Chapter 1424: The Victory Day Celebration

Indeed, when Highlord heard that the starship Antavien was equipped with a faster-than-light communication array—and that it was now barely operational—his mind immediately jumped to the persistent “interstellar signal” echoing through the cosmos. Scholars speculated it originated from a star in the constellation Frostsky, continuously broadcasting its coordinates and a basic mathematical language, faintly hinting at a desire for contact.

Due to technological limitations, the various races of the Loren Continent could only just receive this signal; none could respond. The dragons of Talrond once possessed such technology, but it had long been lost in the ashes of their civilization’s collapse. Now, the news brought by Tyr opened a new possibility for Highlord.

If the Antavien’s faster-than-light communication array could be used, then perhaps—no, certainly—it could establish contact with that mysterious alien signal!

Yet, establishing contact was one thing; dealing with the consequences was another. An alien civilization more advanced than Loren’s was not necessarily friendly. Even if they openly broadcast their coordinates and showed no signs of hostility, that didn’t guarantee safety. Who could say this wasn’t a trap, waiting for a weaker civilization to reveal itself?

The merfolk clearly understood this. After repairing the communication array—though it could only be used intermittently—they had not acted rashly… or so it seemed.

Highlord glanced at Tyr, who was happily twirling her tail in circles beside him, and asked seriously, “By the way, have you tried calling that alien civilization in the Frostsky direction?”

“Of course not,” Tyr immediately waved her hand. “We got word from Antavien that the main antenna burned out on the spot. There wasn’t even time to do anything else. Besides, we’re not fools. The other side is an unknown alien race. What if something goes wrong if we contact them recklessly? We merfolk have always been a rational and cautious people…”

Hearing this, Highlord muttered under his breath, “You don’t have to keep flattering yourselves with all those positive words…”

Then, before Tyr could react, he shifted the topic: “About the Antavien’s faster-than-light communication array… I know it’s a bit presumptuous to ask, but is there any chance the Alliance could…”

“Oh, I know, we’re all friends here,” Tyr interrupted casually, waving her hand dismissively before he finished. “I’m telling you this because the Queen was already thinking about how the Alliance might need help with this when the array was rebooted. She asked me to pass on that if you think it’s necessary, and if the Alliance has thoroughly discussed it internally, she might consider lending you the array. Of course, that depends on the deep-sea witches and engineers fixing the main antenna’s damage. The equipment’s current state is too unstable for regular use…”

This time, Highlord’s expression changed noticeably. He stared at Tyr in surprise, his gaze growing solemn. “Please convey my gratitude and respect to Queen Petia. Your people truly are generous and kind.”

Tyr smiled at his seriousness. “We are friends, after all.”

Friends… When Highlord first heard Tyr say that word, it didn’t strike him much. In diplomatic circles, “friend” was often a flexible term. But hearing it again, he began to sense a deeper meaning—among the merfolk, “friend” was no simple label.

This advanced race ruling the deep seas always gave off an impression of joy and playfulness. Their peaceful and friendly nature made it hard to engage with them seriously, leading many to overlook a fact: for thousands of years, as the nations of Loren rose and fell, the merfolk quietly observed and recorded it all. Even going back to the previous civilization cycle, they remained indifferent to land-dwellers.

They could be friendly, playful, and laugh with you your whole life—because your entire lifetime was as fleeting to them as a bubble on the sea. Yet, over tens of thousands of years, the merfolk had never made “friends” with any land race. As Tyr said, she was the only “ambassador” sent from the deep sea to the land in all that time.

The merfolk had made a friend—and this bond was likely as enduring as the dragons’ ancient oaths.

“Perhaps the nations of the Alliance won’t realize this for a long time…” Highlord murmured softly. Then, noticing the curious looks from Tyr and Amber nearby, he smiled and shook his head. “We should have a proper discussion about the ‘star-sea signal’ later. But for now… it’s time to return home.”

The warriors who had ventured into the wasteland had already returned victorious. News of their triumph had spread across all nations half a month ago. Now, the Empire’s commander had completed his mission at the Tarash Conference and was returning in glory to his forever loyal capital—Cecil City.

In the northern Dark Mountains, along the banks of the Whitewater River, Cecil City was decked out in festive decorations. Though it wasn’t a traditional holiday, the entire city was immersed in an atmosphere more jubilant than any festival.

The wide streets had been freshly swept, colorful banners hung from the Pioneer Avenue all the way to the New North Shore district. The mechanical bridge spanning the Whitewater River was adorned with ribbons for the celebration. Crowds had already taken to the streets, while orderly formations of dragonriders flew overhead, scattering “Victory Day” leaflets related to the Tarash Conference. They trailed magnificent magical light streams through the sky, drawing cheers from children and awe from adults alike.

A figure in a pale green dress moved lightly through the crowd along the roadside. Her face wore a joyful smile. Once gaunt from malnutrition, she now stood tall and graceful. In her hand, she held snacks she’d just bought from a street vendor. The nerve thorns pressed against the skin at the back of her neck shimmered with a silvery metallic glow in the sunlight. On this street not far from home, familiar faces greeted the young girl, and she responded to each—snack-filled mouth no obstacle to her cheerful replies:

“Aunt Samir, good morning!”
“Sam, good morning—happy Victory Day!”
“Sirona! Your new dress is beautiful—this? Got it at the corner stall. Hurry, they’ll sell out soon!”

A sturdy woman spotted the green-dressed girl weaving through the crowd and called out, “Pea! Slow down! Don’t fall!”

