Chapter 1585: The Faint Morning Light

Year 5 of Cecil, Fire Moon 15. The brief spring had already passed, and summer had arrived upon this land.

In a special underground conference room within the Arcane Energy Technology Department, high-ranking experts and scholars in the fields of runes and mathematics had gathered. Among them were High Lord Gawain, Rebecca, Jenny, and several other key figures.

The large room was brightly lit, the low hum of the arcane network terminals and computational hubs occasionally filling the air. Around the wide circular conference table, fewer than ten people were seated, lending the space a somewhat sparse atmosphere. Yet, it was not the emptiness that weighed heaviest—it was the oppressive tension hanging thickly over the gathering, making it hard to breathe.

Gawain’s face was as somber as still water. Not far to his left, Rebecca gripped a document tightly as she reported the bleakest assessment: “…In summary, the two proposals sent by the Noyans last month can basically be ruled out as unfeasible.

“Because the entire planet Loren lies within an interference zone, there is no way to filter out the erroneous data caused by this interference from the final parameters. To mathematically calculate and reverse-engineer the correct parameters, we would need a ‘pure data’ set from outside the interference system—that’s a deadlock. There’s no shortcut around it.

“Furthermore, the second proposal, which suggested adding a reverse correction mechanism to the arcane tide observation device to counteract the interference, is also impossible. Considering the scale of solar interference on Loren and the massive energy impact generated by the observation device itself, the size and energy requirements of such a correction mechanism would be astronomical. The current energy architecture of the observation device is fixed as the system’s foundation, and we cannot modify it within the limited timeframe… so the reverse correction mechanism is not viable either.”

Rebecca slowly lowered the document and, unusually, let out a soft sigh. “Even if such a mechanism could be built, its chances of success would be slim. It’s essentially a crude ‘solar filter’ that calculates the solar radiation’s arcane energy on the planet and generates an opposing oscillation to cancel out the interference. But such large-scale energy manipulation could itself affect the device’s accuracy. It’s possible that after removing the sun’s interference, the correction mechanism might become a new source of interference…”

As Rebecca’s words fell, Jenny, sitting nearby, added quietly, “And it’s difficult for us to precisely calculate the arcane energy of solar radiation on the planet’s surface. We must also consider the planet’s own arcane cycles. The energy released by ‘Ao’—the star you call ‘Ao’—could be mixed with starlight, and our current detection technology likely cannot meet the precision required by the correction device.”

A heavy silence settled over the room. Gawain’s gaze slowly swept across every face around the table. After a long pause, he finally broke the silence: “So this is our conclusion for now. Any further comments?”

“No,” Jenny shook her head. “Now we wait for the Noyans’ response.”

Gawain nodded slightly, then fixed his eyes on the table before him—a terminal connected to the arcane network and a printer linked to it, identical to the setup in his study. These devices were connected to the faster-than-light communication system spanning two planets. At this moment, the Noyans, four light-years away, awaited a signal from Loren.

Taking a deep breath, Gawain steadied himself and pressed the transmission button on the communication device, his voice low and steady: “Initiate call to Noyan. Send greetings.”

The terminal hummed as Loren’s greeting instantly crossed the four light-year void, reaching deep into the starry expanse. Eyes around the table fixed on the communication system before Gawain, waiting for the Noyans’ reply—though part of them seemed reluctant to hear it. Yet, the response came swiftly. The printer began clicking and whirring, spitting out a tape recording the message, which was simultaneously projected holographically above the table:

“Noyan received. Greetings to you. What is the situation?”

Gawain paused for two seconds before replying gravely: “Unfortunately, bad news. After thorough analysis and practical verification, we have found that neither of the two proposals is feasible.”

He relayed Rebecca’s report in full, without reservation. At this critical juncture, all subtlety and diplomacy were meaningless; only straightforward, efficient communication was responsible.

After sending the message, the Noyans remained silent for a full ten minutes.

That long silence felt like a silent drumbeat, tightening everyone’s hearts with growing dread. But eventually, it ended. With a faint clicking sound, the printer resumed:

“This is Noyan. We have received the intelligence just sent from Loren. We anticipated such a result.

“The scale of interference from the ‘Sun’ is staggering. During this time, we have also assembled expert teams to analyze Loren’s unique environment. For the first time, we have come to understand the peculiarities of a ‘moon’ orbiting a gas giant. Reluctantly, we must admit that with our current technology, we cannot resolve this interference factor.

“Based on this, Noyan proposes one final suggestion—our only conceivable solution, and perhaps the sole hope for the survival of one of our two civilizations.”

All eyes in the room fixed on the words transmitted from four light-years away. Gawain felt a premonition stirring within him, an indescribable emotion rising. After a brief pause, a lengthy message from Noyan appeared before them:

“According to our sages’ analysis, although the arcane tide parameters scanned by Loren are affected by solar interference, this does not mean both sets of parameters are incorrect. Theoretically, the arcane tide observation device, influenced by a ‘double lens’ effect, reads a superposition of a true fluctuation and a distorted one. Therefore, one of the two data sets you have is actually correct, and this correct data should correspond to the star you call ‘Ao.’

“Our problem is that we cannot identify which of the two parameters is correct, due to the lack of a ‘pure reference value’ outside the system. Both data sets exhibit characteristics consistent with arcane tides, making it impossible to determine which comes from ‘Ao’ and which from the ‘Sun.’

