Chapter 1550: Building a Giant City

With a surge of energy coursing into the acceleration system, the ancient colossal orbital module began its slow journey toward the Celestial Space Station perched in orbit. Inside the module were 120 engineers and the first batch of twenty-two “Homeworld Barrier Broadcast Units.” Thanks to the astonishing technology of the Pioneers, these cargoes would be smoothly delivered into space within hours and installed over the next few days at several reserved points near the transit pods. A week later, they would undergo trial runs—without connecting to the neural network.

Amid the vast stars, the ancient Celestial Station drifted silently in the dark void. The towering orbital elevator stretched from the planet’s surface up to the station’s inner ring. Near the transit pod connected to the elevator, lights blazed brightly. Nicholas and his engineering team had successfully reactivated about a tenth of the station’s power systems. These awakening systems, in turn, roused the rest of the station. A wave of revival was spreading through the Celestial Station, with new lights flickering on its distant rings almost every day.

Against the backdrop of endless space, these lights stretched like a luminous Great Wall encircling a planet.

At the inner edge of one ring near the transit pod, sparks flared vividly in the void. Flickering particle jets danced alongside the glow of nearby hull lights. A strangely shaped engineering machine clung tightly to a support pipe with its tentacle-like limbs, welding the station’s outer hull with a spear-like tool at its front. At the “head” of this machine was a transparent, high-strength polymer dome. Inside sat Cassandra, clad in a deep-space suit, gripping the control stick and nervously monitoring the welding progress.

After a moment, the welding flame dimmed. Cassandra exhaled softly and activated the comm system beside her. “Welding complete here. The external support frame is fixed in place. Can someone come over for inspection?”

After a while, the nearby hatch slid open. Iron Commander Alice floated out. The woman, made entirely of intricate machinery, wore only her regular uniform—no protective gear. Yet a faintly shimmering shield of magical energy surrounded her, glowing in space and deflecting the omnipresent high-energy cosmic rays. Beyond this shield, Alice required no life support.

“Sometimes, I envy you,” Cassandra said over the comm as Alice activated magnetic boots and steadily approached the welding site. “You just raise a shield and work directly in space. We Sea Witches still have to rely on protective suits, or else we’d freeze solid and turn into a cloud of ice…”

“Irons were born to operate in harsh environments,” Alice’s voice echoed inside Cassandra’s cockpit without her moving her lips. “Our batch underwent special modifications by Princess Ophelia. The enchanted bionic skin and internal temperature regulation shell can handle extreme space temperatures. But compared to the space engineering machines you’re using, that’s not very advanced technology.”

“Ha, thanks for the compliment—I never thought I’d be piloting one of these again for an EVA welding job,” Cassandra laughed, patting the control panel before carefully rechecking the area she’d touched. She muttered, “These are all cobbled together from old relics in the warehouse. Though key parts have been upgraded with new tech, their performance can’t compare to what I remember.”

The Sea Witches had once been an interstellar civilization mastering the construction of giant starships. Though stranded on this primitive, wild planet, the ancient databases of Antavian and Gennakuri still preserved the fading glory of their mighty past. To repair the Celestial Station, the Sea Witches had pulled out all their best gear, including decades-old space suits like Cassandra’s and the small engineering machine she was piloting, known as the “Deep Space Fish.”

Of course, these were redesigned and localized with “magitech” for this universe’s environment. Due to the rushed design, their performance was far from what Cassandra recalled. The original “Deep Space Fish” was built to maintain Antavian’s ecological domes and had combat capabilities. It clung to starship hulls with its tentacles, its powerful welding nozzles repairing armor plates and, when overloaded, serving as a beam cannon to intercept meteoroids. The one before her now? Clearly not up to that standard.

Forget intercepting meteoroids or hostile ships—the tentacles often jammed on their own, and the sensors were frustratingly inefficient. After welding, visual inspections by external personnel were still necessary.

“Better than nothing,” Alice’s voice came through the comm, pulling Cassandra from her distant memories. “Just a few years ago, you were still struggling with basic energy issues. Now you’re back at your familiar post, piloting machines like this for space welding. That’s remarkable progress.”

“…You’ve learned to comfort people, Alice,” Cassandra said, glancing at the Iron Commander inspecting the weld. “I remember when you first arrived, all you knew were ‘missions’ and ‘orders’…”

“I’ve installed advanced emotional simulation and learning modules to better cooperate with other species,” Alice replied matter-of-factly. “Also, as the first—correction, the second Iron to operate independently from the Iron Network, my activity logs will guide future model upgrades. Princess Ophelia granted me many permissions, allowing my mind to grow like Diana’s.”

“The Queen once said every civilization has its proud technologies. I think your core intelligence is amazing,” Cassandra said sincerely, then looked up toward the distance.

Against the vast starry sky, she saw the inner ring of the Celestial Station stretching endlessly like a steel continent, its edges slightly curved upward. The silvery-gray steel gleamed cold and hard. Dotted lights adorned both sides like eyes peering into the starry sea. Between the lights, steel, and stars, four or five bright glimmers flickered—other welding teams at work: her deep-sea sisters, dragons, and iron friends.

