Chapter 1581: The Approaching Tide

Gawain raised an eyebrow as he reviewed the communication logs from the Solin region. Smiling at Beltira, who appeared in the projection from the arcane network terminal, he said, “I didn’t expect you to take the initiative to mention our biochemical technology to Nova.”

“Is that inappropriate?” Beltira’s face remained expressionless, but her tone betrayed a hint of unease. “Although I don’t think it counts as leaking classified information…”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, as long as it doesn’t involve the sensitive details explicitly restricted in the memorandum. There’s no need to hide everything from our alien friends,” Gawain shook his head and casually placed the file on the table. “I just didn’t expect you to do it voluntarily—seven centuries ago, that kind of thing wouldn’t have surprised me, but coming from you today, it caught me off guard.”

“…An immature, reckless move?” Beltira said slowly. “I didn’t think it through at the time.”

“It was a promise with little chance of fulfillment—though neither side considered it a formal ‘commitment,’” Gawain leaned back in his high-backed chair, his expression calm as he spoke casually. “Our ‘technical exchange’ with the Noy is currently limited to the magical tide domain. In other areas, we’re still strangers. And providing biochemical guidance to an alien species across four light-years is no small feat, especially when we can’t even be sure we’ll all survive.”

He paused, then shook his head and shifted tone. “But you don’t need to worry about that. I’ve thought it through, and that ‘witch’ understands it well too. Besides, it’s always good to have a little more hope and expectation for the future.”

Beltira nodded softly, then noticed a trace of fatigue in Gawain’s eyes. “Were you just in an online meeting with the other Alliance leaders? Did it go smoothly?”

Gawain rubbed his temple and exhaled lightly. “It was exhausting, but yes, everything went well. The work on the Skyward Station has reached a critical phase. We’ve dispatched engineering teams to space three times in a row to ensure the broadcast relay devices are installed on schedule. Plus, the Deep Sea Kingdom has provided more large transport ships, solving the bottleneck between the Loren continent and the orbital elevator. The biggest remaining issue is whether we can produce enough broadcast devices before the magical tide hits Loren. That was the main focus of today’s meeting.”

“The final plan is to ramp up production in the Silver Empire—the elves’ ancient factories can switch modes quickly, and their proximity to the southwest sea reduces transport costs.”

“So, over the next four to five months, the Silver Empire will suspend more than half of its regular industrial projects, dedicating all freed capacity to producing broadcast devices. Meanwhile, Alliance members without advanced industrial capabilities will supply materials to the Silver Empire, ensuring it maintains order despite halting over half its domestic production.”

Beltira was momentarily stunned, then quickly grasped the meaning behind Gawain’s words. “…Turning the Silver Empire into a massive factory, dedicating all national resources to supplying barrier components, while other member states ‘transfuse’ resources to keep it running? That’s… a huge undertaking.”

“Exactly. A huge undertaking, and only the Silver Empire can shoulder it,” Gawain nodded. “Currently, Cecil and Typhon are already bearing 80% of the burden in the ‘Twilight of the Gods’ project and have no capacity for such large-scale production shifts. Other nations either can’t produce broadcast components at all or can only make a negligible amount compared to the scale of the Skyward Station.”

Beltira fell silent for a moment. Gawain slowly rose from his desk and paced to the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the brilliant sunlight slanted across the city streets. On the distant horizon, a magnificent giant sun was slowly sinking westward. Wispy, cloud-like coronas seemed to merge with the horizon’s clouds. On the sun’s surface, faint, hair-thin streaks of blood-red could be seen.

Gawain’s expression suddenly stiffened. Without turning, he said, “Beltira, have you noticed the subtle patterns on the sun’s surface?”

After a brief pause, Beltira responded, “Yes, brother, there are indeed faint red marks. Could it be… the magical tide is coming?!”

“Calm down. It’s not here yet, but the ‘ripples’ at the edge of the magical tide are definitely approaching. These disturbances can travel several light-years, and that’s exactly what our observation instruments detect,” Gawain said quietly, his steady voice easing Beltira’s growing tension. “The first signs appeared a few years ago, but back then, no one understood the mysteries behind these celestial phenomena.”

