Chapter 1259: The Reaction

The unique blue energy signature, its location and timing, and—most importantly—the reactions of the two young dragons—all these clues came together in an instant, allowing Highlord to realize exactly what the Sentinel Captain had discovered: the Deep Blue Magic Trace.

“Where exactly did you find this?” Melita snapped to attention, her gaze fixed squarely on the tall Sentinel Captain. “How much more is there?”

“In the hills south of the outpost and stretching eastward into the inland region, we found traces like this,” the Sentinel Captain replied immediately. “Not many, but they’re densely clustered, roughly forming a band. Mostly on these stones, but we also found similar marks on some metal debris. Beyond that, it’s hard to say—that’s outside our current control zone.”

Noretta stood silently nearby, her expression grave. Finally, she couldn’t help but look at Melita and ask, “What do you make of this? These traces…”

Melita said nothing, instead turning her gaze toward Highlord. He furrowed his brow, deep in thought. Noticing Melita’s look, he finally broke the silence. “These traces are probably the ‘evidence’ left behind by changes in the Deep Blue Conduit. The young dragons’ resonance and their restless agitation toward the west coast might be connected to this. But right now, we have no proof linking the Deep Blue Magic Trace to the Tidebreaker Tower… and I can’t think of any direct connection between the two.”

Melita instinctively glanced toward the towering spire standing against the dark night sky over the sea. “So… we’re heading to that tower next?”

“Not ‘we,’” Highlord shook his head. “You and Noretta will stay aboard the Winter’s Breath for now. The other dragon warriors will remain as well. Amber and I will go in first.”

“Just the two of you?” Melita’s eyes widened. “The situation inside that tower is unknown. Are you sure you don’t need Noretta and me as guards? And besides…”

“The greatest danger inside that tower isn’t just brute force—it’s the Tidebreaker’s corruption,” Highlord interrupted before she could finish. “Amber and I both have resistance to divine corruption. Also… I don’t know if Heragor or Andal mentioned this, but I have a certain connection to the Legacy of the Voyagers. Anyone else approaching that tower risks contamination. This isn’t something sheer strength can solve.”

He smiled confidently. “And speaking of strength… don’t forget, my own power is legendary. I don’t need protection when exploring the tower.”

“So you’ll stay here as backup, monitoring the tower and waiting for updates from Amber and me. If anything escapes from that tower… you must intercept it.”

“…Alright,” Melita nodded reluctantly, realizing she had no grounds to argue. “We’ll stay on the Winter’s Breath and wait for your news. But how do you and Amber plan to get there? And how will you communicate back? It’s six nautical miles from here, and if neither the Winter’s Breath nor the dragon riders can get close…”

“Do you think we didn’t prepare for that?” Highlord chuckled, glancing toward a section near the Winter’s Breath’s bridge. “The ship has scout and escort dragonrider craft. Amber and I will fly one over. As for communication… the ship is equipped with a powerful arcane network transceiver. We’ll bring a network terminal with us. Six nautical miles is still within the ship’s communication range. Of course, once inside the tower, we might face interference or jamming. Then we’ll have to improvise.”

“I understand.” Melita nodded again.

Just as Highlord and Amber were about to depart, the ever-silent adventurer Modir, who had been standing beside Duchess Victoria, suddenly stepped forward and broke the silence. “Hey, you’re not taking me? I’m coming with you!”

Highlord couldn’t help but glance at the old adventurer. “You should stay here for now. You’re also at risk of contamination.”

He left unsaid the second half of his thought: If you get corrupted this time, there won’t be any dragon god to save you.

But Modir had clearly thought it through. The old man shook his head firmly. “If I’m just going to stay on the ship at a critical moment like this, why did I come all this way from the Loren continent? I’m going with you. I know the risks, but in my current state, I’d rather take the chance—I came here for this very day.”

