Chapter 1485: The Gushing Spring

Fairies are a remarkably persistent species, though you wouldn’t guess it from their appearance.

In fact, this small-statured race—shrouded in mystery among all the peoples of Loren and found only around the Ancestor Peak region—possesses many traits outsiders would never expect. They are a warrior people, all trained for battle; fierce and fearless. They excel at crafting heavy machinery. When their tempers flare, they don’t hesitate to gouge a massive hole right through their sacred mountain. And their stubbornness is legendary—so much so that if the mountain proves too tough, they’ll keep hammering away, even if it means wrecking colossal war machines of strategic importance, just to carve out a tunnel.

And when they realize the tunnel serves no practical purpose, they promptly decide to use it for fermenting spicy kimchi.

But make no mistake—they are good fairies: diligent, sincere, rational, and intelligent. That much is beyond dispute.

“We originally planned to repurpose this cavern,” Stella explained as she hovered beside Myrmyna’s head, pointing at the various installations inside the cave. “After all, it’s a rare natural deep cellar, and it took a lot of effort to dig out. Leaving it unused felt like a waste. But shortly after, we learned about the ‘Vibration Focus,’ so we changed our plans on the fly. Although we can’t dig any deeper, the cavern’s magic permeates the mountain itself. By monitoring the flow of magic here, we can roughly understand what’s happening deeper down. Directly beneath this cave lies an extremely active energy field, covering nearly a third of Ancestor Peak. It’s like a blazing ‘core,’ maintained in a stunningly balanced state…”

“The cracks around here are natural—part of the magic focus’s inherent permeability. We haven’t altered them in any way. You’re far more expert in this than we are, so it’s up to you to decide how to use them.”

“The pillars along the cave’s edge aren’t just structural supports—though the cavern is incredibly sturdy and doesn’t really need extra reinforcement. These pillars, together with the steel beams overhead, form a unified system that conducts magic and links it to the magic network hub tower above. Through this, we can monitor the cave’s status, and you can use it to communicate with the outside world…”

“Oh, that’s a clever idea. Then I won’t need to build additional magic channels,” Myrmyna nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of her eyes. “Once I start ‘working,’ this place will be completely sealed off. I’ll need stable external communication. But… I understand everything else. What’s the deal with that chair in the center?”

Her gaze involuntarily settled on the cavern’s heart, where a strikingly large throne sat. It looked as if forged from gold, its surface crisscrossed with intricate pipes and cables. The chair was fixed atop a massive rune-covered base, with numerous conduits extending upward to the cavern’s ceiling. It was eye-catching to the extreme—and stylistically at odds with the surrounding magical machinery.

She’d wanted to ask since stepping off the elevator but had held back until now.

“Oh, that’s for you,” Stella said immediately, nodding. “You didn’t specify what kind of ‘furniture’ you needed, but we prepared it anyway. By the way, this was personally arranged by His Majesty Gawain Cecil. He even designed the chair himself…”

“…This thing looks kind of weird,” Myrmyna’s eye twitched. She was about to say she didn’t need it at all, but hearing it was a “kind gesture” from Gawain made her swallow her refusal. Still, her expression was a little odd. “Why so extravagant? It doesn’t really seem like…”

“No, no, not extravagant at all! The outer layer is just copper plating—His Majesty said it’s mainly for looks,” Stella quickly waved her hands.

Myrmyna: “…Then what are the pipes on the chair and the cables extending from the base for?”

Stella: “Oh, those are decorations. His Majesty didn’t say what they’re for. I guess he took inspiration from the ‘Seat of Dominion’ in the Silver Elves’ Star Sanctuary…”

Myrmyna thought for a moment but couldn’t come up with a response. She shook her head and approached the ostentatious golden throne, hesitating before slowly sitting down. “…Well, it fits nicely, and it’s comfortable with a good view…”

Before she finished, the silent technical supervisor standing nearby suddenly spoke up: “But I can’t help feeling that you sitting there looks a bit ominous… like you won’t be getting up again.”

