Chapter 1448: Urgency
What is this “terrible situation” they speak of?
The moment those words appeared on the holographic display, Bard Wendell’s brow twitched ever so slightly. As the primary recipient of the massive technical data transmissions from the Noyans, he had privately speculated more than once about what catastrophe might have befallen that distant alien world several light-years away. Now, it seemed his fears were confirmed—the Noyans were indeed in trouble.
Beltira, the on-site commander, immediately ordered the team to draft a message asking for clarification on what exactly the “terrible situation” entailed. But before the star decoders could finish composing the inquiry, the main antenna of the Solin station received the next transmission from the Noyans:
“During the previous communication blackout, we sent you a large volume of technical data. Did you receive it?”
Bard looked toward Beltira, who gave a subtle nod. “Reply to them, and ask what those materials mean.”
A response was quickly prepared and sent across the vast interstellar gulf: “Yes. Although our communication system’s transmission function was temporarily offline, the receiving function remained active. We did receive a large number of technical files, including 927 blueprints. These documents have caused us considerable confusion.”
The Noyans’ reply came swiftly. Moments later, new text appeared on the communication interface, translated into the common tongue:
“We do not wish to trouble you, but please understand that time is running out—for both your people and ours. We must act immediately against the approaching Magic Tide. To demonstrate our sincerity and to enable you to begin evaluating the entire project as soon as possible, we have sent a complete set of technical data, including the Magic Tide observation devices and the Mind Unification Field system.
“All critical technologies within these materials are annotated, accompanied by extensive preliminary explanations that may assist your understanding. Should you have any questions during your evaluation, we stand ready to provide maximum support and assistance. Please trust in our honesty and goodwill. Everything we do is to ensure the survival of civilizations on both our worlds. Our only hope is to receive your affirmative response as soon as possible…”
After this lengthy message, the headquarters hall fell into a heavy silence. Many eyes fixed on the flickering characters of the holographic display, each person sensing the weighty tension and urgency emanating from that distant star system. Meanwhile, Commander Beltira and the star decoders wasted no time. Within seconds, a new message appeared on the interactive interface, addressed back to the alien world:
“What exactly happened? We must know in order to proceed with our assessment.”
The reply was grim:
“Our Observer program failed—the ship sent to the observation point broke apart during final deceleration due to a severe system malfunction. The last message our deity transmitted before communications were lost was: ‘The Magic Tide will arrive within one year.’”
…
In the study, Gawain’s hand stiffened as he gripped the documents. Amber, standing beside him, held her breath for several seconds. After a suffocating silence, she finally gasped, “Holy hell…”
The shadow assault goose, already pale, practically jumped up. “One year! The Magic Tide is coming in one year?! And the Noyans’ Observer program failed?! I… I have nowhere to run!”
Gawain’s mind was a storm of thoughts. He could honestly say that in all the years since his resurrection, he had rarely felt such turmoil. Yet, hearing Amber’s frantic talk of escape brought a faint sense of relief—her stubbornness to consider fleeing, even now, slightly eased the oppressive atmosphere.
But this time, he had little energy for their usual banter. He shot the half-elf a stern look, his voice low and serious: “Now is not the time to think about running.”
Amber’s eyes widened. “Then what do we do? Their god is gone!”
“The Observer program failed because of a ship malfunction during final deceleration, not because of the Magic Tide,” Gawain explained, shaking his head. “There’s no evidence the Magic Tide can destroy gods. In fact, historical records show that gods can provide a certain ‘protection’ to mortal minds during its arrival. We need to find out what other intelligence the Noyans have. Beltira, what’s your status?”
From the nearby arcane network terminal came Beltira’s voice: “Tension hangs thick in the air. Everyone is unsettled by this sudden news, but you need not worry—we’re dealing with resolute, rational minds here. The star decoders have already begun preparing the next message.”
Gawain nodded slightly. The explosive news from the Noyans hadn’t shaken his composure. While his mind raced, he patiently awaited the printing device connected to the terminal to spit out the next exchange. After a tense moment, the machine whirred and hissed, delivering a warm sheet of paper covered in clear text—
Star Decoder: “This news has caused great shock. Our leaders are closely monitoring this exchange. We wish to know more details about the Observer program’s failure and about your deity… We hope this is not offensive, but has your god been ‘attacked’ by the Magic Tide? What is its current status?”
The Noyans’ reply came after a slight delay: “The incident occurred shortly after our first exchange. Our scholars have confirmed the ship’s destruction was due to a system failure unrelated to the Magic Tide. Our deity has lost contact with the homeworld; we do not know its condition. The vast distance severs our connection. We only know it was heading near your vicinity before the ship broke apart… Sorry, we cannot provide more information.”
Star Decoder: “Thank you for your response. Regarding the Magic Tide—will it reach your planet in one year? How far is it from our world?”
Noyan: “Yes, the Magic Tide will arrive at our planet in one year. Within six months after that, it will sweep through your planetary system. This conclusion is based on the relative positions of our two worlds, the direction of the Magic Tide’s spread, and its propagation speed. There may be some margin of error, but it will not exceed five percent.”
