Chapter 1405: Ophelia’s Little Story

Guided by the signal Veronica had sent, the dragonriders finally landed on a small platform at the base of the towering “Crystal Spire.”

Gawain and Amber stepped out of the aircraft. Amber craned her neck, staring up at the massive, mountain-like conical structure composed of countless crystal prisms. Pure magic surged from the Deep Blue Well, erupting from the spire’s apex in a brilliant stream of flame that arced through the air before converging atop a thick protective shield. The spectacle was breathtaking.

Amber kept her gaze fixed upward for a long moment, her mind swirling with thoughts before she finally muttered, “…Does this thing ever stop spewing?”

“I thought you were going to say something profound,” Gawain smirked, glancing sideways at the ever-quirky shadow assault goose. “According to Talrond’s research records, this rift has existed since the planet’s birth. It’s part of the planet’s magical cycle—there’s no such thing as ‘running out’ of it. Unless the entire planet’s magic cycle breaks down. As for the energy the Gondorians harvested back then… compared to the whole Deep Blue Network, it was just a tiny ripple.”

“…Endless magic, pure enough that it doesn’t even need secondary purification, and almost no difficulty in harnessing it,” Amber marveled. “No wonder the old Gondor Empire was so powerful…”

Gawain said nothing. Just then, a faint humming sound came from nearby. Following the noise, he saw a shimmering grid of light appear on the crystal “wall” at the platform’s edge. The once seamless crystal surface began to shift and rearrange in a dazzling display, and in the blink of an eye, a towering gate opened.

Footsteps echoed from within. Two imposing figures stepped out, bathed in the glow of the setting sun and the blue magical flame. They looked as if they had stepped straight out of a historical painting. As they approached, Gawain realized they were two “female soldiers” clad in ancient Gondorian battle mage uniforms. Neither carried weapons; instead, their arms and shoulders were fitted with arcane amplification devices seemingly integrated directly into their bodies. One of the “magic soldiers” bore visible damage—a gash near her neck revealed gleaming silver alloy armor and mechanical components beneath synthetic skin.

Amber immediately recognized them: these were Iron Soldiers, powerful ancient human-made constructs, like the “Maid Commander” from the Typhon Empire.

Her mind drifted briefly—if only Diana, the Maid Commander, had come along this time. She’d definitely want to see this. She’d been waiting centuries just to get a maintenance upgrade…

Lost in thought, Amber was jolted back when the more intact Iron Soldier spoke in a cold, mechanical tone: “Welcome, visitors. You have been granted Level A access authorization. By order of Princess Ophelia, we will escort you to the control center.”

“Just the two of us go in. The others stay on standby outside,” Gawain nodded, turning to the accompanying guards. “Wait here.”

“Just the two of us?” Amber pointed at herself, a hint of doubt in her eyes. “You…”

“This is our first meeting with the last heirs of Gondor,” Gawain said quietly. “I’m not sure what’s inside. It’s better to keep this first encounter private.”

Amber shrugged, no longer questioning. She followed Gawain as they trailed behind the Iron Soldiers toward the shimmering “crystal gate.”

Passing through the gate, they entered a corridor formed entirely of thick crystal. The passage sloped downward, lined with beautiful, ice-like blue crystals. There were no visible lights, but steady streams of light flowed deep within the crystals, bathing the corridor in a soft, comfortable glow—a pristine crystal hallway that belied the desolation outside.

Gawain felt as if he were walking inside a giant, translucent iceberg. The magical light refracted and shimmered within the crystals, creating a dreamlike, magnificent atmosphere.

The two Iron Soldiers, clearly military models, remained silent throughout the journey, making the incredible trek somewhat dull.

But Amber, never one to stay quiet, had been examining the sparkling crystals since they entered. Her amber eyes gleamed like the crystals themselves. Halfway through, she couldn’t hold back: “Hey, these crystals are so beautiful… What are they made of? Real crystal? Natural?”

The Iron Soldier finally broke her silence: “Not natural crystal.”

Amber’s interest immediately waned. “Oh, that explains it…”

“They are stable arcane crystals,” the soldier explained. “Formed over centuries by the pure magic continuously emitted from the Deep Blue Well reacting with ambient mana-conductive elements.”

The next moment, a shadow flickered before Gawain’s eyes. Amber suddenly jumped up with a startled cry, lunging toward the nearest wall. If Gawain hadn’t anticipated her antics and quickly grabbed the back of her neck, she would have slammed into the crystal with a loud “thwack”—and stuck there, no less.

Struggling in Gawain’s grip, Amber pulled out her beloved dagger. “Let me chip off a piece! I just want to test the composition! Stable arcane crystal! Pure, light-transmitting arcane crystal! Back in the old black market, this stuff was worth a fortune per gram! And here there’s a whole mountain! A whole mountain!”

“Stop embarrassing yourself,” Gawain said, pinching her under the armpit with a headache. “Do you even know where we are?”

“This is private, isn’t it?” Amber protested, wriggling like a butterfly trying to escape. “Besides the Iron Soldiers and Veronica, no outsiders here. Hey, good call on making the others wait outside. I was wondering why… You really are far-sighted—always prepared, even for a full moon party with a coffin ready.”

Gawain: “…”

He was now deeply regretting teaching her so many witty comebacks.

Fortunately, the Iron Soldiers didn’t understand any of this. They didn’t even glance back at Amber, who was still squirming under Gawain’s hold. After answering the visitor’s questions and confirming no further communication requests, the two ancient machine maids resumed their silent escort.

