Chapter 1240: The Sentinel?

The grand sun sank slowly toward the distant horizon. Its pale, wood-grain patterned corona had shrunk to a narrow arc, the halo of light rising from its edge spreading across the clouds like a blazing sea of fire. In these final minutes of daylight, the entire city before Highlord’s eyes seemed submerged in a vast ocean of golden-red hues, bathed in the lingering glow of sunset.

He stood at the far end of the terrace, gazing toward the shadowed mountains. The chill of early winter wind brushed past him from the side, carrying faint echoes of the guard’s evening drills. In this rare moment of relative calm, he quietly pondered the plans for the counteroffensive against the wasteland and the upcoming journey to Tal’Rond—until a familiar presence suddenly stirred his senses, shattering his train of thought.

Following the sensation, he spotted a distorted shadow rapidly coalescing in the air. Amber sprang out from the darkness, hopping a few steps before landing right in front of him. Then, breaking the twilight’s quiet on the terrace, her unmistakable, piercing beep sounded:

“Hey! Hey! Something’s happened! I’m telling you, it’s a big deal! I think I might have accidentally—maybe—possibly wandered into the Lady of Night’s divine realm just now…”

Highlord’s thoughts and the terrace’s tranquility shattered simultaneously. Amber’s frantic announcement froze his expression solid. It took him a full ten seconds to process before he finally blinked in disbelief at the mischievous, lively half-elf before him.

“Wait, what?! Say that again?!”

“I think I might have—maybe—possibly…”

“Cut out the hedging words!”

“I was studying the sand, and somehow ended up in the Lady of Night’s divine realm…” Amber shrank her neck, her face a mix of “I just did something really stupid but didn’t die, and now that you’ve found out, I’m super nervous.” “Luckily, I didn’t actually see the goddess herself…”

“You were researching those ‘shadow dusts’… and accidentally ended up in the Shadow Divine Realm?” Highlord’s eyes widened as he repeated the words to confirm he hadn’t imagined it. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden spike in his blood pressure and heart rate. It had been a long time since this mischievous half-elf had caused such a headache. He almost forgot how much trouble she could stir up if left unchecked. At this moment, he was grateful his body was sturdy enough—otherwise, Amber’s words might have given him a stroke. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Well, here’s the thing…” Amber nodded quickly and launched into a rapid-fire explanation, eager to get everything out before Highlord could grab something and wallop her. She emphasized her fearless spirit of exploration and insisted that her venture into the divine realm was a complete accident beyond her control. But clearly, her worries were unnecessary.

Highlord wasn’t concerned with the details or about punishing Amber. After all, those shadow dusts were assigned to her for research, and accidents during study weren’t exactly “responsibility incidents.” More than scrutinizing her for carelessness or recklessness, he was focused on the wealth of information she’d uncovered about the Lady of Night’s divine realm.

“You saw the source of the voice Modril Wilde heard? It was a book? And that book called itself ‘Wilde,’ but didn’t know the name ‘Modril’?”

“There was no one on the Lady of Night’s throne? The book said ‘He’ might have gone to the ‘border’ to deal with some ‘trouble’? Trouble at the border of the Shadow Divine Realm… could it be the contamination we’re worried about?”

“You said the Lady of Night often dreams? And the way to escape the Shadow Divine Realm is to jump from a height, like waking from a dream?”

“Be careful of the sentinels? What sentinels? Even Wilde himself didn’t know? And the whole book was just one cryptic warning after another?”

The more Amber spoke, the more alarmed Highlord became, his eyes growing wider with each revelation. Amber’s clear and thorough account left him almost dazed. Throughout, he interrupted several times to clarify details, and every question was promptly answered.

No matter how unreliable she usually seemed, Amber was still his intelligence chief, and over the past few years, she had matured. When it came to serious matters, she was meticulous, precise, and covered every key point. By the time she finished, Highlord fully understood the incredible adventure she had experienced.

“You really got yourself into something extraordinary…” On the terrace bathed in dusk, Highlord looked at Amber with a helpless expression. “I honestly didn’t expect that in just half an afternoon without seeing you, you’d manage to stir up something this shocking…”

“It wasn’t what I wanted either,” Amber replied, even more helpless. “Honestly, I was nearly scared to death. You have no idea what extreme measures I had to take to keep my sanity and avoid being corrupted by some indescribable things in the divine realm…”

“Judging by your face, I’m guessing those ‘extreme measures’ weren’t exactly proper,” Highlord waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway, let’s get to the point. First, about that… ‘book’ you saw. Besides it calling itself Wilde, do you have any clues about its connection to the real Modril Wilde?”

“No. I only talked with it briefly ‘over there.’ That place had nothing but a huge, terrifying throne altar, endless desert, and a talking book—no other clues,” Amber shook her head, then looked thoughtful. “In the real world, there’s an adventurer named Modril who seems normal, wandering everywhere. In the Lady of Night’s divine realm, there’s an adventurer named Wilde who’s become a book, placed before the goddess’s throne. That sounds way stranger than any bard’s tale… What do you think really happened to Modril Wilde?”

“I don’t know,” Highlord frowned, swirling with guesses. “It sounds like he was split into two parts—one with the surname, one with the given name. But who knows how? From what we have, the Lady of Night seems to be the root of it all… but something feels off…”

“I think so too,” Amber nodded. “From Wilde’s fragmented words, I suspect he also accidentally entered that ‘displaced divine realm,’ and the Lady of Night didn’t actively cause it… Though maybe the ancient goddess hid something from Wilde. But for a deity, why keep secrets? She can’t just want someone to tell her stories, right?”