Myrmyna waved him off. “What do you mean ominous? Don’t buy into superstitions. As a researcher, you should rely on magic and logic. I find it quite comfortable here.”

The supervisor was speechless.

“All right, I’ve got a general understanding of the environment. Enough small talk. I don’t think we have much time to waste,” Myrmyna said, sitting upright in the throne, her gaze slowly sweeping over the shimmering magical currents flowing like liquid light along the cavern’s edges. Her tone grew solemn. “Non-essential personnel, evacuate immediately.”

“You’re starting now?” Stella’s eyes widened slightly. “We actually prepared a welcome ceremony for you…”

“The Noyan gods wandered among the stars for 126 years, only to become a faint radiance in the cosmos at the last step. We have lingered on this planet for thousands of years, and now the final countdown is just a year and a half away,” Myrmyna said quietly, staring at the fairy queen. “Let’s begin. Evacuate all non-essential personnel, seal the shaft, shut down the platform. We’ll save all celebrations for the day this cavern reopens.”

Meeting the calm but resolute gaze of the woman before her, Stella took a small step back in midair, then bowed her head. “…Understood. We will begin evacuation and lockdown procedures now. In ten minutes, you will take over all systems.”

“I look forward to celebrating with you all in a year and a half,” Myrmyna smiled gently, nodding. “I hope we can feast together under the blue sky then.”

Moments later, the evacuation proceeded as planned.

The technical staff working inside the cavern boarded the elevator and returned to the surface alongside the fairy queen and the technical supervisor. Meanwhile, teams stationed around the platform received orders and began orderly departures by vehicle.

Stella and the supervisor stayed behind, standing beside the last vehicle ready to leave the platform. They quietly watched the illuminated shaft. Two minutes later, mechanical sounds echoed from deep within the platform. The floor structure of the shaft began to slowly descend, accompanied by heavy “clicking” noises growing louder as metallic gates sealed one by one.

The raw deep-blue magic currents are extremely dangerous to ordinary people. Myrmyna’s next operation would draw these primal currents up to the mountain’s shallow layers and, following the blueprint, “project” them onto dozens of specific “springs” on the surface of Ancestor Peak. Until she stabilized everything, the entire sacred mountain would be a perilous zone. Therefore, everyone on the mountain—including the hub maintenance teams at the summit and the fairies and orcs living there—must evacuate.

The general population’s evacuation was completed yesterday; today’s departure was for the mountain’s regular workers.

Even if Myrmyna successfully stabilizes the deep-blue currents and restores safety across Ancestor Peak, the cavern housing the “throne” will remain sealed for safety reasons—closed until this world is saved.

Or until the end of days.

“Let’s go,” a voice suddenly echoed in the minds of the supervisor and Stella. “I’ve located the currents. Next, I’ll attempt to guide them. It’s too dangerous for you to stay on the mountain.”

The last vehicle finally left the platform, speeding down into the night.

After an unknown stretch of time, Stella emerged from a small pouch beside the co-pilot’s seat. She fluttered to the back of the vehicle, pressing herself against the rear window, gazing thoughtfully at the star-lit mountain.

A low rumble began to rise from deep within the mountain.

At first, it was faint—like a distant, barely audible whisper. But within seconds, the rumbling grew from a low murmur to a roaring crescendo, as if thunder stirred beneath the mountain’s core. It was as if Ancestor Peak itself had become a slumbering beast awakening, unleashing a restrained, wild roar across the vast Ogure Plains!

The rumble reached the mountain’s base, spreading to temporary settlements, rural villages, and the city of Sainthelm.

Countless residents poured into the streets. On this night, no one in Sainthelm slept. Orcs, gray elves, spirits, fairies, humans—all bundled in thick winter clothes or wrapped in heavy blankets. The elderly leaned on each other; the young clung close. Their eyes were heavy with worry and tension, fixed on their sacred mountain. Only the innocent children, unaware of the night’s significance, treated the sleepless hours like a festival, running and shouting at their elders’ feet.