“I’m nimble!” Pea laughed, glancing back at her neighbor. Her voice popped out rapidly through her communicator, despite her mouth being full of snacks. “I’m rushing to see the Victory Day parade—the last batch of expedition troops came back last week! I think your son was in it, too. Though my dad won’t be back for a while. I wonder where he is now… missing Victory Day again. I hope he hasn’t forgotten to bring me a souvenir…”

Before she finished, Pea had already slipped back into the crowd. The hum of dragonriders passed overhead again, magical light streams crossing the sky. Colorful leaflets fluttered down like snowflakes. A newsboy on a two-wheeled cart stopped at the edge of the crowd, wiped sweat from his brow, glanced at the people nearby, then leaned his cart against a wall and shouted at the top of his lungs:

“Extra! Extra! New Southern Territory Opened! Vast lands from the Dark Mountains to the Grant Wall reclaimed! Extra! Extra! The Third Great Expansion Begins!”

Pea pushed through the crowd until she reached the broad main road, surrounded by celebrating people. Everyone was talking about Victory Day, the Tarash Conference, the Third Great Expansion, changes within the Alliance, and many wild “news” stories concocted by tavern politicians from leaflets and rumors. Excited children occasionally screamed in delight.

At that moment, another figure caught Pea’s eye—a girl in a pink-and-white dress who looked a few years younger. She stood in the middle of the crowd, her face bright with excitement and curiosity. Scars marked her arms and neck, faintly visible beneath the lace of her clothes. Her movements were slightly awkward, making her stand out a bit.

Pea looked several times to be sure, then hurried over and called out, “Patty!”

The small girl in pink-white jumped slightly at the voice, instinctively shrinking her neck. Then she searched for the source and, seeing Pea right in front of her, broke into a delighted smile. “Sister Pea! What are you doing here?”

“I live nearby!” Pea’s eyes widened as she took in the future Lady Grant before her. “But you—aren’t you usually…”

“Shh—I snuck out! My mother’s at the government office giving a report. I told her I was going for a walk by the river…” Patty Grant lowered her voice as if afraid her mother might hear even in the noisy street. “Don’t tell my mother! Or Lady Hetty and…”

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed,” Pea’s communicator buzzed cheerfully. “Remember last time we went to the woods to roast bird eggs? We didn’t get caught then either…”

Patty’s eyes went wide, and she pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh! We agreed never to mention that! And you tricked me into going—you said it was just to get close to nature…”

“Alright, alright, I won’t mention it,” Pea pouted. Born a mute slave and raised by a famous knight-errant foster father, she was used to a free-spirited upbringing—climbing walls and trees in Cecil Palace was nothing to her. Patty’s well-mannered, strict family background was quite different, but it didn’t stop them from becoming real-life friends after being online buddies. Pea glanced at Patty’s body and smiled. “You look a bit more lively than when we roasted bird eggs last time.”

“I told you…” Patty gave Pea a helpless look, then glanced down at her hands and feet, smiling softly. “I’m recovering well. Many druids and apothecaries can’t explain how I’ve gotten this far, but Grandpa Pittman says it’s just a ‘natural phenomenon’…”

“A natural phenomenon? Can a natural phenomenon really be like this?” Pea muttered to herself, her expression strange. But just as she was about to say more, a sudden burst of noise and military music erupted from the far end of the street, interrupting her conversation with Patty.

Almost simultaneously, the two girls turned toward the sound. They stood on tiptoe, straining to see down the street until finally, a grand procession appeared at the designated spot. It was the triumphant parade of soldiers returning from victory—a symbol of Victory Day’s glory. Steel war machines painted in dark green rumbled down the wide, straight avenue. Surrounding the vehicles were clusters of flowers, banners, and fluttering imperial flags, while petals continuously drifted down from both sides of the road, forming a floral path that stretched all the way to the royal district.

Pea beamed with joy, bouncing up and down excitedly as she waved vigorously at one of the approaching vehicles.

On the war machine, soldiers dressed in formal military uniforms, their chests adorned with sashes and medals, returned the cheers from the crowds lining the street. Among them, Findel Wilde, tall and upright with short silver hair, spotted Pea jumping by the roadside and happily waved back.

After the Victory Day convoy passed along the main road, the crowd lingered. Patty looked around curiously and asked, “Pea, what’s next?”

“There’s something really amazing coming!” Pea’s face lit up with excitement. Almost as soon as she finished speaking, a deep, majestic roar—like a colossal beast growling from the clouds—suddenly filled everyone’s ears.

Countless eyes turned skyward, and a wave of astonishment swept through every heart.

They saw the steel giant city emerging from the clouds, its towering, magnificent shadow slowly stretching over Cecil City. Starting from the direction of the Dark Mountains, this massive floating landmass advanced steadily across the sky, blotting out the sun so that the streets below were cast in twilight. As this “artificial dusk” moved forward, preset lights across the city flickered on, fireworks exploded, and salutes thundered in unison.

The “steel giant city” flying above brightened, and enormous holographic projections spread over the entire city below—a sword and a plow stretching across the sky, symbols of the empire’s radiant glory.

A solemn, sweeping voice echoed over the city:

“People of glorious Cecil, rejoice! The empire’s strongest blade and shield have been tested in the fires of war. All forces that dared to overthrow civilization, that challenged the right of all beings to exist, have trembled and been crushed—whether they be heretical cultists or fallen gods. This loyal steel will protect the empire’s people, just as the loyal people cherish our glorious realm. Rejoice! The empire is proud of you, and you are proud of the empire!”

(End of chapter)