Chapter 1141: The Shuddering Truth

Silence once again settled over the incubation chamber. Enya had to break it herself. “I know this answer defies common sense.”

“Wait a moment—I need to sort this out…” High Priest Taliesin instinctively raised a hand to interrupt her. After finally organizing his thoughts and confirming the information she’d described, he slowly lifted his head. “So, when the ‘Great Magical Tide’ arrived, the world itself wasn’t actually affected at all. Instead, every individual capable of becoming an ‘Observer’ experienced a cognitive shift. What was once a normal world appeared to them as something indescribable, incomprehensible… The so-called ‘end of the world’ was actually a hallucination they created?”

“That’s not just a simple hallucination,” Enya replied. “A hallucination can be dismissed by closing your eyes and blocking your senses. But the ‘exile shift’ brought by the Magical Tide breaks the boundaries of matter and reality itself. If you mistake ice for fire, then that ‘fire’ can truly burn you. If the sun in your eyes turns into a black, extinguished ember, then the whole world will dim and chill around you. It sounds utterly irrational, but that is the truth of the world.

“Observers construct the world they inhabit through their own cognition. This ‘Observer World’ overlaps precisely with the real world. But when the Magical Tide arrives, this overlap becomes misaligned. Observers are consumed by the chaotic illusions they perceive. In their extreme madness and terror, they desperately left behind records of a world twisted and shattered, of the Magical Tide destroying all things. Yet to those who come after… these records are nothing but the ravings of lunatics, illusions that no theory can ever prove.”

Taliesin sank into the wide, high-backed chair. The ventilation system sent a cool, clean breeze his way, the low hum of machinery sounding distant and unreal. He fell into deep thought, lost in contemplation for an unknown length of time before finally snapping back. “This… truly defies normal understanding. Observers’ perceptions shape an ‘Observer World’ that overlaps the real one? And the shift in this Observer World leads to the self-destruction of the Observers themselves…”

“But you don’t seem as shocked as I expected,” Enya said calmly. “I thought you’d at least lose your composure.”

“That’s because many of the concepts you mentioned aren’t unfamiliar to me—I just can’t believe all this happens on a macro scale,” Taliesin said with a complex expression, half to himself, half in wonder. “But if what you say is true… then where exactly is the boundary between the real universe and the ‘cognitive universe’ in our world? If an Observer can be burned to death by a ‘phantom flame’ in their mind, then what meaning does the operation of the real world hold?”

The voice from the golden egg paused before answering. “It seems that in your homeland, the material world and the spiritual world are clearly separated.”

“At least on a macro level, yes,” Taliesin said gravely. “There, reality is reality, illusion is illusion, and the observer effect only applies in the microscopic realm.”

“Is that so…? It’s a pity that in this universe, the boundaries of all things seem fluid,” Enya said. The pale golden runes flowing across her shell slowed, as if to help Taliesin calm his thoughts. “What mortals see as a stable, peaceful, beautiful world can be transformed into an indescribable, twisted hellscape by a single Magical Tide. When cognition and reality diverge, crossing the line between sanity and madness becomes effortless. From a certain perspective, the very pursuit of a ‘real universe’ is meaningless. In fact… does a real universe even exist?”

Enya’s final question was enough to drive any scholar with a fragile mind toward madness. Yet Taliesin found himself strangely calm. Suddenly, he thought of the strange “layered” structure of this world—the Shadow Realm beneath the material world, the Umbral Realm beneath that, even the “Deep Realm” below the Umbral, and the “Abyssal Sea” that exists only as a concept even to the gods…

In his mind’s eye, an endless ocean seemed to rise from nothingness. This was the true shape of the universe—layers upon layers of “realms” stacked in ways human minds could not comprehend, mapping onto each other in complex patterns. In the sunless depths of this ocean, the deepest “truths” lay buried in unreachable darkness. The ocean swelled, while mortals were but tiny mayflies drifting on the shallowest surface, their understanding far too limited to grasp the ocean’s true form.

He drew a slow breath, pulling his reason back from that imagined “sea,” and with a tone that sounded almost detached, he murmured, “I’m suddenly curious… when the Magical Tide arrives, what does the world look like to those who are ‘exiled’?”

He had seen the cataclysm seven centuries ago in his own memories—the scorched, twisted earth, the terrifying celestial phenomena, chaotic magical energies sweeping the land, countless monsters pouring in from all directions. It was almost the most horrific “end of the world” a mortal could imagine. Even Taliesin himself had once believed that was what the apocalypse looked like. But now, he realized his imagination was insufficient to grasp the true nature of this world.

“Even if you are an Outer Wanderer who can rival gods, the terror inflicted on mortal minds by the Magical Tide is something you would rather not face,” Enya’s voice came from the golden egg. “To be honest, I cannot answer your question precisely. No one can communicate normally with those who have gone mad and lost their focus of perception in the ‘real universe.’ It’s difficult to piece together what they saw from their incoherent ramblings or even their screams. I can only speculate, based on the traces of madness left by civilizations that failed to endure the Tide—

“The sun extinguished in their eyes, or swollen into a massive flesh ball, or transformed into a black mass falling from the sky. The earth melting, sprouting endless teeth and giant eyes. Oceans boiling, forming whirlpools that reach the core of the planet. Stars falling to the ground, then turning into cold flowing fire spewing from rocks and clouds. They might see themselves cast into the starry sky, while the universe opens a giant maw filled with indescribable radiance and monstrous beings. Or they might see all things in the cosmos stripped away, becoming maddened shadows and endless noise. And in the final moments of destruction, they themselves become victims of this chaos, becoming one with the madness.

“This is the fate of the deranged Observers and the world they see—in the intricate mappings of the cosmos, they lose their sense of self, and thus lose everything. In such a state, anything they see is possible.”

