Chapter 1469: The Great Migration
The air in the study felt thick and tense. Through the window, Gawain and Amber locked eyes in a silent standoff, the atmosphere awkward and heavy.
After a few seconds of this stalemate, Amber finally swung her other leg inside and perched herself on the windowsill, her expression serious as she looked at Gawain. “You’re not going to silence me, are you?”
Honestly, Gawain thought this was the most reasonable suggestion she’d ever given him…
But he kept a stern face, shooting Amber a sharp glance as he casually folded the paper and clenched his jaw. “I’m just being cautious and thorough with my tests. Besides, how would I know where Tyr went? It’s freezing outside—he’s probably off hibernating somewhere. Try looking in the garden pond or by the Whitewater River.”
“Got it!” Amber’s face lit up with a cheerful smile. Then, without hesitation, she flipped backward out the window. A shimmering ripple of light spread through the air, and in the next instant, she leapt from the windowsill into the shadow rift.
Gawain watched silently as she disappeared, then seriously considered the feasibility of planting anti-personnel mines on the windowsill. He sighed deeply—thankfully, he had decent self-control, or else the floorboards on the second floor would have been gouged out by his restless toes by now.
He glanced again at the paper still clutched in his hand. The intricate, arcane patterns were sharp and clear, showing no sign of any anomaly.
After hesitating for a few seconds, Gawain casually tossed the paper into the air. It silently turned to ash and drifted away on the breeze. He shook his head with a wry smile. “What was I even thinking just now…”
…
Amber moved through the shadow world, a realm woven from shades of black, white, and gray, feeling surprisingly lighthearted.
The “Emperor Gawain Cecil,” who always appeared dignified and composed in public, had a playful side few ever glimpsed. Ordinary people could never imagine that their emperor was someone who told dry jokes, made sarcastic remarks, and quietly pulled pranks. But Amber knew—she knew it all.
She had been by Gawain’s side for years, helping this “Pioneer King” navigate countless troubles and witnessing many of his quirks. She no longer blinked at his occasional unexpected words or little amusements. To outsiders, Gawain was a symbol of iron will and imperial might, but to her, he was a living, breathing person.
In fact, when it came to seeing Gawain as just a normal person, Amber was even better at it than Rebecca or Hetty—though both were close to him, their blood ties added a subtle layer of restraint.
Still, even with this understanding, seeing Gawain poke at a sheet covered in strange patterns, trying to contact the Lady of Night, had left Amber genuinely impressed.
She thought it took remarkable creativity—at least, far beyond anything she could have come up with.
After crossing a crooked, faded street, Amber slowed and stopped. In the silent shadow realm, she exhaled softly, stretched with a smile, and began strolling toward the banks of the Whitewater River. There wasn’t much else to do at this hour.
She looked up at the familiar scene—one only a special “Shadow Master” like herself could consider ordinary.
The sky above was a hollow gray-white, devoid of stars or sun, a vast screen blanketing this silent, empty world. Around her, houses and long streets appeared as warped, stacked projections. The road ahead curved upward like a ramp toward the sky, then fragmented into jagged shapes in the distance. Buildings leaned against one another, walls crisscrossing in chaotic layers.
Nearby, a shop stood at a crooked intersection. Its second floor jutted out sideways, extending into a skybridge that connected to the distant Imperial Academy. Beside this distorted structure rose an unusually tall “plant”—though it was likely just a streetlamp. Its black silhouette pointed straight up, branching out into countless shadowy limbs a dozen meters above, where broken, flickering lights hovered silently.
This was the shadow projection of Cecil City in the real world—bizarre and surreal.
The orderly, rational material world formed such strange projections in the shadow realm, as if viewed through a warped crystal. What one saw was always distorted. Scholars who had spent years peering into the shadows found it unsettling, but Amber had long since grown used to it.
If anything, the unspeakable, geometry-defying chaos of the Umbral Realm—filled with floating, indescribable shadows and monstrous entities—was far more chaotic. Nowadays, visiting the Umbral Courtyard felt like going home, and she often snuck into the Nature God’s little garden to steal tomatoes. Maybe there was no such thing as a truly “unspeakable realm”—just the limits of human understanding.
Perhaps one day, the strange projections of the shadow realm would be fully explained.
Amber’s mind wandered as she walked along the crooked street, her fingers brushing the cold, rough wall of a nearby building. A faded shop sign hung there, its characters blurred beyond recognition.
No one yet understood the exact rules governing how the real world projected into the shadow realm—not even Amber. Without interference, the shapes that appeared were somewhat random. Scholars had only confirmed that objects imbued with strong magical power formed more accurate projections, and the stronger the magic, the clearer the image.
Maybe, as the Magic Goddess Mimirna’s research suggested, magic was the universe’s only stable “standard measure” and “fundamental framework” across all realms.
But Mimirna could only explain the magical aspects. The true mechanics behind the shadow realm? Probably only the Lady of Night knew. But where was she now?
Amber’s thoughts flickered back to the strange patterns she’d seen in Gawain’s study earlier. She didn’t have his eidetic memory; the totemic designs etched into the Pioneer Space Station were already fuzzy in her mind. But the strange pull she’d felt then—the mysterious “call”—remained vivid.
It was like a distant summons, or a deep, heartfelt yearning she couldn’t explain but definitely felt.
