Chapter 1432: The Observer’s Speculation

The transmission from the Deep Blue Well cut off. The underground storage center and Ophelia’s figure, which had emerged amid the sea of flowers, receded like a tide. Bright sunlight once again bathed this vast, vibrant place. A gentle breeze stirred, and Beltira reappeared before Gawain, her expression grave.

“I never expected the breakthrough to come in this form… The Deep Blue Well actually contains data on the magical tide from seven centuries ago.”

“Unexpected, yet not entirely surprising,” Gawain said slowly. “If there’s anywhere in this world that might still hold traces of the magical tide, it would be the Deep Blue Well… That cataclysmic explosion destroyed the Númenor civilization, but it also held back a magical tide that could have brought about the end of the world. I’ve considered this possibility for a long time, but I never imagined… it really left behind evidence.”

“Do you think Ophelia’s plan could actually work? Raising the magical energy of the Deep Blue Well to a level sufficient to simulate the magical tide, creating a controlled environment in the lab…” Beltira’s tone carried a hint of worry. “Theoretically, it’s somewhat feasible, but the idea is so far ahead of its time, and… it’s unsettling.”

She shook her head and met Gawain’s eyes. “Honestly, I didn’t expect you to agree to her plan. It doesn’t quite fit your usual cautious nature.”

“…We might not have much time left,” Gawain met Beltira’s gaze steadily. Before this “former saintess,” who stood alongside the Dawn of the World as one of the Empire of Cecil’s two core military forces, he did not hide his thoughts. “Our current civilization has thrived peacefully for too many years. Although the arrival of the magical tide doesn’t have an exact timetable, it follows a rough cycle. We must prepare ourselves mentally for the possibility that it could come as soon as tomorrow.”

“…Is it because of the ‘Starlight Shining’ mentioned in that alien signal?” Beltira asked quietly, watching him closely. “Do you think that message was warning us that the magical tide is about to begin?”

“I can’t be certain, but it’s very possible—perhaps the civilization that sent the signal has unclear motives, or maybe it’s a trap. But as long as there’s a chance, we have to prepare for everything… ‘They’ crossed the starry sea to send us that message. There must be a deeper meaning behind it.”

Beltira fell silent for a moment, bowing her head as if lost in thought. Gawain, curious, asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m considering the ‘observation’ problem in the final stage of Ophelia’s plan,” Beltira said, looking up. “As you pointed out, the key issue in this simulation test is that the magical tide’s essence lies in the observer effect spiraling out of control on a macro scale—in other words, its final stage simply doesn’t allow intelligent beings to participate. Attempting to observe the magical tide leads to the observer’s destruction. This means that even if her simulation succeeds, we won’t be able to extract any results… For now, we’ll take it step by step, starting with isolating the raw data, but eventually, we have to face this problem.”

Gawain’s brow furrowed slowly. “Indeed, I’ve been thinking about this too. The final stage of the experiment forbids observation—that’s almost as perplexing as the magical tide itself… The only solutions I can think of are twofold. One is indirect observation: using some device that simulates human senses to enter the experimental field and record data, which external testers then analyze.

“The other is ‘restricted observation’: using soul magic to completely freeze the tester’s mind, turning them into a sort of ‘puppet’ to enter the experiment. From what we know, mindless entities aren’t affected by the oscillation field—but the puppet’s perceptions still receive the field’s influence. After the test, we can analyze the tester’s neurological changes or use high-level illusions to extract ‘impression fragments’ left in their subconscious.

“But both methods have uncertain success rates, because in a sense, they both avoid involving the observer directly. Without an observer’s participation… the magical tide might not manifest any recordable properties at all—for ordinary beings, it would be like a harmless breeze, leaving no trace.”

“The crux is, what exactly defines an ‘observer’? What qualities must one have to be considered an observer?” Beltira said slowly. “I’ve heard you describe the concept of ‘observer’ at several academic conferences, but that was all outside the magical tide’s environment…”

She frowned, muttering to herself, “Does an intelligent being automatically become an observer in a confined environment? What about intelligent magical constructs? Can both low-level and high-level constructs serve as observers? Or is there a certain ‘threshold’ of intelligence required? Are Ophelia’s iron soldiers observers? If we observe the magical tide through a bunch of sensors, like your first plan, would the testers on the other end still be affected? Does the magical tide’s power cross space to act on them?”

