Chapter 1128: Mathematics

Beltira’s words sent both High King Gawain and Queen Belsethia into deep thought. It was like a sudden flash of insight, cutting through the tangled chaos of clues and drawing Gawain’s attention to details he had previously overlooked—

If those cultists deep within the wasteland were no longer “human,” no longer concerned with the “grand plan” carried out by their brethren beyond the wasteland, no longer paying attention to the outside world, then why would they continue cooperating with the “external church”? And since they had been cooperating with the external church’s operations for seven centuries, that meant…

“They’ve been feeding us data all along, even helping us infiltrate the Sentinel Towers. For centuries, they acted like loyal colleagues, which blinded us to the underlying abnormalities. We never stopped to consider whether this group of mentally and physically mutated ‘brethren’ shared our values,” Beltira’s voice sounded quietly beside him. “It wasn’t until the False God’s body went out of control, everything collapsed, and the church beyond the walls crumbled, that I finally had the chance to stand here, calm and undisturbed, and think clearly about the problem.”

“They weren’t helping you,” Gawain said gravely. “They were only helping themselves. The only explanation for their cooperation over all these years is that it benefited them somehow—or that you had something they could exploit. Think carefully: among all your plans, what could those cultists deep in the wasteland have taken advantage of? That might help us uncover their true motives.”

“There’s too much—biochemical engineering, environmental transformation, divine factors, divine corruption… We’ve been running so many projects, each one potentially useful to them,” Beltira pondered aloud. “The environments inside and outside the wasteland are completely different, which means many experiments could only be conducted on one side or the other. Every piece of research we and they have done is an invaluable source of data for the other.”

“Then let’s assume all of this was their goal,” Belsethia broke the silence. “Lady Beltira, the projects you mentioned—those were all operated by you ‘external cultists,’ right? And then the data was shared with the ‘internal cultists’ inside the barrier? And all these projects have one thing in common: they relate to the survival and transformation of living organisms in their environment…”

“What are you thinking?” Gawain immediately turned to the Silver Queen, his expression growing serious.

“Let’s put aside the technology for a moment—if we regard those cultists living inside the Great Wall as a ‘new species,’ what do you think this new species wants most right now?”

“A new species? What they want most?” Gawain furrowed his brow instinctively. Belsethia’s words sparked a fresh line of thought in him. He shook off the habitual mindset of “apocalyptic conspiracies” and “cult worship.” When the question returned to its simplest premise, something clicked. “Wait, you mean what they want is actually a habitat…”

“A habitat. A simple but dangerous answer,” Belsethia nodded slowly. “The wasteland of Gondor is a place where they can survive, but it’s hardly comfortable living there now—the central zone is the ruins of the Deep Blue Well, controlled by the Iron Legion, and the outer edges are a guarded zone monitored by the Sentinel Towers. They can only operate in limited areas between these two, so… they’re probably dissatisfied with this situation.”

Gawain’s gaze grew deep and serious. In that moment, he mulled over many things. Nearby, Beltira quietly glanced at the magic-net terminal. The holographic image of a mutated treant slowly rotated in midair—twisted limbs and distorted, vaguely human faces concealing a non-human intelligence. After a long look, the former Dark High Priestess sighed softly, as if speaking to herself: “We’ve strayed too far…”

Gawain was jolted from his thoughts by her words. Just as he was about to respond, he noticed Beltira suddenly stiffen, as if listening intently. Two seconds later, she ended her eavesdropping, her tone unusually grave: “The monitoring team just sent an urgent message. They’ve intercepted some… very unusual information. We’d better go to the monitoring center ourselves and take a look.”

“The monitoring team?” Gawain quickly realized she meant the long-term surveillance project capturing “mysterious signals” at the major magic-net hubs. His expression immediately hardened—knowing Beltira’s character, she wouldn’t be this urgent unless the situation was truly serious. “Alright, let’s go now.”

Belsethia was momentarily taken aback by the sudden change. She cast a curious glance at Gawain. “What are you talking about?”

“Remember what we were discussing earlier in the plaza?” Gawain looked at the Silver Queen. “That antenna device—well, now I can take you directly to see what this ‘monitoring’ project is really about.”

As he spoke, the wooden structure of the living room—grown naturally from the towering Sorin tree—creaked and shifted. One wall slowly slid open, revealing a tubular passage and a transport pod with seats, resting inside. Beltira walked toward it, explaining, “We can use the vascular passage to reach the monitoring center. It’s faster than going outside.”

Gawain followed with Belsethia, glancing up at Beltira in surprise. “You actually built a transit system inside your own body?”

“It was General Margarita’s suggestion,” Beltira replied. “The Sorin tree is enormous, with many facilities arranged in complex three-dimensional layers. Conventional elevators or external corridors couldn’t handle the commuting demands, so General Margarita proposed designing a ‘slideway’ to quickly move personnel and supplies between facilities. Her inspiration came from southern farms, where farmers use similar slides to send dried grain from high platforms directly into storage.”

Gawain listened, amazed at the creativity blossoming in areas he hadn’t known about. He felt both surprised and comforted, pondering how such a system might be applied in other factories, comparing it to similar Earth technologies. Soon, Beltira stopped at the entrance to the passage, apparently not intending to enter.

“You’re not coming with us?” he asked.

“I’ll recreate an ‘avatar’ at the exit to meet you,” Beltira said, the flowering vines behind her spreading like a cloak. “You see, these avatars have limited mobility and can’t ride ‘vehicles’—the vines don’t allow long-distance rapid transfer.”