Some voice in the depths of her being told her she should answer this call. Every instinct and intuition said it was gentle and harmless. Even her own heart felt she ought to respond—to understand what connection she had with the Lady of Night, and what the Lady’s intentions were.
But there was only one thing holding her back—
She had no idea how to respond to something so cryptic! This wasn’t like a magic network ID where you just dial a number and connect…
Amber tugged at the corner of her mouth in frustration. This was the difference between the Age of Magic and the Age of Myth. In the Age of Magic, if someone said “keep in touch,” they’d usually leave a contact number or at least an address. But in the Age of Myth, if you felt “a voice calling you,” that was basically all the clue you got. You could consult a thousand diviners, and they’d only say, “When fate’s moment comes, it will be revealed.” Those gods didn’t even leave a zip code or a mailing address.
But it couldn’t be helped. The Lady of Night was a figure from 1.87 million years ago. She probably couldn’t leave a magic network number. As the old saying goes, this was a matter of “intuition.”
Amber felt she was naturally lacking in intuition—and she suspected Gawain was too. Otherwise, why would he sneak into the study alone to poke at a sheet of cryptic scribbles, trying to contact the Lady of Night…
Suddenly, a strange presence flickered in her senses. Amber immediately stopped her wandering thoughts.
She looked toward the source and saw several flickering figures at the end of the black-and-white-gray street projection.
They were tall and thin, their bodies wrapped in shifting strips of cloth that formed humanoid torsos and limbs. Between the tangled, loose wrappings, there was no flesh or skin—only thick, smoky shadows that flowed and billowed like mist. They were hollow shells, drifting through this bizarre shadow realm.
“Shadow dwellers?” Amber said in surprise, watching the figures slowly approach. “Why are shadow dwellers showing up here? This isn’t their usual territory…”
Shadow dwellers roamed the shadow realm, elusive and dangerous to ordinary people. But Amber had dealt with these “relatives” often enough to know they had defined ranges and usually followed fixed routes. They rarely appeared outside their zones unless provoked—like by some adventurer who kept trespassing on their territory…
These shadow dwellers had never appeared near the Whitewater River’s shadow projection before. Seeing them now, Amber’s expression grew serious.
But she didn’t back away. Instead, she stood calmly by the roadside, watching the silent, strange “kin” draw nearer.
Her long black hair drifted behind her like smoke, her pointed ears twitching slightly in the air. Amber’s golden, slightly glowing eyes fixed steadily on these mysterious, taciturn beings.
Though shadow dwellers were dangerous and aggressive to material world intruders, Amber had no fear—they still regarded her, an artificial being, as one of their own. At least, they wouldn’t attack.
The figures finally drew near. By experience, even if they didn’t attack, they wouldn’t acknowledge Amber—this “odd fellow of their kind” in their perception. Yet to Amber’s surprise, one of them suddenly stopped. The hollow face wrapped in rune-inscribed cloth slowly turned toward her.
A low, muffled murmur reached her ears, and Amber froze for a moment.
She could understand the shadow resident’s words. The creature muttered something strange: “You’re waking soon. Why are you still here?”
“What do you mean? Waking soon?” Amber’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t help but shout, “If I’m not supposed to be here, then where should I be?”
The shadow being who had spoken remained silent, its hollow, eerie face fixed on Amber. Only when she began to feel a chill crawling over her skin did it turn away, muttering under its breath, “They will come for you. Dreams must end.”
With that, the creature strode off toward the twisted, shattered road in the distance, completely ignoring Amber’s continued questions and calls.
Amber stood there, stunned, watching it disappear. Instinctively, she wanted to chase after it for answers, but just as she was about to step forward, she forced herself to stop.
A presence was approaching—an unfamiliar tension rising in her chest.
Following the feeling, she looked toward the source of the aura. Her eyes widened slowly, and an involuntary curse slipped out: “Holy shit.”
One shadow after another appeared in her line of sight, emerging from the direction the first few shadow residents had come. At first, they were just small clusters at the end of the street, but in the blink of an eye, they swelled into a dense mass of dark figures. And in Amber’s perception… an even greater force was still advancing relentlessly!
“No way, this…” she muttered in disbelief before suddenly sprinting toward a nearby building. Her figure darted and leapt swiftly between crooked walls and towering, tangled staircases. Soon, she climbed to a high vantage point in this projection city, where she could overlook nearly all of Cecil City.
To the south, in the direction the shadows had appeared, Amber saw an uncountable number of shadow residents.
They drifted in from every direction, converging within this projection city like an endless tide. Silent and soundless, their insubstantial forms floated through the streets like ghosts. The few she had encountered earlier were merely the “vanguard” of this massive force. The real army… was steadily moving northward!
Perched atop a “skyscraper” formed by several stacked buildings, Amber immediately concealed herself behind a protruding architectural ornament upon seeing the approaching horde. A crushing wave of tension and pressure gripped her heart. Though she sensed no hostility, no threat from the crowd, just watching this entire army of shadow residents made her—an “Shadow Master”—struggle to control her pounding heartbeat!
“What… what the hell is this…” Amber whispered, as if trying to ease her nerves through the words. “A great migration of shadow residents? No way… they can’t have noticed me here, right?”
The next moment, 126,000 pairs of eyes simultaneously fixed on her hiding spot.
(End of chapter)