Chapter 1461: That Distant Flash of Light

The debate over the two proposed plans grew increasingly heated in the conference hall. When faced with a question that could determine the very survival of the world, no one could make a clear, rational decision in an instant—not even Highlord Gawain himself. Rosetta couldn’t, nor could Belsethia. They could only lay out every possibility they could think of on the table and try to collectively find a path that was relatively less dangerous.

To Gawain’s surprise, as the discussion wore on, more voices began to favor the second plan over the first. Despite the obvious risks involved in performing “surgery” on the Deep Blue Well, the leaders of the nations clearly preferred to build a truly functional magic tide observation device rather than watch in despair as the current one fell into disrepair after exhausting the Alliance’s manpower and resources.

Of course, the discussions at the table were only the surface of what was really happening. Behind each leader stood teams of advisors and scholars, each speaker’s words backed by entire technical teams analyzing the data on the magic tide observation device, weighing the risks of each plan and the difficulty of implementation. The voices at the table reflected the experts’ opinions.

It was clear that deciding on a construction plan in a single meeting was no easy task. Yet Gawain maintained his initial stance—he knew this tense, high-pressure atmosphere was necessary.

His gaze once again fell on the silent Ophelia Norton.

“Perhaps we should first hear from the Deep Blue Well city-state itself,” Belsethia suddenly broke the silence. The Silver Queen’s voice quieted the entire hall. “Princess Ophelia is the actual authority over the Deep Blue Well now. And if we’re to undertake the ‘widening’ project, it will inevitably affect her domain. Princess Ophelia, what is your stance on Plan Two?”

Only then did many attendees finally notice the Iron Legion commander who had kept a low profile since the start of the meeting. Eyes naturally turned to Ophelia, who after a brief pause, lifted her head slightly and said, “I’ve been running calculations and simulations on the implementation of both plans since earlier. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

The moment she said “bad news,” Gawain felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The previously eager discussion was replaced by tense unease. No one wanted to hear those words.

But facts are cold and unchangeable. Ophelia spoke, delivering the grim conclusion derived from the ancient computational matrix: “According to the Deep Blue Well’s calculation array, the success probability of Plan Two is actually far lower than the estimates on paper—roughly half of what the technical documents predict. There’s a greater chance that the Deep Blue Well will lose control due to the inability to withstand such a violent shock.”

A collective gasp echoed through the hall. Before Gawain could respond, Rebecca, acting as his technical advisor, exclaimed, “How can this be? I was sure I accounted for all the variables…”

“The original data has changed. The technical parameters left from the Gondor era are no longer valid,” Ophelia’s gaze fixed on Rebecca. “During the final stages of the Tarash Plains campaign, the Crawling Disaster’s ‘drain’ on the Deep Blue Well’s surrounding conduits disrupted the energy flow balance. The affected conduits will take at least two centuries to recover.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened, her face falling with deep disappointment. Around the table, expressions darkened. Melita Pernia, the Dragon Ambassador, slammed her fist on the table, her voice sharp with anger. “Those damned cultists… that cursed Sentinel…”

Gawain’s own expression soured. He had known from the start that the disaster wrought by the Sentinel and the End of All Things in the wasteland wouldn’t simply vanish with the Crawling Disaster’s death. Its aftereffects would ripple through the world for years in indirect, profound ways. But he hadn’t expected it to hit them like this.

The Crawling Disaster’s frantic siphoning before its death had destroyed one of their best hopes for building the magic tide observation device.

“So we only have one plan left,” Rosetta Augustus’s deep voice cut through the gloom. “We must marshal the world’s full strength to build an energy source powerful enough to drive the excitation focus, and use our current technology to brute-force a magic tide observation device…”

“The success probability of that plan is about one in twelve,” Ophelia’s cold, almost emotionless voice rang out. “If we can extract magic from the Deep Blue Well without damaging its existing structure and channel it entirely to the excitation focus, the success rate might rise to about one in four. But even if it doubles, I still don’t recommend this path.”

Gawain stared into the eyes of this last descendant of the Gondor royal line. “Why not?”

“The cost of building the excitation focus with current technology is prohibitively high. Even if we barely complete the project, the Alliance’s economic system will collapse under the strain. And even then, we will have only built an observation device. There is no hope yet for magic tide defense,” Ophelia analyzed calmly. “This means nothing for the survival of our civilization.”

A heavy, oppressive silence fell over the hall. The figures around the round table whispered among themselves or turned to consult their advisors. Some faces showed near despair; others sat in silence. In the stifling atmosphere, Gawain slowly spoke: “So we must find a cost-effective solution to the excitation focus problem. If the Deep Blue Well can’t be used, then we must find a substitute…”

“Can the reactor on Antavian be used?” Melita suddenly asked, looking toward Tyr, the plenipotentiary ambassador of the Deep Sea Kingdom nearby. “I think it’s called the Core Fusion Tower? The main reactor of an interstellar ship should provide tremendous power—if it can be restarted…”

“The Core Fusion Tower’s maximum output is only about 50%, and it can’t run stably for long. That’s the best we can do,” Tyr shook his head before Melita finished. “We don’t mind sharing Antavian’s energy to help everyone through this crisis, but only if it’s actually useful.”

Another flicker of hope was snuffed out instantly. The hall’s heavy atmosphere grew even more palpable. Under such pressure, people’s moods inevitably shifted.

