Chapter 1449: Every Effort Has Its Meaning

The communication with Noy was still ongoing. The small printer on the table, connected to the arcane network, kept whirring and clicking, transforming voices from light-years away into words that appeared before Gawain and Amber. This little machine seemed like an extension of a faster-than-light communication array—a fragile tendril reaching out from the cold, distant depths of the starry void. Through its simple gears, linkages, and rune-etched circuit boards, Gawain felt as if he could glimpse faint flickers of light and shadow from that remote cosmic expanse.

As the printer’s paper roll began turning again, a strange feeling and a sudden train of thought came over him—

Between Loren and Noy, separated by a vast sea of stars and countless light-years of darkness, the intermittent faster-than-light communication chain was the only fragile link connecting two civilizations. Two peoples who, even now, remained strangers to each other—two races who couldn’t even imagine what the other looked like—were reaching out through this pitifully tenuous “connection,” trying desperately to grasp each other’s hands and break free from the quagmire before the apocalypse arrived. And just this fragile link alone was enough to inspire a sense that the starry sea was not so lonely after all.

But whether this feeling was a flicker of genuine hope or just a false flame, no one could say for sure yet.

The printer spat out a message from the Noy: “In a sense, we are each other’s hope for survival.”

Gawain tapped lightly on the armrest of his chair. “But can you be certain that the path you’re on is the right one? Your observations of the magical tide and the unified mental field… have they ever truly succeeded in allowing a civilization to survive the magical tide?”

His words were quickly translated by the Star Decoders at the Sorlin Command Center, then encoded and converted by the computing nodes linked to the Sorlin Great Tree. The brief message became a ripple in the underlying faster-than-light signal, crossing the vast starry ocean in an instant.

After a long wait, the printer finally creaked and groaned as a fresh sheet of paper slowly emerged—

“Our pioneering ancestors nearly resisted the magical tide entirely. But due to insufficient observational data and a lack of understanding of the subtle shifts caused by nearby celestial bodies, they ultimately failed. Yet despite their failure, their experience was passed down and became our most precious legacy.

“However, we must admit—no one can prove this path is the right one. Neither our ancestors nor we ourselves can. We have spent fourteen centuries transforming our planet into a sanctuary, but this technology has no successful precedent in history. Even with the ‘legacy’ left by our forebears, we cannot be sure that the lessons they drew were the sole cause of their failure…

“But we have no other choice, and no time left to seek alternatives. For survival, we must take this gamble.”

“No other choice…” Gawain murmured softly, staring at the sharp, clear characters on the paper. Almost at that moment, another arcane network terminal beside his desk activated. The holographic projection of Tyr, the communication core of the magnifying device, appeared above the terminal. “Message from Antavian…”

Before she could finish, Amber cut in, “The main antenna’s failing again, isn’t it?”

“It can hold for one or two more transmissions,” Tyr said solemnly. “This time, we’ve put General Vanessa into the cooling circuit as well. Say what you need to quickly—after this transmission, we’re planning to dismantle the main antenna core. To shorten the construction period, we intend to start preparations before the ‘energy crystal’ arrives at Antavian.”

Amber muttered, “Wow, you guys really are hardcore…”

Gawain paid no mind to Amber’s aside. Though disappointed, the poor condition of the faster-than-light communication array was an unchangeable fact. He took a slow breath and explained the situation to the Noy civilization: “Thank you for your honesty. Our best scholars are already analyzing the technical data you sent. The related engineering work will begin soon.

“Next, we will upgrade and modify the faster-than-light communication array. We cannot yet say how long this will take. During this period, we will suspend outgoing transmissions, but our receiving antennas will remain active, as always.”

The printer paused briefly, then clicked out a reply: “We understand. We look forward to the completion of your communication system’s upgrade, hoping that by then, the dialogue between our two worlds will flow more smoothly.”

After a moment, the printer suddenly produced another message: “Before the communication closes, I have one last question—do you think the starry sky above you is… beautiful?”

Gawain looked surprised at this unexpected final inquiry from the Noy. The tone seemed different from before, but he soon smiled and shook his head. “Of course. It’s incredibly beautiful.”

At that moment, Tyr’s voice came from beside him: “Main antenna burned out. Faster-than-light communication array offline.”

The signal from Antavian was cut off. The interstellar communication spanning light-years fell silent in an instant. A strange, hollow feeling rose in Gawain’s chest, only to fade away quickly. He shook his head to steady his thoughts, took a deep breath, and stood up. Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the golden-red afterglow of sunset was flowing along the banks of the Whitewater River, the scattered golden light spilling over the rooftops of the city blocks.

After an unknown length of time, Beltira’s voice suddenly came through the arcane network terminal, breaking Gawain’s reverie: “Sorlin’s main antenna has received a signal. ‘Noy’ is transmitting data to us—this should be the original observational records they mentioned, sent back at the last moment before the ‘Observer’ went dark.”

“Store it securely, then forward it to the ‘Starsea Project’ teams and the Magical Tide Countermeasures Committee in each country,” Gawain nodded. “Have the ‘Unified Mental Field’ technical files from the Noy been fully translated?”

“Not yet. The Star Decoders are working overtime, but these files contain a large amount of highly specialized content. Even with the updated ‘dictionary’ for communicating with the Noy, the translation is slow going. However, rest assured, the computing centers and mainframe arrays directly linked to Sorlin headquarters are fully operational. As more effective data accumulates, these nodes will assist the Star Decoders, and translation should speed up considerably.”

“Good. I’ll leave it in your hands.”

After ending the call with the Sorlin Command Center, Gawain walked to the wide window and gazed out, lost in thought. From this vantage point, he could see the Whitewater River near dusk. Beyond the line of sight, he imagined the dark mountains gradually dyed red by the setting sun—the most renowned scenery in the imperial capital region. He had seen this view for many years.

