Chapter 1129: Coming from the Other Shore

Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the strange patterns that kept emerging one after another, until they filled an entire line. Then, behind the symbols appeared a series of evenly spaced dots. Suddenly, the monitoring channel was filled with a void of white noise, and a “signal lost” alert sounded from a nearby arcane network terminal. Only then did many of them seem to remember how to breathe, taking deep, steady breaths.

“The signal’s gone…” one of the monitors stood up from his chair, a trace of confusion on his face, repeating, “The signal’s gone…”

The holographic projection in the center of the room remained active, the image clear in midair. High King Gawain’s gaze was locked onto those final “symbols” that had appeared, refusing to look away. They seemed composed of arcs and straight lines, grouped in sets of four to six, separated by dots or short dashes—evoking certain associations in the mind.

“Your Majesty, do you think these…” Bard broke the silence, unable to hold back, “look like…”

“Writing,” Gawain said softly. “They look like some kind of script.”

“We’ve never seen anything like this before,” muttered a gray-haired mage-technician nearby. “I bet no one here recognizes it… it looks too strange.”

Bersethia stood quietly beside Gawain. She still wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but based on Gawain’s explanations during their journey and what she had just witnessed, a faint suspicion was beginning to form in her mind. Her gaze swept over every face in the room—faces filled with tension, excitement, confusion, speculation, and thoughtful contemplation. Finally, she looked back at Gawain, only to see his eyes calm and deep as still water, yet something seemed to be brewing beneath their surface.

Several seconds passed before Gawain finally spoke again, his voice calmer than Bersethia had expected. “Copy down these symbols. Summon experts in languages, scripts, and cryptography. Do everything possible to decipher them…”

He paused mid-sentence, as if weighing something carefully, then continued, “Also, scramble some of the symbols and release them publicly. Launch a nationwide search for clues. Anyone who has seen anything similar—whether in their child’s doodles or in the wheat fields on their farm—should report it.”

Beltira, standing nearby, immediately nodded. “Understood. I’m already notifying General Margarita.”

“Distribute all antenna operational parameters to every monitoring station nationwide,” Gawain added. “And what direction was the main antenna pointing when the signal appeared?”

Bard reminded him, “Your Majesty, the main antenna is now a lattice array. The array crystals don’t have directional reception…”

“But the mechanical base does,” Gawain said, looking at Bard. Though he no longer personally handled such technical matters, he was far from ignorant of the basics. “Even if the lattice reception is omnidirectional, the mechanical structure means it receives more efficiently in certain directions. Where was the mechanical dish pointing at the time?”

A young female mage-technician dashed to her workstation, quickly locating the antenna’s orientation data. After a brief mental comparison, she looked up. “Your Majesty, the main antenna was pointing toward the constellation Frostsky.”

“From today onward, the Solin monitoring station’s antenna team will focus exclusively on tracking signals from the Frostsky direction,” Gawain said, turning to Beltira. “Other stations will maintain their usual omnidirectional monitoring.”

Beltira had already caught on to Gawain’s plan. “The Paramel Observatory is on the same latitude as Solin and has a higher-grade ‘window.’ It would be best to synchronize their efforts.”

Gawain thought for a moment, then nodded. “Good point. Have Paramel adjust their antenna toward Frostsky and activate 24-hour reception. I’ll send a technical team there later; they might be short-staffed.”

After a flurry of arrangements and brief discussions, Gawain left the monitoring facility nestled at the canopy’s base. Instead of returning to Beltira’s “rest quarters,” they took the elevator inside the tree trunk back to the treetop. Evening was approaching; the brilliant summer sunlight was fading into a golden-red glow. Radiant beams streamed from the horizon, skimming through thin, scattered clouds, bathing the vast wooden platform atop the giant tree and the layered sea of leaves in warm light.

The sunset at this time of year was like liquid light.

The main antenna stood tall on the platform’s highest point. Its intricate mechanical frame supported hundreds of translucent hexagonal crystal plates. Runes flickered between the crystal chips and the magic-conducting metal, echoing the sunlight. A high-altitude breeze swept through the antenna array, producing a low hum as it passed through the gaps between crystal and metal—almost as if this marvel of imperial scholarship was whispering secrets.

Gawain stood beneath the antenna, lowering his gaze from the crystal array to its finely crafted mechanical base. To optimize resonance within the magical field and reduce interference, the mechanical dish automatically tracked “high-purity windows” in the atmosphere, adjusting itself accordingly. Perhaps this subtle variable had brought about today’s unexpected results.

But the variable might also lie in the antenna’s materials. As he knew, the crystals had recently been replaced. After a strong wind damaged the old monitoring device, mechanists and mage-technicians redesigned the entire system, using new, high-quality crystals forged at the Pompey Crystal Foundry. Their raw material came from the purest crystal dust mined from the Ancestor Peak of Augure. The new crystals performed significantly better than the old ones… Could this be the reason?

Perhaps the next time another monitoring station picks up the signal, they’ll have their answer.

“Looks like the mechanists will have to work overtime,” Beltira’s voice broke Gawain’s thoughts. The “Giant Tree Incarnation” stood beside the antenna’s base, also gazing up at the crystals, a faint smile on her wood-crafted face. “Maintaining resonance strength and interference resistance while locking the crystal array onto a specific direction might require rebuilding the entire mechanical dish… But it’s not an unsolvable problem. The original redesign plan included ideas for this, though… the cost might be a bit higher.”