Gawain heard a voice suddenly rise from nearby: “In the end… is it even meaningful for us to gather here and discuss building a magic tide observation device?”

He looked up toward the voice and saw the leader of the Northern City-State Union standing, hands braced on the table. His face was serious and grim, brows tightly furrowed. “Shouldn’t we stop and reconsider this whole matter? We defeated the Crawling Disaster in the wasteland. We reclaimed the world’s safety from out-of-control ancient machines. We solved a seven-hundred-year-old wasteland catastrophe. Peace, prosperity, and stability are within reach. So why does it suddenly feel like we’re back at the brink of apocalypse?”

“Denying reality won’t help,” the King of the Seward Kingdom shook his head. “Of course, we all want peace and prosperity after the war, but reality is harsh. The Noyan’s warning…”

“That’s the crux of the matter—the Noyan’s warning,” the Northern leader shook his head. “I don’t fear challenges, nor do I avoid facts. I was on the front lines during the Tarash final battle. I’m willing to fight monsters in the wasteland for my people’s survival. But the Noyan’s warning… so far, all we’ve gotten from those ‘aliens’ is a warning, isn’t it?

“We don’t understand them. We don’t understand that distant planet that takes years for light to reach. We can barely communicate with that alien race once every few weeks. Yet, based on a series of data they sent, we’ve fallen into panic, convinced the world will end in a year and a half. Ladies and gentlemen, don’t you find that… a little unreal?

“What if it’s a lie? What if it’s just alarmist ‘doomsday talk’? Or even if it’s true… what if the Noyan themselves are mistaken? And even if the end is truly near, sometimes we have to admit our own helplessness…”

“But we’ve already simulated the original parameters they sent. All the data is accurate,” Wenna Whitebloom couldn’t help but speak up. Petite and often overlooked at the table, she even stood on her chair to match the height of the opposing leader. “Moreover, the spirit mages discovered that the data sent by the Noyan’s ‘Observer’ before losing contact correlates with certain readings recorded beneath the Deep Blue Well. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“The Observer… the Noyan’s ‘Observer’ itself is suspicious,” the figure across the table shook his head. “Sending a godlike being four light-years away to act as their ‘eyes’? Do you think that’s possible?”

His doubt seemed baseless, yet undeniably, his words struck a chord with many present. Voices of agreement and skepticism began to rise.

But this was not the direction Gawain wanted the meeting to take.

He shook his head and cleared his throat to cut through the noise, standing to speak. Yet just as he opened his mouth, he noticed two leaders suddenly slip aside and disappear from the holographic projection—as if someone had called them away.

Then a few more leaders, hearing voices beside them, exchanged a few words and hurriedly rose, apologizing as they quickly left.

Gawain was surprised and about to ask what was happening when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed flickering lights outside the window in the night sky. Rebecca immediately rushed over and gasped, “Ancestors! Look! The sky is lighting up!”

“Excuse me, I need to step out for a moment,” Gawain said quickly, rising and moving to the window. Following Rebecca’s pointing finger, he saw the flash in the night.

Against the vast darkness of the sky, in the northwest, an abnormal glow was spreading across the night. It looked like an exceptionally bright star, its edges trailing faint rays that gradually faded into the darkness. The light sparkled brilliantly but briefly. After several flickers, the glow dimmed into faint shadows and slowly vanished among the stars.

“What is that…” Rebecca murmured in shock. “Another atmospheric anomaly? Has the Deep Blue Way projected into the material world again?”

“I don’t know,” Gawain muttered, his mind racing. He recalled how some delegates had suddenly been drawn away from the table moments ago. Now it was clear to him. “I’m afraid… the entire continent of Loren must have seen it…”

After a brief pause, he hurried back to the conference table. One by one, other figures returned to the holographic projection’s range. Those who had stepped away wore expressions of confusion and disbelief. Noticing each other’s reactions, they gradually pieced it together and whispered among themselves: “Did you see it too?” “A flickering star?” “Even at the southernmost tip of the continent?” “It’s perfectly clear here in Sanctum Helm…”

Gawain furrowed his brow. He still didn’t know what the phenomenon was, but in his position, he understood he needed to say something to maintain order. Clearing his throat, he was about to speak when a familiar presence suddenly appeared beside him.

Amber’s voice whispered in his ear. Upon hearing her words, a look of stunned disbelief instantly crossed his face.

Even Gawain couldn’t hide the change in his expression.

That subtle shift caught the attention of those watching closely. Soon, Belsethia’s voice rang out across the hall: “Your Majesty Gawain, it seems we all witnessed a similar anomaly in the sky just now. Do you know what it was?”

Gawain’s face darkened like still water. After a brief two-second silence spent weighing his words, he finally lifted his head and swept a commanding gaze over every face in the room.

“That was the flash from the destruction of the Noyan observer ship—twenty-two days ago.”

The room fell utterly silent.

“That news…” a delegate instinctively began.

“The Theocracy Council detected a divine energy surge not originating from our planet,” Gawain interrupted with a slight nod. “The information is reliable.”

In the heavy silence that followed, Wenna Whitebloom climbed back onto her chair—she seemed to have placed a small stool on it, making her stand unusually tall.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, looking around at those seated at the table, “shall we return to the meeting?”

“If so, the Ogure Tribal Nation has one more proposal.”

“Actually… we don’t have just one Deep Blue Well.”

(End of chapter)