Chapter 1350: The Rift in Darkness

“If our universe has a ‘beginning,’ then there must have been a ‘first ripple’—an initial… ‘oscillation.’”

The initial oscillation…

Myrmina finished speaking, but High Lord didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he mulled over what he had just heard, comparing it with the knowledge he already possessed and reasoning through the implications. He knew full well that the “initial oscillation” mentioned here wasn’t the same as the common understanding of an oscillation; it couldn’t be taken literally. According to Myrmina, if the entire universe is viewed as a “field,” then this first oscillation must have been an unprecedentedly massive wave of fluctuation and collapse, carrying an immense amount of information—a singularity of information, a disturbance that caused the universe to lose its “flatness.”

Myrmina believed this was the universe’s very first “glow of magic.”

This description clearly resonated with the intelligence Bertram had provided: among the knowledge the dark priests had extracted from the “Sentinel,” the “oscillation sweeping across all the stars” was also called the “reference frequency” of the world’s magic.

“Do you think the ‘oscillation’ Bertram mentioned is the same as the ‘first ripple’ you’ve been searching for in your unified wave model?” Kamail, who had been silently listening all along, suddenly broke the silence. He looked across the round table at the former god of magic, his voice low and trembling. “And this ‘first ripple’ still echoes through the cosmos today, showing no sign of fading, while also being the direct cause of the ‘magic tides’ appearing on various celestial bodies…”

“This ripple appeared alongside the birth of our universe. It is the ‘starting point’ that allows all things to exist today. It may never disappear—at least, in my theoretical model, there is no factor that could cause it to dissipate,” Myrmina said calmly. “And if one day it truly does vanish, that would likely be the world’s ultimate catastrophe. As for the ‘magic tides’ it brings… on the scale of the stars, they’re probably just a gentle breeze in the cosmic expanse, a perfectly normal natural phenomenon.”

“Background waves…” High Lord murmured thoughtfully. “So the recurring magic tides on various planets are simply caused by the background waves permeating the universe periodically amplifying the ‘observer effect’ of intelligent beings on the planetary surfaces…”

“Background waves? That’s an accurate description,” Myrmina raised an eyebrow slightly, approving of High Lord’s summary. “Perhaps the original source of the magic tides is exactly as you say: intelligent species periodically driven mad under the influence of the universe’s pervasive background waves.”

Myrmina’s phrase “intelligent species periodically driven mad” to describe the planetary-scale amplification and distortion of the observer effect was very much in line with the traditional mage worldview. High Lord agreed with her description—after all, they lived in a world where the boundaries between the physical and the non-physical were blurred, and collective madness among intelligent species meant “the world collapsing in their eyes,” a direct result of the observer effect spiraling out of control.

“A natural phenomenon…” Hetty spoke slowly, deep in thought. “Now that we know the magic tides originate from the ‘ripples between the stars,’ how are we supposed to fight against these ripples? Those dark cultists tried to artificially trigger an eruption of the Deep Blue Ley Lines to create a planetary ‘barrier.’ Of course, that method is unacceptable—but is there anything in their approach worth considering?”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to say,” High Lord said gravely. “We can’t stop the universe’s ‘background waves.’ This ‘stellar monsoon’ will inevitably arrive on schedule, so our only choice is to find a way to survive it. Maybe we do need a barrier to shield our minds from the influence of the background waves—the principle behind the magic tides’ devastation is the amplification and loss of control of the observer effect. So the only thing we must protect is ‘cognition.’ But obviously, we can’t use the same methods as those dark cultists…”

He paused, frowning as he continued, “In fact, I seriously doubt whether those cultists’ plan is even feasible—transforming the Deep Blue Ley Lines into a planetary shield to resist the background waves. It sounds logical and aligns with the fact that the Deep Blue Well’s explosion once repelled the ‘pre-shock’ of the magic tide seven centuries ago. But that explosion only stopped a ‘pre-shock’… Can simply enveloping a planet in a super-powered magical field really block a ‘stellar monsoon’ sweeping across the stars? I remain skeptical.”

“Theoretically, it would have some effect,” Enya suddenly broke her silence. The Dragon Goddess noticed all eyes turning to her and nodded before continuing. “Although Talrond took a wrong path, choosing to build a protective system against the magic tides through divine control over cognition, the dragons have endured many magic tides over the long term and have made some progress in their studies.

“A magic barrier of sufficient strength can indeed isolate the magic tide’s influence on mortal minds. It’s a crude and blunt method, but it works. Hundreds of thousands of years ago, a powerful mortal kingdom appeared in northern Loren. They knew how to draw energy from the Deep Blue Ley Lines to build a massive national shield—though their shield was several orders of magnitude weaker than the planetary shield those dark priests want to build, the principle and nature are similar.

“But in the end, that kingdom didn’t survive the magic tides. A powerful magical shield can only weaken the magic tide, not completely repel it. For fragile mortal minds, even a slight difference in ‘dosage’ is meaningless. Whether it’s a city-level shield, a national shield, or even a planetary shield—if it can’t fully protect mortal cognition, then a civilization’s survival during the magic tides is just a matter of how long it can cling on.

“Of course, some mortal races have survived the magic tides by other means, but many took a path similar to Talrond’s ‘wrong route’—entrusting their minds to the gods and relying on divine protection to survive. That’s probably the easiest path, but in the end… they all pay the price for those ‘shortcuts’ on the day of their coming-of-age ceremony.”

“We won’t choose divine protection, and relying on Deep Blue magic to build shields doesn’t seem reliable either,” High Lord shook his head slowly after hearing Enya’s words. “The truly effective defense probably lies in controlling mortal thought itself and managing the observer effect—that’s been our research direction all along.”

