Chapter 1385: The Inheritance

As Sir Scott’s final words echoed into silence, the images stored within this space reached their end. In a soundless instant, the hazy, floating light that hovered midair scattered like shattered snowflakes, dissolving into countless tiny glimmers that quickly vanished into the air. This seemed to trigger a chain reaction—at the moment the light dispersed, a radiant glow suddenly swept across the platform’s surface. The glow condensed into bright white lines that swiftly converged toward the center. Meanwhile, the dense, mist-like light that had long shrouded the central area dimmed rapidly over the next few seconds.

Diana stared blankly at the spot where Sir Scott had vanished. Her ancient cognitive core churned awkwardly, as if struggling to process the overwhelming flood of emotions. Gawain even caught an unusual noise emanating from her system, prompting him to ask with concern, “Ms. Diana, are you alright?”

“…I’m fine,” Diana blinked, shaking off her daze. “We can continue the mission.”

Her voice remained calm and detached, precise and steady like a machine—if anything, even more composed than usual.

Gawain studied her eyes for a moment, then nodded and turned toward the center of the observatory platform. The white light that had enveloped the core had completely faded, revealing what had been hidden within. Gawain pointed toward it. “Let’s go check those out. If I’m right, these should be the ‘relics’ Sir Scott left for you.”

“They were left for all of us,” Diana said softly, stepping forward. Gawain gestured to the others to follow, and the group traced the flowing white light on the ground to the platform’s center, where the scene became clear—

At the heart of the observatory stood a circular platform about a meter across, its center slightly sunken. The surface, made of some unknown material, reflected the brilliant starry sky above. Resting at the very center was a palm-sized “crystal block,” seemingly composed of layers of pale blue crystals stacked atop one another. This “crystal block” was surrounded by the stars’ reflection and shimmered with a mysterious glow. Around the platform, six chairs were symmetrically arranged. Four of them each held a dark-colored urn containing ashes, while the remaining two were occupied by the mummified remains of Archon Alphonse Hall and Sir Scott Prandin.

Within this otherworldly space, the bodies of these ancient scholars had not decayed but had become fully desiccated mummies. They sat silently in their final seats, their heads still raised as if gazing through seven centuries of time at the rift high above—the rift that revealed a clear, star-filled sky.

Diana approached the two ancient scholars and bowed her head in silent respect. The others instinctively held their breath, sharing a moment of solemn reverence. Then Amber’s gaze caught something about Sir Scott’s preserved posture—a gesture he maintained even in death. His withered, stiff fingers pointed directly beneath his chair, as if deliberately directing attention there. Amber followed the direction and suddenly widened her eyes. “Ah, there’s something on the ground!”

Everyone’s attention snapped to the floor near the six chairs, where they discovered the surface was densely inscribed with characters and symbols! These markings radiated outward from the circular platform in a precise pattern, covering nearly a third of the observatory’s floor. Thanks to the stable environment of this pocket space, the engravings remained clear even after centuries. Yet until Amber spoke up, no one had noticed that the rough “patterns” on the floor were actually writing—everyone had been too focused on the star-reflecting platform, the crystalline block, and the ancient scholars’ remains.

“This is…” Philip’s eyes went wide. The inscriptions included a jumble of familiar and completely unknown characters. Just a glance made his head spin. But Gawain immediately recognized some of the script as the common human language from the Númenor Empire era, while other parts matched alien signals previously intercepted at the Thorin and Winter hubs.

“This is the ‘inheritance’ Sir Scott and the others left behind,” Gawain said gravely. “It’s the ‘alien dictionary’ they spent twenty years translating.”

Philip stared at the dense carvings on the ground, murmuring to himself, “Engraved on the floor… it makes sense to engrave it here. There’s no more stable or lasting way to record information. Spells fade over time, storage devices become obsolete when civilizations collapse, but these engravings can withstand the ravages of time…”

“Record everything,” Gawain ordered in a low voice. “Don’t move anything here until the documentation is complete. We need to prevent this sanctuary space from collapsing prematurely.”

