Chapter 1288: The Hidden Spiral
Gawain and Amber exchanged uneasy glances.
Nearby, Kamail let out a soft sigh, breaking the heavy silence in the room. “Their warning finally got through… but I still don’t know how, as mere mortals, we’re supposed to prepare ourselves against the ‘Sentinels’ left behind by the Voyagers…”
Gawain said nothing. He lowered his eyelids slightly, his mind gathering and organizing every clue they’d uncovered so far. He traced the sequence of events, piecing together the information revealed behind them, speculating on the Sentinels’ possible objectives and the methods they might use to achieve them. He pondered their weaknesses and what cards mortals might hold in hand. Meanwhile, Amber’s quiet murmurs drifted from beside him.
“So, just as we suspected, the elven twins operating in the real world have indeed been replaced… but the ones who replaced them aren’t some unknowable god—they’re an ancient intelligence designed to monitor the gods themselves?”
Amber couldn’t think of any better term to describe the Sentinel that had broken free from this “Mother Port,” so she settled on calling it an “ancient intelligence.”
Her whispered words caught Gawain’s attention, sparking a sudden flash of insight in his mind. He realized something suspicious.
“…Right, the ones active outside are the elven twins… but according to the information left by Filna and Relna here, the Sentinel only copied one of them and used that as its vessel to escape. The Sentinel that entered the real world has already broken free—so why would it create an extra individual? Just to maintain the ‘elven twins’ illusion?”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Kamail said immediately, his voice low and serious. “When it was seen outside, it was alone. My colleagues concluded that one of the twins must have died in an accident. Under those circumstances, the Sentinel had no reason to create another body. It could have simply hidden as either Relna or Filna. Creating an extra individual would only draw more attention from the rebels and increase the risk of exposure… though in the end, it still managed to remain hidden.”
“So there must be another reason—something forcing it to create an additional ‘body,’ even at the risk of attracting extra scrutiny,” Gawain frowned, thinking aloud. “Why would it do that? Could it be that when copying the elven twins, some kind of ‘obsession’ was accidentally left behind? That seems unlikely… Or maybe it needed more ‘hands’? Or perhaps…”
He stopped, his expression turning grave as his voice dropped. “Or maybe a single body can’t contain its consciousness. It only realized this after entering the real world, so it had to urgently create an extra vessel for itself.”
“That could be a weakness,” Kamail said quickly. “But how do we exploit it? Overload its mind?”
Amber blinked, looking between Gawain and Kamail, then suddenly said, “Actually… the Sentinel is using two mortal bodies now, right? No matter how powerful the ‘Mother Port’ and that ship it left behind are, the vessels it’s currently using are just two elven bodies. Why not just take out those two elves and be done with it?”
Gawain turned his head to look at Amber, then after a couple of seconds, nodded thoughtfully. “True… you have a point. But I worry—if we destroy those two vessels, will that really eliminate the Sentinel?”
“We might end up ‘releasing’ it, making things spiral completely out of control,” Kamail said from the side. “Since it can ‘inject’ its consciousness into a body, that means its mind can transfer and even survive independently for some time. Filna and Relna’s notes don’t explain how the Sentinel transfers or injects its mind, so we have to assume it can do this on its own, without external help.”
“Still, destroying the two vessels has to be part of our plan. It might be the only viable option we have right now,” Gawain said seriously. “Maybe destroying those bodies will only banish the Sentinel temporarily, but at least it would buy us some time… and even that won’t be easy.”
“The Sentinel knows how fragile its current vessels are, so it will guard itself carefully. Even trapped in mortal bodies, it possesses knowledge and experience far beyond our understanding—and a secret grand plan,” Kamail nodded. “The cultists in the wasteland and the dangers of the wasteland itself are probably just its first line of defense.”
The room fell into a brief silence. Amber, unusually quiet, sank into deep thought. After a long while, she slowly lifted her head and looked at the words carved into the wooden wall. She couldn’t help but ask, “Why didn’t the Sentinel kill Filna and Relna after capturing and copying them? It just left them here to fend for themselves… Was it in too much of a hurry to leave? Or did it simply not see two ‘fragile mortals’ as a threat?”
“Filna and Relna themselves never figured that out,” Gawain said, staring at the carved messages. “But I don’t think it was carelessness on the Sentinel’s part. It has observed this world for 1.8 million years, directly watching mortal thought. It knows better than anyone the infinite possibilities of mortals and cannot tolerate uncertainty… But as the sisters’ notes say, there’s no point dwelling on this now.”
He shook his head and turned away from the carved wall, pacing slowly to the pillar in the center of the room. He gazed at the vines wrapped around it and the two pale pink flowers blooming there. Amber’s voice came from behind him.
“…Are those Filna and Relna? Do elves turn into flowers when they die? I’ve never heard of that…”
“Elves are mortals too. Normally, when they die, they return to dust,” Kamail drifted over, his tone strange as he looked at the twin blossoms. “But…”
“But this is the Reincarnation Great Tree,” Gawain said, searching his memory for elven myths and theological explanations that fit the scene. “I once heard Belsethia say that in the ancient druidic traditions of the elves, the divine power of the great stag Amon protects the souls of all traveling elves. When they rest in distant foreign lands, Amon guides their souls home—to become seedlings beneath the shade of the Reincarnation Great Tree, where they find eternal and peaceful dreams.”
“That was three thousand years ago—the Druidic Church has been dissolved for over three millennia. Everything about the Reincarnation Great Tree and the nature gods has faded into legend. We know that better than anyone,” Kamail added slowly.
