Chapter 1261: Between Light and Shadow

The moment he realized that the architectural structures near the base of the Tideshift Tower matched the style of the “dust illusion” scene from years ago—when Modir had met the “Twin Elves”—Gawain knew that this expedition into the Tideshift Tower might yield far more than anyone had anticipated.

Fragments of ancient clues began to surface and rearrange themselves in his mind. Though the connections between them remained shrouded in mist, he could almost feel the subtle pull linking these disparate pieces together. The full picture was still vague, but gradually, a massive puzzle was emerging from the fog.

And this towering structure, standing since the dawn of time… was undoubtedly the keystone of that puzzle.

Gawain took a slow breath, steadying the restless emotions stirring within him. He tightened his grip on the Pathfinder’s sword, heightening his senses to the maximum as he stepped forward toward the faintly open alloy door at the tower’s base. Behind him, Modir and Amber followed closely, equally alert.

At the end of this ancient “road” stood an astonishing gate.

It dwarfed even the tallest gates of Sanct Sunir, forged from some unknown metal that radiated solemn weight. The entire door gleamed with a textured silver-gray sheen, its surface smooth as a mirror. Beneath that polished exterior, faint vertical lines ran from top to bottom. The gate was set into a wall as sheer and imposing as a cliff face, with a narrow slit wide enough for several people to pass side by side. Judging by its structure, the door could slide open sideways into the wall, operated by some long-dormant mechanism.

Amber stood frozen before the gate, craning her neck to take in its towering height. The poor goose looked utterly stunned. After a long moment, she snapped back to reality, eyes wide with a mix of awe and lingering shock as she turned to Gawain. “I was just about to ask—why do these ancient ruins always have their gates left open just a crack? Did the old voyagers forget to close the door when they left?”

Gawain couldn’t help but shoot a sideways glance at the “shame of the alliance.” He thought to himself, “Of all things, even after being this shocked, her first thought is that the door’s unlocked… Good thing the Tideshift Tower has no windows, or she’d probably have climbed in through one by now.”

“Dragons opened it,” Gawain replied, shaking his head as he shared what he’d learned. “After the voyagers left, the dragons found a way to open the tower’s entrance. They gained access to a small portion of the voyagers’ knowledge… which eventually sowed the seeds for the Tideshift Rebellion.”

He stepped forward, approaching the narrow opening. Just before passing through, his gaze drifted upward to the towering door once more. This ancient barrier, weathered by a million years, remained unyieldingly solid. On its polished alloy surface, the distant starlight shimmered faintly, along with the unreachable depths of space where the voyagers had vanished forever.

Instinctively, Gawain reached out and gently touched the door. Through the cold contact, he seemed to sense the long-lost ages and the stories that had unfolded around this tower.

Suddenly, a faint stream of light flowed from his palm along the door’s edge, accompanied by a low hum that filled the air. It was as if some long-dormant system had been awakened. In the next instant, the once silent door began to glow, streams of light racing along the embedded lines. Countless sparkling points appeared, flickering rapidly and gradually forming clear patterns and text.

Amber jumped back in surprise, flickering erratically between shadow and solid form before stabilizing. She shouted, “Hey! Hey, it lit up! How did it light up just because you touched it?”

Gawain hadn’t expected this sudden change either, but he quickly suppressed his surprise. Calmly, he pressed a hand on Amber’s head. “Don’t get so startled during an exploration. Didn’t you see those street lamps light up earlier?”

His eyes fixed on the images now appearing on the door’s surface. The characters and symbols stabilized, scrolling upward line by line. Just like the signs they’d seen earlier, the ancient voyagers’ script conveyed meaning directly into Gawain’s mind:

“Facility offline. Access permissions frozen.

“Detected Skyhold Station authorization port. Reauthorizing access… Access granted.

“Critical system warning: factory area shutdown, cause unknown… Core database missing or locked… Accumulated error logs overflowed, production control offline.

“Auxiliary systems available. Gate authorized. Uploading facility structure…”

The embedded display refreshed rapidly, lines of text sliding past Gawain’s eyes. He stared intently, absorbing every detail. Then, suddenly, he felt a deeper connection—a link reaching out to the orbital space station far above, relayed through satellite authorization protocols directly into his memory. The entire process lasted only a few seconds. Gawain slowly looked away, blinking toward the tower’s interior.

In the next moment, the structure behind the gate unfolded in his mind like a translucent hologram, marking all authorized doors and pathways.

From within the tower came a series of heavy, ancient mechanical sounds—the clanks and grinds of long-dormant machinery stirring to life. Amber tensed, her face tight with nervousness, as if fearing some unseen creature might leap out and finish her off in an instant. But seeing Gawain’s calm, composed expression, she relaxed. Modir, meanwhile, stared at Gawain in stunned disbelief before finally reacting. “This… this is your doing?”

“Yes,” Gawain smiled and nodded. “Just a few subtle tricks.”

With that, he stepped inside.

