Chapter 1277: Hollow Shell

It was impossible to exclude the Tefons from all the achievements of the “Gate Project.” This not only encompassed the exploration of the Divine Realm itself but also the various unexpected discoveries made along the way. As one of the project’s initiators and a key leader of the Alliance, Gawain had no intention of sidelining his allies under such circumstances.

But now, he suspected that the origin of that “steel land” might be connected to the Pilgrims, perhaps even linked to his own physical form drifting in space. This realization made it impossible for him not to worry—he feared that this expedition might encounter unpredictable situations, and that some things were better kept from strangers.

Melita Pernia wasn’t exactly a “native” of the Cecile Empire, but at least on a personal level, she was a trusted friend who understood the Pilgrims’ affairs. Windsor Mapple, however, was a different matter. Gawain knew nothing about this Typhon scholar—he had no idea how she might react if he revealed too many unusual traits or activated certain Pilgrim technologies on the steel land.

At that moment, Daniel, who had been quiet all along, stepped forward.

“I’ll go,” the old mage said calmly, casting a glance at his former apprentice. “You scholar-mages, used to working in stable environments, aren’t cut out for an expedition that demands adaptability and experience. It’s not about how strong you are personally. Since leaving the Royal Mage Association, I’ve had my share of risky ventures.”

He paused, then looked at his other apprentice. “Besides, I can take Mary with me.”

Windsor Mapple looked at her mentor with some surprise, hesitation flickering across her face—until Daniel casually added, “We’ll need a chief technical officer to oversee things outside the Gate.”

“Yes, your advice makes perfect sense. I understand,” Windsor quickly recovered and nodded solemnly. “Then I’ll stay outside with the technical supervisors to provide support. Please be careful.”

Daniel nodded lightly. Gawain stood silently to the side, expressionless. Nearby, Melita Pernia handed two young dragons over to Noretta.

“You two stay here with the little ones—there’s no need for Melita and Noretta to risk themselves on something unrelated to the Deep Blue Rift,” she said seriously to her friend. “If all goes well, we’ll be back in two days.”

“Take care of yourselves, stay safe, and be ready to adapt,” Noretta said without wasting words. As a dragon who had shared the Rite of Passage with Melita, she simply reminded her friend, “Follow Gawain’s lead—he has a deep connection to the Pilgrims’ legacy.”

“Don’t worry, I know. We’re ‘close,’ after all,” Melita smiled, pressing her hands firmly on the two curious hatchlings before ruffling Noretta’s snow-white hair. Before Noretta could protest, Melita darted aside, and a dazzling light screen descended from the sky. Under its glow, her slender figure began rapidly shifting into her dragon form.

In the distance, amid swirling clouds of dust and sand, the massive steel colossus continued its relentless approach toward the Divine Realm’s border. The layers of silver-white alloy armor and the faint glowing lines along its edges became clearer in the dim light. The cloud sea rippled and surged, sand swept up by the steel land’s edge cascading like a waterfall. A low, rumbling roar grew louder—not loud, but enough to make one feel the immense energy contained deep within that “steel land,” striking fear into anyone hearing it for the first time.

A vague sensation suddenly welled up in Gawain’s heart. He instinctively looked toward the steel giant now nearing its closest point. Amid the overwhelming pressure, he saw countless streams of light flowing inside the massive structure, along with some indistinct, ephemeral projections. The feeling was very similar to when he first encountered the Reverse Tide Tower, yet subtly different.

This thing was indeed a relic left by the Pilgrims—and it was still “alive,” just like the Sky Pillar or the Reverse Tide Tower.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him. Melita, now in her dragon form, approached the shattered edge of the Divine Realm. She lowered her head, her enormous eyes glowing with magical radiance as she gazed down at the tiny “passengers” beneath her. Her voice rumbled: “I’m ready. Come aboard.”

The team designated for the steel land exploration stepped forward immediately. Gawain’s eyes swept over the entire group—including Melita, who served as their flying mount—and a sense of calm settled over him.

Followers, sycophants, close friends, devoted fans, seasoned veterans, and apprentices—the team’s composition was reassuring.

The dragon soared into the sky, buffeted by fierce winds and turbulence as it burst through the Divine Realm’s border. Those left behind looked up toward the dragon’s departing direction, silently hoping for a safe and successful mission.

“Let’s hope the legendary Gawain Cecile can unravel this mystery,” Windsor Mapple whispered. “The farther we go, the more unknown things appear before us…”

“The essence of exploration and research is to clarify the boundaries of ignorance, to better understand the vastness of this world,” Noretta replied, her gaze following Melita’s figure. Two hatchlings clung to her—one holding her thigh with a front paw, the other struggling to hang onto her shoulder. “The dull and shallow never feel confusion because they never encounter anything beyond their knowledge. They have nothing to doubt or question. Only those who walk ahead as explorers live with confusion, for every day they confront the edges of civilization.”

As a learned scholar, Windsor knew this truth well. She smiled faintly and turned her gaze back to the distance. In the corner of her vision, on a shattered high platform adorned with swords, shields, and armor, the figure of Malm Dunit appeared, silently watching the horizon beyond the cloud sea.

This “ghost,” now symbiotic with the Divine Realm, rarely showed himself to others. Most of the time, he wandered elsewhere within the Divine Realm, as if maintaining and patrolling this silent “City of Gods.” He didn’t interfere with the explorers’ activities or initiate contact, but when something piqued his interest, he would quietly appear, watching from afar.

What was he looking at? A world now alien to him? Or was he, in place of his “master,” observing where these mortals who dared enter the Divine Realm would ultimately go?

Such questions were not the explorers’ concern. Windsor merely glanced once more at the former War God Pope, nodded slightly in greeting, and withdrew her gaze.

