Chapter 1549: Beneath the Tower That Reaches the Heavens

The vast, clear sky stretched endlessly above the mirror-like calm sea, and standing tall at the center of this tranquil ocean was the colossal Tower That Reaches the Heavens. No matter how many times Byron laid eyes on this astonishing creation left behind by the Ascendants, he couldn’t help but be deeply awed.

Even though he commanded the mighty warship Winter’s Chill and led an entire fleet, whenever he stood at the foot of this towering monument, a profound sense of reverence welled up inside him.

Yet, alongside that awe, his mind inevitably drifted back to something Gawain once told him: One day, the civilizations of this planet would rise to the same heights as the Ascendants. Mortals would build their own towering spires reaching into space, forge steel cities beyond the atmosphere, and the next generation of starships would streak across the stars like beams of light. Whatever the Ascendants achieved, the countless beings of this world would one day match.

Winter’s Chill had already docked, and Byron stepped off the landing craft onto the southeastern shore of the Steel Island’s landing zone. Glancing back toward the edge of the dock, he saw a section of massive machinery extending from an engineering ship, engaged in a flurry of organized loading and unloading. Towering lifting devices, as tall as a castle’s main keep, stretched from the ship’s side to the shore. The anti-gravity runes etched beneath the transport pallets shimmered brilliantly in the sunlight. Heavy, enormous components were deftly moved ashore, quickly becoming part of the new pier or, after initial assembly, sent into the towering spire.

On the opposite side of the landing zone, rows of prefabricated barracks and other base facilities rose up. A towering arcane obelisk slowly rotated atop a central platform, its surging energy sustaining the base’s operations and providing supplemental power to the equipment freshly unloaded at the dock. Several officers stationed at the base emerged to coordinate with the Imperial fleet, overseeing the handover of supplies, which were then carried into the warehouses behind them.

This base had been established when the “Skyward Maintenance Corps” first set out, and had been operational for nearly half a year. It served as the ground command center and logistical hub for the spaceborne engineering teams, as well as a temporary rest and recovery station for personnel returning from orbital missions. The garrison was composed of the Empire’s most loyal and outstanding soldiers, many of whom were technical specialists and mechanical officers. Though restricted by the Ascendants’ security systems from venturing into the Tower itself, these ground crews maintained the base’s operations while conducting extensive research and sampling of Ascendant relics.

In Byron’s eyes, this Imperial research detachment stationed deep in the vast ocean were soldiers worthy of the highest respect. Their barracks marked the Empire’s most distant frontier—arguably the farthest edge of the civilized world.

To the due east of the landing zone, adjacent to the human docks, lay another coastal facility, distinctly different in style and design. Its buildings and machinery bore no resemblance to those familiar to the land-dwelling races. Structures shaped like shells and coral, countless water storage tanks, and floating spheres of pure water evoked the depths of the ocean. The graceful, sometimes abstract figures bustling between these strange constructions made it immediately clear who had built this harbor.

This was the Siren Port, constructed by the merfolk. Due to the time difference, Byron had never witnessed the massive harbor’s construction firsthand. According to soldiers stationed at the Imperial docks, the Siren Port had seemingly “risen overnight” from the seabed. The merfolk had employed some extraordinary technology to uproot an old harbor near their capital, Antavien, from the ocean floor, affixed massive thrusters, and towed it all the way to the southwestern seas of Loren. Within hours, they had installed it onto the base of the orbital elevator—a spectacle said to be breathtaking.

Byron deeply regretted missing the chance to see the Siren Port’s creation. His merfolk friends, ever playful, had even offered to dismantle the port and “slam” it onto Steel Island again as a demonstration for their allies—after all, they had plenty of free time. Byron pondered the offer for three days but ultimately declined, feeling it would be too much trouble.