“Yeah, it should be that way…” Gawain looked out the window, through the simple wooden lattice. Not far away, he saw the magnificent yet desolate remains of plants, the withered crown of the Reincarnation Great Tree collapsed, and stubborn shrubs and flowers growing among the dead branches. He looked at it all as if staring at a myth that had ended three thousand years ago. “But… this is still the Reincarnation Great Tree.”
“Maybe the lingering power of the dead tree caused this transformation,” Kamail nodded. “But more unsettling than why the elven twins changed like this is another fact they revealed.”
“Another fact?” Amber blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”
Gawain had already caught on as Kamail spoke. He curled a finger against his chin as the once-blurred timeline began to take shape in his mind. “Amber, do you remember? Based on our judgment, the ‘thing’ inside the Tidebreaker Tower escaped the blockade through the Deep Blue Rift about six hundred years ago… maybe a bit later, but definitely not earlier.”
“Of course I remember,” Amber nodded quickly. “Because Modir first entered that tower about six hundred years ago, and the source of the contamination was still inside then.”
“Yes. Until six hundred years ago, the core of the Tidebreaker was trapped inside the tower,” Gawain said, eyes fixed on the vine-flower formed by the elven twins. His voice was low. “But Filna and Relna were trapped here a thousand years ago, and this place was already contaminated then.”
Amber’s eyes widened as she realized the most disturbing implication. “Oh, wow…”
“So the timeline for the Tidebreaker’s contamination has to be pushed back. Its corruption was spreading among the Voyagers’ relics even before its core escaped. And not only that—the way it spread must have been different,” Kamail said. “Even while its core was trapped in the tower, it managed to leak its power here, contaminating the entire ‘Mother Port.’ It bypassed the Voyagers’ warnings and defenses, and even fooled the dragons and the dragon goddess Enya who monitor the tower…”
Hearing these unsettling facts, Amber instinctively crossed her arms. “The more I hear, the scarier it gets…”
“Indeed, it’s troubling. But we can also draw a clear pattern—or limitation,” Kamail nodded. “Though the Tidebreaker’s contamination is alarming, it only ‘infects’ among the Voyagers’ relics. So far, we have no clear evidence that its power has spread into the mortal world. I suspect this relates to its ‘origin.’ It was born from the ancient Tidebreaker Empire’s worship of the Voyagers’ relics. In a sense, the Tidebreaker is a mutated Voyager artifact. So it can easily spread among its kindred relics, but if it tries to corrupt something else—like a mortal such as Modir—it faces great difficulty. It would need the core’s power and might even be driven off by ‘alien gods’ like Enya… at least partially.”
“The most powerful Voyager relic is actually the easiest to breach? That sounds like a special disease targeting Voyager relics…” Amber muttered, then suddenly noticed Gawain’s expression had turned odd. Concerned, she asked, “Hey, what’s wrong? Why the sudden seriousness?”
“…I just thought of something worth being serious about,” Gawain’s lips twitched slightly as he gave a half-hearted reply. “It’s just that the Tidebreaker’s contamination is trickier than we expected…”
“Is that why?” Amber’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she quickly dismissed the thought. “Yeah, I honestly have no idea how to deal with this thing right now… In fact, we don’t even know where the Tidebreaker’s core is, though we have the Lady of Night’s divine realm as a clue. But where exactly that realm is…”
Amber’s murmuring was cut off by the sudden sound of footsteps outside the cabin. Moments later, two figures appeared in Gawain and the others’ line of sight.
That was Modir, who had just been caught in a state of mental confusion, and the Duchess Victoria, who was now supporting him as they entered the room.
“Modir,” Gawain recalled the information left by the elven twins, prompting him to instinctively observe the old mage’s mental state. “Are you feeling better now? How do you feel…?”
“Your Majesty,” Modir spoke, his voice still somewhat weak, but his eyes were clearer and more composed than ever before. He lifted his head and looked around the modest wooden cabin, his gaze briefly resting on the everyday objects before he continued softly, “I remember some things… My name is Modir Wilde. I have been here before.”
Gawain was taken aback. “You remember your own name? Then you—”
“That’s all I recall, Your Majesty,” Modir said with a faint, complicated smile. He slowly stepped further into the room, his voice low and hesitant. “I remember my name. I remember that long ago, I accidentally wandered into this place. I remember there were two elven sisters living here. They helped me and gave me a very, very important warning… about an ancient intelligence that has gone rogue—a ‘Sentinel,’ an ancient mind consumed by dangerous madness that escaped into the mortal world… That’s all I remember. Just that.”
His steps faltered as he moved forward, and Gawain immediately noticed something unusual about the old mage—
With each step Modir took, a grayish-white dust, like smoke, rose continuously around him. But instead of settling to the ground, the dust seemed weightless, drifting upward before quickly dissipating into thin air.
Amber, who was highly sensitive to shadow dust, instantly widened her eyes. “Wow—Old man, you’re literally smoking!”
“Your Majesty,” Victoria suddenly spoke, her face showing a rare urgency and tension Gawain had never seen before. “My ancestor… his condition isn’t good! Miss Amber, could you possibly—”
Before the Duchess could finish, Amber had already stepped forward toward the “dissipating” adventurer and without hesitation, slapped the old mage’s arm.
The dust that had been continuously escaping from Modir’s body was immediately brought under control, gradually stabilizing and returning to the old mage’s form.
(Recommendation time! A friendly shout-out to Guo Wei Miao’s What Bad Intentions Could a Casual Player Have?—an online game novel set in the Ling Cage universe. It tells the story of a god-tier player who returns to the game as a laid-back casual (really?). It’s a rare genre I’ve recommended in the past two years, so if you’re interested in this kind of story, definitely check it out.)
(End of chapter)