Gawain said nothing, simply watching the antenna’s direction. Beyond it lay only the golden-red glow of dusk and a cloud slowly drifting northward. No stars were visible yet, but he knew the stars still twinkled during the day. Frostsky was in that direction, and this massive monitoring device was slowly, almost imperceptibly, tracking that ancient constellation.

“The tracking precision isn’t enough, is it?” he suddenly murmured.

“Of course not. This mechanical structure wasn’t designed for celestial tracking. I’m currently using a servo brain to control the dish’s mechanics. The servo brain’s calculations are precise enough, but the mechanical accuracy of the dish itself is a weak point,” Beltira explained. “Once we rebuild the dish, this should be fixed. But we still need some experts in astrology—nothing as high-level as Paramel’s masters, just a few graduates from the Imperial Academy who understand how to construct tracking trajectories based on celestial movements.”

“I’ll arrange the best astrologers for you, with ample funding,” Gawain glanced at Beltira. “By the way, who taught you that ‘playing the pity card’ routine to get more budget?”

Beltira remained expressionless, giving no reply.

The platform fell silent. Gawain, Beltira, and Bersethia stood beneath the antenna, each lost in their own thoughts. This tacit silence lasted a full minute before they suddenly spoke in unison: “Could it really be coming from the stars?”

They exchanged glances, then after a brief pause, all three laughed. Bersethia, as if releasing a long-held tension, took a deep breath. “But I still can’t believe it… Even though the thought crossed my mind, is it really possible? This mysterious signal you’re talking about…”

“This isn’t a fanciful idea, though many haven’t considered it,” Gawain interrupted, his expression serious. “When the signal first appeared, I suspected this myself, but I never told anyone. The idea was too far ahead of its time and didn’t fit most people’s thinking. You should know, I… have a different perspective on the stars.”

Beltira and Bersethia both thought of Gawain’s identity as a “Wanderer Beyond the Realms.” They exchanged a glance and nodded quietly, choosing not to speak further.

“For over two years, we’ve studied this signal extensively,” Gawain continued. “Beltira knows this well—we set up monitoring stations across the empire, even one outside the Augure tribal lands. We tried every method to pinpoint the signal’s source, but found nothing on the land. Of course, we also tried pointing antennas skyward, but perhaps due to bad luck or the old crystals’ insufficient sensitivity, none of those attempts yielded useful information… except this time.

“Of course, we can’t rule out other origins—like the Shadow Realm overlapping our reality, some elemental plane, or even the divine realm. But we currently lack the means to establish large-scale outposts in those places, so such guesses remain just that. So far, the only plausible lead… is this one.”

Bersethia said nothing, her gaze distant as she looked up at the sky. As the twilight deepened and dusk crept in from afar, her sharp eyes caught a few points of starlight—stars she hadn’t truly noticed for centuries, yet now found strangely captivating.

Lost in thought, she heard Gawain’s voice beside her: “We should have known long ago—we are not the only intelligent beings in this universe. ‘Outsiders’ are not rare in this world.”

“Yes, I know there’s a sea-witch kingdom deep in the eastern ocean. They claim to have arrived on this planet aboard giant ships capable of interstellar travel. Some sea-witch allies even operate within the empire,” Beltira nodded softly. “I’ve read stories about them in newspapers and heard them on broadcasts.”

“But this is the first time we’ve heard, with our own ‘ears,’ a voice from beyond the stars… even if only possibly,” Bersethia withdrew her gaze from the sky, looking at Beltira and Gawain. “A distant, unknown world sending us a mysterious, unknown signal… It’s not like hearing a story. I never imagined I’d experience something like this.”

“Neither did I,” Gawain smiled, a complex emotion flickering across his face. “It… even leaves me a little at a loss.”

“You don’t seem all that happy,” Belsethia observed keenly, noticing the subtle shift in High Lord’s mood. “I thought you’d be more excited—after all, this is a thrilling discovery, and it’s connected to the ‘starry sky.’”

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s good news,” High Lord admitted, his initial excitement fading as heavier thoughts crept in. “Don’t forget, in our world, every step forward comes with great risk.”

At his words, Belsethia’s expression sobered instantly. She recalled the documents from the Theocratic Council, the fragments of information whispered by the dragons. A grave look settled over her face. “You mean… the gods might lose control because we dared to gaze at the stars?”

“Not quite that bad,” High Lord shook his head. “According to reliable intelligence, merely ‘looking up at the stars’ isn’t enough to drive the gods mad. It’s only when we actually reach for the stars that they’re pushed to the brink. So, at least for now, this discovery doesn’t carry the risk of divine catastrophe.”

“Reliable intelligence?” Beltira frowned. “How trustworthy is that information?”

“Trustworthy,” High Lord nodded firmly. “It came from the Dragon God himself before he went mad.”

Belsethia and Beltira exchanged a glance. “…Well, that does make it credible.”

“But the danger isn’t just from gazing at the stars,” High Lord continued, his gaze drifting upward again. “The source of this signal itself… could be dangerous.”

The Silver Queen’s face took on a thoughtful expression. Meanwhile, the distant stars, now beginning to twinkle faintly, seemed to hold a new, deeper meaning in her eyes.

Perhaps… among those stars truly exists a group of so-called ‘senders.’ Perhaps the signal the Thorin Listening Station intercepted today really did come from that faraway direction. If all of this is true, then ‘they’ must be there now—across a distance so vast that neither humans nor elves can even imagine it—gazing back at this side of the starry sky.

A distance far greater than the divide between mortal kingdoms and the ruins of Gondor.

A grand wall has already turned the mortals outside and the cultists within into two utterly separate ‘peoples.’ But those ‘senders’ on the other side of the stars… are they friendly?

(End of chapter)