At present, the Siren Port was as bustling as the Imperial docks. The mighty submersible freighter, the “General of Sea and Shore,” had just docked. The enormous vessel exhaled a powerful mist as its cargo bay doors slowly opened. A swarm of oddly shaped merfolk spilled out like seafood being unloaded, splashing into the giant water pools beside the dock. Nearby, another group of merfolk directed the unloading while using various fishing tools to haul their sisters from the water.

Within an “elemental field” constructed near the freighter, several large, hazy forms were gradually taking shape—massive equipment being teleported from Antavien.

The merfolk possessed a remarkable “elemental leap” technology, allowing them to transport themselves or specially treated material anywhere on the planet. This required first establishing a “beacon anchor,” then harnessing vast energy and suitable elemental conditions. During Antavien’s darker days, activating such teleportation was so costly that the merfolk had nearly sealed the technology away. But now, with the core fusion tower of Antavien restored to over half its capacity, they had finally dared to reactivate their teleportation fields. The massive submersible freighter carried a powerful teleportation enhancement array—Byron’s first time seeing it in operation.

The deep sea’s wonders never ceased to amaze him.

Standing on the shore of Steel Island, feeling the sea breeze and occasionally gazing out at the mysteriously suppressed, mirror-like surface of the ocean, Byron waited for an unknown stretch of time. Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind him, accompanied by a familiar presence.

Before he could turn, a voice filled with amusement reached his ears: “How long have you been standing there like that? Just striking a pose like you’re contemplating the fate of the world, waiting for me to show up, huh?”

Byron turned to see the striking red-haired Dragonmark Witch smiling at him. He grinned and waved a hand dismissively. “What do you mean ‘striking a pose’? I’m just thinking big—after all, I’m the Imperial Navy Commander now. My perspective’s a bit different from before…”

“Alright, alright, I get it—you’re not the same as you used to be. No need to remind me,” Asalina waved her hand, then took a deep breath, savoring the air before exhaling slowly. She repeated this two or three times, then shook her head with a hint of nostalgia. “The air on the surface really is more comfortable… Even though ‘up there’ has life-support systems creating atmosphere and gravity, it still feels off.”

Byron frowned. “Is the environment on the Skyward Station that harsh?”

“Not exactly,” Asalina shook her head. “It’s mostly psychological. Just thinking about being trapped inside a cold steel shell, far from land and sea, drifting silently through space for over a million years… Even with pure air and normal gravity, it weighs on your mind. Plus, the station has all sorts of strange compartments. Stress and tension are inevitable. Luckily, we have the orbital elevator for quick rotations. Several teams take turns returning to the surface to rest.”

“I didn’t see you last time I came,” Byron shrugged. “Or the time before that. You were either exploring unknown sections or on duty at some transit point.”

“Well, the missions are heavy and manpower limited. More and more areas ‘up there’ are being activated, and the engineers we initially brought are no longer enough. But it’s better now. With recent reinforcements and the mother star’s barrier project officially underway, the Skyward Station is gradually coming alive. The first engineering teams, myself included, finally get regular breaks.”

Asalina raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “And what about you? The great Imperial Navy Marshal, now escorting freighters and engineering ships back and forth between Loren and the orbital elevator like some transport captain. Not quite the grand vision you once described to me, huh?”

Byron, unusually, didn’t snap back with a retort. Instead, he sighed quietly. “Honestly, being a transport captain beats constant warfare. As His Majesty says, the demons and monsters plaguing humanity these past years have been enough. At least until the magical tide arrives, it’s better to keep things quiet.”

Asalina looked at the older, steadier man before her with surprise, struggling to reconcile him with the young, reckless, hot-blooded mercenary leader she remembered. But soon, her surprise softened into a smile. “That’s not something a commander should say. I wonder what your soldiers would think if they heard it. Still, I’m glad to see you’ve finally grown into a steady man.”

“Not wanting war and not fearing it aren’t contradictory,” Byron said casually. Then, as if remembering something, he patted his head, rummaged in his pocket, and after a moment produced a small box. He handed it to Asalina. “By the way, this is for you.”