…

Beneath the dragon, the spectacular yet unsettling “border cloud sea” churned and receded. The silver-white armored expanse of the steel land grew larger in their view. Amber and Modiel stared wide-eyed, fixated on the approaching destination. Gawain patted the scales beneath him and asked Melita, “Are you alright? The takeoff was really rough—I almost thought you’d fall off.”

“The Divine Realm’s environment lacks magic, which makes it hard for me to adapt,” Melita’s voice came through. “I had to rely solely on my own magic to lift off. Only after leaving the Divine Realm’s boundary could I fly normally. Looks like I need more practice.”

“I see.” Gawain nodded, relieved to understand the reason.

Dragon flight didn’t conform to “aerodynamics” and wasn’t purely about flapping wings to generate lift. This was a fact that modern “dragonologists” were gradually realizing. These massive creatures needed both air currents and “ripples of magic” to take flight. The lift from wingbeats alone was far from enough. Their wings bore complex innate runic patterns, so flying was essentially a form of spellcasting.

“Seems the Divine Realm’s unique environment is just as unfriendly to you,” Kamail, who understood dragon flight secrets, remarked. “You probably can’t sustain long flights here.”

“Even gliding is exhausting,” Melita said helplessly. “But once we’re out of that place, everything returns to normal. Alright, everyone, brace yourselves—we’re about to land!”

The explorers tensed immediately. Moments later, they passed through a thin, transparent energy barrier covering the steel land. A fleeting sensation of passing through a cold veil washed over them. Then, with a moderate jolt, the dragon’s massive body touched down on a relatively flat, open metal platform.

No automatic anti-air defenses activated. No hostile mechanical sentries appeared—just as when the explorers’ magical constructs had landed before, the worst-case scenario did not occur.

Daniel was the first to rise, casting a levitation spell to descend onto the platform. He deliberately kept communication with Gawain minimal. Although Amber and Victoria knew the full story, Modiel and Melita did not know about the “Agent 25” matter. So, at least on the surface, he had to maintain his identity as the “Typhon technical representative.”

One by one, the explorers dismounted from the dragon’s back. Gawain was last. As he stepped onto the ground, he glanced back at the dragon, who was lowering her wings to the side, and casually said, “You landed really smoothly this time—I was ready to roll on the ground.”

“I don’t mess up every time!” Melita protested loudly. “I just have bad eyesight—there’s no way I can’t aim in such a huge place! And didn’t I already apologize for falling into the sea last time?”

What followed was a jumble of half-understood explanations about “limited deceleration,” “emergency flight,” and how “dragon forced landings aren’t crashes.” The platform quickly filled with a lively, cheerful atmosphere.

But the good mood didn’t make the explorers relax their vigilance or dull their observation.

Gawain looked up and saw a semi-transparent energy barrier clearly visible, separating them from the swirling dust clouds outside. Within their view stretched the silver-white or silver-gray steel decks, dotted with structures resembling buildings fixed to the surface.

Yes, he called it a “deck.”

He believed this was a ship—a spacecraft patrolling the Divine Realm’s territory according to a predetermined program.

It wasn’t completely silent here. The low hums and occasional vibrations of ancient machinery echoed faintly from various directions, reminding the intruders that deep beneath their feet, this vast “land” still pulsed with untamed power. Above, scattered across the upper decks, myriad lights flickered—some bright, some dim—casting a patchwork of shadows and illumination between the metal structures. Gawain tilted his head upward, gazing down the straight metallic pathway before him. In the distance, a shroud of chaotic darkness still lingered, pierced by faint glimmers of light quietly burning in the abyss—like the afterglow of some propulsion system’s exhaust.

Amber craned her neck, scanning the surroundings as she quietly recalled the scenes she had just witnessed atop the dragon’s back. She leaned toward Gawain and whispered, “Hey, between this thing and our ‘Project 115’… which do you think is bigger?”

Project 115—the empire’s largest ongoing weapons development program—centered on assembling a colossal orbital fortress at the foot of the Dark Mountains. Though still incomplete, its scale was already impressive.

To Amber, it was the largest man-made “device” she could imagine.

Yet even Project 115 seemed dwarfed by the structure before them… if only in sheer size.

“This is bigger,” Gawain said gravely. “It might even surpass the scale of the Star Sanctum. This isn’t something our current technology could build… not in form or function. It’s beyond the limits of this era.”

“Could it be… a remnant left behind by the Voyagers?” Melita, now fully transformed into her human form, swallowed nervously, a trace of tension in her voice. “I feel like the style is somewhat…”

Before she could finish, Gawain cut in, “Yes. This is Voyager heritage.”

Melita opened her mouth, as if to say more, but no words came. The others around them tightened their expressions, fully alert to this utterly alien and unfathomable “ancient legacy” before mortal eyes.

Gawain narrowed his eyes slightly. He reached out mentally to the satellite core orbiting in physical space, connecting to the main system of the Skyhold Station. Once he confirmed the link was stable, he began to apply the knowledge he had gained from the Inverse Tide Tower, attempting to establish some form of communication with the massive vessel beneath them—an enormous ship seemingly navigating autonomously under some kind of automated program.

In truth, he didn’t know how to make contact, or even if the ship would respond. But generally speaking, any Voyager relics should resonate with one another. Even if access was restricted, some feedback should be detectable when making contact.

Yet he heard nothing.

When he probed the steel giant with his mental energy, all he sensed was emptiness—an icy shell blindly running on its most primitive programming, like the crude machines mortals built in this age. There was no control system capable of recognizing Voyager signals.

This was unlike any Voyager relic Gawain had encountered before.

(End of chapter)