Chapter 1124: Pointing Toward the Wasteland

The summer sun swept away the gloom over Aldern, casting a rare, brilliant light that slanted through the sky. Its rays filtered through the window, glinting off the silver lampstand and the intricate carvings on the window frame, scattering a series of shifting, dappled patterns across the floor. Rosetta Augustus sat behind his desk, his gaze lingering on those flickering spots of light. For a long moment, he said nothing.

Within those scattered beams, he seemed to glimpse the mortal realms of the present—light connected by shadow, the intersecting and isolating parts seemingly inevitable. Yet no matter what, a brighter age had finally dawned. Under the sun’s glow, all the light and shadow still converged to form this lush summer.

“Have you truly decided to no longer concern yourself with this matter?” Diana asked calmly. Officially, she was the royal head maid; in reality, the leader of the Wanderers. She looked at her sovereign without a trace of emotion. “Bard Windell was once an imperial general commanding the Winterwolf Line. His father and daughter now hold significant influence within the empire’s military system. And now he’s pledged allegiance to Cecil… this situation—”

“He was the Wolf General from twenty years ago. And that Wolf General died twenty years ago,” Rosetta said quietly, casting a steady glance at Diana. “In an era undergoing such drastic change, a general who left the military system and drifted from normal society two decades ago is meaningless. He can neither return to Typhon’s military nor claim a place in any other part of the empire. Moreover…”

He paused briefly. Bathed in the afternoon sunlight, he seemed to recall fragments of his youth—though those memories quickly dissolved into careful calculation and judgment.

“More than Bard Windell himself, I care about the loyalty of the Windell family. Bard has left Typhon, but Pedinan and Andesha remain here. Other members of the Windell family, and the various military nobles connected to them, are still here. At this delicate moment, the empire needs their loyalty more than ever.”

Diana lowered her head. “I understand. Your judgment is as far-sighted as ever.”

Rosetta shook his head, then suddenly sighed, a strange expression crossing his face. “But that means one of the ancient Augustus ancestors has become a tree on Cecil’s land, while Typhon’s most promising Wolf General has become a researcher beneath that very tree… The course of this world is truly unpredictable.”

The imperial ruler spoke with an odd look, though his mind couldn’t help but wonder what “surprises” Gawain Cecil might bring the next time they met. Could it really come to inspecting the royal tombs and the sealed family crypts of the great noble houses? It was said that after Gawain’s “resurrection,” many nobles had reinforced their family coffins. At the time, Rosetta had dismissed it as foolish rumor, but now he found himself reconsidering its plausibility…

He didn’t mind if some long-deceased Augustus ancestor suddenly returned to the world—but if that ancestor came back as a Cecil subject, that was another matter entirely…

“Your Majesty?” Diana noticed Rosetta’s sudden silence and spoke up. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. Let’s not dwell on that,” Rosetta shook his head, withdrawing his gaze from the shifting light on the floor. “Cecil just sent a message—about the Gondor Wasteland. You should already be aware.”

“Yes,” Diana nodded. Her ironclad soldier’s face rarely betrayed emotion, but her presence grew noticeably more serious. “I saw the copied briefing early this morning. The contents… are startling.”

“Deep within the ruins of the Deep Blue Well, ancient Gondorian relics still operate, including an active Iron Legion. A sect of the End-All cult, long beyond control, is active deep in the wasteland—and they may have stolen a considerable amount of energy from the Deep Blue Well…” Rosetta said gravely, his fingers unconsciously stroking a jeweled ring. “Such a disturbing threat… has been operating right under our noses for centuries.”

“The wasteland has always been under our watch, but for a long time, everyone assumed it was ‘dead,’” Diana said calmly. “Even when mutated creatures breached the barrier and invaded the human world in recent years, many nations didn’t take it seriously. Ultimately, because the wasteland showed no clear ‘hostility’ toward the safe zones, people instinctively believed it would remain sealed and inert forever.”