Muttering to herself, Beltira seemed caught in a mental loop, frowning deeply as she pondered. Eventually, her thoughts took a strange turn. “The magical tide acts on the mind and amplifies to the macro world… so, would people with low intelligence be classified as observers in this process?”

Gawain blinked. “…Huh?”

“Could the mentally deficient be immune to the magical tide?” Beltira asked seriously. “If highly intelligent iron soldiers are observers, but low-level constructs aren’t, then maybe anyone with intelligence lower than a construct is immune to the apocalypse… I remember Selina once told me that the mentally deficient are immune to ‘idiot magic’…”

“Stop, stop! What kind of nonsense is this?” Gawain hurriedly interrupted. Though her initial questions had some academic merit, she had clearly veered off course. “I think your understanding of the observer concept is flawed from the start. The magical tide’s observer effect spiraling out of control has nothing to do with IQ. Unless it’s a completely mind-frozen flesh puppet or a ‘vegetative state,’ even the mentally deficient haven’t been known to survive the magical tide…”

He paused, thinking carefully as he explained his view. “I believe that, in the context of the magical tide, an ‘observer’ should be defined as ‘an individual capable of being aware that they are observing.’ This individual doesn’t need to understand what an observer is, but they must be conscious of their own existence, aware of the world around them, and recognize their interaction with the environment. Even if they know nothing about the concepts involved, as long as they meet these conditions, they qualify as observers under the magical tide’s definition…”

Beltira considered this. “…So that’s how it is.”

She then shook her head. “I might be too fixated on these questions, brother… Theoretical knowledge about the magical tide isn’t really my specialty. I’m better suited to handling druidic matters.”

“Your role in the druidic field is just as crucial,” Gawain smiled. “Especially during this critical period of post-war reconstruction.”

They chatted a little longer before ending the connection to the encrypted space.

The endless sea of flowers quickly faded from view, dissolving into a kaleidoscope of illusions drifting on the wind. The surface scene of the Dream City replaced it—the conceptualized Cecil City built within the mental network appeared before Gawain, its streets as prosperous and splendid as he remembered.

Crowds thronged the streets, carriages and carts bustled by. Ordinary users entered the neural network as “citizens,” wandering the alleys and avenues. Researchers and network controllers busied themselves in various facilities throughout the city. All of them contributed extra computing power, sustaining the vast network and supporting the empire’s numerous massive scientific projects—all of which unfolded as data deep within the network.

Gawain blinked, preparing to fully disconnect from the network. But just as he was about to go offline, a strange thought crossed his mind.

After a moment’s hesitation, he opened a secret channel known only to a few and composed a message in his mind: “Do you think low intelligence is immune to the magical tide’s observer effect spiraling out of control?”

Without a second thought, he confirmed and sent the message to the High Council of the Theocracy’s Senior Advisory Group (work chat).

Seconds later, several replies entered his mind.

The Swift Stag and the Tower Witch each sent a question mark: “…?”

Tea Egg replied: “…What strange question are you pondering? If you’re free, come try my new cola. I just had Tyr try it, and so far it’s… oh, never mind, you don’t have to come.”

Gawain: “…?”

…

In the Obsidian Palace deep within the capital of the Typhon Empire, Oldernan, Rosetta Augustus stood before a floor-to-ceiling window, lost in thought. Outside, a lush garden basked in sunlight—an odd sight for late autumn. Above the garden hovered a faint magical shield, countless tiny runes drifting across its surface, maintaining the artificial ecosystem that kept the courtyard evergreen year-round.

Behind Rosetta, fixed to the floor at the room’s center, was a large magical device: the most advanced “Thought Accelerator II” immersion pod, imported from the Cecil Empire. The runes on its base had dimmed to a dull glow.

A voice came from beside Rosetta: “Father, do you really think that ‘alien civilization’ could establish… a ‘cooperation’ with us?”

“At least they’ve expressed a willingness to communicate, and we have no choice but to respond,” Rosetta turned to look at Matilda standing beside her. “The initiative isn’t in our hands—but if we handle this carefully, it won’t be entirely in theirs either. This is the best outcome we can hope for right now.”

