Chapter 1219: Progress on the “Gate” and Setting Foot in a Foreign Land
The biting wind howled across the walls and towers scattered over the open plains, slicing through the temporary barracks with sharp whistles. The imperial banners—blue with golden patterns—fluttered fiercely atop towering flagpoles. Technicians and sappers, heading to their posts, strode along the camp’s winding roads. Ahead of them, a massive hexagonal prism-shaped structure was beginning to take form.
At the end of the road stood the arcane obelisk powering the construction camp, its Hoam crystal spinning steadily in midair, casting a gentle, constant blue glow. Within the obelisk’s magical field, various engineering machines were coming online one by one. Kamail drifted out from a nearby building and looked up at the hexagonal prism before him. Its base was a reinforced concrete foundation roughly the size of a barn. The upper prism itself gleamed with a cold iron-gray sheen, faint blue lines of light tracing intricate patterns along its icy exterior walls. Higher up, crystal devices floated around the outer surface, and the topmost structure remained incomplete, its segments yet to be sealed.
Welding work had already begun today. Bright sparks flew between the steel frames and metal plates crowning the prism’s summit. Technicians equipped with arcane engineering terminals worked with tense precision, sealing the power pillars. These pillars were vertical alloy constructs running through the entire facility, composed of layered rune arrays and mechanical adjustment shafts. Essentially, they were highly specialized, refined “power spines”—the heart of the entire structure. They channeled pure, finely tuned arcane energy up to the focusing units at the top, synchronizing with two other energy towers near the portal.
This was Kamail’s design for a pure arcane energy source. It wasn’t merely an enlarged version of his laboratory prototype. To support humanity’s boldest and most audacious “Gate” project ever attempted—even one that no generation of rebels in ancient Gondor dared to dream of—Kamail had poured all his arcane wisdom and achievements into these devices. While ensuring ample power, his priority was absolute reliability. That was why three such hexagonal towers had been built around the Covenant Fortress. In theory, as long as one energy tower maintained over fifty percent output, the portal to the divine realm would remain stable.
“Master Kamail.” “Good morning, Master Kamail.” “Master, good day.”
Technicians passed by continuously, offering respectful greetings to the arcane master from the Gondorian era. Among them were even a few Typhon mages—those responsible for technical coordination with the Cecile camp.
This stirred a quiet feeling in Kamail’s heart. Not long ago, these two nations had been on the brink of war, their swords drawn and tensions high. Yet with the formation of the alliance, shared interests and the stark reality of mutual dependence had bound them together. Perhaps tensions still lingered in some areas, and some remained wary of the growing friendship between Typhon and Cecile, but here—everyone had to be candid and cooperative.
Of course, the Typhon scholars’ deep respect for Kamail wasn’t just about politics. It stemmed from the master’s unique nature—a grand archmage from the Gondorian era who had faced divine power firsthand, transformed into a life form beyond ordinary comprehension, and wielded formidable personal strength. Anyone with even a modest understanding of the supernatural couldn’t help but show reverence upon meeting him.
Kamail shook his head, brushing away unrelated thoughts.
He didn’t care how the Typhon viewed him. In truth, he cared little about anyone’s opinion. He was here to carry out an unprecedented mission—one that even in ancient Gondor no one dared attempt, one that countless generations of rebels had strived for but failed to achieve. He had to devote all his limited energy to this task.
Just then, a somewhat familiar young female voice spoke up beside him. “Master Kamail… my mentor asked me to confirm the status of the energy system with you…”
Kamail turned to see a young mage in a black robe, her black hair falling over her shoulders, watching him intently.
She was Daniel’s apprentice, one of the Typhon “technical diplomats” assigned here to liaise with the Cecile camp. According to public records, Kamail had first met this young Typhon woman, Mary, at the early stages of the Gate project.
But in truth, he had known “Miss Mary” for two or three years already—in the neural network.
Mary forced a composed expression, trying to mask her instinctive nervousness upon seeing Kamail. Frankly, she wasn’t very successful; anyone could tell she was a bit flustered in front of this Cecile archmage. But that was perfectly normal: her reaction matched her usual personality and was typical for a mid-level mage encountering a grand archmage. No one here doubted her—except herself, who constantly scared herself.
“The first energy tower has been capped. As you can see, the main structure of the second is complete; it should be capped within two days. The third tower’s power pillar had a minor issue earlier, causing a few days’ delay while waiting for spare parts from the rear. But you and your mentor can rest assured—the final completion date remains unaffected,” Kamail said brightly, his voice humming with arcane resonance.
“Y-yes, Master Kamail,” Mary nodded quickly, then lifted her gaze toward the structure before them—a “Cecile industrial product” starkly different in style from traditional magical facilities.
Massive energy rails and the steel beams supporting them stretched like jagged spines through the air, extending from this camp all the way to the nearby Covenant Fortress. There, they merged with the fortress’s main building and other structures, connecting through a complex array of magical devices to a grand hall crowned by a soaring dome. The young mage knew her mentor and other scholars were busy inside that hall, assembling the core of the portal. Elsewhere in the region, in camps and laboratories, more scholars from distant lands had gathered—countless brilliant minds working toward the same goal.
The scene felt surreal to Mary. Once a fearful apprentice in a dilapidated mountain tower, she never imagined she’d one day stand here, entrusted with the role of “technical diplomat”—a responsibility she had never dared dream of.
