Chapter 1419: Making Good Use of It

The Sentinels were a thorny problem—and even dead, they remained thorny.

The rune stones still lingering in the Deep Blue Network were an unexpected headache. But as Ophelia had pointed out, given the current technological level of mortals—even counting the Sea Elves, an alien civilization—salvaging all those rune stones was nearly impossible. No one knew how many “stones” the Dark Priests had thrown in, no one knew where they had drifted to, and no one knew the full scale of the Deep Blue Network. It was a frustrating but undeniable fact.

So now, the only thing Gawain could do was to learn as much as possible about those rune stones, monitor their movements, and if possible, establish remote signal connections to “control” this dangerous artifact. If the danger couldn’t be eliminated, then at least it could be transformed from uncontrollable to controllable.

Besides, if they could really control it, it would undoubtedly be a tremendous asset.

“The Sentinels’ control over the rune stones was obviously through some kind of remote signal,” Ophelia shared her thoughts. “And since the Sentinels were using mortal bodies at the time, and their Dark Priests were also mortals, this ‘remote control’ shouldn’t exceed mortal capabilities. The technology level wouldn’t be beyond what those Dark Priests could handle. So, in summary, I believe establishing remote connections to control the rune stones is feasible.

“Of course, this will likely be a long decryption process. We’re dealing with completely unknown technology, and the Sentinels clearly encrypted all signal transmissions between the rune stones…”

Gawain’s tone grew serious, his expression grave. “Is there anything that can speed up this decryption?”

“Samples. More rune stone samples—that’s absolutely essential. The Sea Elves’ salvaged rune stones help me understand the technology the Sentinels used, but many were damaged during recovery. I need plenty of samples for comparative analysis to reconstruct the rune stones’ complete structure,” Ophelia replied immediately. “Also, records of the Voyagers’ language and writing would help me understand their ‘information architecture.’ I recall the Dragonkin have complete archives. Of course, if we could get the coding and system language logic used in Voyager devices… but that’s obviously impossible. No use hoping for that.”

“I can provide data on that—though I’m not sure if it’s complete,” Gawain interrupted before she finished. “And I also have language and writing materials, even more complete than the Dragonkin’s.”

“You can provide that?!” Even Ophelia, an ancient AI, was momentarily taken aback, but then she seemed to realize something and her voice calmed. “That’s excellent news. This will make the decryption far easier than expected.”

She paused briefly, then added, “Also, if possible, I’d like to request computational support from the Imperial Neural Network. The Matrix’s computing power is strong, but I need to dedicate many processing threads to controlling the Iron Legion and managing this underground fortress. The Neural Network’s unique architecture allows it to develop and operate faster and more flexibly than the Matrix. If I could get additional computing power from it, the decryption would progress much faster.”

“Agreed. I’ll have Narathiel set up a dedicated node cluster for you, isolated from the main network, so the computing power won’t be affected by mainnet fluctuations,” Gawain nodded immediately. In fact, even if Ophelia hadn’t asked, he would have insisted on involving the Imperial Neural Network in decrypting those rune stones. Though he trusted Ophelia, when it came to such sensitive and critical matters, he preferred to keep things within his control.

“Thank you for your support,” Ophelia said earnestly. Then she fell silent for a moment, as if weighing something carefully. After nearly half a minute, she finally broke the silence. “Lastly, should this matter be made public within the Alliance? Should more nations be involved? Most countries probably lack the technical capability to contribute meaningfully, but if this secret research into the Sentinels’ legacy leaks, it could easily destabilize the Alliance.”

Before Ophelia even spoke, Gawain had already been pondering this question. Now, he lowered his head slightly, his expression unusually solemn as he fell into deep thought.