Highlord studied the adventurer’s eyes quietly. Modir met his gaze calmly. After a tense moment, Highlord looked at Duchess Victoria standing beside Modir. From her expression… he saw nothing, but the Snow Duchess gave a slight nod.

“Alright,” Highlord finally agreed. “Get whatever you need ready. We take off in fifteen minutes.”

…

A low hum shattered the night’s silence as the scout-class light dragonrider craft skimmed over the starlit sea, cutting through the cold wind toward the distant tower. The craft’s exterior lights glowed softly in the darkness, outlining the shape of this arcane-engineered machine like a ghostly phantom weaving through the night.

Amber sat in her seat, restless. She leaned forward, nearly pressing her face against the crystal window, excitedly chattering nonstop as she took in the night view. “Wow! I didn’t think you’d actually fly this! When you first said it, I thought you were joking. But you’re surprisingly steady. When did you learn to fly?”

“Obviously,” Highlord said, gripping the controls and feeling the mechanical feedback of the arcane device beneath his hands. He shot a sideways glance at the “shame of the alliance” beside him. “Do you think I’d just wing it? Flying isn’t like your shadow powers—you can’t just ‘think’ and have it work. If you don’t know how to control this thing, it’ll crash.”

“Ohhh,” Amber nodded enthusiastically, though it was unclear how much she actually absorbed.

Meanwhile, Modir sat quietly behind Highlord, saying nothing. The old adventurer was intently observing the cockpit’s instruments, the shifting scenery outside, and the flow of magical energy within the craft. Seeing this, even Amber, usually so excitable, couldn’t help but ask, “Hey, old man, what do you think?”

“…It’s truly incredible,” Modir finally spoke, his tone full of admiration. “I’ve seen magically powered mechanical ships before and marveled at arcane technology, but this legendary flying machine is even more ingenious. Its anti-gravity and propulsion systems don’t seem to come from human magic, yet they work together seamlessly… Incredible, absolutely incredible…”

He repeated “incredible” several times to express his awe, then fell silent for a moment before adding thoughtfully, “If only I had a machine like this on my adventures. I can fly, but this thing is tireless, faster, and can reach heights beyond any mage’s flight spell… Plus, it can carry more supplies…”

“In fact, we already use specially modified ‘dragonriders’ for reconnaissance,” Amber chimed in. “Several departments in the Administration have survey teams—mapping, mineral exploration, forest, hydrology, flora and fauna, and coastal ecology. They’re equipped with arcane vehicles, anti-gravity flyers, or mechanical ships, supported by logistics, staffed by professionals with all kinds of gear. We even recently hired some sea sirens as deep-sea consultants. The Administration is planning to explore the seabed near the Northern Harbor…”

Amber launched into her usual nonstop chatter, but Modir listened with a serious, solemn expression, as if imagining what such a systematic, large-scale, state-backed exploration effort would look like. Finally, a complex smile crossed his face as he murmured to himself, “It’s wonderful… this era is truly different…”

The cockpit fell quiet for a moment, save for the low hum of the arcane engines. Then Highlord’s voice broke the silence. “We’re here. I’m looking for a landing spot.”

Amber’s attention snapped back outside. She pressed her face against the window, eyes wide, mouth agape. “Wow!!”

The towering spire loomed over their small craft. This ancient marvel, standing on the planet’s surface for nearly two million years, was now magnified into a form impossible to take in all at once. Amber strained to see the tower’s full outline but could only make out a colossal, sky-piercing “arc-shaped barrier” stretching endlessly upward, its surface covered in strange lines and protrusions she couldn’t decipher.

Highlord switched on additional ground-illumination lights, scanning for a suitable landing zone. Below, the unknown alloy ground stretched out, dotted with warehouse- or factory-like buildings arranged roughly in a circular platform. He spotted what looked like roads and connecting tracks—ancient transport infrastructure linking the scattered buildings, all converging near the tower’s massive base.