The accompanying team immediately sprang into action, using their equipment to capture the symbols and text etched into the floor. They created multiple backups stored in magical crystals. Beyond the magical recordings, several mage-scholars pulled out enchanted parchment and quills, employing rapid transcription spells to copy every character onto thick scrolls. Without needing Gawain or Amber to remind them, these scholars understood the significance of the inscriptions. To them, this seven-century-old knowledge inheritance was the most precious treasure in history.

While the experts busied themselves with the records, Diana and Gawain quietly stepped away from the center. They walked across the ground that Sir Scott had measured with his own feet for twenty years, slowly reaching the edge of the observatory platform. Philip looked out beyond the edge, watching massive fragments of buildings drift and rotate weightlessly in the void. Beyond the debris stretched an endless expanse of shimmering nothingness, evoking a deep sense of awe.

“To be trapped here for twenty years… it’s unimaginable,” Philip murmured.

“Fortunately, they still had a starry sky above their heads,” Gawain said, glancing up at the enormous rift directly overhead. Though he didn’t understand the mechanics behind it or how the ancient Númenor mages had “brought” the real starry sky into this sanctuary, he believed that seven centuries ago, that sky must have inspired Scott, Alphonse, and Bailro. Especially once they knew that among those stars existed other civilizations capable of thought and communication, the cold starlight became their only comfort after the world fell apart—because they knew that even if their own world was shattered, life still thrived light-years away.

“By the way, when you led the main force through the Vipland region back then, you didn’t notice anyone inside this observatory, right?” Amber suddenly recalled something and looked up at Gawain. “They must have already been hiding in this sanctuary at that time, right?”

“Even if they weren’t hiding here, it would have been hard to encounter them,” Gawain shook his head gently. “Vipland isn’t just an observatory; it’s a large region filled with towns and numerous research facilities—observatories, museums, warehouses, institutes… The Númenor studied extraterrestrial artifacts here for many years. The observatory was just one core facility. For refugees fleeing and desperately needing supplies, the observatory held far less appeal than the ruined towns and imperial warehouses along the way.”

“Extraterrestrial artifacts…” Amber muttered thoughtfully, then glanced again at the “crystal block” resting on the central platform. “If I’m not mistaken, that must be the ‘alien artifact’ Sir Scott mentioned. It’s been releasing energy continuously for seven hundred years, sustaining this pocket sanctuary. That’s incredible. What do you think we should… do with it?”

She was subtly reminding Gawain—and Diana beside him—that Sir Scott’s legacy wasn’t just the inscriptions on the floor. That faintly glowing blue crystal block was undoubtedly the key item that protected the observatory during the Deep Blue Well eruption and kept it safe from the wasteland’s dangers for seven centuries. Its value was obvious, but how to handle it was a question they had to face.

As Gawain’s loyal right-hand, Amber naturally hoped the crystal would belong to Cecil. After all, the entire Vipland region was under Cecil’s control now, the observatory was first discovered by Philip’s men, and the current exploration was led by Cecil’s forces. Following the principles of “everything in the wasteland is unowned” and “first discovery, actual control,” relics found in ancient facilities should logically belong to the discoverers.

But honestly… this wasn’t truly unowned.

Sir Scott’s message had clearly stated that this inheritance was left to Diana. That made things awkward—after all, the rightful heir was right here, and everyone had just witnessed the recorded message. They couldn’t just pretend otherwise.

This tangled mess was a headache and a hassle. Amber thought about it for two minutes and felt her head spinning. She sighed softly and muttered, “Ugh, it’s easier to dig up a barren grave…”

Gawain didn’t catch Amber’s muttering but could guess what was running through her mind. And from his side, the mess was even more complicated—the meteor shower that fell on Vipland was actually debris from a space station that crashed three thousand years ago after Amon collided with the firmament. As the “satellite spirit,” Gawain was now the heir to the Pathfinder legacy. So, by that logic, were the fragments that fell from the firmament station his property? The Vipland meteor shower had caused significant economic damage to the Númenor Empire back then—should Amon be held responsible, or Gawain? If Amon was responsible, he was now a senior imperial advisor, and Gawain was his direct superior. That only made things more confusing, especially since many descendants of the Númenor Empire still existed…

It was a pointless tangle of red tape. Anyone with too many brain cells could try to sort it out, but Gawain had long felt his mental resources were too precious to waste on such nonsense. From the start, he had no intention of spending much energy on this mess.