Beltira nodded in understanding. Gawain continued to gaze at the distant sun’s surface, watching the disaster inch closer to their world, observing the shadow it cast on the mortal realm. He saw the blood-like streaks slowly spreading across the corona, gradually forming clearer crimson spots—like fresh blood about to drip from the sun’s surface. Moments later, the blood-red streaks and patches began to fade rapidly…

As if the calamity was unleashing its power upon the world.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor—he wasn’t the only one who had noticed the sun’s changes. Gawain took a deep breath, composed himself, and turned toward the study’s door. Then he heard Hetty’s voice from outside: “Ancestor, you—”

“Come in,” Gawain interrupted calmly. The door was pushed open, and Hetty appeared, her expression slightly tense. “Ancestor, did you notice the patterns on the sun? Could it be—”

“Don’t panic. The end of days hasn’t come yet,” Gawain shook his head as he walked back to his desk. “It’s just reminding us of its presence once again.”

…

The sudden appearance of red patterns on the sun’s surface wasn’t visible only within Cecil’s borders. At the same time, nearly every region on the Loren continent experiencing daylight witnessed the sun’s strange transformation lasting ten minutes. Those who knew more of the truth understood the terrifying significance behind this change.

The magical tide was truly drawing near.

In the Ogure Tribal Nation, atop the ancestral peak in the holy city of Sancthelm, five tribal kings gathered on the city’s highest lookout. The tallest among them, Camilla, stood at the edge of the platform, expressionless as she stared at the massive sun, now one-third below the horizon. Twilight was near, and the sun’s golden glow bathed Sancthelm’s ancient, towering walls and rooftops. On the sun’s surface, the blood-red streaks had almost completely faded, leaving only faint dark red lines flickering within the misty corona, gradually dimming.

The magical tide had not yet reached Loren, but the “ripples” radiating from the apocalyptic wave already licked at this tiny speck of a planet. The immense power it carried caused visible optical changes on the surfaces of “virtual celestial bodies”—not only stars like “O” but also the gas giants illuminating Loren’s world.

Standing beside Camilla was the Spirit Witch King, Stur. His voice was low and measured. “Years ago, I saw similar blood patterns on the sun, but at the time, I didn’t understand what they meant…”

“According to the Noy, the magical tide’s power can interfere with virtual celestial bodies from several light-years away. The density and frequency of the patterns appearing on the sun or gas giants roughly indicate the distance between the tide and the celestial body. The last time we saw red spots on the sun was years ago. The next time… might be next month, or even this month,” said Wycliffe, the human king standing nearby, shaking his head. “When the magical tide fully arrives, the sun’s red patterns will cover almost the entire corona and won’t fade until the tide ends.”

“…Facing the challenge of coming of age under a blood-red sun? Sounds like some kind of epic prophecy,” said Wenna Whitebloom with a sigh. “So, is our world ready to face this blood sun?”

Spirit Witch King Stur turned to look toward the other side of Sancthelm. The ancestral peak stood tall to the city’s east, its rugged surface armored in steel. Towers rose silently in the sunset glow, massive antennae and crystal arrays like swords and arms pointing skyward. The sunset light spread along the mountain, ending at the vast sensor array ring on the plains below.

Camilla also turned to face the sacred mountain. Her feline-like pupils contracted slightly in the mountain’s glow. She raised a hand to touch the scar near her cheek left from a past war, her voice low and resolute: “At least this time, we are better prepared than any of the previous pioneers in the last 1.8 million years.”

Twelve hours later, the final sensor tower on the ancestral plains entered its last phase of system testing.

In the dim morning light, a massive ring structure was the first to catch the sun’s rays. Centered on the towering ancestral peak, it encircled the entire plain. Large energy stations, relay hubs, analysis nodes, and sensor arrays stood like jewels embedded in the ring, proudly rising across the vast Ogure plains. At the ring’s final node, bright welding sparks gradually died down.

A tall tower composed of several cylindrical segments and complex crystal arrays gleamed metallically. Large drag chains extended from the tower’s body to nearby neural interface and energy stations. The construction crew began evacuating hazardous zones according to protocol, while several heavy engineering vehicles stood ready nearby to respond to emergencies.