So Beltira was literally tethered?

Gawain couldn’t help but think this was a bit odd. Curiosity got the better of him: “What happens if the vines are suddenly cut while you’re maintaining the avatar?”

“You’d be left with a lifelike wooden Beltira doll,” she said expressionlessly. “It’s essentially just a medium for conversation. Once the neural cords are severed, it’s just an empty shell.”

“…That makes sense,” Gawain muttered, twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Beltira looked at him seriously. “Are you interested in such a doll? If you want, I can carve one for you. Unlike other wooden items, it’s easy to maintain—just soak it in frostgrass potion for two hours, then dry it, and it can last at least half a century.”

“No, thank you.” Gawain quickly waved off the topic, sensing it might go somewhere unexpected. He pulled Belsethia into the transport pod inside the passage. Beltira said nothing, standing there with her usual wooden expression. The protective shell of the passage closed smoothly, and soft lights illuminated the cabin.

Belsethia watched everything calmly. As the Silver Queen, she had lived a long life and seen much. Most of the time, she could maintain this composed demeanor, though the private personalities of the “Outer Wanderer” and Beltira’s current form were somewhat beyond her expectations. Still, none of it was necessarily bad.

But as the transport pod began to glide through the passage, she couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure it’s alright to take me directly to the monitoring center? It sounds like you’ve just made a major breakthrough—isn’t this supposed to be confidential?”

“It does have a certain level of secrecy,” Gawain explained, “but as I said earlier in the plaza, this project is open-source to neighboring countries—and it will be open to the Silver Empire as well. In fact, we’ve already sent technical teams to proactively engage with the Holy Dragon Principality and the Typhon Empire, aiming to build a larger, interconnected monitoring network…”

The Silver Queen’s eyes widened in surprise. She had heard Gawain mention the project’s openness to neighboring nations, but she hadn’t expected it to be so extensive. This went beyond the usual technical exchanges between the Cecile and Silver Empires—it was a collaborative effort on a scale never before seen among mortal nations. She couldn’t help but ask, “Why go to such lengths? What exactly are you monitoring that requires… spanning the entire continent?”

Gawain met Belsethia’s gaze. In the flickering light, the Silver Queen’s eyes shone with eager curiosity.

“We’re tracking a signal—unknown origin, unknown meaning, with unclear decoded content. But we know it’s artificial, and I believe it… might bring us something that could overturn everyone’s worldview,” Gawain said slowly. “We’ve been tracking it for over two years now, and recent data has made experts realize one thing: the information collected by magic-net hubs within Cecile alone is insufficient to track and lock onto this signal.”

Belsethia’s eyes widened, but before she could say more, a slight jolt shook the pod, followed by the sound of the passage’s outer shell opening.

As Beltira said—the internal transit system was indeed very convenient.

Inside the brightly lit monitoring center, the mysterious signal’s fluctuations still echoed through the equipment. Paper tapes and boards recording the signal’s waveform and images piled up on the desks, while printers continuously output long sheets of paper, capturing every subtle change. In the center of the room, a large holographic projection displayed an expanding geometric pattern and dot matrix.

Bard’s eyes were fixed intently on the display until a voice beside him startled him from his reverie: “His Majesty has arrived!” “Lady Beltira is here too!” “It’s the Queen… the Silver Queen…”

Bard quickly looked up to see three figures approaching from the transit passage exit. Before anyone could bow or greet, Gawain raised his hand to stop them.

“Back to work,” Gawain’s voice rang through the room. “The person in charge of the monitoring channel can come forward—who intercepted this signal?”

Bard immediately rose from his post and approached Gawain. After a formal salute, Gawain looked at the familiar man before him with a hint of surprise. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Bard replied, bowing his head. “I’m in charge of this surveillance team.”

“Good. Well done,” Gawain said with a faint smile, nodding slightly. His gaze then shifted to the holographic projection hovering in the center of the room. “What’s the current situation?”

“The signal transmission is ongoing, and its stability far exceeds previous attempts. So far, there have been no interruptions or unresolvable static,” Bard reported promptly. “Using the decoding method developed by Lady Beltira, we’ve successfully generated these patterns—clear and orderly. This confirms the decoding approach is correct. However, as for the content…”

Gawain’s eyes remained fixed on the projection, his expression growing more serious than anyone had ever seen before.

He saw basic geometric shapes neatly arranged in the first row: perfectly regular squares, triangles, circles, and polygons.

In the subsequent patterns, smooth curves began to appear—spirals unfurling gradually, closed intersecting geometric forms.

There were dot matrices grouped by increasing sequences, coordinate systems with horizontal and vertical axes dotted with undulating points.

The murmurs of discussion in the room were kept low, barely audible over the steady hum of the arcane machinery scattered about. The printers clicked and clattered as they fed out sheets of paper. When one paper tray ran dry, a nearby technician hurried over to replace it with fresh stock.

“Your Majesty, look at this…” Bard whispered beside him. “These things seem to be…”

“Mathematics,” Gawain finally exhaled softly, his heartbeat slowing as he took a deep breath.

Bard was silent for a moment before quietly saying, “…So you think the same.”

Gawain’s gaze remained locked on the hologram at the room’s center. Then, just as the continuous stream of geometric shapes, dot matrices, and curves seemed to reach their end, something new began to emerge from the projection—something no one present recognized as familiar mathematics.

They were a cluster of strange, irregular symbols—like cryptic signs.

(End of chapter)