Chapter 1291: Evacuation

Melita hadn’t quite caught what Gawain was muttering under his breath. She simply circled once more around the cluster of towering spires in the “central district,” then adjusted her course, heading back the way they had come.

“Our time is limited,” she said with a hint of regret. “This ‘mothership’ is enormous—so vast that even if everyone could fly like me, it would be nearly impossible to fully scout its skies within twelve hours. Not to mention the labyrinthine underground structures, the sealed-off facilities, and the hazardous zones beneath.”

“Let’s head back for now,” Gawain said gravely. “Since that ship follows a fixed patrol route, we can send more teams later to explore. But honestly… I don’t feel comfortable about this.”

“Not comfortable?” Melita tilted her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

“The Sentinel system,” Gawain replied. “This mothership and that ship are essentially parts of the Sentinel network. We don’t control them—we’re just tagging along with the ship’s scheduled patrol. But who knows when the system might change its behavior? The ship could alter its route, or something else could happen… I don’t like being at the mercy of something out of our control, especially when it’s a rogue Sentinel.”

“I think I understand your concern,” Melita said quietly. “But it’s a problem we have to face. There’s so much in this world beyond mortal comprehension. The legacy of the Pathfinders is one such thing. This advanced civilization… they once saved this planet, but the massive machines they left behind have become more frightening and dangerous to us over time—especially now, as many of these machines are breaking down. You know, it reminds me of an old holographic story from Talrond long ago…”

“A holographic story?”

“Something like your shadow plays, but more immersive,” Melita explained casually. “It’s about a group of mice after the apocalypse—the world ended, and these mice living deep in an industrial zone became the new rulers. They lived inside a huge abandoned factory and worshipped the factory’s automated machines as gods. Over time, as the machines aged and malfunctioned, the tiny, weak mice lived in constant fear. They tried everything to appease or ‘repair’ the machines—even burning incense to communicate with the ‘machine spirits.’ But the machines kept deteriorating and collapsing. To the mice, the factory—their entire world—was heading toward an apocalypse, a doomsday after doomsday.”

She stretched her neck and turned her head. “It’s actually a pretty cheesy horror spoof, but I love collecting these outdated holo-discs. Too bad my collection’s all gone now, or I’d drag you to watch it. Talrond used to create some really good stuff back in the day.”

Gawain listened to Melita’s half-hearted chatter, lost in thought. Only when the distant horizon of the Steellands appeared, with the crown of the Cycle Tree looming like a mountain at the edge of his vision, did he murmur to himself, “We’re not mice.”

Melita was silent for a moment, then smiled faintly. “No, we’re not mice. And we never will be.”

Together, Gawain and Melita returned to the ruins around the Cycle Tree, where Amber, Victoria, and the others waited. They also reunited with Daniel and Mary, who had just returned from exploring the wreckage’s depths. Once everyone was gathered, Gawain shared the detailed observations and theories he and Melita had made from above.

“…That’s what Melita and I saw,” Gawain said slowly, standing before the small wooden cabin left by the Filna sisters, addressing Amber and the others. “We can now confirm that this mothership originally housed six ships—or rather, warships. Five of them, along with their corresponding port maintenance facilities, have been destroyed. Most likely, this was caused by system conflicts triggered by the Corruption.”

Melita nodded. “I suspect the Corruption didn’t happen all at once. The Sentinel system must have fiercely resisted at first, and probably chose self-destruction when it lost the fight. But by then, it was too late—the rogue intelligence had seized too much control. The mothership’s main structure and one ship survived intact, but all the ‘normal’ parts of the Sentinel system have been completely destroyed by the rogue mind.”

Gawain silently nodded, agreeing with Melita’s assessment, though a pang of regret lingered in his heart.

When he first learned the truth about the Sentinels, he had held onto some hope—that this ancient Pathfinder legacy might still be salvageable, that some useful subsystems might remain, perhaps severed off in emergencies. But the shocking wreckage at the other ports shattered all illusions. The Sentinel system was finished. The rogue mind had annihilated every uninfected part, leaving only a “toxic husk” thoroughly corrupted by the Corruption.

The revelation was so staggering that no one spoke for several seconds. Finally, Amber broke the silence.

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” she said. “The Sentinel destroyed five of its six ships and blew up their ports and maintenance facilities early on. It basically punched itself halfway to death. So even if it restarts that one ship someday, we won’t be facing a whole fleet.”

Amber’s eternal optimism lightened the mood a bit, but Victoria, ever serious, extinguished the half-elf’s enthusiasm with cold facts.

“Has the situation really changed? For mortal nations like ours, whether the Pathfinders left one or six warships probably doesn’t make much difference. And compared to that ship, this mothership might be the Sentinel’s greatest threat. With our current technology, even if the mothership just sits here without resisting, dismantling it would take thousands of years.”

Amber was left speechless, mouth agape. Nearby, Modir sighed deeply after considering the vast technological gap between this endless mothership and mortal civilization.

“In short… we can’t win. Even if we leave it alone, we can’t win.”

Gawain and Amber exchanged strange looks with the seasoned adventurer. Modir looked confused.

“Uh… did I say something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Gawain said awkwardly, scratching his chin. “Your words just reminded me of something else. Don’t mind me.”

Victoria, too, showed a rare flicker of embarrassment. As a descendant of the Wilde family, she had studied the ancestral “Modir’s Travels” closely and immediately thought of some irreverent memories. She cleared her throat and shifted the topic.

