Chapter 1257: Stepping into the Unknown

Under the remote control of the mage, the Explorer automaton had been operating within the “Divine Realm” on the other side of the portal for a full two hours. It transmitted back a wealth of real-time footage—undoubtedly invaluable data for humanity’s understanding of this mysterious domain. Yet, as a magical device, the Explorer’s capabilities were ultimately limited.

After crossing the Divine Realm’s vast “Plaza District” and passing through the first archway leading to the palace complex, the controlling mage noticed the automaton’s signal beginning to falter. The images from ahead flickered repeatedly, and within seconds, an urgent warning flashed across the feed: “Mana supply critically low.”

To prevent losing this precious magical apparatus, Windsor Mapel immediately ordered a recall. The holographic projection shifted back toward the portal’s location. The Explorer extended its long metallic limbs and began sprinting back along its original path at top speed. Kamail watched the trembling images and asked gravely, “Have we exceeded the control range?”

“That shouldn’t be…” Windsor Mapel frowned deeply. “We anticipated the Divine Realm’s interior might be vast, so we specially enhanced the automaton’s signal transmission system. Plus, the controlling mages are all high-level experts. In theory, even if the automaton moved outward for another two hours at the previous pace, the signal shouldn’t degrade this badly…”

Her gaze never left the hologram beside the portal. The Explorer raced across the wide stone tiles of the plaza, past the elegant stone pillars standing sentinel. Yet despite the shrinking distance between the automaton and the portal, the signal’s instability worsened. The flickering and interference grew more severe with each passing moment, and the warning about the imminent mana cutoff remained stubbornly fixed at the center of the screen. Windsor’s expression grew increasingly grave.

“Its energy supply is failing… It looks like the mana reserves are depleted, but the automaton is supposed to draw mana from the environment to sustain itself over long periods…” she murmured to herself, then suddenly raised her voice, “Can we speed up the retreat?”

“We’re already moving at maximum speed, Master Windsor.” A controlling mage in a deep purple robe wiped sweat from his brow. The intermittent signal made control difficult, and the pressure of potentially losing the Explorer was immense. The automaton’s high cost was secondary to these scholars—the real concern was the research. The Explorer’s abnormal status meant only a successful return would allow technicians to analyze what went wrong. If it lost contact before reaching the portal, it would severely hinder future exploration and study.

Windsor said no more, instead joining Kamail in watching the increasingly dim and distorted images. The mirror-like portal shimmered ahead of the Explorer, whose metallic limbs moved rapidly, closing the gap. But within the last hundred meters, the automaton’s movements became erratic—one limb failed to lift in time, causing it to stumble dangerously.

Even the basic power systems showed signs of exhaustion. The last reserves of stored mana were nearly gone, and the mechanism meant to siphon mana from the surroundings seemed utterly nonfunctional.

With just fifteen meters left, all eyes fixed on the fading hologram. The controlling mages could no longer detect the automaton’s signal. The lead operator made one final attempt, raising his hands toward Windsor Mapel: “Master Windsor, signal lost. We can only…”

Before he finished, the hologram went completely dark. The last link between the automaton and the mortal world was severed.

Silence fell over the portal chamber, broken only by a few sighs. Kamail stared intently at the mirror-like gateway. Beside him, Windsor shook her head with a sigh. “We’ve lost the Explorer…”

But just as she spoke, the grinding scrape of metal limbs echoed suddenly through the hall. Ripples spread across the portal’s smooth surface, and then a brass magical automaton tumbled out, staggering forward amid a cacophony of noise and rolling until it came to rest at the portal’s base.

At the last moment, the automaton had summoned its remaining strength to return. It collapsed onto the floor, its runes dimming one by one.

Windsor reacted instantly, rushing forward and shouting, “Maintenance team! To the Explorer, now!”

Several technicians clad in Typhon mage robes hurried to the automaton’s side. Kamail followed closely behind Windsor. They examined the now completely inert machine. The brass casing’s runes were all extinguished, and the crystals embedded at key energy nodes had dulled to a gray-white from overuse. Heat radiated faintly from within. Even those unfamiliar with Typhon automaton technology could tell at a glance: this intricate magical device had been pushed beyond limits in an environment utterly devoid of mana, and many of its circuits were severely damaged.

An engineer bent down, inspecting the Explorer’s shell for external damage that might explain the power failure. Suddenly, a low hum emanated from the round brass body. The extinguished runes flickered, then reignited one by one—the automaton was attempting to recharge itself.

“Master Windsor,” the engineer looked up, puzzled, “its charging system isn’t damaged…”

Windsor frowned deeply, contemplating the scene. After a moment, she made a decision. “Open the casing. Remove shielding plates two through four. Check the core mana circuits.”

“Yes, Master Windsor!” The engineer nodded, and several assistants joined in. In no time, the heavy brass shell and several silver plates were removed, revealing the automaton’s complex internal mechanisms and magical structures.

Kamail’s eyes immediately caught several crystals recharging, surrounded by runes clearly damaged.

The Typhon mages gathered quickly, inspecting the automaton’s inner workings. Windsor observed their progress silently. Soon, a slender female mage stood and reported solemnly, “Master, the core mana circuits show signs of inward breakdown. The alchemical solution filling isolation layers two through four has completely evaporated.”