The towering spire blocked the starlight, casting vast, unsettling shadows over the platform and nearby sea. The light scout craft slipped silently through the darkness, searching for a landing spot.

As he flew, Highlord’s mind painted pictures of the site’s original glory—imagining the brief era when the Voyagers dwelled here, what this ancient facility might have looked like.

Did those factories run day and night? Were there managers living on this steel island? Where did the products go? Did shuttles from space streak across the sky, landing somewhere on this iron land—perhaps a starport?

His heart pounded, blood rushing faster. He had to consciously restrain the surge of excitement welling up inside him—and he knew exactly where it came from.

This was his first time personally encountering a still-intact Voyager Legacy, and on such a grand scale. A strange “resonance” stirred within him, a faint sense that… he and this tower were somehow connected.

Amber noticed the subtle changes in Gawain’s breathing and gaze. She looked a little worried, as if she wanted to come closer and ask what was going on. But before she could speak, a faint vibration suddenly pulsed through the floor beneath them—the aircraft had landed on a metal platform somewhere. Gawain’s voice came through to her and Modril: “We’ve touched down.”

Gawain let out a deep breath. He activated the communication device on the control panel. With a soft crackle, the signal between the aircraft and the Winterhold was successfully established. Byron’s figure appeared in a small holographic projection, his voice clear enough: “Your Majesty, how are things on your end?”

“We’ve landed safely at the southwest corner of the inner ring on the Steel Island,” Gawain said, eyes fixed on the view outside the porthole. “From what I can tell, there should be an entrance nearby that leads inside the tower. We’ll disembark and investigate. I’ll keep the scout drone’s arcane network terminal powered on and set to relay mode—don’t shut down this communication line.”

“Understood, Your Majesty!”

“Let’s go,” Gawain nodded, turning to Amber and Modril beside and behind him. “Come witness this ancient marvel left behind by a bygone era.”

The dragonrider’s hatch opened. Amber and Modril stepped out one after the other, their feet touching the steel ground that had endured nearly two million years without a trace of weathering or decay. Gawain was the last to leave, and before stepping out, he switched the dragonrider’s comm system to relay mode—this way, the aircraft would act as a communication “base station,” allowing his portable arcane network terminal to maintain contact with the Winterhold through it. This effectively solved the problem of the portable terminal’s limited power and weak signal.

“My god…” Amber’s eyes widened as she gazed at the silent steel giant of an island. “How on earth was this made… Can mortal races really build something like this?”

Gawain gently patted her shoulder. “To the ancients from ten thousand years ago, our mechanical bridge standing over the Whitewater River would have seemed just as miraculous. They would have marveled at it the same way you are now.”

Amber’s expression grew thoughtful. Gawain then looked to Modril, standing on his other side. “How do you feel? Does anything come to mind?”

“…No,” Modril shook his head slowly. “I don’t feel anything, and nothing specific comes to me. But… there’s a vague sense of familiarity here. A kind of… familiarity I can’t quite explain.”

“That’s to be expected,” Gawain nodded gently, his gaze drifting toward the darkness ahead. They were standing on a straight, flat road flanked by neatly arranged metal posts barely half a meter tall. Faint, weathered traces on the ground hinted at some kind of traffic markings. “If we follow this road, I saw from above that it leads right to the base of that tower.”

With that, he stepped forward, Amber and Modril close behind.

A low humming suddenly reached Gawain’s ears.

In an instant, all three went on alert. Gawain drew the Pathfinder’s Sword he had brought specifically for this mission. Modril’s hand now gripped a combat staff that had appeared without his noticing. Amber had already stepped one leg into the shadow rift. Then, in the next moment, Gawain saw the half-meter metal posts lining the road begin to change in the darkness—

Their tops quietly opened, releasing bright white orbs of light that rose several meters into the air. Under their glow, the road, once swallowed by darkness, was illuminated as brightly as daylight.

Street lamps.

They had activated on their own.

(End of chapter)