After a brief pause, the Noyans sent another message: “Although our Observer failed to reach the final observation point, it collected enough data near the approach to calculate these warnings. If you have doubts, we can provide all raw parameters. We can also share all known knowledge about the Magic Tide—provided we receive your affirmative response to cooperate.”
The printer stopped. Beltira’s voice came through moments later: “We await your direct orders.”
Gawain inhaled deeply.
He knew that every person before this communication system was facing a critical moment. Yet, neither Commander Beltira nor anyone else in the Solin headquarters had the authority or weight to decide the next steps. This decision would have to come from him.
“We need that data and knowledge,” Gawain finally broke the silence. “The more information our scholars have, the better chance they have to analyze the Magic Tide’s true nature and understand the principles behind those technical files.
“Tell them our scholars have already begun studying the blueprints for the Magic Tide observation devices. Once we understand the principles, we will select suitable locations for construction. Before that, we hope to share knowledge about the Magic Tide with the Noyan civilization. ‘Lorien’ has its own research and understanding as well.”
The star decoders quickly edited the message accordingly. In a surge of energy from the Antavian’s antenna array, the voice representing the Lorien civilization was sent deep into the starry sea. Then came minutes of waiting and silence, until the Noyans’ reply appeared before Gawain:
“We will package and send you the raw data collected by the Observer after this communication ends.”
Immediately after, the Noyans posed a question: “Regarding further information about the Magic Tide, we first want to know how far your research and understanding have progressed.”
Gawain tapped his fingers absently on the desk—a habit when thinking. Amber raised an eyebrow at the Noyans’ proactive question. “Is this some kind of probing?”
“We’ve been probing their depths all along. Naturally, they’re curious about ours. If they showed no interest, that would be suspicious,” Gawain said casually, adjusting his seat and looking at Beltira’s hologram on the arcane network terminal. “Send them my exact words:
“Our planet was swept by a smaller-scale Magic Tide ‘precursor’ several centuries ago. We survived at great cost and recorded the ‘waveform’ of the Magic Tide as it passed over our planet. Today, we have dedicated laboratories studying this phenomenon and have progressed to the stage of attempting to ‘artificially recreate’ the Magic Tide in controlled environments.”
The message was swiftly sent across the cosmic gulf. This time, the Noyans responded almost immediately, their astonishment unmistakable: “You recorded the Magic Tide’s wave data? Firsthand data? How did you manage that?”
“We can partially control our homeworld’s planetary power systems,” Gawain replied carefully. “When the Magic Tide swept over our home, it left a ‘shadow’ within the planet’s vast magical energy cycle. Further details are classified for now, but after receiving your Observer’s raw data, we will share this information with you. Please forgive our caution; in our way of thinking, necessary caution is part of mutual honesty.”
This time, the Noyans took longer to respond. Minutes later, the printer spat out the translated reply:
“We accept and respect this caution.”
Gawain pondered, then raised a new question: “If we have your recorded ‘Magic Tide waveform data,’ do we still need two observation points four light-years apart to ‘measure’ the Magic Tide?”
He sent the question and waited patiently.
In such a grave and solemn moment, he suddenly felt an unusual sense of calm and composure.
These aliens—those distant strangers several light-years away—were clearly doing everything they could to fight the disaster closing in on their homeworld. This urgency hadn’t been so apparent in their previous communications, but now it was unmistakable.
It was unsettling, yet Gawain found himself seeing the Noyans in a new light.
They feared. They sought survival. They were cautious of the Lorien civilization, yet compelled by circumstances to lay bare their honesty in hopes of swift cooperation. And… they seemed to grieve the loss of their deity, even if that sorrow was not openly displayed.
For now, Gawain still dared not jump to conclusions about whether this group could be considered friends. But at the very least, they looked “human” enough—that alone was enough to make him breathe a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, the printer whirred and creaked, and line after line of black text appeared on the blank sheet before Gawain’s eyes:
“Our scholars have held a brief discussion—the conclusion is that we still require qualified observation points.
“The ‘magical tide fluctuation data’ recorded on the planet cannot represent a complete magical tide oscillation. It only helps us reconstruct a partial oscillation pattern of the magical tide—and that pattern is a ‘historical oscillation.’ This ‘local model’ aids us in verifying protective technologies, testing various theories, and even calibrating observations on a four-light-year scale. However, it cannot replace real-time data.
“The fundamental ‘waveform’ of a magical tide spans four light years. This is the most precious and unequivocal knowledge left to us by the pioneer race. Meanwhile, this wave continues to oscillate throughout the universe, constantly influenced by other high-energy celestial bodies, causing subtle changes. If these ‘subtle changes’ are not properly calibrated, protective technologies will fail. Our predecessors paid a heavy price for this.
“Therefore, we must obtain real-time observational data—magical tide measurements taken simultaneously at two points four light years apart are essential for the effectiveness of our protective technologies.”
Amber leaned in, studying the printed reply carefully. Since it contained no specialized jargon, she quickly understood it. Then her eyes widened in surprise. “It even involves ‘real-time changes’?! No wonder they insist on setting up those two observation points. This… this requirement is really harsh…”
Gawain shook his head. “Indeed, it is harsh—and that’s exactly how this world has always treated all living beings.”
(End of chapter)