Following them, Gawain and the finally quiet Amber passed through the crystal corridor and soon reached a man-made steel facility.

An elevator shaft descended deep underground—built in the distinctly ancient Gondorian style, unlike anything modern.

Amber cast a reluctant glance back at the sparkling corridor before Gawain tugged her into the elevator. With a faint mechanical grinding, the safety barriers closed, and they began their rapid descent.

The elevator’s open design allowed them to see outside. Along the shaft, openings revealed the desolate wasteland beyond. Every so often, they passed through thick protective domes made of reinforced metal and concrete—seven layers in total—before glimpsing factory-like structures, excavation stations, and warehouses. Each facility was isolated by armored shields and barriers.

Amber, who had been clamoring to chip off a crystal earlier, was now utterly silent, wide-eyed as she watched the passing scenery. She whispered, “Such tight defenses…”

“Surviving in the heart of the wasteland isn’t easy,” Veronica’s voice suddenly crackled through a small speaker inside the elevator. Though slightly different from the usual tone, both Amber and Gawain immediately recognized it.

“In the first two centuries, conditions in the wasteland’s core were far worse than what you saw upon arrival: lethal contamination seeped underground, and mutants roamed not just the surface. The old imperial capital’s underground was crisscrossed with subway networks and drainage systems, which the monsters used to invade deep below…

“So for two centuries, all I could do was dig deeper. I moved the entire fortress to twice the previous depth, destroyed all subway tunnels and drainage pipes near the underground shelter, and built the multiple layers of ‘shells’ you saw to protect ourselves.

“After another hundred years, conditions improved slightly. I settled in a structurally stable underground area and fully restored the Iron Soldiers’ maintenance arrays. I sent soldiers to clear out the mutants still occupying subway tunnels, restarted some lines, and began regaining control over the old imperial capital’s surrounding areas…”

As Veronica spoke, the elevator continued its seemingly endless descent. Gawain finally asked, “Before all that, you somehow projected your ‘consciousness’ outside the wasteland, using the ‘Veronica’ avatar to observe our world?”

“Yes,” Veronica—or rather, Ophelia—replied softly. “In a sense, I ‘opened my eyes’ outside the wasteland even before I was active on the surface here. For the first few hundred years, I struggled to assess surface conditions from deep underground and had to rely on remote control of avatars in the ‘Survivor Kingdom’ to monitor changes inside the wasteland… One of my avatars is quite famous. I wonder if you’ve heard of her.”

“Oh?” Gawain’s interest piqued. “Tell me more.”

Ophelia’s voice was soft and steady. “Griffina. Griffina the Sword Dancer.”

Gawain clearly hadn’t heard the name before, but Amber immediately caught on. “Ah, you mean the ‘Mad Blade Witch’? I’ve heard of her. Her story’s been popular among rural bards for centuries—never gets old…”

Noticing Gawain’s puzzled expression, Amber’s face lit up with a smug grin—after all, she rarely got the chance to show off her knowledge in front of him. “Hey, back when you were just a corpse on a slab, this character didn’t even exist yet. These tales mostly come from folk legends in the countryside, so it’s no surprise you don’t know—

“Griffina lived about six hundred years ago. Supposedly, she was just an ordinary mercenary working along the border between Typhon and Ansu. Nothing special—just a guard for merchant caravans, barely scraping by. But one time, the caravan she was protecting was wiped out by bandits, and she herself fell off a cliff during the fight. They say she died on the spot, but legend has it she came back to life three days later. After that, her strength skyrocketed, but her personality changed completely. She became the infamous ‘Mad Witch,’ known far and wide for spinning whirlwind slashes while hurling indiscriminate chains of lightning at friend and foe alike. She took on the most dangerous jobs on the wasteland’s edge, and even after the kingdoms gradually stopped exploring those barren lands, she was still said to roam the abandoned border villages…”

“And then?” Gawain asked, noticing Amber’s pause.

“And then? No one ever saw her again. Some swear they saw the ‘Mad Blade Witch’ charging deep into the wasteland. Others say she made a deal with the devil to come back to life, paying with her soul before vanishing from the world. There’s even a version where she suddenly fought a passing young knight, then married him and disappeared. Which story you hear depends on the bard’s style. Usually, the cheap taverns—five copper or less—prefer the version where she just went off into the wasteland to die.”

Amber thought for a moment, then added, “Of course, there’s also a long, exotic tale about a brave adventurer slaying a dragon and then getting into a romantic relationship with a princess from some kingdom. But that one costs eight copper a performance, and honestly, it’s boring—so I never bothered.”

Gawain was speechless.

“Basically, that’s the gist of it,” Ophelia’s calm voice interjected, “except for the ending part.”

“I’ve only ever dealt with ‘Veronica,’” Gawain said with a strange look, “so it’s hard to imagine you active in history under a different guise—and such a wild one at that. So, you took over that mercenary’s body back then? Sounds like she was just an ordinary person at first…”

“I took over her body after she fell off the cliff and died,” Ophelia replied. “I don’t possess ordinary people’s bodies, nor do I interfere with their lives—that’s my principle. Unless their life has ended, or never truly begun.”

Gawain had no comment on that, but suddenly grew curious. “So, the ‘Mad Witch’s’ drastic personality change after resurrection… was that your idea of a joke? Because from what I know, you seem pretty calm.”

“That body’s brain was damaged from the fall. Not the kind of thing you can fix easily,” Ophelia’s voice took on a strange tone, as if recalling an awkward memory. “Controlling it… was really difficult.”

Gawain: “…Alright, I get it.”

(End of chapter)