keep them coming!)
(End of chapter)