Chapter 1262: Behind the Veil

Hidden in the cracks of the real world, a truth invisible to the naked eye.

When Highlord saw those flickering shadows, his first reaction wasn’t to think too deeply. He simply assumed it was some kind of optical illusion—a trick of light masking certain realities inside the tower. But that simple thought lasted less than a tenth of a second before a sudden realization struck him—

The three people present: himself, a legendary knight; Modril, a legendary mage; and Amber, though not particularly strong in combat, a suspected Shadow Chosen—an “Shadow Master” capable of stealing authority from the Lady of Night’s divine realm. What kind of optical illusion or magical concealment could possibly fool a team of such caliber?

This wasn’t just an optical illusion. At the very least, a miracle domain’s power was at work here! In Highlord’s mind, fragments of research from the Theological Council and knowledge gleaned from retired deities flashed through, leading him to conclude that something nearly capable of bending reality was hiding the tower’s true nature.

Amber immediately caught on and abruptly looked up toward the sky. Her eyes didn’t pierce through the hidden veil like the heroes in bard tales, but a vague intuition stirred deep within her. As her mind raced, she instinctively raised her hands, hesitating over whether to summon powers that might draw the attention of the gods.

This was the Inverse Tide Tower. Recklessly wielding powers beyond mortal realms could invite unpredictable consequences.

But wasn’t the current situation already an unpredictable consequence?

Steeling herself, Amber raised both hands high. An invisible gale swept through the center of the hall. Within the gray-white, rushing wind, shadowy dust materialized out of thin air, swirling wildly and spreading throughout the chamber.

Highlord stared in shock at the sudden, rapidly expanding shadow dust. “When did your power get this strong?”

“I… I don’t know,” Amber stammered, flustered as she struggled to control the chaotic dust. “I just wanted to summon some dust to send upward, to see if its ‘corrupting’ nature could break through whatever invisible things are hiding… I don’t know why so much came out all at once!”

As she spoke, Amber quickly closed the “channel” summoning the shadow dust, but the dust already released formed a massive gray-white dust storm hovering above the hall. She did her best to guide its flow, making it swirl near the ceiling. Highlord’s eyes widened as he watched the dust storm rage overhead—then, he and Modril both gasped sharply.

The gray-white sandstorm tore across the hall’s roof like a brutal, merciless blade, shredding the hidden “veil.” What had seemed like a normal ceiling and surrounding area suddenly revealed their true form: vast patches severely corroded and polluted, scars left by some parasitic structure piercing through. Blackened stains crawled from the highest walls to the center of the roof. Twisted, withered, dead things—neither clearly animal nor plant—clung to the transport conduit above, their corruption shocking to behold. But even more shocking was something else:

A massive rift cleaving through the entire hall’s roof.

The rift didn’t appear etched on the walls or ceiling. Instead, it floated abruptly in midair, as if space itself had torn open a wound. Its ends pierced through the tower’s outer walls without damaging their structure, passing through like a phantom. The top touched the hall’s roof, while the bottom twisted jaggedly like a serrated maw.

Deep within the gaping rift, a cerulean glow pulsed gently like rippling water. Though no power seemed to leak from it, just seeing that bright, pure light made Highlord feel the other side’s world was filled with an incredibly pure and potent magical energy.

As the shadow dust gradually receded and the invisible winds calmed, the destroyed veil did not regenerate. The unsettling truth of the hall’s ceiling remained clear to all: the corrosion marks and the enormous rift occupied nearly a third of the hall’s height. Yet below them, the rest of the hall remained normal.

Clearly, this was where “something” had once dwelled.

Amber tilted her head back, eyes wide, stunned for a long moment before the slow-to-react shadow assault goose finally let out a startled cry from her throat: “Oh my… this is bad!!”

“What is that?!” Modril’s gaze fixed on the glowing blue rift. Though he’d never seen anything like it, his mage’s instinct sensed something profound. “That rift…”

“…Probably a Deep Blue Conduit,” Highlord said gravely from beside him. “It’s my first time seeing one too, but I’m almost certain.”

“Deep Blue Conduit?” Modril’s face clouded with confusion. “What exactly is that?”

“It’s complicated to explain. You can think of it as the planet’s internal energy circulation system. It overlaps with the material world like a projection, running through all layers of our world. It has a ‘source’ exposed to reality—you might be familiar with it… It used to be called the Well of Deep Blue,” Highlord said slowly, his voice low and serious. He sighed softly at the end. “Looks like we’re in trouble…”

As if to confirm Highlord’s words, Amber’s magic network terminal suddenly buzzed urgently. The moment the connection was made, Byron’s voice came through: “Your Majesty, is everything alright over there?”

“Everyone’s safe, but we’ve found something disturbing,” Highlord replied, frowning. “How did you know? What’s happening on your end?”

In the background, he faintly heard chaotic noises—Melita and Noretta’s voices, the commotion of young dragons. Many seemed flustered.

“Two hatchlings suddenly started causing a ruckus,” Byron said before Asalina abruptly cut in. “They were screaming toward the tower like mad, flapping wildly as if trying to fly there. We barely managed to hold them back, but they’re still restless…”

The hatchlings were acting up?

