Chapter 1293: How to Destroy

A chaotic, disorderly wind blew in from the distant Phantom Lands, stirring up the pale gray sand. Between the crumbling, collapsing altar and the throne, a cloud of dust rose, within which countless ancient phantoms seemed to rise and fall, only to vanish like smoke and mist with the next gust of wind. The goddess seated on the throne watched those fleeting visions in the dust calmly and for a long time. After a while, her voice rang out across the vast expanse—majestic yet tinged with melancholy:

“Yes, great adventurer, we have lingered here too long. Many things have grown blurred with time, including those we once cherished and cared for… all scattered like dust in the wind.”

Wilde’s voice betrayed surprise. “Lady, do even gods feel sorrow over the passage of time and things?”

“Gods are the most human of all beings, great adventurer,” the Lady of Night’s voice carried a faint smile. “Those who lose their humanity either perish in madness or inevitably march toward their end.”

“And what of that ‘thing’ lurking and invading around your throne?” the ancient tome on the pillar asked. “Does it have humanity as well?”

This time, the voice from the throne fell silent for a long moment. Only when another gust of wind stirred the dust did it speak again: “Of course it has its own humanity. In a certain sense, its humanity is pure and untainted.”

“Is that so? I thought that thing didn’t even have the capacity to think,” the great adventurer said, clearly astonished. “So it actually has humanity…”

“Ah, you’re right, great adventurer. It truly lacks the ability to think…” The towering figure on the throne sighed softly. As the words fell, it slowly rose, a scepter of black and white suddenly appearing in its hand. It gazed toward the dark silhouette of a city at the desert’s edge, then stepped down from the altar. “A newborn infant cannot think either, but the purest humanity exists before a baby’s first cry…”

The desert wind howled. From the stark black-and-white city silhouette, a nameless, terrifying mass began to form—a grotesque cluster of countless proliferating limbs and mutated flesh, rising from the darkness like a blood-and-flesh sun floating above the city. It drifted slowly toward the throne altar. From the mass came piercing sounds—countless screams, shouts, and low murmurs all mixed together. Wherever its fleshy tendrils spread, the pale desert sand quickly stained with maddening black and red blotches, the once-pure dust instantly turning into filthy clumps of sludge.

But in the next moment, an invisible force radiated outward from the throne, instantly halting the spread of corruption at the desert’s edge. The towering figure who had risen from the throne strode forward. The pale cracks that crawled and flowed across its robes gathered like water at the tip of the scepter, as if commanding the very light and shadow of the world.

“The ‘infant’ is about to cry again. It needs a little ‘care’ from its elders,” the majestic yet languid female voice echoed through the heavens and earth. “Great adventurer, focus on the star charts. Do not listen to or watch the disturbances coming from the ‘border.’”

“Ah, this is definitely the most terrifying infant in the world… and also the most horrifying scene of domestic violence,” the ancient tome on the pillar sighed. “Understood. Please be careful.”

…

After some effort, the piercing alarms finally ceased, but the red warning lights scattered throughout the room continued flashing relentlessly. Gawain stood at the far end of the control room before a massive terminal, his expression grave as he stared at the now completely out-of-control system interface. For a long time, he remained motionless.

Only when familiar footsteps approached did he slightly turn his neck, glancing toward the source of the sound. “I knew you’d sneak in here eventually.”

“I’m a little thief, after all. If I kept my hands still, wouldn’t that go against my professional spirit?” Amber’s carefree voice sounded behind him, completely lacking any tension of ‘disobeying orders.’ “You’ve been staring at this thing for so long? Planning to find the Sentinel’s weak spot here?”

Gawain’s gaze returned to the hemispherical terminal before him. He stared at the holographic projection for several seconds before slowly saying, “I’m looking for this ship’s weakness.”

“This ship’s weakness?” Amber raised an eyebrow and stepped beside him, staring at the terminal alongside him for a long time. Yet she couldn’t make heads or tails of a single symbol. “You mean the weakness is this control room? That actually makes sense—it’s the ship’s nerve center… But didn’t they say this control room no longer has anything to do with the ship’s operation?”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Gawain said. “The control center should theoretically be the ship’s weak point. But this ship is no longer just a ‘machine.’ It has been drifting uncontrolled for over a thousand years. Its operation is completely disconnected from these broken control terminals… I was trying to find a way to repair the system or seize control of the ship through these terminals. You know, if we could control even part of this ship, it would bring us unimaginable benefits. But I failed.”

“Failure is normal,” Amber blinked, then laughed. “This is something left by the Pathfinders, then corrupted by the Inverse Tide—both are tough to deal with. Even gods aren’t omniscient or omnipotent; there have to be things you can’t handle.”

“No, failure itself isn’t the main issue. The biggest problem is…” Gawain shook his head and walked over to a smaller terminal nearby. With a single kick, he punched a large hole in the heavily corroded, damaged device. Then he reached inside and tore off a large metal panel from the casing.

“Hey! That’s an ancient—” Amber gasped instinctively at Gawain’s violent dismantling. But then her eyes fell on the gaping hole he’d made. Through the torn metal, the inside of the device was revealed, and she choked back the rest of her words.

The hollowed-out interior was almost empty. Aside from a few warped, seemingly melted crystal structures and some ashes, the device was nothing but an empty shell.

Yet above this hollow shell, the red warning lights and a jumble of chaotic holograms still flickered, signaling system failure.