Taliesin remained silent for a long time. After more than a minute, he shook his head with a complicated expression. “Your description is vivid. That vision would chill anyone with a sane mind to the bone.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Enya said calmly. Her usual serene, gentle tone now had a soothing effect, calming nerves and easing tension. “But don’t take what I’ve told you as reliable research data. After all, it’s only my speculation. Even gods cannot reach the minds of those exiled.”

Taliesin was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, “The idea that the Great Magical Tide reshapes all things was first told to me by the sea witches. I believe they didn’t lie about this. So the only explanation is—they truly ‘saw’ the world being reshaped. That means they were ‘Observers’ affected by the Tide… But why are they unharmed? They seem to witness some phenomena, yet survive the Tide again and again.”

“Sea witches…” Enya chuckled softly, as if resigned. “They might be the only race in this world I truly cannot understand. Though I witnessed their fall from space onto this planet, and observed from afar as they built their kingdoms in the distant seas, I have always tried to prevent the dragons from establishing contact with these starborn visitors. Do you know why?”

“Because the sea witches come from the cosmos, and their knowledge of the stars and their ships could draw the dragons’ attention outward, accelerating your loss of control?” Taliesin guessed, though he already sensed the issue was more complicated—otherwise Enya wouldn’t have asked him now.

“You’re partly right. But more importantly… the sea witches are ‘toxic Observers’ to me.

“The way they perceive this world is completely different from any other race. It’s as if they’re not only from another planet, but from another universe entirely. They carry a distinct… alienation, a ‘rift’ incompatible with our world. This rift means the Magical Tide cannot fully affect them. When the Tide comes, they see some shifted phenomena, but very quickly their self-awareness corrects these ‘errors.’ This correction even frightens me—because they don’t just ‘correct’ themselves, they influence other intelligent beings, slowly altering other races’ cognition, and through ideological currents, spreading this influence even to the gods behind those races.

“Remember the ‘closed system’ we discussed earlier, regarding gods losing control? To the gods, these sea witches are like a swarm of ‘corrosive toxins’ that actively break down the closed system—mobile, aggressive foreign information. Do you understand what I mean?”

Taliesin blinked, immediately recalling a joke he once muttered:

The gods met the sea witches, they did a sanity check on each other—and then the gods went mad.

That offhand joke… was actually true.

The sea witches’ existence can corrupt the gods! If their cognition and self-correction have a kind of ‘priority,’ then that priority even surpasses the Magical Tide?!

His eyes suddenly sharpened, his tone turning grave. “Then if we’re now establishing broader contact with the sea witches, isn’t that…”

“I think that by the time I ‘fell,’ the sea witches had already lost their toxicity,” Enya said gently, sensing Taliesin’s sudden worry. “The rift between them and this world has nearly vanished, and with it, the corruption fades. For the gods who come after, starting with this civilization, the sea witches are no longer dangerous.”

Taliesin was stunned. “Why?”

“I don’t know. There are too many mysteries surrounding this race,” Enya said. The golden runes on her shell paused briefly, then slowly resumed flowing. “The only thing I’m certain of is that before I fell, I finally succeeded in observing the ripples created by the sea witches’ thoughts deep within this world… This means that after such a long time, this alien race has finally integrated into our world.”

“Integration…” High Chancellor pondered every word Enya had spoken. He tried to grasp the peculiar nature of those ‘extraterrestrial visitors’ who had crashed onto this planet—what kind of existence could they possibly have that even the oldest gods here had feared them for over a million years? That fear had only just begun to lift in recent times. He also speculated on how the sea witches’ ‘integration’ had occurred, and several plausible theories were already forming in his mind.

But for now, none of these theories could be confirmed—probably not even the sea witches themselves fully understood the process.

The only certainty was the final conclusion: the sea witches were like an insoluble foreign substance. After 1.87 million years on this world, their outer shell had finally begun to dissolve. They were no longer a bug capable of crashing the system. This might be good news for the races that had established contact with them, but for the sea witches themselves… was it really a blessing?

He couldn’t help but ask, “If they’ve integrated into this world, does that mean the magical tides will affect them from now on?”

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” Enya replied with a hint of helplessness. “I know that sounds evasive, but there are just too many mysteries surrounding them. Even if you solve one, countless others remain. The biggest issue is that their life essence is still elemental in nature… an elemental being capable of stable existence in the physical world. Elemental beings can be reshaped and reborn after a magical tide passes. This might mean that even if they are destroyed by the magical tide like other mortals, their entire race could be reborn once it ends.

“Of course, the opposite could be true as well. Who can say for sure? None of this has ever happened before—not even the gods can predict it.”

“Maybe I should talk to them about this sometime,” High Chancellor said, frowning. Then suddenly, he remembered something. “Wait—earlier we said the Great Magical Tide doesn’t affect entities in the ‘real universe.’ But what about the Lesser Magical Tide?

“I mean, when the Gondor Empire was swallowed by the Lesser Magical Tide after the Deep Blue Well explosion, the pioneers witnessed firsthand how that chaotic magic energy altered the environment. Later, we even discovered a new type of ore in the Dark Mountains, which was confirmed to be a product of the magical tide… Could this be the result of some kind of ‘reshaping’ phenomenon?”

“That’s a misconception as well,” Enya said calmly. “There’s never been any ‘reshaping of all things.’ Neither the Great Magical Tide nor the so-called Lesser Magical Tide causes that. The explosion in the Gondor Empire confused your understanding of the magical tides. In reality, what you faced was merely the shockwave from the Deep Blue Well. Those new ores and the mutated environment were simply natural reactions to the high concentration of magical energy erosion. If you don’t believe me, you can replicate the results in a laboratory.”

(End of chapter)