“Stories… right, that’s another question,” Highlord’s expression turned serious. “Margie mentioned that after Modril accidentally entered ‘over there’ several times, he heard ‘another self’ telling stories to the Lady of Night, who exchanged them for visions from her dreams. But when Modril returned to reality, he couldn’t recall the dream content no matter how hard he tried. Did you ask the book about the Lady of Night’s dreams? What are they like?”

“I didn’t get the chance,” Amber shook her head regretfully. “I was suddenly ‘thrown’ back to reality, and there were too many questions on my mind. I only know the shadow goddess seems to be in a constant ‘dreaming’ state, and whether awake or asleep, her ‘dreams’ never stop. I can’t even imagine what that’s like. Gods are really hard to understand.”

“Enya once told me that a god’s ‘dreams’ aren’t just simple dreams. As beings born from the collective consciousness, all their thoughts can be seen as reflections of the real world. Even gods who have broken free from the collective still have their dreams intertwined with reality,” Highlord stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Because of this connection, gods consciously control their dreams to prevent their power from spiraling out of control. The freed gods—Amon, Mimirna, and Enya—are no exception.

“But I don’t know if the shadow goddess follows this rule. She’s been cut off from this world for over 1.8 million years—long enough to become an almost alien entity with little connection to our reality. How much her dreams affect our world is a complete unknown.”

Amber blinked suddenly, raising an eyebrow at Highlord. “So she’s even more of an ‘alien wanderer’ than you are. You’re just a spooky story; she’s the real deal.”

Highlord immediately smacked the half-elf on the head. “If you don’t shut up, no one will think you’re mute.”

What a clever half-elf—too bad she has a mouth. Amber clutched her head, muttering “Ow!” before falling silent. Highlord shook his head, a bit wistful.

The mysteries of divine dreams, the reflections of collective consciousness… these were among the strangest rules in this world, ones that had once unsettled and confused him deeply. They shattered his understanding of the “material world,” blurring the line between matter and mind. For a soul from Earth, the scene was almost absurd and chaotic.

Yet this world truly operated that way: spirit influencing matter, matter influencing spirit, both reflecting and sometimes transforming into each other. Whether it was mages shaping magic with willpower, mortals projecting gods from collective thought, or divine radiance altering reality—these “irrational” phenomena all shared the same essence.

Sometimes Highlord wondered… if there were a theory that could explain this mutual influence and transformation between spirit and matter, maybe it would reveal the “fundamental truth” of this world.

Would that theory be hidden in the nature of magic? Or buried deeper, in realms mortals have yet to imagine?

Lost in thought, he was suddenly jolted awake by a voice: “Hey, hey hey, you’re daydreaming again!”

Startled, Highlord snapped back to reality and saw a small hand waving vigorously in front of him. Looking up at the owner, Amber immediately clutched her head again.

“I already told you! No hitting twice for the same mistake!”

“All right, all right, let’s get to the point,” Gawain waved his hand, gathering his thoughts as he spoke. “Let’s put aside the matter of Wilde and Lady Ye for now. What I’m really interested in is that last thing you mentioned—the ‘Sentinel’… What exactly does ‘Sentinel’ mean?”

“I don’t know,” Amber shook her head vigorously. “There was only that one warning, and it could mean a lot of things. But one thing’s for sure: that warning is incredibly important. Otherwise, why would it fill an entire book—especially such a peculiar ‘book’?”

“A Sentinel probably refers to some kind of ‘guardian,’” Gawain mused thoughtfully. “And this guardian must be an extremely powerful and dangerous entity—or what it’s guarding is so perilous that it could spread contamination or even turn the Sentinel itself into a threat. By that logic, the Dragonborn assigned to watch over the Tower of the Thrice-Cursed could be considered Sentinels. The Iron Legion deep in the ruins of Gondor might count as Sentinels, too. Even the Sentinel Towers the Elves built along the Grant Wall nodes qualify. Any one of these going rogue would be a serious crisis. But honestly, compared to the ‘Beware the Sentinel’ warnings plastered all over Wilde’s book, none of these seem to measure up.”

Amber frowned slightly. “Not measure up?”

Gawain didn’t elaborate, but more thoughts stirred in his mind—

Besides the examples he’d just mentioned, there were other things in this world that could be called “Sentinels.”

The surveillance satellites hanging high in the sky, and the orbital space station known as the “Firmament” circling the planet.

These relics of the Pathfinders, designed to monitor the planet’s condition and keep a constant watch on the magical tides and the gods, seemed even more fitting to be called “Sentinels” than anything else. And if any of these were to malfunction, that would definitely warrant the highest level of warning.

But how could they go wrong? Although they were old and falling into disrepair, they were essentially drifting tombstones in space. Gawain had access to most of their status reports and could confirm that none of the satellites or stations were out of control. Even if, hypothetically, one did lose control and crashed to the surface… would a bunch of falling satellites and stations really be something to worry about for the civilizations on this planet now?

Not even the Dragon God at his peak could withstand that kind of impact.

In Gawain’s view, since Amber’s warning specifically said “Beware the Sentinel,” it implied that for these dangerous Sentinels, mere mortal caution actually mattered. Otherwise, the warning would be pointless—everyone could just give up and lie down, and that would be that…

(End of chapter)