Chapter 1447: The Second Conversation

At the border between Typhon and Cecil, inside the joint research facility known as the “Treaty Bastion,” a large laboratory was brightly lit. Technicians from Typhon, Cecil, and the Silver Empire busied themselves at their stations. Mages observed the crystal reactions on the central experimental platform, apprentices diligently recorded data nearby, and scholars engaged in complex calculations and lively discussions. At the very heart of it all hovered the “Energy Crystal” from the Veplandon Observatory.

Suspended above the platform was a palm-sized, translucent crystal, floating midair under the influence of an anti-gravity field. Rings of runes circled the crystal in a continuous orbit. On the platform’s surface, neatly inscribed rune arrays and finely embedded crystals at the nodes monitored the crystal’s every moment—tracking both the energy it emitted outward and its self-recharging process. This setup formed the laboratory’s first line of safety.

Carmel floated beside the platform, raising his palm toward the crystal. Tiny arcs of arcane lightning split from his forearm, precisely stimulating the mithril synapses at the control nodes around the platform. Under his command, the rune arrays rearranged themselves, and a shimmering light swept over the crystal’s surface, stirring gentle ripples.

“This is truly a miraculous wonder… Despite having operated for countless ages, the energy balance inside this crystal remains astonishingly stable. And after we reconstructed the magical circuits connected to it, it has already begun outputting energy into those circuits…” A low, resonant voice echoed from within Carmel, betraying his deep respect and admiration for this relic of an advanced civilization. “Compared to this, our technology is as primitive as torches and stones in the hands of cavemen.”

Windsor Mapel, the legendary Typhon mage, observed the data from the crystal’s resonance monitor. Hearing Carmel’s awe, she looked up. “This crystal feels almost… alive. We have no real understanding of the technology of the Starfarers. We only reconstructed a magical circuit based on the small fraction of energy the crystal emits and the remaining rune arrays from the Veplandon Observatory. At first, the crystal barely responded to the new circuit, but within just a few hours, it underwent some kind of internal adjustment, actively adapting to the crude ‘interface’ we provided.”

“It learns. It actively recognizes the magical interfaces connected to it. It changes its internal structure to match external connections. It is indeed an inanimate object, but as you said, it gives the impression of being… alive,” Carmel said as he finished adjusting the rune arrays, withdrawing his hand. “Perhaps it’s this very trait that allowed Sir Scott and the others trapped in the Veplandon Observatory to use this crystal to build a protective barrier under such limited conditions.”

Windsor frowned. “Do you think we could… replicate this crystal? Or at least restore some of its technology?”

“…I’m afraid not. At least, not for now. It’s frustrating to admit, but we haven’t reached that level yet,” Carmel shook his head regretfully. “The technology inside this crystal is completely beyond our understanding. After all these days, the research team’s greatest achievement has been recording a vast array of parameters that seem almost unfathomable to us, and observing countless incredible phenomena. But we still have no clue about the principles behind these parameters and phenomena.”

He paused, then shifted tone. “Still, even so, observing the crystal’s operation has given us many valuable insights. While we can’t create anything like it yet, at least we now have a glimpse of how an artifact from an advanced civilization functions—especially this mechanism of automatic adaptation and learning. It might inspire ideas for our next-generation energy systems.”

Windsor nodded gently but then showed a hint of regret. “It’s a pity our research on this crystal will have to end prematurely.”

She thought of the order that arrived that very morning from the imperial capital, Olden: because the “Starfarer Energy Crystal” might be used to repair the Antavian’s faster-than-light communication array, the Treaty Bastion’s research project was suspended immediately, and the crystal was to be handed over to the Deep Sea Kingdom.

“I share your regret, but this will benefit the entire alliance. If we can solve the communication problem with the alien race, it might rewrite the fate of the whole world,” Carmel said, his arcane aura steady and deep. “Besides, in some ways, keeping the crystal here is a waste. With our current technology, beyond collecting data, there’s little more we can do. But on Antavian, it might play a far greater role.”

“I understand that,” Windsor nodded softly. “Maximizing resource efficiency to ensure the greater good of all alliance members—that was one of the alliance’s founding principles. But Master Carmel… do you really think this crystal can solve the issues with the faster-than-light communication array?”

“It’s only an attempt—The Sirens aren’t certain either,” Carmel shook his head. “They said they’ll know for sure only after actual testing.”

Windsor exhaled quietly, her gaze returning to the crystal on the platform. “General Andersa Wendel will personally come this afternoon to take the crystal. After that, it will be transported to the East Coast and handed over to the Deep Sea Kingdom’s envoys. Until then, let’s run one final round of tests.”

…

“The handover of the ‘Energy Crystal’ is complete,” Amber reported to Gawain at the desk, relaying the latest news from Treaty Bastion and Typhon. “Typhon’s ‘Wolf General’ Andersa will personally escort the crystal to the East Coast. The Deep Sea Kingdom will dispatch a high-speed freighter to meet them there, ensuring the crystal reaches Antavian as quickly as possible.”

“Good. Now it’s up to the Siren technicians to make it work. Hopefully, this Starfarer energy crystal will really come in handy,” Gawain rubbed his temples. “Though, to be honest… I initially thought the Sirens would use their convenient ‘elemental leap’ technique to transport the crystal, especially since the interference barriers around the Loren Continent have been lifted.”

“Apparently, the elemental leap channels aren’t stable enough and have very strict conditions. Usually, only Sirens or objects with strong affinity to water elements can pass through. Using it to transport the Starfarer energy crystal might cause the channel to collapse midway,” Amber’s ears twitched. “Honestly, I suspect the Sirens were quite eager to try. They’re always interested in fancy ways to die, but the crystal is too precious—they’re afraid of damaging it.”

