Chapter 1354: Into the Vast Ocean

After attempting to communicate with her kin scattered across the same continent using the sea sirens’ unique “psionic song” and “racial resonance,” Miss Deep-Sea Salty Fish, Tyr, was left stunned.

Her song went unanswered. The psionic echo that should have belonged to Cassandra returned only hollow static—proof that the target existed, but was now so far away that her psionic call couldn’t reach.

She lifted her eyes to meet Gawain’s unusually serious gaze. He furrowed his brow. “How far can your ‘song’ reach your own kind?”

“In undisturbed continental and nearshore waters, no matter the distance, I can communicate—unless the target has ventured into the endless deep ocean,” Tyr’s tail tip traced circles on the ground, betraying her own unease. “I can sense Cassandra’s presence, but I can’t hear her echo. Maybe she’s thousands, even tens of thousands of kilometers from the shores of the Loren continent… When did you lose contact with them?”

“Not long ago—definitely not enough time for them to have traveled that far, even by flight,” Gawain shook his head. “Do you have any other way to locate your kin?”

“…Then I’ll have to use the old method—find a signal tower and hang myself up there,” Tyr said after a moment’s thought, her confidence wavering. “But the Loren continent and nearby areas are currently shrouded in interference. The same method can’t reach Antavian anymore. If Cassandra’s group has drifted that far, this method probably won’t work either…”

“Still, try it first,” Gawain decided quickly. “We have to find out where that fleet went. I’m giving you access to the Cecil Central Hub Tower. For the foreseeable future, I need you to call out to Cassandra and the other navigator sea sirens for as long as possible.”

This was urgent. Even Tyr showed a spark of determination. She nodded immediately. “Alright, I’ll head to the tower and get myself set up…”

“…Just don’t fall again,” Gawain said, watching the fish with a twitch at the corner of his eye. “If you can’t manage that, operate from the tower’s rest cabin. It’s still winter, and you’ve already fallen to your death three times this year from freezing while sleeping up high.”

“Don’t worry, this time I’m bringing a heater—can’t touch the crystal array directly inside the cabin, so signal amplification will be weaker,” Tyr waved off his warning, seemingly unfazed—or maybe just used to dying. She shuffled toward the door, muttering as she went, “Alright, I’m off. Wait for my update…”

After Tyr left, Gawain sighed softly, a mix of helplessness and worry weighing on him. Nearby, Amber, who had been slumped over, suddenly stirred like a revived spirit. Her amber eyes fixed unblinkingly on Gawain. “Do you think… this might be connected to the changes happening in the Wasteland? If you calculate the timing, Byron’s fleet lost contact shortly after the strange celestial phenomena were observed across Loren…”

“Could be,” Gawain frowned. “Whatever’s going on, I suspect those cultists in the Wasteland. They’re the biggest troublemakers on this planet right now.”

“I get it—everything gets blamed on them,” Amber waved her hand dismissively, then grew more serious. “But what if this is some kind of weapon they developed? Something that can strike across an entire continent to the sea? The strange celestial phenomena we’ve seen might just be interference from activating that weapon. With the Deep Blue Network backing them, as long as they have enough energy, even with limited tech, they could build something terrifying…”

“Speculating won’t help,” Gawain shook his head. “One thing’s certain: a fleet that large can’t just vanish. Tyr confirmed Cassandra still ‘exists.’ That navigator siren neither died returning to Loren nor to Antavian. So I’m inclined to believe Byron’s fleet is still sailing somewhere—just that, for some reason, they’ve moved an enormous distance in a very short time, even beyond the reach of Tyr’s song…”

…

A gentle breeze swept over the vast, calm ocean, carrying a fresh, slightly briny scent. Soft waves lapped against the warship’s alloy hull. The towering bow stood proud beneath the brilliant sunlight, casting a broad shadow across the sea. This stretch of water was so peaceful now, it was as if the previous storm and chaotic magic had been nothing but a mirage.

Magical interference still lingered in the area, preventing the ship’s communications and sensors from fully decoding the residual signals. These traces were the only proof the storm had truly passed. Byron stood on the captain’s platform, brow furrowed as he stared at the static noise projected on the comm device. Then he turned to his technical officer beside him. “Still no communication?”

“All channels are silent. Contact with the continent is completely cut off. Only internal fleet comms are functioning,” the officer reported nervously. “Also, oceanic readings are abnormal. This sea is completely unfamiliar.”

“…Keep calling,” Byron ordered, then stepped away from the captain’s seat. He passed through the bustling control center and the side bridge connection, pushing open the heavy sealed door to reach the upper deck’s observation platform. Warm sea breezes blew from afar, tousling his messy hair and mood alike. He gazed out, seeing only the lingering mist on the horizon where the storm had yet to fully clear—and an endless expanse of ocean.

No land, no islands, no visible landmarks. The Winter’s End was drifting in the heart of an unknown sea, far beyond any known shipping lanes and clearly outside the communication range of the continent’s relay network.

Footsteps approached. Byron turned to see the red-haired Dragonmark witch, Asalina, walking toward him. He nodded slightly. “Looks like the storm ‘threw’ us into unfamiliar waters. The deviation from our course is worse than we thought.”

“…A storm can’t just ‘throw’ a fleet this size. We’re definitely far from Loren’s coastal waters,” Asalina shrugged. “Have you noticed the warm sea breeze and the angle of the sunlight?”

