Chapter 1523: After the Tide Recedes

The situation was a bit awkward. After reestablishing contact, the Noyans and the Loren Alliance had to engage in an extended period of “overtime communication.” The experts and scholars at the Thorin Command Center worked extra shifts, trying to explain to their interstellar friends how a single planet could harbor such a bewildering variety of species—and, more surprisingly, how these wildly different races could coexist harmoniously to form an “alliance.” Throughout the entire process, Gawain watched silently, his mind swirling with strange and unexpected thoughts.

He truly hadn’t anticipated that the very first contact after the painstaking restoration of communication between Loren and Noyans would unfold like this. It hardly felt like a serious, official exchange between two advanced civilizations separated by the vastness of space. Instead, it resembled two starry-eyed interstellar rookies who had finally managed to connect, chatting nonstop until midnight, only to be forced offline. One would send a message saying, “Going to sleep,” the other would reply, “See you later,” and then, within seconds, a selfie would pop up from the other side, followed by a photo album in return. They’d agree to chat for “just five more minutes,” and before they knew it—bam!—it was 5:30 in the morning.

That was exactly how Gawain felt. But what frustrated him most wasn’t the awkwardness itself—it was how difficult it was to put these thoughts and feelings into simple, clear words for others to understand. Not even the shadow commando goose he had trained, who could grasp over half of Earth’s cultural references, could fully get it. To explain what was going on in his head would require at least a forty-page manual—somewhat like the detailed notes the Loren Alliance had sent to the Noyans about the sea witches.

Still, Gawain didn’t think his reflections were overblown. After all, from the perspective of the vast cosmos, both Noyans and Loren were truly interstellar novices—civilizations that might not even survive a magical tide.

As Gawain’s mind wandered, the communication transcripts from the exchange experts led by Beltira continued streaming in. He read line after line on the printout, watching as the experts patiently explained the unique structure of intelligent species on Loren’s planet, reassuring the Noyans that the creatures they found so terrifying were actually gentle and harmless. He even saw Beltira personally send a message that read:

“The sea witches are the friendliest species on our planet. They possess great power and advanced technology but are peace-loving and discreet. Aside from their unusual diet and variable individual forms, they are no different from the ‘humans’ and ‘elves’ familiar to you.”

The Noyans replied: “Unusual diet? Why say that?”

Gawain broke out in a cold sweat reading that exchange. Fortunately, Beltira’s team quickly shifted the topic to the dragons’ wisdom and generosity and the Cecilian people’s love of peace.

By the time both sides said their goodbyes and ended the communication—two hours later—Gawain’s cold sweat hadn’t stopped. Only after confirming that the Noyans had no more messages to send and that the faster-than-light communication array had returned to standby did he finally exhale. He even heard Amber sigh alongside him.

He exchanged a glance with the shadow commando goose, who waved a wing dismissively. “My blood pressure was through the roof just now, all because of your earlier comments. Now, whenever I hear about dragons being generous and learned, Cecilians loving peace, and sea witches being gentle and harmless, I just feel like it’s making things worse. I even picture a whole parade of victims and vengeful gods popping up in my head. It’s weird.”

“Don’t say anything. Let me sort this out first,” Gawain said, waving his hands nervously, sweat beading on his forehead. “This can’t be right. I genuinely think we’re all peaceful and open-minded—from gods to humans. Everyone wants a bright future with goodwill…”

Amber rolled her eyes so hard it was audible. In her mind, a flood of sarcastic commentary played out: “The gods’ realms are already in chaos, and you’re still talking about a bright future?”

But she kept that thought to herself. Gawain was kind-hearted and hated violence; if he heard that, he’d probably flip the table and throw her against the wall, then refuse to talk to her for days.

Gawain had no idea what Amber was scheming as she rolled her eyes, but he felt his brain was overloaded. He shifted into a more comfortable position, leaning back in his chair with one hand propping up his chin, drifting off into thought. After an unknown stretch of time, Beltira’s voice finally broke the silence, sounding relieved:

“My work here is temporarily complete, Brother Gawain.”

