Chapter 1263: Scars of History

Those traces of corruption and contamination couldn’t have formed overnight. They were most likely the very “nurseries” where the “Inverse Tide” first took root within this tower—or perhaps the lingering aftermath of its activity. According to the intelligence from Tal’Rond, these marks could date back to ancient times—millions of years ago, just before the Inverse Tide Empire was destroyed by the dragons.

But when did that rift actually appear?

Gawain had no idea. Maybe no one did. The rift clearly existed in a state of “non-interference” with the rest of the hall, like a phantom piercing through the material world, cutting through steel and air alike. Gawain couldn’t determine how long it had been here based on the surrounding traces. It might have existed long before the tower was even built—or it could have formed silently just an hour ago. As a “phantom” that couldn’t be observed by conventional means and didn’t interact with its environment, it could have appeared at any time.

Still, Gawain had an instinctive feeling: this thing had probably hovered above the hall for many years, and… it had become an escape route.

There was no divine presence detected anywhere in the tower, and after all this exploration, no signs of mental contamination had appeared. That in itself was unsettling.

After all, Modir had been infected by the Inverse Tide almost immediately upon entering this hall, plunging into a frenzy of ancient knowledge absorption and worship. If not for the Dragon God’s “interventionary protection” outside the tower, Modir might never have regained clarity before being fully converted into a follower of the Inverse Tide.

Yet now, after so much time spent inside this hall, there was still no sign of mental corruption—of course, Gawain and Amber had special constitutions, and Modir carried protective runes, so they were naturally resistant. But even the highly sensitive protective devices hadn’t triggered any alarms.

“Melita said she saw a massive rift outside… no shadow dust like yours, but she shared the young dragon’s vision,” Gawain said casually. “The young dragons born under the influence of the Deep Blue Pathway can see ‘Deep Blue Rifts’ invisible to ordinary people… that actually makes sense. The key question now is: where did these rifts come from?”

His gaze shifted away from the floating rift and the blue streams of light above the hall, settling instead on a reinforced metal gate on one side. After a brief moment of thought, he strode toward it. “We should check the upper levels.”

In the mental “blueprint” that had formed in his mind, the structure behind that gate was labeled “Personnel Elevator.” Among a cluster of devices flashing red “System Fault” warnings, the equipment lines for that passage were unusually marked in green.

Watching Gawain’s confident familiarity with the surroundings, Amber and Modir showed no surprise. They simply followed him to the silver-white metal gate.

After a quick review of the operation instructions, Gawain raised his hand and pressed it against the wall beside the gate. The blank wall suddenly shimmered with a series of irregular, colorful light spots. The ancient, dormant system reactivated, and through a series of unstable, halting startup sequences, the lights gradually coalesced into an image. A few simple buttons and characters flickered like faulty lights before stabilizing.

Gawain tapped a few commands on the panel, and a “ding” system prompt sounded in his ear. The locked metal gate silently slid open to reveal a spacious elevator cabin.

The three stepped inside, the gate closing behind them. A faint vibration came from beneath their feet, and as the elevator began to ascend, a sudden mechanical synthetic voice sounded—a series of strange, clipped syllables in a language no one alive could understand. Amber and Modir jumped at the unexpected sound, but in Gawain’s mind, the voice instantly translated into a comprehensible message: “Elevator ascending.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just the elevator’s prompt,” Gawain said casually, soothing Amber’s startled nerves and nodding slightly to the serious old mage beside him.

No sooner had he spoken than a clear image appeared on the opposite wall of the elevator cabin. It showed an endless, vast plain, upon which sat a city filled with gleaming silver domes and towering skyscrapers—an advanced, prosperous metropolis like a giant jewel embedded in the landscape. At the horizon, a celestial body rose—a planet with glowing rings, a moon-like luminous orb, and distant, unfamiliar star rivers.

Amber and Modir were startled again, but by now they had grown somewhat accustomed to the strange ancient devices within the tower. They quickly realized this was a normal interface for transmitting and recording information, so after a brief surprise, they settled into serious, curious gazes, studying the scenes displayed.

The images began to shift, cycling through cities of varying architectural styles, spectacular, magnificent, and mysterious alien landscapes, skies of different hues, vast and unfamiliar star seas, strange launch facilities standing on the ground, and vehicles streaking across the heavens.