“Of course,” Byron said gravely. “We’ve veered south, probably crossed an entire climate zone. It’s as hot as the equator here. But even at full speed, the Winter’s End couldn’t have traveled from the Ordo estuary to equatorial waters in just a few hours—especially since we anchored and activated the Wave-Repelling Runes earlier. What do the tech experts say?”

“The ship’s mostly intact. The North Mountain is collecting ocean samples for analysis, but no conclusions yet. The sea sirens and naga navigators have gone into the water, but they’ll need time to pinpoint where we are,” Asalina spread her hands. “I’m preparing to take off. From the air, we might see farther.”

“…This reminds me of years ago,” Byron said, looking at his former adventuring companion. “When we got lost in the Southern Forest, even the hired local guides lost their way.”

“We shouldn’t have trusted Watson’s nonsense about that ‘assorted mushroom soup’—I never thought the red mushrooms in the Southern Forest could knock out even a Dragonborn,” Asalina grimaced. “But honestly, getting lost on an endless ocean is worse than in a forest—though the sea sirens and naga in the fleet seem pretty cheerful.”

Byron’s eyes widened. “Of course—they’re deep-sea creatures. Even if the fleet’s trapped here forever, they can still catch fish and have a good time. Can our salt levels compare?”

Asalina laughed, then waved him off. “Enough talk. I’m going ‘up’ to check things out. The clouds ahead are clearing; maybe I can spot a coastline or something else.”

“…Be careful,” Byron watched her for a moment, then couldn’t help but warn, “Keep an eye on your comms. If you hit magical interference, return immediately. Try to keep the Winter’s End within sight—I have a bad feeling about this ‘phenomenon.’ Even the sea sirens have never seen anything like it.”

“Got it, ‘Captain’—you weren’t this nagging back then,” Asalina chuckled, though her mood seemed good. She headed toward the rear upper deck, where a clear area served as her personal landing pad. Byron watched as the slender figure transformed into a massive dragon clad in alloy armor and steel wings, rising from the deck and soaring into the distance.

He watched until she became a tiny black dot among the clouds, then turned back to the bridge.

Above, layers of clouds rolled in. The bright sunlight reflected off them, making even the giant dragon squint. Asalina felt the rush of wind through her scales and armor joints, enjoying the exhilaration as she climbed higher, eyes fixed on the horizon.

She noticed a ring of mist lingering ahead. Though thinning under the sun, it still blocked her view. Beyond that, only endless ocean stretched out—no islands, no land in sight.

“This is Asalina. The mist ahead looks unusual. I’m going in for a closer look,” the red dragon activated her comms, calling down to the Winter’s End. “Track my signal.”

“Winter’s End copies. Be careful,” Byron’s voice came through, serious and steady—surprisingly reliable from the usually irreverent mercenary leader. “Keep comms open. Don’t go too deep.”

“Understood. Just a quick look,” Asalina replied, accelerating and lowering altitude toward the thinner part of the mist. The high-altitude winds whipped past her steel wings, which emitted a faint magical glow, tracing a pale blue arc against the sky. She plunged into the mist, quickly passing through the dissipating “interference,” and finally, a massive shape began to take form before her eyes.

The Dragonborn lady’s eyes slowly widened, her wings nearly forgetting to flap. Between the dazzling sky and the endless ocean of this unfamiliar land, the soaring great dragon connected to the mothership’s comms and, with a remarkably restrained and ladylike tone, called out to her former captain:

“…WTF is this?! What the hell is this thing?!”

“Asalina? Asalina, what are you seeing?” Byron’s voice on the other end was clearly startled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but I think we’ve stumbled onto something huge!” Asalina flapped her massive wings hard, adjusting herself into a hover while activating the Dragonborn battle armor’s built-in imaging system. “I’m sending the visuals back to you. Take a look, and then decide if we need the fleet to come over—I think we should get closer and scout it out.”

The image was quickly transmitted back. After a few seconds of silence on the comms, Byron’s voice suddenly blared through the channel:

“WTF is this?! What the hell is this thing?!”

“Told you so…”

Byron stood at the captain’s chair, eyes wide as he stared at the images Asalina had sent.

There stood a towering giant—a colossal spire rising proudly from an island that looked forged from steel itself. The tower’s outer walls, made of some unknown alloy, shimmered dazzlingly under the sunlight. Its upper sections were dotted with mysterious protrusions, platforms, and pipes of unclear purpose. From the footage, it was clear the tower didn’t just stretch straight into the sky—it seemed to extend infinitely upward, like a mythical pillar reaching through the clouds, vanishing somewhere beyond the blue dome of the heavens.

Byron had seen similar structures in his lifetime.

Near the Talrond continent, on the cold ocean, there was a tower of comparable style—an ancient relic left by the “Voyagers,” a long-lost civilization of this world. But that tower had been corrupted by the Reverse Tide and lost all its original function.

Still, that tower’s top was visible.

“…General,” an aide interrupted Byron’s thoughts, “what are our orders now?”

Byron took a slow breath, then connected back to Asalina’s comm and gave his command: “Scout, return first. Our fleet will approach the target. We’ll go check it out ourselves.”

“Got it, I’m heading back now…” Asalina’s voice came through, then suddenly raised in pitch, “Wait—what the hell is ‘Scout’ supposed to mean?!”

“Ah…” Byron scratched his nose awkwardly. “I’ve been reading a few extra pages of the Holy Scriptures lately and picked up some new slang.”

“…Can you Cecil folks please stick to normal reading material?”

(End of chapter)