“Your Majesty, what’s our next move? Should we continue searching deeper into the Cycle Tree, or start exploring the Pathfinder facilities near the mothership?”

“We return,” Gawain said, looking toward the port. After a moment’s hesitation, he gave the order to leave. Though the secrets buried in this mothership tempted him to stay, the ship’s strict patrol schedule wouldn’t wait for a group of stowaways. Besides, their supplies were limited.

“We can send more teams later to explore. We’ll have time to plan regarding the Sentinels once we’re back. That ship won’t wait for us.”

Victoria bowed her head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“So… what about here?” Amber glanced around, then fixed her gaze on the small cabin. Through the open door, she looked at the flowering vine inside, with its pale pink blossoms. “I mean… what about ‘them’? Are we just going to leave them here?”

Gawain hadn’t forgotten the cabin’s secret. He looked at the twin blossoms on the vine, as if peering through centuries of time to see two pioneers standing before him—mortals defying their fate.

“We can’t leave them here.”

“But how do we take them?” Mary, who had been quiet and obediently trailing behind, finally spoke up, her voice tense. She had just learned from Kamail about the elven twins. Now, looking at the cabin, her eyes held a trace of sadness. “If we pick the flowers or pull the vine, won’t that hurt them?”

“That’s… beyond my knowledge,” Gawain sighed helplessly. “If Amon were here, he’d know exactly what to do.”

He shook his head. Just then, as if an invisible breeze swept through, the shrubs and flowers clinging to the Cycle Tree’s ruins gently swayed. A faint rustling sound came from all directions.

Everyone’s attention was drawn to the change. At the same time, Gawain heard a faint voice echoing deep in his mind—a strange, low voice, distant yet clear: “Take them with you…”

“Did you hear something?” Gawain asked, looking around with a serious tone.

“Hear something? No,” Amber perked up, her pointed elven ears twitching in midair. “Nothing at all.”

Gawain said nothing, frowning as he stared toward the cabin. The voice in his mind had vanished as suddenly as it came, as if it had never been there. But he trusted his instincts.

He stepped toward the cabin. Amber hurried after him, quickening her pace.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Taking them with us,” Gawain said, crossing the threshold and looking at the two pale pink flowers quietly blooming on the vine. “We’ll hand them over to Amon as soon as we return.”

“Ah… but how?” Amber instinctively drew her two treasured daggers but hesitated in front of the vine. “Do we just pull it down, or…?”

“Try to take the whole vine intact… peel it off from the root,” Gawain said, glancing at the vine, which seemed fused to the cabin’s support beam. “It shouldn’t be hard for you.”

“Alright, not hard… okay.” Amber muttered, then focused and raised her dagger, carefully and swiftly peeling the vine from the post. The two pale blossoms trembled slightly, silent but seemingly responsive. Amber glanced up and smirked. “Hang in there. I’m trying not to hurt you… Hah, how silly—I’m actually talking to flowers…”

Though she kept muttering to herself, Amber’s movements were lightning-fast—almost in the blink of an eye, she had stripped the flowering vine from the pillar. At the same time, Victoria stepped inside the cabin. She glanced at Amber’s “harvest,” then swiftly gathered the fallen vine and blossoms, carefully avoiding any damage. Finally, she quickly traced a few runes above the coiled vine, and suddenly, a thick layer of solid ice materialized out of thin air, encasing the two flowers and the vine in a frozen embrace.

“This will preserve their vitality—no harm will come to them,” Victoria said, nodding to Gawain. “I often use this method to preserve all kinds of living things. From plants to my nephew, it’s always worked well.”

Modir, who had followed them inside, watched quietly and murmured, “I think I used to know how to do this myself…”

Gawain nodded at Victoria, then turned toward the door. “Let’s go—we don’t have much time left.”

The group stepped out of the cabin and began heading toward the port and the waiting airship. Suddenly, Amber’s eyes widened as if she’d noticed something. She pointed ahead, exclaiming, “Hey! Look over there!”

Gawain immediately looked up and saw a nearby thicket of bushes rapidly withering right before his eyes.

A rustling sound came from all around.

Everyone scanned their surroundings. Everywhere they looked, the grass, fruit bushes, and shrubs sprouting from the remains of the Cycle Great Tree were dying at an alarming rate. Centered around the small cabin of the Firna sisters, the last vestiges of life within the giant tree were fading fast.

It was as if a garden frozen in time for centuries was suddenly collapsing into death within minutes.

The carefully tended nursery once cared for by the Firna sisters was wilting alongside the rest. The vines that had wrapped around it snapped and fell away. The dry, crumbling plants rustled loudly, filling the air with a chorus of decay. At the heart of it all, Amber finally blinked and whispered, “All this life here was only meant to…”

A tremendous crack echoed nearby, like thunder rolling through the air, cutting off Amber’s words.

“The canopy’s about to collapse!” Gawain reacted instantly. “Everyone, evacuate immediately!”

Before he finished, Melita transformed into her dragon form amid a dazzling curtain of light. Her deep, commanding voice rang out across the clearing: “Get on! We’re flying straight out of here!”

The thunderous sounds of splintering wood grew louder and more frequent, filling the entire port area like a gathering storm. The ground trembled beneath their feet. In the distance, smoke and dust began to rise from the edges of the Cycle Great Tree’s canopy, as fragile branches crumbled and fell out of sight.

The great dragon soared into the sky.

(End of chapter)