Then, a brilliant blue light caught everyone’s attention—on the side of Ancestor Peak facing Sainthelm, a sudden spring of blue light burst forth from the mountain’s surface. It was the first fissure. After a brief pause, a dazzling stream of light erupted from the crack!

The glow shot upward into the night sky, then arced gracefully under the starlight, as if pulled by some immense force, bending down to flow into another fissure on the mountain’s surface. And this was only the beginning.

More fissures appeared, as if the entire Ancestor Peak had become a nearly bursting vessel. Continuous blue light poured out, and after brief delays, each fissure spewed a stream of light nearly as tall as the mountain itself. Invisible forces twisted these streams along predetermined paths, connecting them to other fissures.

Deep-blue currents coursed through the mountain, linking together. The arcs of light, like scorching solar jets, connected under the night sky, gradually forming a brand-new magical circulation network.

The rumbling never ceased. Ancestor Peak trembled continuously. The spectacle was breathtaking and awe-inspiring. The people of Sainthelm had never witnessed such a marvel. Even the most learned archmages and scholars stared wide-eyed in shock.

But those involved in the “Magic Network Observation Device” project had little leisure to admire the “view.”

Stoor stood atop the highest mage tower in Sancthelm City. Before him, the window was set with a massive arcane crystal, and beyond that crystal lay the Ancestor’s Peak, undergoing astonishing transformations.

To an ordinary person, each surge of magical energy erupting from the peak would be nothing more than a spectacular yet incomprehensible spectacle. But through the arcane crystal, Stoor could see clear patterns of energy dissipation and a wealth of related readings.

The Spirit Shaman King was utterly focused on the changes unfolding on the Ancestor’s Peak. He studied the streams of power shooting skyward, calculating the data for each pulse. Floating beside him in midair were one complex schematic after another.

These were diagrams illustrating the energy flow of the “Resonance Foci,” along with numerous pre-filled tables to assist in his calculations.

“Stream number 17, energy flow matches preset values… number 22, matches as well… number 23…”

“All streams conform to the preset parameters. From here, I observe they’re undergoing fine adjustments according to the blueprint,” Stoor murmured to himself, lifting his head.

“Looks like the ‘Lady of the Tower’ is handling this with ease,” came a voice from a nearby arcane network terminal. The voice belonged to Wenna Whitebloom, though it crackled with static. The holographic projection above the terminal flickered erratically—clearly, the powerful energy field radiating from the Ancestor’s Peak was interfering with communications. “Wycliffe’s team has received the signal from the ‘Stone Cavern.’ The Lady is sending us the finalized energy network parameters and node distribution map for the Ancestor’s Peak.”

Stoor glanced toward the corner of the room, where a printer had just started whirring, spitting out a continuous stream of paper.

“I’ve received it as well,” the Spirit Shaman King nodded slightly. “Inform the dwarven and Cecilian engineering commanders. Construction can begin tomorrow. The Ancestor’s Peak may take several more days to fully stabilize, but before then, we can start building the first node of the ‘Sensing Ring’ on the plains.”

Meanwhile, far to the north of the continent, in the Violet Strait, the flagship Coldstar lay bathed in starlight, drifting silently on the calm sea just four leagues from shore.

Modir lay in his single cabin, the gentle rocking of the waves lulling the ship softly. He felt drowsy, yet for some reason, he could not slip into the comforting embrace of sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts drifted involuntarily to the vanished city of Prandel, to the lost Violet Kingdom.

Tossing and turning, he finally rose from his bed, pulled on a cloak, and moved to the porthole.

From here, he could see the lonely coastline bathed in starlight, the jagged rocks and cliffs lining either side.

The cold light of the stars shimmered on the beach and the sea, spilling through the window to illuminate the dark cabin.

“I still can’t believe an entire kingdom just vanished like that…” the old mage muttered.

“I can’t believe a kingdom ever rose here at all,” came another voice, murmuring beside him.

Modir turned toward the source.

A thick black leather-bound tome lay quietly on the sailor’s desk by the window.

(End of chapter)