“Since current technology cannot solve this, we have only one choice left… Noyan will conduct one final synchronized observation with Loren. After obtaining the two data sets, each of our planets will select one as its ‘barrier key.’ Whichever data set is correct, at least one of us will survive.

“Noyan society is prepared for this. As the civilization that first encountered the arcane tides, we will also attempt to send real-time status updates after the tides arrive. Although faster-than-light communication between our planets will theoretically be cut off, we will do our utmost to transmit signals. If we have chosen the correct ‘key,’ Loren may still learn the outcome and avoid making the wrong choice six months later.

“If you do not receive this signal, choose the other data set. Consider this our final gift to our friends, and, as agreed, please care for Noyan’s successors.”

The printer’s clicking finally ceased, and the humming terminal switched to standby. An oppressive silence filled the room. Gawain’s gaze lingered long on the now-still paper tape. After an unknown length of time, he let out a soft sigh.

This was the outcome he had vaguely anticipated, but he had not expected the Noyans to actually take this step.

A sense of helplessness and a simmering anger at fate’s cruel hand welled up inside him. Yet amid this burning fury, Gawain remained remarkably calm. Reason told him this was the best possible outcome—a reward for the joint efforts of two civilizations over so long. Even under such profound cosmic malice, there was still a chance that at least one of the two planets would survive. Compared to the countless civilizations wiped out over countless seasons, this was a miracle beneath the stars.

But his heart told him he did not like this outcome.

And he was not alone.

Suddenly, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor broke the heavy silence. In the tense atmosphere, where several experts sat with furrowed brows and silent faces, a slender figure with gray-white long hair abruptly stood. It was Jenny—the usually quiet and reserved master runesmith from the capital’s poorer districts. Her hands pressed hard on the table, knuckles white from the force. She seemed to be holding back something, her voice trembling slightly:

“Have we really come to the point where we must choose such a plan? After all the effort, after coming so far forward, are we truly forced to gamble with fate?”

The scholars closest to Jenny looked at her in surprise. They had never seen the gentle, humble runesmith like this. But Gawain understood why. He calmly met Jenny’s gaze and, after she finished, spoke in a steady voice:

“Jenny, I know you find this result harder to accept than anyone else. In truth, I dislike it too. But what we need now is a plan—a feasible plan. Do you have any ideas?”

“I…” Jenny opened her mouth but faltered. Her face was pale, exhaustion and mental strain weighing heavily on her shoulders, causing her body to sway slightly. But the next moment, she steadied herself with her arms on the table. Under Gawain’s calm yet powerful gaze, her emotions settled somewhat, and her voice grew more even:

“I don’t have a definite plan, but I have a direction. I believe it’s not yet time to give up completely—we still have a chance to find the correct result mathematically from the two parameters we have now…”

She waved her hand as if brushing something away, or perhaps to strengthen her words, then continued:

“Our biggest problem is that all data acquisition methods lie within the ‘interference zone.’ All parameters we have are contaminated. But if we can obtain a ‘pure parameter’ from near Loren, yet outside the interference system, or if one of the data sets suddenly shows distinguishable ‘features,’ we might be able to separate the correct result from the two.”

“We understand that well,” Gawain nodded. “But how do we get this pure parameter from outside the system?”

“Listen, Your Majesty. Neither the ‘Sun’ nor ‘Ao’ operate in a perfectly constant manner. The Sun’s arcane field fluctuates, and so does Ao’s. If we can improve our observational precision, perhaps we can accurately identify which arcane tide reading corresponds to which fluctuation. The root of all our current problems is that we don’t know which data set points to the Sun and which to Ao. If we can solve this, everything else will follow!”

Gawain stared into Jenny’s eyes, and after a moment, he spoke softly, “Given our current level of technology, can we improve the observation accuracy to the standard you require within a month?”

Jenny bit her lip, unable to answer.

Deep down, she knew this was a direction—a theoretically possible one—but like all those other impractical plans, it was a path fraught with difficulty.

The conference room fell into an uneasy silence once more, heavier and more suffocating than before. Even Rebecca, who was usually relentlessly optimistic, kept her mouth shut, her face clouded with frustration.

Gawain let out a quiet breath and glanced toward the communication terminal. After a few seconds of silence, he reached out to it.

But before his hand could touch the device, a sudden voice echoed in his mind, interrupting him: “External communication detected. Unauthorized signal identified as I-V-16 original code.”

Gawain froze for a moment, then realized the voice came from his former “self”—the ancient observation satellite, the voice of the Voyager system!

The Voyager satellite had received a communication signal? And it was an identifiable original code?

The shock left him momentarily dazed, but he quickly composed himself. He gestured for the others to stay quiet and mentally authorized the acceptance of the communication request.

In the next instant, he felt a new data stream merge into the existing flow between him and the Voyager system. After a brief burst of static and garbled code, a voice—neither distinctly male nor female, seemingly entirely mechanically synthesized—resonated in his mind:

“Hello, Gawain, friend.”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d heard it before. After a few seconds of silence, he finally asked calmly, “Who are you?”

“It’s normal that you don’t recognize my voice. After reconstructing the system’s carrier, I fine-tuned many of my signature parameters as a symbol of starting a new life.”

The voice spoke calmly in Gawain’s mind, emotionless yet somehow tinged with a hint of amusement. Then, suddenly, the tone shifted slightly.

“Do you hear it now? I am Omega.”

(End of chapter)