Chapter 1552: The Day of Departure

For a full thirty seconds, Ophelia’s gaze remained fixed on the platform at the center of the laboratory—the platform encircled by a series of black obelisks, resembling some eerie ritual altar. She saw nothing, felt nothing, yet the data streaming in sent a clear message:

On that empty platform, an invisible nightmare had just been born—a harbinger of destruction bound to the mortal world by human power. Multiple overlapping force fields formed the shell of this destroyer, while potent deep-blue magic held it anchored in reality. It was now stretching out its newborn limbs within the ripples of fluctuating energy, and a single lick from it could instantly kill even the most intelligent beings in existence.

What would happen if she stepped onto that platform now? What would the moment of an observer effect spiraling out of control look like? Would she glimpse another face of the universe in the final second before death? Or would she lose her mind instantly and spiral into madness and oblivion? Could she briefly touch the “edge” of the magical tide? Or would she feel nothing at all?

These strange and terrifying thoughts suddenly surfaced in the virtual processing threads of Ophelia’s matrix—like standing at the edge of a dizzying cliff, where fear and the impulse to leap forward warred within the heart. Such a moth-to-flame impulse was enough to make anyone shudder. Yet, the Ophelia in the lab remained perfectly still, her expression calm as she stared at the platform in the center of the room. One by one, she shut down those unnecessary “thoughts” in her computational matrix.

At that moment, she heard Gawain’s voice crackle through the comm: “What’s going on? You’ve gone silent all of a sudden.”

“…The experiment succeeded,” Ophelia said after a brief hesitation. “Three sensors returned displacement data showing an unknown disturbance at extremely close range. That’s likely the ‘magical tide’ we tried to simulate and capture.”

Silence answered her on the other end. Ophelia couldn’t see Gawain’s expression—her proxy body in the imperial capital wasn’t even near him—but she could imagine the look on her trusted ally’s face: a mixture of great surprise and cautious optimism. After a moment, his steady voice came through again: “One data point isn’t enough to prove anything. We need multiple replications.”

“Understood. I’m already resetting the lab’s system parameters,” Ophelia replied calmly. “I’ll repeat the experiment seven more times, then test the mental unification field’s effectiveness after the final run. All data will be sent simultaneously to the Empire’s Arcane Technology Department and the Alliance’s Magical Tide Response Office. If you approve, I’ll compile a report to send to the Great Tree of Solin for the Starbinders to translate and forward to Noy.”

Gawain’s voice remained steady and strong: “Excellent. The rest is in your hands. Hopefully, I’ll hear good news while en route.”

Ophelia paused, then asked, “You’re ready to depart already?”

“Many things are arranged. Domestic affairs are in Heddy’s hands, you and Light are overseeing the Theocracy Council, Amon is handling the gods, and I have my appointment,” Gawain’s voice carried a hint of a smile. “It’s never a good idea to keep an ancient god waiting too long—especially one with a temper like that.”

“…I don’t sense any trace of reverence for that ancient god from you,” Ophelia’s doll-like face finally broke into a faint smile. “But in any case, I wish you all the best. May you return safely soon.”

…

After ending the comm with the Deep Blue Well, Gawain listened as the hum of the arcane network terminal gradually quieted. He exhaled softly and leaned back in his high-backed chair. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm, hazy glow over the items on his desk.

He squinted slightly in the gentle light—though winter’s chill still lingered in this northern land, the sunlight brought a comforting warmth.

A familiar presence appeared in the study. Amber slipped out from a shadowy crack, grumbling as she emerged: “Ready yet? It’s about time to go… Hey, you look in a good mood. What’s the good news?”

“The Ophelia matrix’s experiment succeeded,” Gawain smiled as Amber halfway emerged. “We managed to simulate the magical tide in the lab and contain it at the center of a force field.”

Just as he expected, Amber let out a startled “Whoa!” and tumbled out of the shadow crack like a flopping fish, sprawling on the floor. After a long moment, she scrambled up, flustered: “You did that on purpose! You had to tell me halfway through me crawling out! Do you realize… Ophelia really succeeded?!”

She was still fussing, but her words inevitably turned to the astonishing news. Then, as if forgetting the embarrassment of falling flat on the floor (or perhaps she simply had no concept of embarrassment), she hurried over to the desk and stared intently at Gawain behind it. “She really did it? This… this project you called ‘welding detonators to light bulbs’ actually worked?!”

“The principle isn’t complicated. The hardest part was obtaining the original readings of the magical tide without losing the subject—an effort that cost the collapse of the most powerful empire seven centuries ago and the loss of a god’s humanity. What we inherited is a step-by-step legacy that yields results if followed properly,” Gawain said calmly, enjoying the stunned look on Amber’s face. “Ophelia recreated the magical tide in the lab. Though we can’t observe it directly, the equipment’s data confirms its existence.”

He paused, then added, “Of course, we still need multiple replications and tests under varying conditions to rule out equipment errors. So it’s not yet time to break out the celebratory wine.”

“…Holy crap!” Amber blurted, then after a few seconds added, “So what now? The simulated magical tide won’t leak, right? Even though the whole lab’s underground, it’s still the magical tide…”

Gawain gave a half-smile to the shadowy assault goose. He knew she was a bit overexcited, mixing up facts in her enthusiasm: “Let me correct you. We simulated the magical tide, but it’s not some physical thing that can ‘slip’ out of a container. Strictly speaking, it’s a constantly oscillating force field that requires powerful energy to maintain stability. So it can’t ‘leak.’ It can only exist at the center of the force field array. If it shifts even a few millimeters, it dissipates due to loss of focus.”