This land had slowly transformed under his watch into what it was today. Once a barren, dangerous wasteland, it had become the most prosperous “Arcane Miracle City” on this planet.

Yet before the vast, endless starry sky and the ceaseless laws of the universe, a small patch of soil on a tiny planet was insignificant and unremarkable.

Amber’s footsteps came from behind. Without turning, Gawain sensed the half-elf standing beside him, craning her neck to look toward the Whitewater River. After a long moment, she muttered, “If what the Noy said is true, won’t we lose this kind of scenery in a year and a half?”

“Yes,” Gawain said calmly. “If we don’t take effective countermeasures, if the Noy’s intelligence is accurate, then our history will truly come to an end.”

“Can’t you say that more gently?” Amber’s long pointed ears twitched twice. She glanced up at Gawain. “I’m already a nervous wreck here…”

Muttering to herself, she shook her head. In this season when the chill was rising, she recalled the messages from the Noy, still feeling a sense of unreality. The magical tide was coming sooner or later—Gawain had warned the world of this years ago. But who could have imagined the apocalypse was so close? Just over a year remained. This heavy countdown had suddenly fallen like a boulder, making it hard to breathe.

In a year, the magical tide would sweep over the Noy’s planet. In a year and a half, the Loren civilization would cease to exist. From here, she could see the tightly packed houses along the Whitewater River, the lights gradually flickering on in the sunset. There was a bustling commercial center, industrial districts humming with machinery, peaceful streets filled with daily life. Yet all of this would become but a speck of dust in history, like the countless civilizations extinguished in ancient times.

And yet, at this very moment, the world remained so calm. Except for a few, no one knew what was about to happen.

Suddenly, a rough but strong hand pressed down on her head, halting Amber’s spiraling thoughts. She heard Gawain’s voice above her: “Do you suddenly feel like everything we’ve worked so hard to build has lost its meaning?”

“Not that bad…” Amber shrugged her shoulders, trying to shake his hand off her head, but gave up after a couple of tries. “I just can’t help but think about what happens if we fail… Why is there so much cruelty in this world?”

“Do you know,” Gawain began, “that many insects don’t survive the winter? Some are good at burrowing in soil, some at tunneling through wood, some even weave ‘shelters’ from plant fibers. But no matter how hard they try, when winter comes, entire colonies perish. Their nests and curled leaves become graves in the first cold wind. The traces they leave behind rarely survive until the spring thaw…

“For these little creatures, the winter wind is their ‘magical tide’—an unstoppable, apocalyptic flood that can wipe out their ‘kingdoms’ in an instant.

“But winter itself has no will, just as the magical tide has none. Though we often say the world is full of malice, the world itself… has never cared about us ‘little bugs’ living on tiny planets. It simply follows natural laws. The magical tide that sweeps across the stars and destroys civilizations is just a seasonal wind blowing through the universe.

“There’s nothing wrong with how the world operates. The only problem is the fragility of civilization. Just as primitive human tribes could be wiped out by a forest fire, what difference is there between a wildfire and a magical tide sweeping a planet?

“But that doesn’t mean we will quietly and meekly march toward the end. The world has seen many winters, but have you ever seen those tiny insects truly wiped out after a single winter?

“Even the weakest creatures find ways to survive the cycles of the seasons. That’s what we must do, more or less.”

Amber listened quietly, then suddenly looked up. “But do you think there’s still time? If the Noy’s intelligence is true, we might not have time to build any defenses. After all, only a year and a half remains…”

“First, we’ll do everything in our power to make things as good as they can be—at the very least, so we have no regrets,” Gawain said, locking eyes with Amber. “Second, until the real apocalypse arrives, life goes on. Knowing the countdown to the end isn’t exactly a blessing, but since we’re already here, there’s no point in panicking. And finally…”

He paused, furrowing his brow in thought before continuing slowly, “About how to resist the magical tide… After going through those technical documents, I’ve had this feeling—this sense of déjà vu—about the ‘Unified Mind Field’ technology the Noyans mentioned. I can’t quite put my finger on where that feeling comes from, but I’m certain we’re not strangers to that concept…”

“So, I’ve been waiting all this time for the experts and scholars to make progress. I’m waiting for the Star Decoders to finish translating those materials, for Jenny and Rebecca to uncover the secrets behind Noyan technology. Only then will I understand what exactly that déjà vu in my mind is all about.”

…

Far away in space, the colossal ring-shaped orbital station known as the “Firmament” continued its silent orbit, just as it had for over 1.8 million years.

Cold steel structures encircled the vibrant planet below, holding a long, quiet vigil against the dark and magnificent backdrop of the stars. The brilliant, awe-inspiring corona of the gas giant slowly swept overhead, its vast, faintly wood-grained glowing cloudscape illuminating a series of observation windows along the station’s outer ring. The light spilled into the long-dormant chambers and corridors within the station.

For countless years, nothing here had changed—the giant sun shone, the Firmament remained silent, and the space facilities left behind by the Voyagers ran their basic automated programs. Time seemed trapped in an eternal loop within this cold expanse, repeating day after day.

But today, something was different.

Through several transparent observation windows near the orbital transit section, numerous figures could be seen bustling about inside. And as they moved, a faint flicker of light suddenly appeared on part of the station’s exterior…

At last, this ancient space station was responding—however slightly—to the uninvited guests who had entered its depths. Though these newcomers still seemed completely unsure how to interact with this silent behemoth, and though the changes they caused were negligible in the grand scale of the orbital station, one undeniable truth remained… change was happening.

(End of chapter)