At this moment, the rune arrays at the tower’s base entered pre-charging mode. As countless runes lit up one by one, the on-site commander sitting in one of the engineering vehicles wore a serious, tense expression. He listened to the deep humming growing louder as several large facilities within view began startup tests. Commands and reports continuously streamed through the communication console from the central command:

“Vibration focus energy assembly status: good… releasing energy to ring area…

“Vibration focus cognitive center awakened, servo brain array connected… neural bus status: good, neural signal feedback efficiency 100%, no error responses.”

“An abnormal pressure point detected in the biomass circulation line… resolved—it was a sensor false alarm. The redundant circuit has successfully switched over.

“Observer chamber feedback signals are normal… initiating the excitation focus to output a baseline oscillation to the ring zone. Oscillation test will last thirty seconds. All sensor monitoring units, remain alert and report any anomalies immediately.

“Observer chamber is beginning to take control of the main system, preparing to execute the first full assembly test…”

Under the growing brightness of dawn, a mighty beast was slowly awakening on the ancient lands of the Ogure tribe.

This beast was forged from steel, its blood and soul composed of mortal wisdom and courage. It crouched upon the ancestral peak plains, yet its eyes gazed deep into the endless, distant expanse of interstellar space. Beneath the blue sky, low rumblings echoed from the ancestral peak. The massive ring surrounding the sacred mountain began to light up section by section; rune arrays ignited in sequence, and the mana towers sprang to life. Torrents of magical energy and primal neural signals surged through the intricate network painstakingly crafted by countless mortals. Deep within the beast’s mind, the “Observer”—Myrmidna—had already taken control of the main system.

“This is… incredible…”

Feeling the magical tremors coursing through the entire plain, sensing the overwhelming power capable of slaying gods being precisely and safely harnessed under the observer system’s control—even the goddess of magic herself, known as the “Master of All Laws,” could not suppress her astonishment. Deep within the observer chamber, Myrmidna sat high atop her magnificent golden throne. Her perception extended through the deep blue magical vibrations to every sensor terminal scattered across the plain. This indescribable awareness was unprecedented.

Beside the golden throne, a magic-net terminal was active. A holographic projection of Gawain appeared above it, his gaze fixed on the operation of the magical tide observation device. “Myrmidna, how are things on your end?”

“The entire system is waking up—this colossal entity takes half an hour just to charge and activate,” Myrmidna lowered her head, marveling at the torrents of mana swirling around the throne and the complex patterns projected above the numerous nearby terminals. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe something like this was created by mortal hands… Ah, the system is stable so far. No cause for concern.”

“Good,” Gawain nodded gently on the comm screen. “Once the system is fully awake, run a baseline scan of the target starfield. Then, based on the scan results, we’ll calibrate and fine-tune the observation device. If all goes well, we can notify Noya to begin synchronized observations with us.”

“Understood. I’m ready to start,” Myrmidna nodded, her eyes flicking over the system’s awakening progress as she spoke rapidly. “Ten seconds left. I’m about to initiate sensor array excitation…

“Seven… six…

“Two… one… Sensors activated!”

A magical tremor, imperceptible to the naked eye, rippled across the entire plain. Myrmidna’s will merged seamlessly with the observation device.

In the next instant, endless ripples from the vast starry sky flooded into the hundreds of sensor nodes scattered across the plain. These “reflection parameters” from nearby stars streamed into the ancestral peak’s computing center, where massive servo-brain arrays and human brain arrays parsed and reassembled the data, feeding it directly into Myrmidna’s mind.

At that moment, she beheld the distant, unfathomable cosmos.

And the shadows slowly creeping from the depths of those stars.

The brief baseline scan ended, but Myrmidna remained motionless atop her throne, her expression vacant. Even the streams of magical light flowing around her seemed to falter and stall under her influence.

“Myrmidna?” Gawain noticed her unusual reaction and immediately asked, “What’s the situation? Did you observe anything?”

“I… I saw it. I really did…” Myrmidna finally snapped out of her trance, but there was no joy in her voice. Her gaze fixed on a nearby magic-net terminal, staring intently at the constantly updating data and patterns. “Gawain, the observation device returned two completely different parameter models. What I’m seeing… are two shadows.”

(End of chapter)