Chapter 1522: Frequent Shocks from Interstellar Friends

Beneath the vast, cold expanse of the starry sky, civilizations drift like solitary lanterns on a dark sea. Around them stretches endless night, filled with unseen currents and hidden dangers. The young of each race huddle safely within their ship’s cabins, unaware of the boundless ocean beyond. The warm glow of lamps and the thin wooden planks form a haven where they can sleep soundly. Yet inevitably, they must leave the safety of their shelters, take the helm themselves, and face the overwhelming vastness of the stars. The fear and loneliness that come with this are rites of passage every civilization must endure.

In this respect, both the Loren and the Noyan civilizations are fortunate. Four light-years may seem an insurmountable gulf to them now, but on the cosmic scale, it’s practically next door. To find a friend so close, someone to lean on across the void, is a stroke of luck that happens once in a billion.

But it’s not just about spatial proximity—it’s about timing. Civilizations flare and fade like candles in the wind; the magical tides sweep away all in their path. On Noya’s world, just like on Loren, countless civilizations have risen and fallen over the ages. These two vibrant worlds have only now, after millions of years, truly established contact. Perhaps in the distant past, their peoples sent signals across the void, but those attempts never succeeded.

Why? Because when one side reached a certain level of development, the other was still in the Stone Age. When the other finally mastered interstellar communication, the first had already been wiped out by magical storms or divine calamities.

Only when two civilizations happen to be at the right distance and reach the right stage of development simultaneously can a greeting be exchanged.

Gawain stared at the words scrolling across the paper tape. For some reason, these thoughts came to him suddenly, helping him grasp the feelings of the Noyans at this moment.

Compared to the Loren Alliance, which only recently turned its gaze skyward, the Noyan civilization had launched spacecraft a century ago and been calling out into space for a thousand years. They had been journeying through this cold, lonely sea for a long time. Now, as the magical tide slowly encroached on this sector, Loren’s response might seem a bit late.

He handed over communication authority to the Sorin Command Center. Future exchanges with the Noyans would focus on specialized fields—better left to the experts. As for himself, this gave him time to reflect on other matters.

After a moment’s thought, he looked up at Amber, who was staring blankly beside his desk. “What’s your impression of the Noyan civilization?”

“Impression?” Amber blinked, then seemed to recall the data they’d received from across the starry sea. After half a minute, she answered hesitantly, “From what we’ve seen, they seem… relatively ‘gentle.’ Guided by the legacy of their pioneer ancestors, they avoided many detours in their development. That means they escaped a lot of bloody costs, but it also means they lack experience and mindset for large-scale warfare.

“On the other hand, they’re stubborn and remarkably resilient. Their history of building a unified mental field goes back fourteen hundred years, to a rather backward dynasty. The first node they built cost that dynasty dearly—an engineering feat beyond what society could bear, indirectly toppling the regime and causing a power shift. But the successors, having learned from the past, immediately began constructing the second node.

“In fact, according to their historical records, the entire project has never stopped in fourteen centuries. Though it toppled one regime after another, killing kings, commanders, leaders, and elders, the Noyans never considered abandoning it. It’s like… once they set a grand goal, it must be achieved. If a king can’t deliver, they replace him. If a commander fails, they replace him. The work goes on no matter what.”

“Clearly, that’s a trait beneath their ‘gentle and friendly’ image,” Gawain nodded thoughtfully. “Diplomatic, peace-averse, tenacious, resolute, and willing to sacrifice all social strata for the collective good. That’s our current impression, but it’s hard to say how accurate it is.”

“There’s definitely some distortion,” Amber rolled her eyes. “Guess what the Noyans think of the Loren Alliance?”