“Lady Diana has been busy studying the materials brought back from the Viplandon Observatory. She seems quite ‘confident’ about that alien civilization that sent the signal,” Matilda shook her head. “She doesn’t yet know we’re about to start ‘interstellar communication,’ but I think she’ll support it.”

“She was once a senior guard at Viplandon Observatory. She has a special attachment to the data and the alien civilization it reveals,” Rosetta said slowly. “Regardless of her stance, this project will proceed… Matilda, you and Diana will jointly oversee this. You lead, she assists. You’ll organize the domestic codebreakers and coordinate with the technical teams from Cecil and Silver.”

Matilda bowed slightly, a strand of black hair falling over her face. “Yes, Father.”

“Next, we wait for our new allies… to see when the sirens will be ready with their ‘communication devices,’” Rosetta said. “Before they’re prepared, we need to draft a ‘text’ for our initial exchange with the alien civilization… Hopefully, Gawain Cecil can offer some advice on this.”

Matilda looked puzzled. “Why wait for his input?”

“…I think this will test imagination and creativity,” Rosetta’s lips curved into a faint smile. “He’s always been very creative in this regard.”

Matilda: “…”

The future Empress of Typhon fixed her father with a somewhat strange look for a long moment before finally breaking the silence hesitantly. “Father… were you joking just now?”

“Can’t you tell?” Rosetta said with a stern face. “Of course I joke sometimes—you shouldn’t have such a rigid image of your own father.”

Matilda was momentarily taken aback, unsure how to respond. She had been Rosetta Augustus’s daughter for over twenty years, but lately she found it increasingly difficult to adjust to the changes in her father over the past two years. Still… this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Rosetta, however, seemed completely unfazed by her daughter’s reaction. He withdrew his gaze from the window and instead looked at the immersion pod in the center of the room.

“…It’s a remarkable technology,” the usually serious Typhon ruler finally broke the silence after a long look. “I once heard those Sleeper cultists explain the principles behind this controlled ‘mind mapping’ technique, but what they described is still crude—like a rough sketch compared to the mature neural networks used by the Cecilians.”

“All mature technologies start as rough drafts,” Matilda quickly replied. “We admittedly started late, but we’re catching up. The Imperial Engineering Association and the Royal Mage Society have already formed several joint research teams trying to reverse-engineer the Cecilians’ ‘Neural Thorns’ technology. There’s been some progress, and this technology is a precursor to neural networks…”

Rosetta nodded slightly, then casually asked, “As far as I know, you and Hadrian often use the immersion pods? You frequently enter the Cecilians’ neural network?”

Matilda’s expression flickered with slight embarrassment but she answered promptly. “Yes, we… use them in our free time. Although the public neural network doesn’t reveal the deepest layers, it’s incredibly convenient for learning about neighboring cultures, news, and social changes. Hadrian is even considering setting up a special department staffed with intelligence officers skilled in information gathering and communication to collect intelligence within the public areas of the neural network.

“And even beyond that, the neural network itself is… a very powerful tool. The amount of information it contains is vast beyond measure, and its core grows rapidly every second. Leisure and entertainment are just the most trivial of its functions.”

Listening to his daughter speak so knowledgeably about the neural network, Rosetta Augustus felt, for the first time in his life, a faint sense that he might be falling behind the times. But he quickly brushed the odd thought aside and asked with some curiosity, “Since you know so much, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

Matilda immediately straightened her expression. “Yes, please ask!”

“…I’ve noticed that some people experience very special… visuals when entering the neural network—unique light displays, decorative runes, vines, and the like. What are those?”

“Huh?” Matilda hadn’t expected her dignified father to ask such a question and was momentarily stunned, but she quickly recovered. “Ah, what you’re referring to are ‘login effects.’ Usually… they require payment.”

“Payment? You mean extra fees to buy illusions that only appear in the virtual world?” Rosetta seemed puzzled by this and soon raised another question. “Do ‘they’ have to pay for these…”

The ruler of the Typhon Empire suddenly realized this touched on a very practical issue: do the retired gods really have ‘money’? Do they even need such things?

Matilda looked utterly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Rosetta said with a stern shake of his head. “I’m just curious about how the neural network operates. When you have time… tell me more about it.”

(End of chapter)