Highlord furrowed his brow. Then, through the comms, Melita and Noretta’s urgent voices came through, clearly nearby: “Noretta, they’re so anxious, they won’t listen to me!” “Not to me either! Noretta even bit me just now!” “Should we try calming spells? But they’re so young, their resistance to magic’s side effects…” “Don’t rush, don’t rush. Their bodies are fine. I’ll soothe them more.” “Wait, Noretta… I just thought of something. Could it be that they’re seeing things we can’t?”

…

“Could they be seeing things we can’t?”

At the edge of the Winter’s Edge deck, the two hatchlings continued to squawk anxiously. Two novice mothers and their dragon kin tried to soothe the restless little ones. Melita turned to Noretta, eyes wide.

“Things we can’t see?” Noretta gently placed her hand on one hatchling’s head, trying to calm its obvious anxiety. Her eyes widened slowly. “You mean…”

“I’m guessing—the Deep Blue Mark didn’t just affect their scale colors. Remember? Speaker Andal and Lady Enya said those marks might also affect their nervous systems, altering their perception…”

“Gao!!” “Gao gao!!” The hatchlings cried out again, breaking free from Noretta’s hands. They shot into the air, circling anxiously above the deck, their immature roars tinged with unease and something else… excitement.

Noretta caught on. She glanced at Melita, and together they raised their hands, channeling invisible magic to pull the little ones back onto the deck. The hatchlings struggled instinctively, but before they could resist, Melita and Noretta placed their hands on their heads.

“Good, don’t be afraid,” Melita said softly, one arm firmly holding the powerful hatchling’s neck, the other pressing gently on its head. She leaned close to its ear, her voice warm and soothing. “Did you see something scary? Mommy knows now. Don’t be afraid, relax… let me see what you saw…”

The hatchling calmed slightly. Seizing the moment, blue runic circles shimmered on Melita’s hands. Her eyes shifted to dark golden vertical slits. Under the night sky, those magic-filled eyes linked directly to the hatchling’s vision. She guided the hatchling’s gaze slowly toward the tower.

A terrifying sight—one that made even dragons shudder—filled her vision.

The massive rift hovered in the sky, glowing bright blue like frozen lightning, slicing through the night clouds and slanting down toward the sea. It cut through the lower half of the Inverse Tide Tower, yet the tower’s structure remained intact, as if the rift passed through it like a phantom. The rift stretched beyond, winding toward the western coast of Talrond, crossing icy waters and shattered shores, then burrowing deep into the earth.

It was a wound tearing through sky and land—but until now, no one but the two hatchlings had seen it.

“Oh my god…”

Noretta’s startled cry came from beside her, jolting Melita fully awake. At the same moment, the magical link between her and the young dragon snapped, and the jagged rift that had torn across the sky and through the tower vanished from sight, as if it had never existed.

Melita and Noretta exchanged glances, each seeing the same shock—and unease—in the other’s eyes.

The next instant, Melita sprang to her feet and dashed toward Byron, who was holding a communicator nearby. “Gawain! We might be in trouble!”

…

Gawain’s face darkened as he listened to Melita’s report, his gaze drifting upward to the ceiling of the hall. The terrifying rift still hovered overhead, surrounded by grotesque signs of erosion and corruption.

When had that rift appeared? And when had those tainted, decaying marks taken hold? Had they already been there six hundred years ago, when Modril Wilde first came here?

A chilling image flashed through Gawain’s mind—a clueless adventurer stepping into the tower, unaware of the true horrors within. He explored the hall, recorded his findings, learned what he could. Yet, just above him, unspeakable corruption lurked behind an invisible veil, countless eyes watching, countless whispers murmuring in the shadows…

Suddenly, Gawain understood the meaning behind the confused words Modril had uttered earlier. Though the adventurer had never seen the “truth” of the hall, some unseen influence had invaded his mind, imprinting those memories deep within his subconscious.

“What do we do now?” Amber’s voice came from beside him. The half-elf’s face was tense, but instead of fleeing at this critical moment, she stood her ground, eyes fixed warily on the dreadful scene above, waiting for Gawain’s next move.

Gawain didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulled a small, intricate amulet from his pocket. The charm was etched with distinctive deep-sea runes, and at its core lay a complex hexagonal array of runes, encased in a transparent crystalline substance studded with tiny crystal nodes.

This was a divine energy detector—a device crafted by the Theological Council’s scholars and technomancers. Its principle was simple: a universal inverse array at its heart would react if any divine power was present nearby, disrupting the internal energy balance and causing the crystal to heat up and emit a flashing signal.

In every test so far, this detector had proven sensitive to all known forms of divine energy, making it standard issue for the Council’s “contact” and “countermeasure” operatives on routine missions.

Gawain stared at the silent amulet, his expression as cold and still as water.

At first, the device showed no reaction. He had assumed the “Inverse Tide” was too unusual to trigger the alarm.

But now… a far worse conclusion settled over him.

“The breach happened long ago,” Gawain said slowly, lifting his gaze to the ceiling. “We’re late. Late by who knows how many years.”

(End of chapter)