Chapter 1513: Shadows of Unease
Amber’s remark instantly made the atmosphere in the study awkward. Yet, this slight discomfort clearly wasn’t enough to rattle Highlord’s composure. He waved his hand casually. “What you said—well, I didn’t blow up Talrond, did I? Besides, if you go ask Enya now, she’d probably thank me.”
Amber: “…Fine, I have to admit, when it comes to shamelessness, you definitely take the cake.”
“Mind your manners!” Hetty shot a sharp glare at the shadowy troublemaker beside her. If their ancestor hadn’t been right there, she might have drawn her blade by now. “It’s been years, and you still haven’t learned any decorum!”
Listening to Hetty’s casual scolding, Highlord’s expression grew a bit strange. His gaze flicked between the two of them, and with a hint of nostalgia in his voice, he said to Hetty, “Come to think of it, it’s been a long time since I heard you lecture Amber like that. Back when we first settled here, you two argued constantly—sometimes even came to blows. I thought things had calmed down over the past couple of years.”
Hetty’s face flushed with a touch of embarrassment at the ancestor’s words. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and whispered, “Well, after all these years, we’ve both adapted… but sometimes she really pushes it. You can’t just tolerate her unconditionally forever. Enough about that—have you really decided to accept this invitation? Honestly, I find the whole thing a bit suspicious…”
“Anything involving an ‘Old God’ is bound to be suspicious,” Highlord chuckled, his mood steady as ever. “But no matter what, I’m going to accept it. In fact, I’ve been hoping for this. Lady Night is a complete enigma to us, and the world is at a critical juncture between life and death. Every move she makes sets nerves on edge. And now, this ‘mystery’ herself is reaching out—offering a chance to break the deadlock. Do you think I can just say no?”
“…Sigh. You had the same attitude when Talrond invited you,” Hetty said with a resigned tone, knowing she couldn’t change his mind. She nodded. “Since it’s your decision, I’ll arrange the government affairs accordingly. But—how do you plan to attend? When will you go?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Highlord tapped his chin thoughtfully. “From what Modir’s team reported, Lady Night’s invitation seems to be part challenge. To accept, we first need to find the Thousand-Tower City, which supposedly vanished from the real world. Then we have to figure out how to get inside.”
“That’s right. Finding the Thousand-Tower City is the real problem,” Hetty nodded. “Victoria’s high-altitude reconnaissance planes flew over Violet Isle. Visually, the entire island is now covered by forest and wasteland. Apart from some scattered ‘stone pile monuments’ in the open areas, there’s no trace of man-made structures—let alone a city of that scale.”
“But according to that magical AI called ‘Benadette,’ the Thousand-Tower City still exists—simultaneously in the real world and the Shadow Divine Realm,” Amber suddenly interjected. “That means it’s still on Violet Isle. They wouldn’t lie about something like that, right?”
“Benadette’s information is probably accurate. So we need to figure out exactly where this lost city is hidden. That’s why Modir’s landing team is trekking through those forests and wastelands. Recon planes can only gather limited intel; the ground team can confirm the details deep inside Violet Isle,” Highlord said. “We’ll wait for their progress—at least until they reach the island’s interior.”
Highlord had decided to accept Lady Night’s invitation, but that didn’t mean he’d leave immediately. At the very least, they needed to wait for the explorers to find clues about the Thousand-Tower City. Besides, the message from Lady Night didn’t specify a date for the meeting, which meant the Old God was giving them some time to prepare. Surely a being of her stature wouldn’t forget to set a date when sending an invitation.
Moreover, Highlord’s current position meant he had to plan and arrange everything carefully before taking action. The Alliance and Empire had countless affairs to manage. Though he had a reliable deputy like the Grant Chancellor to handle imperial matters temporarily, he couldn’t just drop everything and leave like a carefree lord.
In this regard, he envied Amon a little. Mr. Deer’s life was incredibly free-spirited—when he said he was done, he was done. He’d crash on the space station, bleeding and bruised, with broken ribs and stitches in his eyes, and the Pathfinder’s radar wouldn’t even notice…
But he didn’t envy the Magic Goddess Mimirna. Though her grand declarations before skipping work were inspiring, she ended up starving for three thousand years during her absence. Now, Highlord had even tricked her into sitting on the Golden Throne, probably stuck working overtime until late next year. She was like a programmer trying to avoid overtime by breaking her leg—finally lying in a hospital bed, only to have someone shove a laptop into her arms and tell her she could work remotely…
Highlord suddenly shook his head hard, forcing all those strange thoughts and images out of his mind. Hetty was startled. “Ancestor… are you alright?”
“Ah, cough, cough… I’m fine. Just got a bit distracted,” Highlord said, coughing awkwardly. He figured the flood of overwhelming information had overheated his brain, causing some odd associations. But it didn’t matter. “You should go make the arrangements. We might be leaving soon—Amber and I.”
Hetty glanced at Amber instinctively, then bowed slightly. “Understood, Ancestor. I’ll take my leave.”
After Hetty left, the large study was left with just Highlord and Amber. Bright sunlight streamed through the crystal glass, dust motes dancing in the light like tiny sparks. Highlord stared absentmindedly at the shifting border between light and shadow, lost in thought. After a while, Amber’s voice broke the silence.
“Still thinking about Lady Night’s ‘invitation’?”
“I’m not worried about her invitation,” Highlord shook his head. “What concerns me is another message from that girl called ‘Morningstar.’”
Amber tilted her head. “Another message?”
“Massively manipulating public thought is a risky business…” Highlord recalled slowly. “It feels like Lady Night is warning us. What do you think the warning is about?”
