Chapter 1518: Great Things

It is said that one way to measure the advancement of a civilization is by the mark it leaves upon the world.

Primitive humans, who lived by slash-and-burn farming, could not leave lasting footprints on the land. Their humble huts and scattered villages barely filled a single valley. But a powerful kingdom could erect grand stone cities between mountains and plains, with houses packed tightly together and roads stretching in all directions—something that would astonish those primitive ancestors beyond measure.

Yet, from the summit of the highest peak, looking down upon the world, even those mighty cities and sprawling roads would blend into the earth, becoming little more than faint blemishes against a vast blue-green backdrop.

Still, some scholars claim that mortal civilization today is crafting an unprecedented marvel. The Alliance is attempting to transform a majestic mountain into an eye gazing at the stars, and around its base, build a colossal structure designed to listen to the distant voices of the cosmos. This wonder will far surpass the legendary Holy Helm City of the Ogre era, outshine the fallen Sky Sanctuary of the Silver Empire, and even eclipse the magical metropolis built by the Cecils. It will be so vast and radiant that its glow will be visible from deep space—a bright beacon in the night.

Of course, this is an abstract notion. No human has ever truly left this planet, and no one knows what the Earth looks like from space. Scholars use formulas and vivid imagination to describe it, but for the ordinary folk who live mundane lives, these grand words feel like a distant dream—something vaguely connected to them, yet utterly unreachable.

A cold winter wind swept over the ridges, stirring uneasy howls among towering steel frames and makeshift shelters. Bottom, bundled in heavy winter gear, carried surveying equipment through the camp. The chill cleared the last traces of sleep from his mind and, for some reason, made him recall an article he’d read a few days ago in a journal.

The article described the grand project underway on the Peak of Ancestors. To be honest, Bottom didn’t fully grasp the technical jargon or the author’s emotional flourishes. What interested him most in the journal were the humorous stories and comics at the end. The only reason he paid attention to that dense article was because he was part of the very project it described.

He was one of hundreds of engineers dispatched by the Alliance to this land, one of the many technicians in the camp, a single, unremarkable brick in this monumental undertaking.

Before dawn, faint stars still clung to the western horizon. A low, continuous rumble echoed through the valley like distant thunder. Bottom looked up toward the source and saw a magnificent blue stream of energy bursting from the mountain near Camp 16. It flowed like a river suspended in the sky, stretching far before plunging back into the mountain through a great fissure north of Camp 17.

Behind this grand flow, even more streams shimmered above distant peaks, with more camps scattered below. Bathed in the pale morning light, the scene resembled a surreal painting, radiating a breathtaking grandeur.

Bottom remembered how awestruck he’d been when he first arrived—like every foreigner summoned here by the Alliance, he’d stood dumbfounded for minutes at the foot of the mountain, staring up at the peak encircled by those deep blue energy streams, feeling as if the fiery flows might ignite the entire sky.

That sense of wonder still lingered within him, awakened every time he gazed beyond the camp. But unlike that first day, he was no longer paralyzed by the sight. He could focus on his work, just like many others here.

The camp was growing noisy. The roar of machinery and the thunderous pulse of the blue streams shattered the morning calm. At the edge of Camp 16, a massive hoist was lifting a steel shell etched with intricate runes to the end of a rail. This shell, airlifted overnight from the Cecil Empire’s premier foundry, was part of a reflective array. Over the coming months, dozens of such arrays would be installed on the mountain’s surface to harness and focus the deep blue energy streams, converting them into the immense power needed for the observatory.

North of Camp 17, two interlaced metal frameworks crawled across the icy rock face, their surfaces sparkling with bright welding sparks. In the dim dawn light, they looked like two steel serpents slowly stretching their bodies. These were the foundations of the resonance amplifiers. A tower would rise from this frame within a year, designed to receive and amplify signals from the plains below, allowing mortals to hear the voices of the stars.

The entire mountain was a hive of activity—welding sparks everywhere, mixing stations roaring, Cecil heavy machinery and Typhon engineering mages reshaping every inch of the “holy mountain.” Steel, crystal, cement, sweat, and blood—all would become bricks in this grand edifice. This made Bottom feel a strange kinship.

He imagined himself as a tiny, insignificant insect, gathering with countless others around a colossal beast, using their meager strength to collect specks of dust and fashion armor for the giant.

He took a deep breath, fixed his surveying device at the preset coordinates, and began calibrating it. These odd thoughts didn’t distract a steady, middle-aged man from completing the tasks assigned by his superiors.

He needed to finish his work here quickly, then move on to the next measurement point. Once all the surveys were done, he’d return to the warm barracks, enjoy a hot meal, and maybe write a letter to his father back home—or, if conditions allowed, use the camp’s communication station to chat with his wife.

A faint smile tugged at Bottom’s lips as he looked down toward the plains. From the Peak of Ancestors, the view stretched endlessly. The land shimmered beneath him, and on the distant plains stood metal towers like the skeletons of giant beasts. These towers extended outward, faintly outlining an even grander structure.

This was the “Sensor Array Ring” surrounding the peak. His wife worked near one of those tall towers.

…

On the throne, Myrmina opened her eyes. Automatic devices scattered throughout the “Observer’s Chamber” sprang to life. The anti-divine barrier continuously monitored the powerful aura radiating from this “Former God.” Numerous monitoring systems projected countless parameters into the air around the throne. Most data came from nearly ten thousand sensor points on the mountain and surrounding plains, with some uploaded manually from the various engineering camps.