“Also, do you know why this experiment must be conducted by the Ophelia matrix, with no outsiders allowed? Not even me or my most trusted experts can approach the underground lab on the Talash Plain? Because the magical tide can affect the experimenter’s mind. The observer effect spiraling out of control is the magical tide’s main power, but not its only one. Judging by its mechanism, ordinary people with vulnerable minds risk losing control near the apparatus.”

“But the Ophelia matrix can reduce that risk to a minimum.”

“If necessary, Ophelia can remotely shut down one of her bodies or delete parts of her own threads to terminate the experiment. She can even physically sever contaminated computational nodes to prevent mental corruption—things ordinary humans can’t do. While this doesn’t guarantee absolute safety, it maximizes security within our capabilities.”

“So don’t worry about nonsense. We have other things to do… The Dawn of the World is ready, right?”

“Ah… well, you always know more about this stuff than I do,” Amber scratched the back of her head, finally shifting her focus. “The Dawn of the World has arrived over the northern city district. A Royal Dragonrider is on standby at the government hall. We’ll take that to the Dawn, then set off for Violet. But… are you sure you want to show up to Lady Night’s appointment piloting a flying fortress? Isn’t that a bit… overkill?”

“From my judgment, Lady Night probably appreciates a show of strength,” Gawain said thoughtfully. “Also, moving the Dawn of the World over Violet Island has many advantages. Our exploration of that island has reached a point where small teams have done all they can. Further operations require a reliable logistics base and secure environment.”

“Besides, the Dawn just finished a nationwide tour. It might as well be stationed offshore in the north, saving Beltira from nagging me about how it’s affecting her photosynthesis—she’s already losing leaves on her head…”

Gawain explained his reasons for taking the flying fortress to Violet, though he kept some thoughts to himself: Violet Island was a barren, alien land, but such a large area would eventually be explored. Lady Night didn’t want it anyway, and it was close to Cecil. Establishing a base there early might let them claim some rights. Even if not, securing a foothold wouldn’t hurt. Unlike the old lands of Gondor, there were no historical disputes or sensitive issues. Sending an aerial patrol ship to protect their explorers was reasonable.

He didn’t voice these thoughts, but Amber was no fool. She was the kind who’d pry open an ancestor’s coffin just to see what was inside, and after years by Gawain’s side, she could piece together his unspoken intentions perfectly. Yet she said nothing, knowing the matter had likely been discussed with Typhon and others. The subtle agreements and quiet deals among the three great empires were nothing new. As the top intelligence officer, even without direct involvement, she could sense the undercurrents.

So she simply waved a hand: “Alright, your reasons are solid. Let’s get going…”

Then she suddenly stopped, as if remembering something, and smacked her forehead: “Oh right, someone asked me to give you this note.”

Under Gawain’s puzzled gaze, Amber reached into her bosom and fumbled around before finally pulling out a crumpled slip of paper. Calling it a slip of paper was a bit misleading—the material felt strange, unlike any paper Gawain knew. It was more like a tough fabric or rubber. On it, sharp and clear characters were inscribed:

“Step outside and trouble won’t find you; if trouble comes, there’s always a way out. Calamity stays away, and home remains peaceful.”

Gawain blinked, utterly confused, and looked up at Amber. “…What does this mean?”

Amber shrugged. “It’s from the Curse Goddess, sent to you through Amon,” she said. “Apparently, the gods insisted she write it, though she didn’t really want to… Oh, there’s writing on the back too.”

Gawain’s mind clicked as he recalled the last time he met the gods—at the edge of the gathering, there was that goddess sitting on a huge stone, dressed in black veils and robes, with a gloomy, stern air. She seemed a bit slow to react—whether that was her nature or because she’d been beaten up, he wasn’t sure. He flipped the paper over and sure enough, there was more writing:

“Reverse curses don’t work, blessings for gain are useless. I actually have no power to meddle with fate. I told them, but they wouldn’t listen—Jizna.”

Below that was a smaller line of text. Gawain squinted until he could make it out: “So you all need to be careful yourselves—forgot to add this earlier.”

Gawain thought it over and couldn’t help but suspect the Curse Goddess might really have a few screws loose…

“They seem pretty… interested in the fact that the two of us are about to set off for the Old Gods’ meeting,” Amber’s voice came from beside him, pulling him out of his daze. “They even wanted to see us off, but after some discussion, they realized it wasn’t really feasible. They wanted to give a gift but had no idea what to give, so they just pushed the Curse Goddess forward to write a protective charm. I think it’s a bit weird too, but hey, it’s their intention. You should keep it.”

Gawain’s immediate thought was: The Curse Goddess wrote a protective charm? If this showed up on a grammar exam, without any context, you’d lose points just for that!

But that thought stayed locked in his head. In the end, he gave a faint, complicated smile and carefully tucked the “charm” away.

In a way, this was the first “human” thing the gods had done since shedding their divine constraints.

“What are they up to now?” After putting the charm away, he asked casually.

“They’re gathered in the Rebellion Courtyard as agreed. Right now, they should be in their weapons maintenance class. Want to go take a look?”

“No,” Gawain said after a moment’s thought, shaking his head with a smile. “They have their business to attend to, and we have ours. Let’s go—to Violet.”

(End of chapter)