Amber pondered seriously, uncertain. “Could it be about the actions of the Theocracy Council? Over the years, all the major moves we’ve made manipulating ‘public thought’—controlling churches, reinterpreting mythologies—have been tied to the Council. That counts as large-scale manipulation, right?”
Highlord considered Amber’s guess—it was the most likely answer. But after a moment, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. The Council’s actions, while heretical to conservative clergy, follow natural laws and progress logically. Many moves have even slowed due to secular interference. To me, they’re guiding public thought, not controlling it on a massive scale.”
“To call it ‘manipulation,’ it has to be a fully controlled, dominant, absolute act. So far, the Council’s power and influence don’t reach that level. Besides, we have high-level advisors like Enya, Amon, and Mimirna. Especially Enya—she’s an Old God from Lady Night’s era, and she’s never issued any warnings about the Council’s actions.”
“That’s true. If the Council had really gone off the rails, Enya would have reacted,” Amber scratched her head. “So what do you think Lady Night’s warning is about?”
“Whatever it is, it’s something we can’t be told directly yet. That means it involves not just one god, but multiple gods, and the situation is still ‘undecided.’ Revealing it now could trigger uncontrollable consequences,” Highlord said slowly. “Also, since Enya hasn’t warned us, it means only Lady Night can perceive this.”
Amber blinked, understanding the implication. “You mean… Lady Night’s warning concerns something outside Enya’s knowledge?”
“Very likely,” Highlord nodded.
“Enya has blind spots? What could an Old God like her not know?” Amber’s mind raced. It was hard to imagine a god like the Dragon Goddess, once atop the divine hierarchy, having any unknown realms. But suddenly, Highlord’s mind flooded with examples—how the Dragon Goddess couldn’t make human soda, how she learned to care for hatchlings from the internet, how she maintained a cold persona but didn’t even know how to hatch eggs…
But Highlord knew Lady Night’s warning had nothing to do with such trivial matters.
“The most probable direction involves the Pathfinders,” he broke the silence after a moment. “Lady Night and Enya are both Old Gods, but the biggest difference is that Lady Night became the star chart keeper for the Pathfinders. She likely gained access to knowledge beyond our world in the process.”
“But that’s a huge scope. The Pathfinders know countless things the natives of this planet don’t,” Amber scoffed. “Just the stuff they left in orbit alone keeps our gods scratching their heads. Plus their understanding of the universe, the magical tides… As you once said, dealing with an interstellar civilization is like a planet-bound one getting hit with a cosmic fart—it’s way beyond their pay grade.”
Highlord’s expression twisted oddly. “That phrase fits here, but coming from you, a girl, it sounds a bit harsh. Can you not remember every single thing I say so clearly?”
Amber stuck out her tongue, utterly unrepentant.
Gawain didn’t really care whether that Shadow Assault Goose had any remorse—after all, if she’d had even a shred of decency, she wouldn’t have let The Sacred Banter of Emperor Gawain Cecil drag on to issue eight (though, admittedly, he’d tacitly allowed it). He just shook his head with a helpless smile, about to say something more—when suddenly, a buzzing sound came from the edge of his desk, interrupting him.
Both he and Amber turned their gaze toward the source of the noise.
The magic network terminal—accessible only to Gawain himself—was humming, and above it, a holographic projection displayed a red symbol marked with a special insignia.
“That’s a message from Aldenard,” Amber said casually after glancing at the symbol. She then went over to close the door securely, activated the study’s isolation barrier, and returned to stand by the window.
Gawain raised his hand to answer the terminal. After a brief burst of static, the half-length image of Rosetta Augustus appeared clearly above the projection crystal.
The Typhon monarch met Gawain’s gaze with her usual stern expression and, without preamble, said, “Typhon has decided to abandon the Refuge City Cluster and adopt the ‘Homeworld Barrier’ plan proposed by Cecil.”
Gawain blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected Rosetta to call him directly just to deliver this news. After all, the morning had already been a relentless barrage of information, leaving his mind somewhat overheated. But he quickly composed himself.
Defending against the impending magical tide was, after all, the highest priority.
“Looks like your advisors have reached a consensus,” he said, locking eyes with Rosetta. “Are you sure? Abandoning the Refuge City Cluster plan means Typhon will have to fully cooperate with Cecil’s strategy throughout the entire civilization’s self-rescue operation—even until the end of the ‘Shelter Phase.’”
“This is a joint decision by the Typhon royal family and parliament, and my own as well,” Rosetta’s face remained as impassive as ever, like a cold marble statue. “The magical tide is coming. The survival of our civilization cluster takes precedence over everything else. That is our consensus—you can rest assured that if the Homeworld Barrier plan is successfully launched, Typhon will spare no effort in supporting it.”
Gawain studied her face quietly for a few seconds, then nodded solemnly. “Understood. Then now we wait for news from the Silver Empire and Talrond.”
Rosetta gave a slight nod. “We await the final outcome.”
The Typhon monarch was a decisive person. Having said what needed to be said, she cut the connection without further ado. Gawain let out a soft breath once the terminal’s glow faded. After a morning of taut nerves, he finally allowed himself to relax a little.
“At last, some good news,” Amber said as she approached. “If even Typhon supports the Homeworld Barrier plan, then this is basically half the battle won.”
“Yeah, Typhon’s backing is a crucial vote. After all, their Refuge City Cluster plan was the most feasible of all the refuge proposals,” Gawain smiled faintly. “So next…”
His words suddenly caught in his throat, and the smile on his face stiffened and vanished.
“What’s wrong?” Amber asked, startled. “Did you just remember something?”
Gawain seemed to snap awake. The seriousness and gloom replaced the smile on his face. He looked Amber in the eyes, his voice low and grave: “I think… I finally understand what Lady Night’s warning meant.”
(End of chapter)