Each flickering light marked a “mounting point,” and each mounting point meant a “broadcast device.” The orbital elevator was delivering the first batch of engineering components and support personnel into space. Soon, even more people and materials would be sent up. These components would be fixed onto the station’s ancient, majestic steel walls. When the planetary shield rose from the surface and closed in space, the station’s broadcast array would connect with the Homeworld Barrier, forming the largest data exchange system in history.

Then, the neural network would complete the final link with this “planetary shield.” The minds of all living beings would become a resilient barrier called the “Homeworld Shield,” standing proudly against the universe’s most primal and profound malice.

Cassandra withdrew her gaze. Above the cockpit floated the lush green lands and deep blue seas of Loren. The outer tube of the orbital elevator pointed down to the planet’s surface. From here, everything on the land had blended into a backdrop of blues and greens—no nations, no cities visible anymore.

But Cassandra knew that at this very moment, the planet’s industrial machines roared to life. Mortals were forging an ambitious giant city beyond their cradle. Since ancient times—when primitive humans built the first walls from stone and mud, when kings forged castles from steel and brick, and now as the Loren Alliance erected the Homeworld Barrier—the effort to build walls for survival had never ceased.

Mortals were fragile—so fragile that a single storm, fire, or plague could claim thousands of lives. It was because of this frailty that they embraced gods, seeking peace of mind amid harsh realities. They huddled behind high walls, hoping to fend off the wild winds and beasts beyond.

Yet, it was through this weakness that all beings had slowly advanced, finally standing shoulder to shoulder with the gods they created, reaching heights where they could gaze across the stars.

And now, facing the deeper darkness between stars and greater malice in the world, they built higher, larger walls. They cowered behind these walls, trembling as they awaited the end. They might not survive—but if they did, their eyes would still look farther, until new cities rose, reaching the very edges of the stars.

A phrase suddenly surfaced in Cassandra’s mind, and she whispered softly to herself, “The weak who are not cowardly shall live forever; the strong who are reckless shall perish…”

“What are you saying?” Alice looked up from inspecting the weld, curious. “That doesn’t sound like a Loren proverb…”

“It’s from my homeland,” Cassandra explained. “It means that weak creatures who face their weakness and overcome the fear it brings can survive long-term. But the strong who act without restraint will eventually vanish in greater crises. It was said by a wise one in our ancient times, when we struggled to survive on the seabed, relying on vitality and resilience to withstand powerful deep-sea predators.”

“Sea Witches… weak?” Alice sounded incredulous. “You’re threatened by predators? Are there even stronger predators than you?”

“We’re not predators ourselves—we love peace,” Cassandra laughed. “And I’m talking about a long, long time ago, when we were a very weak race. We hadn’t even seen the ocean surface, let alone built starships. Back then, the most fearsome deep-sea predators to us were just sea beasts. Later, we kept them in protected reserves…”

“Interesting data—I need to record this and upload it to the Iron Network,” Alice mused thoughtfully, then shook her head. “But for now, let’s focus on the task at hand. Miss Cassandra, the welding points have been inspected, and all indicators meet the design requirements. We can proceed to the next engineering task.”

“Work, work,” Cassandra said, patting her face to snap herself back to attention. “Which area’s next?”

“Hold on, I’m sending over the data now…”

…

At the edge of the Deep Blue Well impact crater on the Talash Plain, a large-scale construction site buzzed with activity. Though it was still little more than a vast expanse of cleared land and skeletal steel frameworks, the sheer scale of the project hinted at the grandeur it would one day achieve.

Powerful engineering machines roared across the site, while energy pipelines directly connected to the Deep Blue Well fed unlimited, surging power to every facility after conversion. Cecil, clad in engineering uniforms, bustled between the steel machines. Draped across the entrance wall was a massive banner, bearing a bold inscription in the common human tongue:

“Homeworld Barrier Ground Control Center”

A slender figure stood silently on a nearby platform, gazing out over the busy construction scene.

Her golden hair fell over her shoulders, and she wore a courtly gown unmistakably out of place in this era—fashion once popular during the Gondor period. Her delicate features were doll-like, almost too perfect. Standing in the biting wind, she took in the entire site. A few meters behind her stood a row of iron soldiers, statuesque and motionless in the breeze.

For centuries, Ophelia had never left her “Doomsday Bunker.” Though she had traversed every human realm beyond the wasteland in her “avatar” form, she had never set foot on the Talash Plain directly above her. Even after the Talash Campaign ended, and at Gawain’s suggestion, she had created a true physical body of her own—but it had remained mostly underground.

Today was the first time she had left the subterranean fortress in her own body to step onto this land.

Memories of the real Princess Ophelia from history quietly flowed through her matrix—memories of this land’s former beauty: towering cities, vast fields, magical flying machines in the sky, and soaring mage towers. But all of that had vanished in the cataclysmic explosion seven centuries ago. What Ophelia’s matrix now saw with her own eyes was a different scene—bleak yet magnificent.

The wilderness lay barren, but countless towering energy facilities were rising from the ground. The old cities were gone, but the foundation for the Homeworld Barrier Command Center—the shield protecting this world—had been laid. The sky, once shrouded by charged clouds, had cleared. Though the magic carpets and enchanted airships that once darted through the clouds were gone, she could see castle-like Gorgon flying fortresses and their escort fleets patrolling the cloudscape.

Below, griffins of the Typhon Empire and giant eagles of the Silver Empire squawked insults at each other in low flight.

It was quite a sight.

(End of chapter)