Gawain snapped out of his reverie and glanced at the holographic projection on his desk. “Thank you for your hard work.”

“The deeper we delve into communication with the Noyans, the more we realize the vast differences between our civilizations,” Beltira admitted candidly. “Many things we take for granted may seem strange, absurd, or even frightening to an alien civilization. I believe we need to accumulate experience in this regard. Whether continuing dialogue with the Noyans or encountering other intelligent species in the distant future, we must always consider these worldview discrepancies.”

Gawain nodded slightly. That was exactly what he wanted to say, but it seemed unnecessary now—Beltira and the expert team at Thorin Command Center had already grasped this insight.

The differences between Noyans and Loren were immense, spanning culture, history, environment, and even physiological structures. And while both sides found these differences significant, it appeared the Loren Alliance’s situation was more shocking to the Noyans. Thankfully, the exchange experts had caught on in time during the later stages of communication, preparing detailed explanations and withholding sensitive details. Otherwise, their interstellar friends might have been overwhelmed to the point of shutting down.

“Are you okay?” Gawain rubbed his temples. After a short rest, his mind was cooling down, allowing him to focus on other matters. “In our communication process with the Noyans, your servitor brain array handles all data processing, translation assistance, and scenario simulation. Does such long communication put a heavy load on you?”

“Most tasks are handled autonomously by the synthetic brain or offloaded to the Thorin Computing Center. The neural system of the Thorin Great Tree mainly handles transmission, so the load isn’t heavy,” Beltira shook her head. “The biggest pressure this time was psychological. The vast differences between civilizations create tension. The Noyans’ impression of the Loren Alliance is subtly shifting. While I don’t experience blood pressure spikes like ordinary beings, I seem to have lost quite a few leaves this time. I’ll need to regrow them quickly… Other than that, nothing to worry about.”

Though her expression remained stoic, Gawain detected a subtle mix of helplessness and self-mockery in her tone.

Beltira—the miraculous incarnation of the Holy Spirit Plains, a hero of the Wasteland Campaign, and a revered figure among the Druids—had a little secret behind her glorious status: when stressed, she shed leaves. The more stress, the more leaves fell. Sometimes, entire tons would drop, enough to set off air raid alarms across half the Thorin Plains.

She was quite troubled by this and had tried many remedies, but with little success.

“You still haven’t fixed your leaf-shedding problem when stressed?” Amber, eavesdropping nearby, couldn’t resist teasing. “Those leaves falling aren’t a joke—I’ve seen the big ones knock cows out cold.”

Beltira remained expressionless and calmly replied, “Rest assured, the Thorin region has mature protocols for this. The main leaf-fall zones are marked and off-limits to unauthorized personnel. Branches over industrial and residential areas have been adjusted so only small leaves fall to the ground. Larger leaves are caught and absorbed instantly by recovery vines attached to the branches.”

“Are you sure?” Amber eyed Beltira skeptically. “I heard the air raid alarms went off at Thorin Fortress just last month.”

Beltira simply ignored her.

Gawain paid no mind to their unproductive and somewhat irreverent banter. He quietly pondered, and when the two fell silent, he suddenly asked, “Beltira, how’s the project I assigned you progressing?”

At the mention of business, Beltira’s tone immediately turned serious and focused.

“As per your instructions, I have identified twelve suitable rock formations in the eastern Holy Spirit Plains and northern Tarash Plains. I am currently constructing root systems around these formations.

“The plan is to first envelop each area with a robust root network, forming the basic shell of an underground shelter. Then, the roots will gradually consume the interior, creating cavernous underground spaces. The minerals absorbed during this process will be converted into two layers of impact-resistant shields inside and outside the shell. My roots work efficiently; I estimate the ‘rough construction’ of all twelve underground caverns will be complete within six months, along with reserved pipelines and passageways around the shelters.