“I’m beginning to understand why Gawain Cecil has maintained such vigilance and caution toward the Gondor Wasteland since his resurrection,” Rosetta said quietly. “As long as that thing exists, there is no true safety in this world. The irony is, even on the eve of the Alliance’s formation, many still dismissed the outposts and fortresses Cecil built along the southern slopes of the Dark Mountains as the ‘paranoia of an old man clinging to ancient threats.’”

“…I don’t know how to judge the subtle tendencies of human psychology, but I agree with your assessment of Gawain Cecil and the Gondor Wasteland,” Diana said after a moment’s thought. “What do you think of the plan Cecil proposed?”

“They’ve put forward a long-term counteroffensive plan against the wasteland, hoping that the three great empires—Cecil, Typhon, and Silver—will rally their respective spheres of influence. The plan calls for a two-pronged advance from the north and south of the Gondor Wasteland. The first objective is to establish forward bases at the foot of the Grant Wall, then set up purification zones and more forward outposts inside the barrier—just as the pioneers did seven centuries ago,” Rosetta recalled the details from Cecil’s message. “At the same time, they want to develop a communication and transportation method that can directly cross the wasteland, replacing the unstable Sentinel data chain and the ‘Gondor Land Corridor.’ This has apparently gained at least tacit support from the Silver Empire.

“Overall, it’s an ambitious plan. As much as I hate to admit it, only someone like Gawain—who experienced the Second Expansion—would dare propose such a thing. Those of us living in comfort find it hard to make such a decision.

“As for my stance… I lean toward supporting it, at least the first phase. We need to rebuild those bases and pioneer camps at the Grant Wall. Whether or not we push further into the wasteland later, we cannot continue to remain ignorant of what’s happening there.”

Diana studied Rosetta’s expression and slowly nodded. “A wise judgment, tempered with caution.”

“I’m curious about your thoughts on this,” Rosetta said suddenly. “Not as the so-called ‘head maid’ or ‘Wanderer commander,’ but as… a Gondorian Iron. What do you think? After all, in a sense, that’s your ‘homeland,’ and there may still be an entire functioning Iron Legion deep in the wasteland.”

“…I don’t know what to think. It’s not on my list of duties,” Diana said, seeming a bit puzzled by the question. “I was indeed born in the Gondor Empire, but the facilities that created me and the creators who calibrated my mind were all wiped out in the magical cataclysm. I have no sentimental attachment to the polluted dust or toxic waters left behind. As for the Iron Legion you mentioned… I do care somewhat. I haven’t seen my kind in a long time. If they’re still operational, perhaps I could update some useful data from their core to improve my own systems.

“Of course, if you’re asking about the ‘counteroffensive against the wasteland’ plan, I fully support it. It’s a wise and proactive strategy. Rather than sealing a deadly threat behind an energy barrier and pretending it doesn’t exist, facing it head-on and trying to resolve the crisis is the only meaningful course.”

Rosetta stared at Diana for a moment. “If—hypothetically—you reestablished contact with that Iron Legion deep in the wasteland, and they or their commanding officers ordered you to ‘return to duty,’ what would you do? Would that order conflict with your oath of loyalty to the Augustus family? When two commands clash, how do you decide which takes priority?”

“…Long ago, when your great-grandfather was still a child, he often tried to crash me with logically conflicting questions to avoid afternoon classes or physical training,” Diana said expressionlessly. “Are you trying something similar now?”

Rosetta’s face remained impassive. “I’m just curious.”

“Irons are mechanical soldiers governed by logic systems, but we’re far more flexible than so-called ‘magical puppets,’” Diana said. “If such a conflict did arise, I would explain my situation to my superiors and seek understanding. I would also explain why I left the Iron network seven centuries ago. In any case, a still-functioning Iron Legion would not lack an outdated security officer model, and you would certainly need the experience I’ve accumulated over hundreds of years. I would never crash due to conflicting orders as you suggest.”

“Alright, I said it was just ‘if,’” Rosetta spread his hands, suddenly curious. “But you mentioned my great-grandfather was a child then… He really tried to crash you with logic puzzles? I never knew that. How did you handle it?”