Nearby, Amber muttered quietly, “This is definitely sensitive. Secretly researching the rune stones left by the Sentinels… it’s the kind of thing that’s easier done than said. If nothing goes wrong, fine. But if there’s a leak, it’ll be a massive scandal. The Alliance could collapse on the spot, and the eighteen rebel factions might storm Cecil. At worst, Typhon, Silver, and the Dragonkin could be dragged into a fight against us. After all, the whole world was nearly destroyed by this thing once. Now, anyone who hears the word ‘Sentinel’ gets nervous…”

In that instant, Amber’s mind, steeped in bardic tales, had already spun a full storyline: some empire secretly researching a superweapon left by an evil civilization, hoping to find technology to save the world, only for the news to leak and the world to brand them as villains trying to destroy everything. A chaotic war breaks out, history is buried in ruins, and the truth is lost forever.

She even mentally cast a dozen main and supporting characters: the hero and heroine, childhood friends, a straightforward knight, an aging wizard, a mysterious assassin with a secret, and a talking cat—because every bard’s story needs a talking cat to jump in and narrate when the plot stalls.

Gawain had no idea how many such thoughts were racing through Amber’s bard-addled brain, but what she muttered was exactly what he was thinking—and he definitely didn’t like melodramatic storylines.

“This can’t be fully public, nor can it be completely secret. A project this large is hard to keep under wraps anyway,” Gawain said in a low voice, eyes fixed on Ophelia’s hologram. “Typhon, Silver, the Dragons—including the Dragon Principality—these are the technically capable and qualified partners. We bring them in, clearly explain the current state of the rune stones, why we’re researching them, and get them on board.

“As for the other Alliance nations… keep it secret for now. Even among allies, a few ‘little secrets’ are necessary.”

“That’s my view as well. I’m glad you think the same,” Ophelia’s voice came through the projection. “Besides the Sea Elves who have been involved from the start, only the few you mentioned on the mainland are worth bringing in.”

Amber, after a moment’s thought, gave Gawain a strange look. “Bringing those countries in isn’t just about ‘cooperation’ and ‘transparency,’ is it? You’re planning to have everyone share the blame…”

“Indeed, that’s part of it,” Gawain admitted calmly, surprising Amber. “With Ophelia’s Matrix and the Imperial Neural Network’s computing power, we’ll lead this project. Typhon, Silver, and the Dragons’ involvement won’t jeopardize control. Instead, it ensures the most influential Alliance members stand with us, preventing mutual suspicion. And if something unexpected happens—like a leak…”

“Then everyone shares the blame,” Amber cut in, waving her hand before he could finish. “If the three permanent council members and the strongest nations are all involved, no matter how big the scandal, it’ll just be ‘nothing happened.’”

Gawain smiled wryly and shrugged—dirty but reasonable, dark but necessary. This was the “thorn” on the backs of porcupines huddling together for warmth in international politics.

“Then let’s tentatively settle it like this,” Gawain said, exhaling softly into the cool night breeze. He glanced at Tyr, who was starting to yawn. “But before we officially begin, we need the Sea Elves’ input—after all, Ophelia’s decryption work still needs more rune stone samples.”

Studying those rune stones inevitably involved the Sea Elves, since they had successfully salvaged many and could swim through the Deep Blue Network. So Gawain hadn’t avoided Tyr’s presence during his conversation with Ophelia. Now the focus shifted to her, jolting the drowsy “Ambassador of the Deep” awake. She shook her waterlogged head, then nodded slightly. “That’s no problem—I can give you an answer right now. We’ll send all the rune stones’ scan data later, taken with analyzers on Antavien. The precision is definitely sufficient.

“If you need, I can also ask the Queen to arrange for the stones themselves to be shipped over. But that will take some time. They probably can’t go through the Elemental Warp Gate, so we’ll have to ship them by boat. You can slice or smash them for study—either way, they’re just taking up space on Antavien. They’re neither edible nor useful there…”

“Thanks in advance for your support,” Gawain nodded sincerely. “We need the scan data, and physical samples too—the more, the better.”

“No problem,” Tyr agreed readily. For the long-lived Sea Elves, these “requests” were trivial. “I heard the sisters on Antavien are researching swimming techniques in the Deep Blue Network. I’ll tell them to salvage any rune stones they find… as intact as possible. We can’t recover them all, but salvaging some will be useful.”