He possessed an entire Skyward Space Station, and soon, he would begin the work of repairing and exploring it. Looking ahead, the various races—Siren, Dragonkin, Elves, Humans—were all destined to come into contact with the Skyward Station. Unless Gawain intended to completely overturn the principles and codes he had lived by all this time, he couldn’t avoid this development. The only alternative would be to resign himself to letting the planet’s inhabitants remain trapped within their gravity wells, forbidding anyone from touching the legacy of the Skywarders above, and eventually, one day, to die out alongside the other races on this world.

He needed to truly unlock the secrets of the Skywarders—and he couldn’t afford to repeat the mistakes of the old Rebellion Empire. He needed the wisdom of all the intelligent races on the planet to be his allies, achieving progress through open, transparent, and rational research—not through “elite contact” or blind worship. He had to—and must—help every mortal on this planet break free from their spiritual shackles and step beyond the cradle. Only then could he prevent that future of universal extinction.

Therefore, the Skywarder legacy was never meant to be hidden away. In the past, when his strength was insufficient, he had to keep things under wraps because many factors were beyond his control. But now, with the power of the Cecil Empire to steer this era, he had to think like a true helmsman.

What he needed to ensure above all was that everything remained under his control. Research and exploration of the Skyward Station would be open, but the authority over the station itself had to stay in his hands. The mortal races of this planet would rise and eventually leave the cradle—but that process could not spiral out of control. This was not only a responsibility to himself but also to those who had followed him, trusted him, and supported his vision.

As for the “crystal shard” currently in question, Gawain’s attitude was the same: who exactly owned the shard was less important than the knowledge it contained belonging to everyone. After all, everyone needed to develop, and he needed everyone to develop. Throughout the process, it was enough to ensure that Cecil’s share of the research was secured.

He looked toward the center of the observatory. The small cube, glowing with a faint blue light and layered like stacked crystals, stood out sharply in his vision. He closed his eyes briefly, and the shard remained suspended before him. Around it, a line of annotation appeared: “Damaged ion energy module; critical components missing or tampered with; recovery and use not recommended.”

It seemed that because Cassandra and Asalina had reactivated part of the system on the Skyward Station, Gawain’s control over it had strengthened. When he first saw the shard, he had noticed these additional “annotation details.”

He could now even sense the shard’s “presence” directly and vaguely perceive the “energy trails” extending from it.

But that was all—he was no expert in this field. The Skywarder’s authority didn’t grant him the knowledge to understand it. He couldn’t figure out the shard’s principles or how to control it. Even if given a hundred years, he probably wouldn’t crack it.

But that was fine. There were many brilliant minds in the world, and all of them could be his allies.

“Lady Diana, this crystal is a ‘relic’ left to you by Sir Scott,” Gawain opened his eyes and looked at the ancient android beside him. “In theory, it belongs to you—but for the long-term development of the entire alliance, I hope we can share whatever secrets this shard may hold.”

“I understand your meaning,” Diana’s expression remained calm. “Before departure, His Majesty Rosetta also discussed this issue with me—how to distribute the ‘legacy’ that might be found at the Viplanton Observatory. As for specific items, we can negotiate slowly. But knowledge… knowledge should belong to everyone.”

She lifted her gaze toward the center of the observatory, her voice growing softer.

“Personally, I don’t care much about that crystal. What I truly wish for… is to take Sir Scott and the others’ remains with me. That is all I desire.”

“Of course,” Gawain straightened up, his expression solemn. “That is only right.”

(End of chapter)