Gawain had no fear that Amber or Modir would misinterpret his actions, nor did he worry about “exposing his special nature.” Partly because he trusted them, but mostly because he understood his position and the gravity of his mission. He was no cautious newcomer to this world—he was a figure who had hung in the heavens for over a million years, lain in a coffin for more than seven centuries (at least to outsiders), and now ruled an empire, leading a coalition of nations. Among all the matters and people he dealt with daily, the “little secret of the satellite spirit” was one of the least significant.

After all, he’d used the “Outsider” identity plenty of times before.

Inside the tower, lights blazed.

Just as Modir’s journal had recorded, parts of this ancient structure remained operational. Even when Gawain and his companions weren’t here, the lights probably never went out.

A low, constant hum echoed from all directions. Invisible systems still ran deep within the ancient floors, walls, and domes. After passing through the gate and a short corridor, they arrived at a vast cylindrical hall.

As described in Modir’s writings, the hall was cavernous. At its center stood an enormous conveyor system—like a complex, massive elevator—swiftly moving unknown materials along pipes or rails. Surrounding it were countless dazzling, unidentifiable ancient devices, some still functioning. Holographic projections displayed intricate instrument data above them, while various hums and beeps sounded from the machines.

Who could imagine that, hidden from mortal eyes on this very planet’s surface, such an advanced ancient facility had silently operated for nearly two hundred thousand years?

Gawain’s heart pounded as his gaze swept over the still-active devices. Each time he paused, information surfaced in his mind—

This was the logistics distribution system, this the central energy monitor, that the maintenance personnel’s inspection access. Above, communication stations and data interfaces. The underground foundations extended deep beneath the ocean, through the seabed, even piercing the mantle, submerged in molten magma…

Red warning signs indicating system shutdowns or error log overflows flashed repeatedly in his “vision,” covering nearly every device. Only those with lighter loads or simpler functions remained barely operational—at least without the nerve-wracking error reports.

Just like the satellites and stations in space, this production facility’s condition was far from optimistic.

It had long since exceeded its service life… well past the point of retirement.

At that moment, Amber’s voice broke through his thoughts. “So… what about ‘that thing’ inside the tower? We’re in now, and sure, it’s an impressive ancient facility, but I don’t feel any spiritual contamination or anything like that here…”

Gawain immediately understood. Frowning, he glanced around and murmured thoughtfully, “‘That thing’ might be intangible and formless. We might not be able to see anything with our eyes here…”

In ancient times, the mortals of the Tideshift Empire worshipped this voyagers’ tower near the North Pole, forging a collective faith. Their unified belief gave birth to a “deity” within the tower. But no one outside that faith knew what form this god took. According to Enya, the deity, which died young at birth, might not even have had a physical form. It could have been a hollow echo, a vague shadow, or a powerful mental tendency—existing invisibly, incorporeally, entwined with the tower’s steel and light.

Yet even so, Gawain’s brow furrowed deeper.

Even if it was invisible… the tower felt far too “normal” and quiet right now.

He instinctively glanced at Modril beside him. “Do you feel anything? Or remember—”

He stopped mid-sentence, noticing that the old mage had somehow tilted his head back, his gaze fixed, as if irresistibly drawn, on the towering, magnificent alloy dome overhead. Something about it unsettled Gawain.

At that moment, Modril finally blinked. His lips trembled, as if struggling to wake from a bizarre, nightmarish dream, and he let out a series of short, garbled sounds. After several attempts, he managed to choke out, “No… something’s wrong… it’s gone… it’s not here anymore… it should be right here, it should be right here!!”

“Calm down, old man,” Amber said sharply, startled by Modril’s strange reaction. She hurriedly tried to pull him back from whatever mental haze had overtaken him. “Gone? What do you mean? What’s supposed to be here?”

“That thing!” Modril suddenly snapped fully awake, gasping sharply. He pointed toward the soaring dome above the hall. Though his eyes were clear now, his words tumbled out in confusion. “I remember something was here—something huge, beyond words. It watched me with countless eyes, spoke to me through countless tongues. It’s gone. It’s gone! Can’t you see? There are traces—right there!”

The old mage’s voice grew urgent. Gawain’s heart tightened as he followed Modril’s trembling finger upward. But all he saw were the crisscrossing support beams and the rapidly moving transport systems.

Still, a powerful intuition surged within him. He felt as if he’d missed something crucial. His gaze locked on the heights, scanning the obvious structures again and again. Suddenly, the mental image of the tower’s blueprint flashed back into his mind. In the corner of his vision, a patch of silvery-gray wall on the dome seemed to flicker—like two overlapping images briefly slipping out of alignment, as if a hidden rendering layer had glitched.

Gawain didn’t ignore the fleeting visual cue.

As he focused on the anomaly, large sections of the dome’s walls and supports began to shimmer before his eyes. Flickering light and shadow revealed vague, shadowy shapes emerging from the air itself. Misaligned lines hinted at a massive fissure-like structure.

A jolt of shock hit Gawain’s chest. In less than half a second, a lightning-fast insight struck him.

He whipped around to Amber, who still seemed caught off guard. “Amber! There’s a ‘truth’ here we can’t see—hidden in the cracks between realities!!”

(End of chapter)