“I have synchronized this plan with the head of the Thorin Computing Center and, following your orders, coordinated with the construction corps in Thorin Fortress and the Tarash Plains. As the underground shelters take shape, they will simultaneously build residential facilities and core computing centers inside. The entire project is expected to finish within a year. Of course, given the tight schedule, these facilities won’t be as comfortable as surface cities. The only guarantee is that, under the care of the root network, residents will face no survival or medical pressures.

“Additionally, I am planning subterranean tunnels connecting the twelve caverns. Since the main root channels will serve as a foundation, these tunnels can be completed quickly. I intend to model them after the internal transit system of the Thorin Great Tree, using numerous pressurized bio-chambers to ensure rapid travel between shelters. This way, if one underground city encounters problems, residents can quickly evacuate through the tunnels to nearby safe cities. And if a city suffers large-scale divine contamination, I can use top-level authority to seal off the tunnels to prevent the spread.”

Beltira reported each detail of her recent work and future plans—precisely the tasks Gawain had entrusted to her in their last encrypted meeting.

Building numerous underground shelters beneath the Holy Spirit and Tarash Plains, constructing computing centers and residences within to serve as “backup computing power” for the homeworld’s shield.

If the worst happens—gods run amok, satellites fall, nations collapse—these backup nodes in the underground shelters will maintain the shield’s minimal operation.

Amber was already aware of this matter, so when she heard Beltira’s report, there wasn’t a trace of surprise on her face. Instead, she quietly listened and waited until Beltira finished before speaking at the right moment.

“Recently, intelligence agents abroad have reported a few developments. First, on the 25th’s front, there’s news that Typhon’s side is intensifying efforts to collect and compile historical, cultural, and technical texts. They’ve also apparently dispatched multiple teams—including a large number of engineers—to some uninhabited areas in the east. Second, from the south, the elven royal family is conducting similar compilation and collection work, and a significant number of experts in machinery and magic have been summoned to the royal court…”

As Amber relayed the information, High Lord Gawain simply nodded slightly.

Some of the things they had anticipated were happening, had already happened, or had long since come to pass.

“How are things going with the Maelstrom observation devices?” After a brief pause, he broke the silence and looked at Amber. “Any news from the Observers’ Chamber?”

“The construction of the Maelstrom observation devices is proceeding on schedule. The modifications to the Ancestor’s Peak have already begun, and the sensor arrays on the plains are under way. For technical details, you’ll want to ask Rebecca—she’s the expert on this. As for the Observers’ Chamber, their reports indicate everything is running smoothly,” Amber answered promptly. “Of course, I’m guessing you’re more concerned about what’s happening beyond the technical side… In that case, I can only say that the Ogure people have already made tremendous sacrifices and contributions to the Alliance—and they will continue to do so in the future.”

Gawain’s expression remained calm, and he said nothing. Amber pressed on.

“At present, hundreds of thousands of engineering teams from across the Alliance have entered the plains of Ancestor’s Peak. The commanders of these teams, the logistical support from each nation’s rear, and the local Ogure officials have miraculously maintained order at this massive construction site. But even so, the very existence of this enormous work zone has caused considerable pressure and trouble for the local inhabitants. More importantly, the long-term impact on the locals of transforming Ancestor’s Peak into a gigantic machine cannot be overlooked.

“We all know that such a level of transformation is irreversible. The ‘Sacred Mountain’ is destined to become a historical symbol. Right now, in the early stages of the project, overwhelming propaganda, the morale boost following the victory in the Wasteland War, and the high personal prestige of the Five Kings of Ogure are the dominant forces at play. This immense pride and sense of mission allow the Ogure people to temporarily overlook the loss of the Sacred Mountain and the disruptions to their lives. But as you often say… spiritual encouragement is only a short-term buff. People will inevitably focus on their immediate needs—food, shelter, and daily life.

“As one of the highest leaders of the Alliance, I think this is something you need to seriously worry about.”

(End of chapter)