Chapter 1149: Crossing the Boundary

Sailing far from land across the open ocean, travelers face their greatest peril in the form of deadly chaotic turbulence—sudden, intense magical disturbances that appear without warning and vanish just as quickly. In mere moments, a once-calm sea can transform into an extreme, hostile environment, with each storm spanning a vast area.

For deep-sea vessels lacking effective early warning and protective measures, these chaotic turbulences are nothing short of fatal. Without advance notice, ships cannot steer clear in time; the rapid escalation and wide coverage mean there’s no chance to escape before sustaining lethal damage. A single encounter with such a storm could tear apart an old-fashioned ship within minutes.

To conquer the seas, the two great human empires each developed advanced ships based on their own technological paths. The Typhon people recreated ancient storm relics to craft meteorological instruments capable of sensing the scale and location of chaotic turbulence to some extent, and developed protective systems that could shield ships for extended periods in extreme weather. Meanwhile, the Cecilian empire built massive warships from resilient alloys, reinforced with energy shields, and incorporated navigation techniques borrowed from sea spirits and nagas to minimize the risks posed by these magical storms.

Which approach is superior remains uncertain, but one thing is clear: both are still in their infancy, far from perfected.

Thus, the fleet led by the Winter’s Chill not only carried vital supplies but also bore an important mission—to gather as much meteorological data as possible from the open ocean, collecting every scrap of information related to chaotic turbulence. Once safely back, this knowledge would become a priceless treasure for Cecilian civilization and all mortal societies across the Loren Continent.

Alarms blared across every ship. Crew and passengers snapped to attention, rushing swiftly to their stations or safer areas within the vessels.

Byron returned to the bridge of the Winter’s Chill, looking down from his vantage point at the well-trained soldiers quickly taking their posts, preparing for the turbulence ahead. Under the operators’ control, the ship’s shields switched to enhanced mode in record time; the power spine began secondary charging; vast quantities of seawater were pumped into the elemental conversion pools and efficiently transformed into icy pure water, ready to serve as extra coolant should the power spine overheat.

Everything proceeded in orderly fashion. Though tense and busy, the operators showed no sign of panic. Byron knew that even if conditions on the other ships were slightly worse, they wouldn’t be drastically different.

Training was one thing, but another reason for their composure was that this wasn’t the fleet’s first encounter with a “magic storm” on this voyage. Since departing North Harbor, the fleet had already skirted three distant chaotic turbulences and one closer one. As everyone knew, restless magical currents were common in the open ocean. Given the mission’s priority and the wear and tear of the journey, even with sea spirits and nagas as navigators, the fleet couldn’t stray too far from the planned route. They had to hug the edges of safe corridors, avoiding storm zones as best they could. This meant the crew often caught glimpses of these terrifying natural wonders from afar.

Several near-misses with chaotic turbulence had helped the sailors shed their initial panic. While not yet fully confident, they could at least perform their duties normally.

But according to Cassandra, the sea spirit, this time would be the closest the Winter’s Chill had come to a chaotic turbulence since leaving North Harbor. At such close range, the spectacle might be even more intense than before.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar erupted from the sky, shattering Byron’s thoughts on the bridge. At the same moment, a brilliant blue light flooded in through the crystal window, bathing the entire bridge in an oceanic glow. Everyone aboard the Winter’s Chill tensed instantly—the chaotic turbulence had begun.

Without warning, vast curtains of dazzling light erupted overhead, as if the heavens themselves had shattered, ancient starlight pouring through the cracks. The shimmering curtains stretched across the sky, beautiful yet ominous. Following the light came massive bolts of lightning, striking from sky to sea, spawning countless high-energy sparks in the air.

The violent release of energy had begun. The entire sea charged with power; water elements, stirred by magic, boiled rapidly. Towering waves rose, fierce winds howled. What had been a vast, tranquil ocean moments before now surged into a devastating wall of water and light, looming over the Winter’s Chill and every ship in the fleet. At its closest, this “curtain” was only a few thousand meters away—making it all the more terrifying.

In that moment, even the bravest warriors felt a shudder of genuine awe before the overwhelming force of nature.

…

Inside the Icebound Mary, the adventurers gathered as instructed in the internal dining hall below deck. Outside the reinforced portholes, bursts of blinding blue magical light and the pale flashes of lightning illuminated the storm. The massive steel ship, a mountain on the sea to ordinary eyes, rocked violently, creaking ominously from hidden corners. The once-bold adventurers now wore tense expressions, faces tight with anxiety, fists clenched white beneath the tables. No one laughed loudly or complained about the ship’s strict rules; instead, they sat quietly, like students awaiting a dreaded exam.

Young huntress Lora sat pale-faced near a porthole. She didn’t want to see the storm raging outside, but hiding away and only hearing the sounds was even more unsettling. So she forced herself to stay put, watching the sharp boundary of the storm’s edge and muttering, “I hate this feeling… no matter how skilled you are, you’re trapped inside an iron can, like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered…”

“That feeling helps you develop respect for nature’s power,” said a middle-aged man in druid robes nearby, maintaining a calm, wise tone. “In the face of such overwhelming forces, personal bravery must bow. From this storm, I’ve glimpsed truths that are hard to reach on land…”

Lora glanced under the druid’s table and felt genuine admiration. Honestly, she couldn’t have spun such smooth bravado with legs trembling like hers.