“Hard to say, but probably something like ‘born war maniacs,’” Gawain mused, shaking his head with a wry smile. “We didn’t see it ourselves, but from an alien friend’s perspective, what’s happened on our planet is pretty shocking—

“We’ve had four divine wars. Mortal armies on this planet killed four gods in a row—false gods, true gods, ancient gods, even the god of gods. Any of those would be a catastrophe anywhere else. Now they’re either in our labs, in graves, or even inside sea monsters. To control divine power, mortals here even create artificial gods. When those get out of control, they kill them too. We know the cost and risk, but can our alien friends really grasp that? No. All they see is a bunch of lunatics four light-years away who fight gods and even wrote a ‘Guide to Killing Gods.’

“I just hope we can correct that impression soon. We want the Noyans to know that even with divine disasters threatening Loren, we will stand firm against the magical tide—not that we’re some dangerous warlike species.”

He sighed, shaking his head helplessly. “Honestly, I just wanted to show Loren’s resilience and the hardships we’ve endured. But that image never quite took hold…”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Amber rolled her eyes again. “If one person gets struck by godly lightning, you think he’s unlucky. If it happens four times, you think he’s badass. And if that guy then turns around and zaps the gods back, but still complains his hands hurt from fighting—you’d better walk around him.”

Gawain’s head ached more and more as he listened. Finally, he waved his hands. “It’s just cultural differences. Loren has faster-than-light communication and planetary shields, but we haven’t even passed our ‘coming of age’ rite. The Noyans can launch spaceships and chat with gods, but they’ve never fought a divine war. Their FTL tech was scavenged from the ruins of the pioneers. Early on, we misunderstood each other, projecting our own civilization’s templates onto them. Now we see how wildly wrong that was, and it’s a shock.

“But that’s good. At least we’ve identified the problem early. Our scholars have time to compare notes, fill in gaps, and redraw the ‘sketches’ of our civilizations’ true natures. That’s better than waiting until the critical moment of cooperation and suddenly realizing we don’t see eye to eye.”

Amber nodded thoughtfully. Meanwhile, the Sorin Command Center’s communication team continued their dialogue with the Noyans. After such a long silence, there was much to discuss—countless technical details to synchronize.

Representing the Loren Alliance, experts led by Cecil sent over data on the magical tide observation device under construction in the Ogure sector. The flexible solutions Loren devised to overcome difficulties amazed their interstellar friends once again. The good news was that after careful study, the Noyans found no problems with the heavily modified blueprints.

Still, they marveled at Loren’s ingenuity and admitted their own thinking was less flexible.

In return, the Noyans sent extensive data on their own magical tide observation facility—parameters from construction and testing phases, common issues with key modules, and solutions. Unlike their earlier blueprints, these were practical case studies, invaluable to Loren’s experts building their own device.

Improved communication conditions eliminated concerns about transmission delays and greatly boosted data throughput. Many materials previously cut or unsent due to bandwidth limits now crossed the starry gulf intact. Though translation and comprehension would take time, one thing was certain: with these detailed, practical resources, the Alliance’s progress on planetary shields and observation devices would accelerate significantly.

But all communications must end eventually.

The equipment could keep running, but operators grew weary. Leaders and sages monitoring the talks needed time to reflect and plan. Besides, the massive volume of data exchanged required careful translation and analysis—no quick task.

Once again, the Noyans and Lorens bid each other farewell.

The printer whirred and clattered, newly modified to record their conversations. It had already switched paper twice. On the endless white tape, Gawain read the Noyans’ message: “We need time to digest the valuable information from this exchange. Overall, it was a pleasant and meaningful conversation. We look forward to the next connection.”

After a pause, the Sorin Command Center’s reply appeared: “Yes, we look forward to it as well. Starting today, we will maintain a routine call every twenty-four hours (Loren time) to confirm each other’s safety.”

“Noyan received.”

The printer finally fell silent. Gawain exhaled softly, leaning back in his chair, gazing out the nearby window. He seemed lost in thought—or perhaps simply enjoying a rare moment of quiet.