At this point, the “Ambassador of the Deep” was clearly fighting off sleep. She yawned widely, her whole body swaying left and right. “I can’t anymore. You guys keep talking—I’m going to sleep. We’ll talk when I wake up.”

No sooner had she spoken than Gawain saw her flop straight down onto the deck with a soft “plop,” falling asleep instantly and utterly—an impressively abrupt and shocking process. Her shadow clones stood around her, eyes wide open but clearly no longer under her conscious control, like mourners standing vigil around a fallen comrade.

The eerie scene made Amber’s hair stand on end. “Oh man, it looks like a bunch of standing corpses saying goodbye to a lying corpse…”

“She just fell asleep like that…” Gawain was dumbfounded. He’d seen Tyr suddenly fall asleep in all sorts of situations and knew the Sea Elf often looked like she’d dropped dead when sleeping, but this was the first time he’d seen such a bizarre sleep scene—especially those six shadow clones standing in a circle around her in the dark night. Anyone unfamiliar would probably suspect the clones had sacrificed her.

“How do we deal with this…” he muttered.

“I’ll have someone carry her back later, and take those ‘clones’ with them,” Amber said, rubbing her temples. “It’s the Sea Kingdom’s first day in the Alliance, and having the ambassador sleep on the deck isn’t a good look.”

“…Once the sea witches officially start large-scale exchanges with the land nations, I’m afraid everyone will soon realize that this bunch of deep-sea slackers couldn’t care less about ‘influence’ issues,” Gawain sighed. “But you’re right—at this stage, it’s not a good look. And if some passerby happened to see this scene, they’d probably be scared out of their wits on the spot.”

“Alright, enough serious talk. Let’s lighten the mood a bit,” Amber exhaled softly, her gaze shifting to the holographic projection of Ophelia. After wrapping up the discussion about the sentinels and the runestones, she felt as if the breeze on the deck had suddenly turned fresher. “So, you finally decided to give yourself an ‘external image’ after all—I thought you were going to just show off all those ‘nodes’ of yours right there in the meeting.”

“Too stark a ‘difference’ creates a barrier in people’s minds,” Ophelia said calmly. “Iron soldiers are designed to look like approachable humans, and dragons take human form to communicate as a gesture of goodwill. People can accept a conversational partner who is fundamentally different but looks similar, but it’s much harder to accept someone who is essentially the same inside but looks strange. Besides… our world was nearly destroyed by a rogue ancient AI not long ago. The allied nations aren’t exactly ready to face a ‘machine’ of a similar nature.”

“That makes sense,” Gawain smiled, looking at the delicate, doll-like figure seated on the pale golden throne in the projection. “But beyond that, it seems you’ve finally accepted the identity of ‘Ophelia Norton’—you chose this body for yourself.”

“I’ve thought carefully about what you said, and it does hold some truth,” Ophelia’s voice carried a hint of relief and gratitude. “Perhaps I was too fixated on figuring out ‘what exactly I am,’ but that’s a question I shouldn’t have been so obsessed with… My mind is a copy of Ophelia Norton’s, and she entrusted her fate to me to carry on. I can be anyone, and of course, I can be her. There’s no need to reject the ‘intuition’ within my own mind. I really like this ‘vessel’—this is how I remember myself.”

“That’s the spirit,” Amber nodded vigorously beside her, looking like she totally got it. “But hey, I’ve been meaning to ask—why do you always keep such a straight face? You don’t even open your mouth when you talk. At the conference, I thought you were maintaining some kind of image, but why are you like this in private too?”

“…It was rushed,” Ophelia finally moved in the projection. She stiffly raised her arm and, to everyone’s shock, actually ‘detached’ her own head, holding it up close to the screen for inspection. “Look, it’s solid inside…”

Gawain and Amber: “……”

This is way scarier than Ti’er’s six corpses and the one they were all paying respects to!

(End of chapter)