Across from High Lord, Veronica, holding her platinum scepter, suddenly lifted her eyes and said thoughtfully, “But those dark priests seem convinced that a planetary energy shield can permanently block the magic tides’ influence on this world, even sever the connection between mortals and the gods… Don’t you find that strange?”

“What’s strange about it?” Amon said casually. “They’re all out of their minds. It’s normal for them to stubbornly cling to a dead end.”

“No,” High Lord suddenly realized the deeper meaning behind Veronica’s words. “There’s a problem here—the cultists’ knowledge about the ‘stellar monsoon’ and ‘taming planets’ all came from the Sentinel. It’s normal for them to believe in the theory of taming planets to build shields against the magic tides, but the Sentinel wouldn’t make such a mistake. It’s a creation of the Voyagers. Would the Voyagers not know the true effective way to resist the magic tides?”

As High Lord’s words fell, several around the table suddenly snapped to attention. Hetty inhaled softly, her expression and tone tinged with something unusual: “…So, the Sentinel deceived the dark priests, including Bolken and Bertram…”

“I suspected it from the start. As an advanced artifact left by the Voyagers, as an ancient mind corrupted and out of control by the Reverse Tide, what reason would the Sentinel have to ‘collaborate’ with a group of cultists trapped deep in the wasteland? Does it really need the loyalty and goodwill of a bunch of failures among mortals?” High Lord frowned and shook his head. “I heard from Rosetta that after the Crystal Cluster War, the ‘Elven Twins’ the Sentinel disguised itself as approached him for cooperation, but he refused. Those cultists in the wasteland were just the Sentinel’s last resort…”

“So building a planetary shield to resist the magic tides is just wishful thinking by those dark priests. The Sentinel’s real goal is something else,” Hetty glanced around at the others. “Then what exactly does the Sentinel want?”

“No matter what it wants, ‘deploying the rune stones’ is definitely its most important means to achieve its plan. This goal must be related to the Deep Blue Ley Lines,” High Lord said solemnly. “We should consider ourselves lucky that Rosetta August didn’t accept the Elven Twins’ invitation back then. They would have used an even more perfect lie to trick Typhon into deploying those rune stones. With Typhon’s industrial capacity and its freedom of movement as a mortal kingdom on the continent, we might have remained in the dark until the end of the world.”

Perhaps imagining that grim future, Hetty’s facial muscles twitched involuntarily. “That really is fortunate…”

High Lord fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. Realizing that the Sentinel’s true purpose likely diverged from the cultists’ wishful thinking, he began to ponder what this out-of-control ancient mind truly intended. No matter how he thought about it, this terrifying ancient intelligence could not be viewing the world with love and peace.

Its actions during the Crystal Cluster War and its current scheming for the wasteland war clearly showed its attitude toward mortals.

“Think about it—if you were the Sentinel, what would you want to do?” Enya suddenly broke the silence. She looked around at the figures seated at the table. “Suppose you once had an ironclad, unshakable mind, fulfilling your duties under a noble directive for millions of years without fatigue or complaint. Then suddenly, you gain a ‘heart’—feelings, likes and dislikes, fear, anger, hatred—and you start to pursue your own goals. What would you do?”

Everyone wore thoughtful expressions. Enya continued calmly, “In Talrond, the dragons’ creation, ‘Omega,’ faced a similar change. It suddenly gained a ‘heart’ and began to think like a free mortal. Drawing on millions of years of experience, it quickly decided—to leave this planet, end a mission that had lost its meaning, and satisfy its own curiosity.”

“…The Sentinel wants to end its mission too?” High Lord understood Enya’s meaning. “Because it suddenly gained free will and grew tired of endless watchfulness and patrol over millions of years?”

“I’m not sure—it’s just a guess, really. After all, Omegas and Sentinels aren’t exactly comparable,” Enya shrugged. “But one thing’s certain: if an AI suddenly realizes its work is utterly meaningless, it will try to end that ‘meaninglessness.’ As for the Sentinel… its mission is to observe and record the progress of civilizations on this planet. It waits through countless cycles of civilization for the emergence of a ‘mature individual.’ But once that mature individual appears? It has no right to stop working. It’s just a Sentinel. After the mature individual leaves, it must continue observing and recording the next wave of civilizations… It’s a task that will never end.”

“There’s only one way to end its work,” Veronica said in a low voice. “All the civilizations on this planet have to be wiped out. Then it won’t have anything left to observe or record.”

“No,” Gawain’s face darkened. “Even if all civilizations on this planet were destroyed, over the course of eons, new intelligent life could still arise. As long as the planet retains the basic conditions to nurture life, the Sentinel’s work will never be finished. So…”

Myrmidon’s voice cut in, finishing Gawain’s sentence: “It has to eliminate the ‘root cause’—make sure this planet can never again support life.”

A chill swept through everyone’s hearts, even the gods present.

For a long moment—ten seconds or more—silence hung heavy in the room before Beltira finally broke it: “Fortunately, we’ve already obtained the ‘deployment coordinates’ used by those dark priests, and the counterattack plan is underway. No matter what the Sentinel intends to do with the Deep Blue Network, as long as we hold every network node and destroy all the Wasteland Legions, its scheme will inevitably fail…”

“We’ve already sent the intelligence on those coordinates to all Alliance fronts,” Gawain nodded. “The records of this meeting will also be shared with our allies. But we must remain vigilant. Even though we now have the ‘deployment coordinates,’ there could still be ‘secret’ or ‘backup’ coordinates unknown even to Bertram. The Sentinel would never openly share all its knowledge with the Cult of the End of All Things. It must have hidden contingencies for unexpected situations like this. It’s possible that the moment we captured Bertram, it began adjusting its plans…”

(End of chapter)