“See that? This empty shell is still ‘operating’—though in a crashed state, it shouldn’t be emitting any light at all,” Gawain said gravely. “Daniel said this ship is like a ‘walking corpse’ that’s still alive after its head was cut off, but the truth is even stranger and more terrifying… Some force is sustaining everything here. The ship’s components aren’t just ‘running disconnected from the system.’ The mechanisms behind them defy our understanding, even our grasp of the physical world… I suspect much of this ship has been ‘hollowed out.’”

Amber stared dumbfounded at the eerie, horrifying scene before her, then shivered, pulling her shoulders up. “So there’s no way for us to ‘take over’ this ship? Even with the so-called ‘permissions’ you mentioned…”

“Yes. We can’t seize its ‘control permissions’ because the ship has completely mutated into something… indescribable. It only appears to maintain its former shape, but inside it’s far more unsettling than the Inverse Tide Tower. Honestly, even if I had the chance to take control of this ship now, I wouldn’t touch it… It’s definitely a trap that would drag us into endless ruin,” Gawain said, his expression darkening. “Likewise, we shouldn’t try to learn any technology from this ship… Even if some knowledge remains that we can understand, it’s bound to be ‘toxic.’”

Amber swallowed hard, horrified. “So when you were trying to find the ship’s weakness earlier, you were actually thinking…”

“I’m thinking about how we can destroy it,” Gawain said seriously. Before Amber, he didn’t hide his thoughts or worries. “We can’t handle the ‘mothership,’ and it doesn’t seem to have any offensive capability anyway. But this ship in front of us… it feels like a threat.”

“A threat… Yeah, this thing is pretty weird,” Amber muttered. “But then again, didn’t the Sentinel already run off? The mothership and this ship are just dead machines running their programs…”

“Has the Sentinel really severed all ties with the mothership and this ship?” Gawain interrupted. “Did it truly escape the deep sea just to break free from its orders and tasks? Maybe… its ‘desertion’ is only temporary, a means to accomplish something else. Perhaps the ship and mothership still harbor some ‘arrangements’ it left behind, which one day could become weapons aimed at us.”

Amber shrank back, glancing nervously at the ancient devices glowing red around them. It felt like countless cold, malevolent eyes were watching her—the ‘fat prey’ trapped in the predator’s jaws. The sensation reminded her of the icy gaze and hostile minds she’d sensed earlier in the ship’s corridors.

“So, do you have a plan?” She rubbed her arms, trying to shake the goosebumps, looking at Gawain expectantly. “You’re usually the one with all the solutions…”

“I’m still thinking, and I’m not sure if my ideas will work,” Gawain said solemnly. “The technology on this ship is incredibly advanced. Its armor and shields might withstand any weapon our mortal civilization can produce. And if we try to sabotage it from within… I don’t even know where to start. Look around—these control terminals were destroyed over a thousand years ago. It’s pointless. And there’s something even more important…”

“More important?” Amber asked instinctively.

“This ship might fight back,” Gawain shook his head. “It’s equipped with weapons and protected both inside and out. Those systems are probably running on autopilot. Until we fully understand what this ancient war machine is capable of, we can’t afford to risk provoking it.”

He let out a soft breath, his expression thoughtful as he added quietly, “So, I’m considering taking a different approach…”

The information gathered at the Sentinel homeport, combined with everything they’d experienced along the way, had everyone on edge. That tension lingered throughout the rest of the journey.

But in the end, the return trip passed without incident.

A hazy glow appeared beyond the ship’s shields, cutting through the chaotic darkness. Within the light, faint clouds of dust and mist drifted down from the endless heights above. Seeing that familiar sight, Gawain—now back on deck—finally allowed himself a small sigh of relief.

Melita rose from her rest spot, stretching her massive wings and tail covered in shimmering scales. The others, who had been resting for half a day, also stood up one by one, gazing toward the gradually sharpening outline of the War God’s realm border. Even Daniel—always stern, brooding, and rarely speaking to others—couldn’t help but exhale quietly, muttering, “Finally, we’re back…”

“Yeah, finally,” Mary echoed softly when she heard her mentor speak. “I was so nervous the whole way…”

Daniel glanced sideways at his apprentice, snorting through his nose. “Already relaxing? This journey is the kind of adventure most mages wouldn’t dare dream of in a lifetime. You can’t come back empty-handed—write a three-thousand-word report. Due Monday.”

Mary’s face froze. “…Yes, mentor…”

Gawain overheard their exchange and couldn’t help but recall certain distant memories from his past life. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, easing the serious, tense aura he’d carried throughout the trip.

Meanwhile, after a brief slowdown and course correction, the ship finally returned to the very place where their journey had begun.

Surrounded by the dim yellow haze of dust clouds, the shattered outskirts of the War God’s realm now flew the Alliance’s banners. Ms. Windsor Mapple, the realm’s chief technologist, and Sir Solide, the White Knight commander and senior battle cleric, stood with their teams in a designated “stabilized zone” near the border, having waited patiently for some time.

Among them was Noretta, the white dragon, leading two young hatchlings.

The relief wasn’t limited to the explorers aboard the ship.

As the vessel reached the closest point to the realm through the cloud sea, a blue dragon leapt from the deck’s edge, carrying the exploration team that had departed two days prior along with the many “samples” they’d brought back. They had finally returned to the War God’s realm—a land that, though constantly fracturing, now seemed especially solid beneath their feet.

This time, Amber was the first to jump down from Melita’s back.

“Phew… finally some relief,” she said, shaking her head in wonder. “It feels so good to be on solid ground… Not long ago, I thought the War God’s realm was a deadly place. Now that we’re back, it actually feels like home…”

(End of chapter)