She looked away and instinctively glanced at the elderly “adventurer” sitting opposite her. To her surprise, his eyes sparkled with excitement as he stared out at the sea.

“Did you see that?!” Modir exclaimed, as if a mountain of gold had appeared before him. “The moment the chaotic turbulence formed—you saw it, right? The energy release started high above, I bet at the top of the static layer… maybe even in the turbulence layer! So the turbulence on the sea surface is actually a ‘byproduct’ of some upper atmospheric phenomenon. It’s no wonder humans can’t predict it! Our perspective is just too limited!”

Lora’s expression grew stranger, but thanks to the old man’s enthusiasm, her nerves steadied somewhat. She swallowed hard and asked, “With everything going on, you still have time for your ‘research’?”

“Of course!” Modir’s eyes widened. “Do you know how rare this is? Without experienced navigators and these advanced ships, we’d never get to observe the formation of magical turbulence this close. Some secrets would remain forever locked. I’m sure the clever folks on the Winter’s Chill noticed what I just described, but I wonder if they think the same… Ah, but all I said is speculation. To truly verify what’s happening up there, I’d have to fly up and see for myself…”

“You want to fly up and see?!” Lora gasped. “You really need to think this through! This isn’t just about standing shoulder to shoulder with dragons anymore…”

“I know, I know,” Modir waved her off quickly. “Such a mission would require meticulous planning and preparation—full magical amplification gear, protective equipment, a brave assistant, a reliable witness for my will, and a perfectly written will at that. None of that’s ready now, so I’ll stay put in the cabin.”

Lora was speechless.

Modir paid no mind to her expression. He glanced out at the storm again, then his eyes clouded over, his voice faltering. “You know… this scene feels strangely familiar. Not the storms we’ve seen on the ship before, but… I feel like I experienced this a long time ago, this close… maybe even closer…”

Lora, used to the old man’s sudden nostalgic ramblings, decided to play along. “Closer? That’s impossible! You’d have been swallowed by the storm! We’re practically skimming its edge now…”

“You’re right. I should have been swallowed,” Modir said solemnly, looking at her. “But by some miracle, I survived. And I had an adventure so grand I could boast about it for centuries to come. The only problem is… I forgot all about it! Lost the chance to brag to my descendants… Wait, do I even have descendants?”

The old mage suddenly clutched his forehead, muttering in confusion. But this time, Lora didn’t try to comfort or guide him. Instead, an eerie silence fell around them.

The chaos in Modir’s mind slowly faded. He released his head, lifted it, and looked around with a dazed expression.

The entire restaurant was empty—completely deserted. The adventurers who had once packed the place seemed to have vanished into thin air, as if erased from existence in an instant. A strange, faded black-and-white haze blanketed everything in his field of vision. Beneath this monochrome veil, every table, wall, floor, and ceiling appeared subtly warped, as if viewed through a bizarre filter. Everything before his eyes took on the distorted, shadowy projection of another realm.

The Shadow Realm… it was very much like the Shadow Realm, yet not quite the same.

Modir’s mind instinctively made the connection, though he couldn’t explain how he arrived at such a swift, natural conclusion. He didn’t recall ever dealing with the Shadow Realm, nor could he pinpoint where this knowledge had suddenly surfaced from within his memory.

Cautiously, the old mage leaned forward and peered out the porthole.

Without warning, a colossal figure, riddled with countless grayish-white cracks, came into view.

Outside the window, the vast ocean had transformed into a “desert”—a boundless expanse of gray-white sand grains stretching between earth and sky. The figure sat at the center of this barren wasteland, leaning against a throne that had long since collapsed and twisted, or perhaps it was an altar. Draped in pitch-black garments, the figure appeared to be female, but her immense size made it impossible to see her entirety. Countless gray-white fissures crisscrossed her form, overlapping with her silhouette in ways that defied the laws of optics. The sight was eerie yet sacred, majestic yet terrifying.

This was a vision Modir had never witnessed before—something no mortal was ever meant to behold.

Yet, strangely, a calmness settled over him, as if he had not only seen this figure before but had glimpsed countless facets of her.

At that moment, a voice echoed—a lazy, languid female voice that seemed to resonate throughout the entire world, omnipresent: “…Are there any new stories?”

Modir froze. He didn’t know if the voice was addressing him, nor whether he should respond. Then, in the brief moment of his hesitation, another voice suddenly answered the question, reverberating through the vastness: “…I’ve told you all my stories more than once already. Of course, we can go over them again.

“But before I start, it’s your turn to tell your story.”

Modir’s eyes widened in shock.

He recognized that responding voice.

It was his own.

The old mage felt his heart suddenly race. It seemed he was finally drawing close to an answer he had pursued for centuries. Yet he wasn’t sure if he was truly ready. Meanwhile, the lazy female voice echoed once more through the world: “Indeed, it’s my turn—but I have no stories to tell… only recent dreams.”

The next second, Modir heard the voice nearly identical to his own speak again: “Dreams hardly count as stories… but then again, sometimes your dreams are far more interesting than any tale.”

(End of chapter)