For an ordinary person, facing such a sudden flood of complex data would be overwhelming—impossible to analyze or even comprehend. But Myrmina handled it with ease. In fact, these projections were just a small part of her daily work. Most of her attention was focused deep beneath the Peak of Ancestors, on the planetary network of ley lines threading through the world.

Every surge of the deep blue energy streams meant staggering fluctuations of power, which also affected the fragile, intricate spacetime order deep within the mountain—a delicate balance even Myrmina, the “Goddess of Magic,” had to manage with care.

“…Honestly, I don’t even have time to binge-watch shows…” The tall woman on the throne sighed, her fingers tapping absentmindedly on the ornately carved metal armrest, producing a crisp sound. “Hopefully, once the mountain’s ‘shell’ is sealed, the workload will ease a bit. At least then I won’t have to manually control the shallow energy flows anymore…”

“Sounds like you’ve got it rough over there,” a voice suddenly interrupted. Myrmina glanced sideways to see Amon’s slightly distracted figure materialize beside the throne. “Want me to tell you about some new shows? There’s a fantasy series set on a planet with no magic—only basic physics. It’s pretty interesting…”

“Shut up. Talking about that just makes me more annoyed,” Myrmina cut off the Nature God bluntly. “I don’t want to waste my limited rest time stewing in frustration.”

“Alright, alright, no more,” Amon waved his antlers and looked around, seemingly peering through the limited holographic view of the Observer’s Chamber. After a moment, he continued, a hint of melancholy in his tone, “Your working conditions don’t look great… Are you stuck in that cave forever?”

“This is the best they could prepare for me in the limited time,” Myrmina replied calmly, knowing Amon meant no harm. “And I’m not the only one working hard here… I’m just one small part of a much larger whole.”

“Oh?” Amon sounded surprised. “It’s rare to hear you speak so humbly.”

“The magic permeating the mountains and plains expands my perception, letting me see and feel many things…” Myrmina’s voice softened with emotion, seemingly unfazed by Amon’s teasing. “Tens of thousands of ordinary people have gathered here—not heroes like Gawain Cecil, nor prodigious scholars like Kamail or Rebecca. Some don’t even fully understand the purpose of the observatory or the greatness of what they’re building. Yet together, these countless small forces have united to create a miracle…

“Amon, I truly wish you could come see this with your own eyes—to witness these mortals, to witness the great things they are doing. It’s a sight we gods on our thrones could never see or even imagine.”

“…You seem unusually sentimental today.”

“I just suddenly realized that stepping down from my divine position was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in this life,” Mirmirna said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

On the other end of the comm, Amon paused thoughtfully before replying casually, “Well, since you’ve put it that way, I’ll pack up and come over.”

Mirmirna hadn’t expected him to take her words seriously. Her heartfelt sentiment instantly vanished, and she quickly waved her hand. “No, no, I was just saying that—this fragile balance here can’t handle the disruption of two ‘former gods’ at once!”

“Told you,” Amon chuckled, shaking his head. “I was just joking earlier. Honestly, I’m busy too. Even if conditions were right on your end, I wouldn’t have the time to come.”

“You’re busy too?” Mirmirna sounded surprised. “Busy with what? Figuring out how to grow watermelons on trees?”

Amon didn’t seem bothered by her teasing. “The Divine Authority Council sent people yesterday to upgrade the anti-divine barrier around the courtyard. The new system’s power is nearly four times that of the old one. They also installed a bunch of sensors around the Golden Oak. But don’t worry, I made sure the area where you usually rest is cordoned off, so it’s unaffected. Next, I’ll be working with the Council on a long-term monitoring project.”

“Huh?” Mirmirna was genuinely surprised that Amon was actually busy with something serious. “What’s going on? What’s the Divine History Council up to now?”

“It’s an order straight from Gawain. He suspects that those strange plants that appeared in the courtyard might be connected to the Three Gods of Abundance. This could be a breakthrough for the Council to further neutralize divine disasters, but the details are still unclear,” Amon explained. “Yesterday afternoon, when Amber came by to pick some tomatoes, I asked her about it—and got a pretty weird piece of intel.”

“Weird intel?” Mirmirna frowned, confused. “What did she say?”

“She said the pantheon might be dealing with a ‘Lady of the Night’ problem, so they need to set up more complaint channels…”

Mirmirna blinked. “…What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. I’m still trying to figure it out myself. After all, it’s Amber…”

Mirmirna gave Amon’s projection a skeptical look. “Honestly, could it be that the vegetables you’re growing in your courtyard are the problem? I always said your obsession with researching all kinds of weird new species was a bad idea…”

“Absolutely not!” Amon’s expression and tone turned serious the moment his own domain was questioned. “The vegetables in my courtyard are completely safe. Even if Amber’s brain is acting up, there’s no way she got food poisoning from anything here!”

“Don’t be so sure. Don’t forget last time when you were experimenting with mushrooms in the courtyard—you almost got Gawain…”

Before Mirmirna could finish, a sudden surge of energy rippled through the air, cutting her off. The wave seemed to pierce through the planet’s thick crust, through the overlapping folds of time and space deep within the Ancestor Peak, stirring layers of ripples in the Deep Blue Network. Her eyes widened in surprise at the abrupt change, and naturally, Amon noticed it too. “Hey, what’s going on over there?”

“I’m hearing… a roar of energy, like it’s coming from the far eastern sea depths,” Mirmirna said as the ripples in the Deep Blue Network quickly settled. She had already gleaned a lot of information from the brief energy pulse. After careful analysis, a smile suddenly appeared on her face. “It’s the sea witches. Their faster-than-light communication array has just been activated!”

(End of chapter)