Asalina’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. She stared at Byron as if he’d just revealed some alien artifact. After a long moment, she reached out and took the box, her expression still oddly amused. “You actually remembered to bring a gift? Have the merfolk gotten to your head or something?”

She examined the box—a plain, roughly carved wooden container, decorated with crude patterns. It looked like something you could buy for three copper coins at a market stall, and anything priced over four would get the stall smashed by passersby. But when she opened it, nestled inside the dark velvet lining, lay an exquisitely crafted brooch.

Delicately woven from fine metal wire, the brooch took the shape of a leaf with serrated edges resembling a finely detailed dragon’s wing. Tiny crystals adorned its edges. It wasn’t ostentatiously expensive, but undeniably elegant.

Byron scratched his head, a bit embarrassed. “This brooch was made by Pea. She said she wanted to give it to you, so I’m just passing it along…”

Asalina blinked, her expression flickering between tears and laughter, leaving it unclear which it was. In the end, she could only sigh helplessly and shake her head with a look that said, “Only you could do something like this.” “Alright then, please thank Pea for me. This is really beautiful—I didn’t expect she’d learn to do this…”

Byron hesitated, struggling for a moment before finally speaking up. “Actually, I got you a gift too…”

Asalina paused, curious, glancing at the wooden box in her hands. “Oh? Where is it?”

“That box you’re holding,” Byron said, pointing to the wooden case the Dragonmark Witch carried, “I made it by repurposing Pea’s old stationery box from when she was little…”

Asalina: “…?”

“I wanted to buy something nicer, but for some reason Pea insisted I make it myself. Since I don’t know how, this is the best I could do,” Byron spread his hands helplessly. “If you think the craftsmanship is bad—”

“The craftsmanship is definitely lacking, but at least you made it yourself, so I’ll let it slide,” Asalina interrupted with a wry smile, shaking her head. “Though I still don’t get why you were so fixated on giving me a box… Whatever, I’ll accept it.”

She paused for a moment, then her expression turned a little troubled. “I’ll take it, but now I have to figure out how to return the favor to you and Pea. Pea’s easy—I’ll pick out a gift for her when we head back to the mainland. But you… what are your hobbies again? I remember you like drinking, but at your age, you really should quit…”

Byron waved her off. “Age is no excuse—I can keep drinking!”

“Keep drinking, my foot!” Asalina nearly kicked him, but at the last second, thinking better of the strength of a dragonborn’s legs, she held back. Suddenly, as if she’d just remembered something, she spun around and dashed toward the camp, shouting over her shoulder, “Wait here! I’ve got something for you!”

Byron stood there, dumbfounded, watching this so-called “witch” vanish like a streak of dust, running faster than a charging knight. After a moment, she came sprinting back from the camp, kicking up a cloud of dust, something slung over her shoulder. As she drew near, Byron finally made out what it was.

Asalina was carrying a dark red scale, nearly as large as a full-body shield.

With a heavy thud, she planted the nearly human-height scale in front of Byron, bracing the top of it with one hand and offering him a faint smile. “This is for you. I just shed it recently…”

Byron: “…?”

He stood there stunned for a long moment before it dawned on him. “Is this how you dragons give gifts? Shedding scales as presents?”

“You don’t like it, do you?” Asalina glared. “If we could turn back the clock a few years, do you know how much a single dragon scale would be worth in the human world? Not to mention that over ninety percent of the dragon scales circulating on the continent back then were just tree resin dyed to look real… This one’s a hundred percent genuine!”

“Well… okay,” Byron wiped the sweat from his brow. It seemed there was no way to refuse this gift today, but he was still at a loss. “But what am I supposed to do with this?”

“That’s not my problem,” Asalina waved dismissively. “You could use it to sharpen a blade, or prop it up on four legs and make a table. If all else fails, mount it as a shield—I heard your majesty once did something similar…”

Byron: “…”

(End of chapter)