“I rebooted faster than he could leave the room,” Diana said quietly, her gaze flicking behind Rosetta. In her high-precision artificial crystal eyes, arcane runes for detecting spirits rapidly refreshed. “By the way, I should remind you—your great-grandfather is eavesdropping.”

Rosetta froze, tilting his head to the side. Behind him stood the Augustus ancestors, expressionless since the Eye of God’s curse fell two centuries ago. His great-grandfather was nearby, looking down at him.

Rosetta was silent for several seconds, then turned back, resuming his composed posture.

The two-century curse had been lifted, but its aftereffects… seemed destined to linger a while longer.

…

Above the Holy Spirit Plains, a gravity-defying aircraft much larger than a typical dragon rider craft skimmed beneath the clouds in the sunlight. Several dragon rider fighters assigned as escorts flanked it, along with two fully armed Dragonborn warriors flying in formation. The bright sun filtered through the thin high-altitude clouds, reflecting off the steel and crystal hull with a dazzling silver gleam, while energy shields shimmered around the craft and the Dragonborn soldiers.

Inside the large aircraft at the center of the formation, the cabin was much more spacious than those of the standard dragon riders, divided into two sections—front and back. The rear cabin was semicircular, with several seats arranged along the curved walls. Facing this half-circle of seats was a maginet terminal device. At this moment, the light-blocking shield outside the cabin had been deployed, dimming the overly bright daylight above and leaving only the most comfortable lighting inside. Above the maginet terminal, a holographic projection displayed the landscape of the Holy Spirit Plains—a real-time aerial view from outside the aircraft.

The Silver Queen Belsethia sat in one of the seats, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement as she studied the holographic scene. At the same time, she occasionally glanced around the interior of the aircraft, examining its structure and the mysterious magical devices she couldn’t quite identify. Beside her, her attendant Eliane appeared somewhat nervous, gripping the armrest tightly at times and frowning as she listened carefully to the faint hum of the anti-gravity rings beneath the floor.

“I first heard about these magitech flying devices back at the royal court,” Belsethia said to Gawain, “My chief star mage couldn’t stop praising your groundbreaking advances in anti-gravity technology, especially your optimization and efficiency improvements with runes… To be honest, I thought her reaction was a bit exaggerated at first, since anti-gravity has always been the elves’ domain.” She smiled thoughtfully. “But now, I’m beginning to believe her assessment. I can actually sense the energy flow around the anti-gravity rings—it’s incredible how efficiently you’re harnessing magical power, and yet it remains so stable…”

“Mathematics is the foundation of the world,” Gawain replied, “and the hallmark of a foundation is stability. But compared to the Star Sanctum of the Silver Empire, these small-scale anti-gravity devices probably don’t impress you much.”

“That’s different, Uncle Gawain,” Belsethia smiled warmly. “The Star Sanctum is indeed a magnificent legacy, but its biggest problem is that it’s just that—a legacy. It wasn’t even created by us Silver Elves, but by the more ancient Primordial Elves. Only if we manage to build a second Star Sanctum can we truly claim it as the pride of the Silver Empire.”

The legacy of the Primordial Elves…

Gawain couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. Wonders like the Star Sanctum had become unique relics—one-of-a-kind masterpieces. Rebecca had long coveted the elves’ “ancestral technology,” even dreaming of constructing a similar airborne fortress. In fact, it was a dream Gawain shared as well. But sadly, with Cecil’s current technological capabilities, they were still far from achieving it.

“How much farther to the towering Solin Tree?” Belsethia suddenly asked.

“About half an hour’s flight,” Gawain answered. “You can use this time to prepare what you want to say to Beltera—you haven’t seen each other in centuries.”

Belsethia gave a soft hum of acknowledgment, memories from centuries past stirring in her mind. Out of the corner of her eye, on the holographic projection ahead, a faint, distant patch of green suddenly appeared on the horizon.

(End of chapter)