In some frames, Gawain even saw what looked like propaganda slogans—constantly refreshing, describing star routes to the depths of the galaxy or development projects on alien worlds. Then, suddenly, one image appeared that made his pupils contract sharply—

He saw a planet with deep blue oceans and yellow-green continents, quietly suspended against the dark, profound backdrop of space. Above its equator floated a massive, unfinished ring-shaped megastructure. The incomplete sections resembled countless jagged bones stretching into the starry void. Between those skeletal frames, innumerable points of light darted back and forth—vast fleets of space machinery transporting materials or installing new components.

Gawain’s eyes moved to the text below the image—

“The next expedition will set sail from here. May this battle-worn planet heal with the passage of time. May the ‘Firmament’ and the ‘Sentinels’ witness the planet’s next dawn.”

Gawain stared fixedly at the screen—the unmistakably unfinished Firmament Station megastructure, and the line of text beneath it, focusing on the two key words: “Firmament” and “Sentinels.”

Then, the image abruptly vanished. A slight vibration came from beneath their feet, and the elevator’s synthetic voice interrupted the storm of thoughts in Gawain’s mind: “Arrived… second floor. Elevator doors opening.”

The elevator doors slid open, revealing another vast hall. Its overall structure resembled the tower’s first floor, with a central area dominated by what appeared to be a transit system running through the entire Inverse Tide Tower. But unlike the first floor, this hall contained numerous cylindrical structures arranged in a tilted ring around the transit tracks. Bright streams of light occasionally slid rapidly across their surfaces, as if transmitting some kind of information. A low, humming sound emanated from within the cylinders, as if some ancient system still operated inside.

Amber’s voice broke the silence, “Look ahead—there’s definitely something going on!”

Gawain immediately focused, looking up in the direction she indicated. The mystery lay between those tilted cylinders.

Dark, charred marks—scars left by extensive corrosion and decay—spread across the bases of several pillars. Nearby, withered and dead structures twisted like the limbs of some grotesque creature clung close to the adjacent rail transport system. Amid these unsettling signs, the most striking feature was a vivid blue fissure cutting through the floor, as if a shard of sky had been embedded in the very air.

This was the same rift that Gawain and the others had seen earlier in the first-floor hall. Its jagged edges clearly “pierced” through the tower’s thick, sturdy floors, forming an opening roughly ten meters long and three or four meters wide on the second floor. Now, a radiant blue light pulsed within the gap, its dazzling magical glow standing out starkly against the surrounding dark, corrupted stains.

It was clear that Amber’s “Shadow Dust” had affected far more than just the first-floor hall; its “breaking of the veil” had spread all the way here.

Gawain furrowed his brow, pondering for a moment before stepping toward the fissure.

“Hey! Be careful!” Amber’s voice rang out behind him, sharp with alarm. “This place reeks of bad luck—you don’t want to touch anything recklessly!”

For someone who had once pried open a coffin in a seven-hundred-year-old grave to be so nervously warning him not to “mess around” was almost comical. Gawain couldn’t help but smile wryly. Without turning back, he waved a hand to signal he understood, but his steps didn’t falter. Soon, he stood less than two meters from the “deep blue rift,” right where the corrupted marks clustered.

He crouched down, eyes scanning the floor’s disturbing dark stains with care.

The advanced ancient alloy beneath—impervious to ordinary mortal damage—was pocked and dented, the deep hues seeming to seep into the metal itself. These depressions connected to form a larger, more complete outline.

Squinting slightly, Gawain imagined what had once transpired here—a massive, bloated, and formless creature, perhaps with thousands of eyes and countless tongues, along with a tangle of indescribable extra limbs or tendrils. Though it had taken on a physical form, its “birth” was incomplete, leaving it trapped in a state between reality and illusion. In this form, it could pass through the tower’s floors, yet the power of the collective consciousness held it captive within the tower. This blind, foolish being was doomed to wander endlessly, caught in a chaos that seemed to stretch on forever.

Moreover, it possessed some unknown power that cloaked its existence and the traces of its movements behind a veil of illusion. Thus… even if a few visitors had come to this tower, not a single intelligent being had ever sensed the terrible presence lurking above their heads.

“This used to be ‘that thing’s’ main haunt,” Gawain said in a low voice, just as Amber and Modril’s footsteps approached behind him. “Of course, there’s nothing left here now.”

He slowly rose and turned to Amber.

“Contact the Wintership. Let’s send everything we’ve found back to Agondor.”

(End of chapter)