But the calm didn’t last long. Beltera’s voice suddenly came through the magic network terminal, sounding unusual. “Brother Gawain, the Noyans just sent something else. I think you should see it.”

“Oh? Wasn’t the conversation over?” Gawain raised an eyebrow in surprise. “What did they send?”

“The talk phase is over, but they sent an image file,” Beltera said. “I’ve displayed it directly on the terminal for you.”

As she spoke, the holographic projection above the terminal shifted. After a brief flicker of light and shadow, Gawain’s eyes widened in surprise. The image the Noyans sent had nothing to do with technical blueprints.

Two humanoid figures stood at the center of the frame.

There were two tall, slender figures—remarkably human-like in their facial features and limbs, yet their foreheads extended symmetrically into horn-like structures. Their arms and cheeks were covered with dense, fine scales. One was male, the other female, both dressed in exquisitely crafted, vividly colored garments of an unfamiliar and peculiar style. Beneath these two figures appeared two lines of text: one in the strange symbols used by the Noy, and the other in the common human language of the Loren Alliance—

This is what we look like.

Gawain stared silently at the image projected before him for a long time, saying nothing.

The quiet was broken by Beltira’s voice: “Brother Gawain, what do you think?”

“To send a depiction of one’s own species’ physiology to an alien civilization is a gesture of honesty—and a kind of courage,” Gawain said slowly. “The good news is that, astonishingly, their appearance isn’t drastically different from ours. It’s incredible, but also reassuring.”

“Should we respond?” Beltira hesitated. “Although the Noy didn’t ask for one.”

Gawain thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “We should respond, as a friendly signal. Besides, the faster-than-light communication array is working well; it won’t strain the system.”

Beltira agreed, but then raised another question: “But… which forms should we send? Only those close to the Noy’s appearance, or all of them?”

Gawain froze briefly, then his expression turned a bit odd as he caught on.

Beltira’s voice continued: “Humans and elves resemble the Noy in appearance; gray elves and dwarves are similar too. But the spirits and beastfolk differ more significantly. Fairies look fine on their own, but next to humans, their huge size difference becomes obvious. Then there are the dragonkin and draconic descendants—those don’t look human at all.”

She paused, her tone growing stranger. “Of course, the biggest problem is the sea witches. Known sea witch forms include sea serpents, mermaids, octopuses, sea demons, tentacles, rocks, shipwrecks, coral reefs—dozens of shapes. In fact, their mimicry is practically endless. Although we usually consider the mermaid and sea serpent forms as their ‘standard appearances,’ the sea witches themselves have never settled on an official form. How are we supposed to send that? Or… should we just not send anything at all?”

Gawain instinctively rubbed his brow. Every time sea witches came up, things got weird. He thought he was used to it by now, but every time he found his imagination couldn’t keep up with those deep-sea oddballs. Still, this was serious, and he couldn’t ignore it. After a mental battle that felt like a massacre of brain cells, he finally lifted his head.

“Send them all,” Gawain sighed, his face suddenly looking far more exhausted than before. “The faster-than-light communication array was provided by the sea witches. We can’t exclude them from the Alliance on this matter—send all species, including dragons, sea witches, spirits, and fairies.”

He paused, then added, “Right, send the sea witches last, with a few classic mimicry forms. After that, send a detailed instruction manual…”

Beltira looked a bit stunned but finally nodded. “…Understood.”

And so, after the Noy sent their own species’ physiological images with sincere goodwill, the Loren Alliance reciprocated in kind—sending dozens of bizarre images, most barely resembling humans at all (only a few looked human), accompanied by a lengthy explanatory manual.

After the data was sent, a while later, just as the communication antenna was about to shut down, it suddenly picked up a signal from across the starry void.

The Noy sent a string of question marks: “??????”

Once again, the interstellar friends were deeply shaken.

(The Dawn comic has updated to E=1.66!!! The quality is excellent—those who have been waiting can finally dive in. You can find it on the B-Man app.)

(End of chapter)