Momentarily distracted, Mary’s gaze drifted. Kamail said nothing, simply turning his form slightly taller. His eyes, glowing with arcane light, swept across the vast open wilderness. Through his supernatural vision—generated by magical sensing—he saw a “spectacle” beyond the reach of ordinary mages:
A tremendous surge of energy gathered around the Covenant Fortress. The completed energy towers were experimentally channeling surging magical power into the energy rails. Invisible magical fields vibrated in the air, their focal point centered in the fortress’s main building. There, a vortex was slowly taking shape—the Typhon were “test-running” their portal’s foundational unit. Soon, that still-immature whirlpool might open fully, becoming humanity’s first step into the realm of the gods.
…
The howling cold wind struck her face, stirring the dragon-headed banners flying high above the rugged walls and watchtowers. The crashing waves and wind filled her ears—similar to the northern seas, but far colder and fiercer.
Victoria set foot on solid ground. The biting Talrond wind buffeted the icy protective aura and gentle wind shield surrounding her. This powerful ice mage, privately nicknamed “Ruler of the Northern Ice,” squinted against Talrond’s “fine weather.” “Compared to here, the weather in the Winterhold Mountains is practically a gentle breeze.”
A low, familiar female voice sounded from above her side. “Indeed. The environment in the Holy Dragon Principality is much better than here right now. But I suppose this kind of cold wind isn’t much for you?”
“Just a bit of chill,” Victoria replied casually, glancing back at her companion—a massive iron jaw first catching her eye, followed by the fierce black dragon’s head, long neck, full-body mechanical armor, and imposing wings and tail. It was a complete transformation; no trace remained of the black-haired maid she once was.
“It’s truly incredible, Maggie,” Victoria marveled. “Though it’s not the first time I’ve seen it, I still can’t believe that’s you…”
“I hope you don’t find my dragon form too frightening,” Maggie lowered her head slightly, rubbing her chin against Victoria’s shoulder. “Most ordinary people take a long time to adjust to the pressure of a dragon’s presence. Over half the servants in Winterhold still don’t dare to breathe heavily around me in this form—even a few maids I used to be close with don’t joke around with me anymore.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not that shallow,” Victoria smiled softly, brushing Maggie’s iron jaw with her fingers. “But honestly, have you considered asking Mr. Nicholas to tweak some parts of your gear? Like this dangerously sharp iron jaw…”
“Is it necessary? I think it looks pretty impressive,” Maggie shook her head, the gleaming “ram” on her chin slicing through the air with a whistle. “Among the popular Steelwing series, this kind of sharp ram is a hallmark of high-end models…”
Victoria was at a loss for words. She never quite understood the ever-changing “fashion trends” of the southern regions. But her attention was elsewhere—
She looked ahead and saw the welcoming party from the Coastal County approaching.
…
New Agondor, the increasingly bustling adventurer camp. Modir Wilde carried a wooden rocking chair out of his room. Amid the busy comings and goings of adventurers on the street, he settled into the chair with a comfortable posture, gently rocking back and forth. A small bag of snacks floated beside him, held aloft by invisible magic, and on the other side hovered his favorite honey mead.
Nibbling a couple of dried fruits, sipping the sweet wine, glancing at the bustling adventurers outside, then letting out a satisfied sigh—Modir took great pride in his talent for enjoying life.
Every adventurer passing through this spot couldn’t help but wear a strange expression.
Just then, a somewhat familiar voice interrupted Modir’s leisurely mood from the side. “Master Modir, what are you doing?”
The old mage turned toward the voice and saw the familiar young black dragon lady, her face betraying a peculiar look he couldn’t quite place.
“Can’t you tell?” Modir said, pointing to the lightweight clothes he’d changed into earlier, then gestured up at the sky. “I’m sunbathing.”
The black dragon lady looked up in surprise, but all she saw was a sparkling, star-filled sky—Talrond was in the grip of the polar night, with starlight blanketing the land for half a year. The sun was nowhere to be seen. What sun was this great adventurer trying to catch?
She couldn’t help but remind him, “Master Modir… it’s the polar night right now.”
“I know,” he replied with a smile, waving a hand dismissively as his rocking chair began to sway again. “But it doesn’t matter. As long as there’s sunshine in your heart, anywhere is a good place to sunbathe. Of course, if you don’t mind, I could conjure a blazing sunflare in the sky—then everyone in the adventurer’s camp could get some real sunlight.”
The young black dragon’s eyes widened in alarm. “Please, absolutely don’t do that!”
“Hey, don’t be so nervous. I know my limits. I promise the sunflare will fade away naturally before it gets anywhere near dangerous. Not a single rooftop will get scorched.”
“No, no, that’s not the problem,” she said, waving her hands frantically, her expression nearly panicked. “Doing that would cause a panic!”
“Alright, alright. Dragons are far more timid than I thought,” Modir said with a helpless shrug. His earlier enthusiasm deflated once more. Settling back into his chair, he gave her a dismissive look, as if shooing her away. “Well then, I’ll just keep sunbathing in my heart.”
“Master Modir,” the black dragon lady said, looking at the adventurer who was always full of surprises with a resigned expression, “I just wanted to remind you that while resting is your right, lying down right here at the busiest crossroads near the gathering area… the adventurers passing by are already quite upset.”
“Upset?” Modir blinked, propping himself up to glance at the adventurers walking nearby. “What could they possibly be upset about? No one’s said a word to me.”
Well, someone would have to be brave enough to say it to his face!
The black dragon lady looked at the old adventurer with a mix of amusement and exasperation. After a few seconds of silent standoff, she finally sighed and said, “You’re just bored of being stuck in the camp all day, aren’t you?”
(End of chapter)