Gawain glanced at Amber twice, thinking to himself that if she could deduce that last part, she must be quite close to the Sirens by now…

“Getting the crystal to Antavian is just the first step. Whether it can be used, how to use it, and the specific modifications to the main antenna—there’s still a lot to do,” Gawain pushed aside unrelated thoughts and continued. “Until the upgrade is complete, our communications with the ‘Noy’ will still be limited to this ‘say a few words, wait ten days’ style.”

“Ten days might not even be enough,” Amber waved her hand. “You have to factor in the downtime when the Sirens are upgrading the main antenna and the communication system is offline.”

Gawain rubbed his temples again, feeling a wave of frustration. Finally, there was a way to reach the stars, to uncover the truth of the magical tide, yet due to hardware limitations, communication with the alien race remained painfully slow. The long waits and maddening equipment failures were enough to drive anyone crazy. But he had to stay patient—after all…

There was only one functioning faster-than-light communication system on the entire planet. What choice did they have?

Just as Gawain’s irritation peaked, a faint sound of scales scraping the floor came from the corridor. The dark oak door to the study slowly opened, and Til poked his head through the crack. “You’re all here, huh?”

Gawain quickly composed himself, sitting upright behind the desk as the Deep Sea ambassador slowly eased his body and his four-to-five-meter-long tail into the room. “We’re discussing the faster-than-light communication array—what’s up?”

“Oh, I came to tell you this,” Til smiled brightly. “Just got word from Antavian—the faster-than-light communication array is operational!”

Gawain instinctively exchanged a glance with Amber, then smiled broadly.

Of course, Til’s “array is operational” didn’t mean the main antenna’s upgrade was complete—the energy crystal was still on the Loren Continent, not yet delivered. What she meant was that the ten-day repair work on the main antenna was finished. Though it would likely burn out again with use, at least now the Loren Alliance could finally respond to the Noy across the starry sea!

…

At the towering Solin Tree, headquarters of the Starsea Project.

The “ready” signal from the Deep Sea Kingdom instantly set the place abuzz. Within half an hour of receiving the imperial capital’s order, numerous monitors, technicians, and star decipherers took their posts. The connected computing center and mainframe array went on standby almost immediately. Since the first contact with the Noy ten days ago, everyone had been waiting for this moment. All preparations were complete, awaiting the command.

At the center of the headquarters hall, the avatar of Beltira appeared again at the command seat. In her perception, the vast and complex energy network deep within the hall was completing its directional alignment. The listening antenna aimed at the constellation Frostsky was running at full power. The data link between the distant Antavian faster-than-light communication array had been connected minutes ago. Signals from star decipherer terminals and listening stations were routed through the mainframe and integrated into the neural core of the Solin Tree, projecting a starry “map” deep within her mind.

This was a miracle forged by countless ordinary people and supernaturals alike—a unified whole transcending race and national boundaries. In her perception, this system centered on the Solin Tree, designed specifically for communication with alien civilizations, was like a brain—a will representing the Loren civilization’s voice to the outside universe. That will now lifted its gaze, turning toward the distant depths of the stars.

Beltira steadied herself and glanced back at the holographic projection behind her. This time, the leaders of Typhon and the Silver Empire were not directly connected to the command center, but Emperor Gawain was still personally monitoring the progress. His figure appeared in the hall, his calm eyes fixed on the scene.

“Your Majesty,” she said, “we are ready here. We can send the first ‘response’ at any time.”

“Begin,” Gawain said in a low voice. “After so many days of silence, it’s time to make some noise and reassure our ‘alien friends.’”

“Yes,” Beltira bowed slightly, then turned to a console in the hall. “Send the response message.”

After ten days of silence, with the other side bombarding them nonstop with questions, greetings, and a mountain of technical documents, how should one send the very first message in response to a long communication blackout? Clearly, this was an art in itself. Just like when the Loren sent their initial greeting to the Noyans, this reply had to serve a specific purpose.

It needed to dissolve the awkwardness, quickly erase the sense of unfamiliarity caused by the prolonged silence, and all the while convey a calm, unhurried demeanor—no hint that the blackout was due to a burnt-out antenna.

With this in mind, Chief Listener Bard Wendell took a slow breath and gently typed a single question mark on the dialogue terminal under his control: “?”

Elegant and composed, it perfectly expressed a slightly bewildered but unflustered attitude after being suddenly flooded with hundreds of blueprints, along with a subtle note of inquiry.

Then Bard glanced at the record board before him and typed a second message: “Here.”

The decoders translated almost instantly and sent the translated data to distant Antavien. The faster-than-light communication array beamed the Loren civilization’s reply across several light-years to the Noyan homeworld. After that came a wait—neither too long nor too short.

Beltira stared intently at the holographic projection before her. The shimmering light screen trembled faintly for a long moment, then she sensed the main antenna had caught a faint vibration.

The Noyans had responded—a string of alien characters. The decoders worked at top speed to translate the message and fed the text into the hall—

“We are glad to ‘hear’ your voice again, Loren civilization. We had almost begun to think this channel would never be reconnected.”

Negotiators, communications officers, and decoders sprang into action, quickly preparing a new message along the lines of the prearranged plan. On the holographic display before Beltira, the conversation began.

Decoder: “Apologies. Our communication system has been undergoing upgrades recently, causing intermittent outages lasting several days. But this is a necessary step to enable regular communication with you in the future—once the work is complete, exchanges between us will be much easier than they are now.”

Noyan: “Understood. We appreciate this—it will benefit both sides greatly, especially given the current difficult situation. Improved communication conditions will be invaluable.”

(End of chapter)