“Inward breakdown… alchemical solution evaporated…” Windsor’s face darkened as she analyzed the findings. “This means it tried to draw mana from the environment but never succeeded. Coupled with the core’s over-release of mana and the central control array draining the remaining circuits, it caused a cascade of system failures…”

Kamail quickly grasped what had happened. The ancient arcane master’s eyes gleamed with a strange light. After a moment’s thought, he broke the silence in a low voice: “In other words, the Divine Realm either lacks mana entirely or it’s inaccessible. The Explorer rapidly exhausted its own reserves…”

“That’s one possibility,” Windsor nodded, her tone troubled. “But I’ve never heard of such a thing… Mana is said to be omnipresent, able to penetrate nearly all barriers. Even in mana-suppressed crystal mines, there’s at least a thin ambient flow. Could there really be a place utterly devoid of mana?”

“Perhaps not in our world,” Kamail said immediately, excitement creeping into his voice, “but we’re dealing with the Divine Realm—a domain mortals have never understood! Master Windsor, we must cast aside our old assumptions. We’re confronting an entirely new reality!”

Windsor noticed the ancient man’s emotional shift and asked with surprise, “Master Kamail… you seem quite excited?”

“Yes, Master Windsor. We may be facing a breakthrough—a chance to shatter old boundaries!” His voice was charged, but he quickly forced himself calm. “The Divine Realm’s characteristics match an environment I once theorized. We should investigate the space beyond that portal further.”

Windsor glanced at the portal’s central mirror-like surface. She agreed with Kamail but, shaken by the Explorer’s mishap, felt the need for caution. “We should prepare more. The Explorer’s failure might be just one of many dangers in the Divine Realm. Even without other threats, a mana-depleted environment alone poses severe challenges to our personnel and equipment.”

Kamail’s gaze remained fixed on the portal’s reflected scene. A powerful urge surged within his arcane being—the millennia-old yearning of a rebel scholar, the insatiable thirst for the source of magic. This impulse could test any scholar’s reason, yet he held firm.

He had waited a thousand years for this moment.

“You’re right, Master Windsor,” Kamail said, bowing his head to the legendary Typhon mage beside him. “We need to send the Explorer through several more times, at least to confirm whether the mana depletion causes additional effects. Then we should send equipment to test whether devices relying on their own mana reserves can function and for how long. Once we gather enough data, we can send personnel in.”

Windsor nodded solemnly. Drawing her gaze away from the disassembled Explorer awaiting repair, she whispered, “At last, we have taken the first step.”

…

The deep indigo sea steadily receded from view, its surface dotted with drifting ice floes and frothy waves that shimmered under a sky ablaze with countless stars. This mysterious beauty, impossible to witness on land, stretched out before them. The biting cold wind high above was held at bay by the dragon’s protective shield, leaving only a faint, distant howl carried on the air. Gawain stood atop Melita’s back, his gaze fixed on the horizon’s edge. Against the dim backdrop of the distant sky, he could already make out the towering silhouette standing firm upon the ocean.

It was a colossal tower, like a giant pillar holding up the heavens, rising from a circular island forged of steel. Time had not diminished the awe-inspiring majesty of this marvel in the slightest. Even the faint twilight of the polar night could not conceal the breathtaking grandeur of this ancient relic—it simply stood there, commanding boundless reverence and wonder from nearly every mortal race on the planet. Many even equated it with the legendary “Divine Miracle.”

Its technology far surpassed the understanding of most civilizations on this world. No race could imagine any man-made structure of such scale or near-eternal endurance. It was no wonder that the Reverse Tide Empire, guided here by the dragons long ago, regarded this as a divine inheritance. For in a way… even the legacy of the gods could not compare to the level of civilization embodied by this towering monument.

Melita carried Gawain and Amber, while the white dragon Noretta flew nearby, bearing Victoria and Modir on her back. Behind them, a formidable squadron of thirty adult dragons soared through the night sky. Their massive wings churned the air, the roaring wind slicing between their colossal forms, stirring a deep, unsettling howl that echoed beneath the stars. Silently, they crossed the polar night’s starlight, passed the shattered barriers and ruined shield generators along the western coast, and pressed onward toward the distant Reverse Tide Tower.

Had this been the continent of Loren before the Alliance was formed, such a force could have easily razed a small kingdom or any city-state in a short time, even dealing a heavy blow to a powerful nation like the Ogre Tribes. Yet here, before the Reverse Tide Tower, even these mighty dragons restrained their power, adopting the utmost caution as they gradually closed in on their target—slowing their pace long before they drew near.

Since the Reverse Tide Rebellion, this was their first deliberate approach to the tower. Though the “chains” once embedded deep within their souls had been severed, some instinct forged over millions of years still stirred unease even in the strongest dragons.

Gawain withdrew his gaze from the distance and looked down at the two other figures on Melita’s back besides himself and Amber: two young dragons hopping excitedly near her shoulder blades, their eyes wide with wonder as they experienced the journey of flying alongside the dragon squadron. They looked genuinely happy.

These two little ones were probably the most unique members of the entire group—but they themselves were blissfully unaware of it.

(End of chapter)