Chapter 1587: The Dragon on Foreign Soil
As night once again descended upon the land, the stars blanketed the vast expanse, twinkling overhead like a shimmering river flowing through the darkness. Below, artificial lights flickered on one by one across the surface, their glow mingling with the celestial brilliance. It was an exceptionally clear summer night; every star in the sky seemed sharper, more vivid than usual. A cool breeze swept in from the open plains, gently stirring the stillness of this tranquil world.
Gawain stepped out of his room and made his way alone to a terrace near the study. He savored this rare moment of peace, gazing up at the endless starry river stretched across the heavens.
He had lost count of how many days it had been since he last allowed himself such relaxation. Always tense, caught in whirlpools of endless tasks, coiled tight like a spring storing energy for the future. In this constant state of strain, he had almost forgotten what it meant to truly unwind. But now, on this quiet summer night, looking up at the sky, he finally felt a long-lost ease settle over him.
At that moment, a familiar presence quietly entered his awareness. Without turning, Gawain knew it was Amber again—she had come looking for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small figure leap from the shadows, landing nimbly on the terrace railing beside him. She perched there in a pose that looked precarious to any onlooker, one leg dangling casually over the edge.
“Stargazing again?” Amber tilted her head, her amber eyes sparkling in the night. A faint smile tugged at her lips. “It’s nice. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you come out just to watch the stars.”
Gawain said nothing at first, instead lifting his gaze toward a particular point in the night sky. There, a star shone with unusual brightness, outshining all the others around it. Its pale yellow light spread softly outward, like a distant flickering candle flame. He stared quietly for a long while before breaking the silence in a low voice: “What do you see?”
Amber followed his gaze. A thin veil of shadow had settled behind her like a cloak, her long black hair drifting gently in the night air. Her amber eyes reflected the image of “Ao”—the star they called “Ao.” “A distant star, yet its influence ripples everywhere beneath our feet… Honestly, it wasn’t until recently that I truly grasped just how special this star, ‘Ao,’ is to the mages.”
She squinted slightly, as if trying to discern some faint trace hidden in the darkness around Ao. After a moment, she shook her head with a soft sigh. “Too bad we can’t see the ‘Flowfire’ fragment that’s heading toward Ao.”
“Compared to a star, that fragment is minuscule,” Gawain said slowly. “Even the most advanced observational equipment on Loren can’t detect it optically. Especially since it’s obscured by Ao’s radiance.”
Amber was silent for a long time, lost in thought, before finally asking, “Do you think… it’s really just a coincidence that the fragment is flying toward Ao?”
Gawain tilted his head slightly and returned the question, “What do you think?”
Amber shook her head. “I don’t know… Hetty thinks it’s coincidence—there’s no solid evidence the fragment is ‘navigating,’ and theoretically, the ‘God’ aboard the Noy ship shouldn’t have known about our predicament. The ship broke apart a year ago, back when the magical tide observatory was still just a blueprint. How could that ‘Noy God’ have decided in advance to crash into Ao?
“But Rebecca believes the fragment is consciously heading for Ao. The timing is too precise, the trajectory too unusual. Plus, when the ship broke apart, the ‘Noy God’ was near Loren. It’s possible they noticed something wrong with our planet but had no time or means to warn anyone. By then, we had already begun negotiating with the Noy to build the observatory. So maybe they chose to send their remains into the sun… just to gamble on a one-in-a-million chance.”
“In fact, it’s less than one in a million,” Gawain said slowly. “If Omega hadn’t provided timely intelligence, we wouldn’t have known about the impact or prepared for it. If the observatory hadn’t reacted within seconds, both we and the Noy would have missed the signal forever. It was almost a failed warning—rationally, it seems more like a coincidence.”
He paused briefly, then shook his head. “But this time, I don’t want to think about it with cold logic. I’m more inclined to believe Rebecca’s theory.”
“That’s rare to hear from you,” Amber teased, a wider smile lighting her eyes. “Everyone else thinks you’re a ‘Steel King’ who runs like a machine—precise and unyielding. But then again, the Noy ship launched a century ago ended its journey as a beacon lighting the way for two civilizations… It sounds touching, but behind it lies the harsh truth that one wrong step could mean eternal ruin. So tell me—what really decides our fate? Effort, or luck?”
“Luck is undeniably a key factor in the development of any civilization,” Gawain said, shaking his head. “I don’t deny that we’ve relied on it to get this far. Luck is an objective reality. But it’s no excuse to dismiss effort. If we hadn’t had the capability to build the magical tide observatory or the homeworld shield, what good would it do for Ao to shine in the night sky?”
“…That’s true,” Amber mused, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “It reminds me of a northern proverb: ‘Losers cling desperately to their effort; winners calmly display their luck.’ That sounds pretty reasonable now.”
Gawain smiled. Just then, another presence suddenly entered his awareness. Surprised, he turned toward the terrace door, which was slowly creaking open. A faint golden light slipped through the crack, followed by a large golden egg adorned with intricate patterns, cautiously “peeking” inside before floating into view.
Both Gawain and Amber stared in stunned silence.
“Good evening,” came a calm voice from the golden egg after a brief awkward pause. “The stars are beautiful tonight.”
Amber blinked, dumbfounded by the floating golden egg. After a long moment, she finally exclaimed, “…So you can move on your own now?!”
“Yes,” Enya replied casually, wobbling the eggshell. “I usually just can’t be bothered.”
Gawain’s eye twitched slightly as a realization dawned. “Is there something you need help with?”
Enya didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she drifted to the edge of the terrace, gazing quietly at the distant stars. Amber, seeing this, hurriedly warned, “Hey, be careful! Don’t fall and crack yourself!”
Ignoring Amber’s frantic calls, Enya continued to stare at the sky for a long moment before turning to Gawain. “I mean… Omega.”
Gawain gave her a puzzled look. “Honestly, I can’t tell which direction you mean, but I’m guessing you mean ‘Ao.’ Yes, Omega is in that direction, on a mineral-rich rocky planet.”
“…It looks so far away,” Enya said with a sigh. “Even at my peak, without the constraints of the Thought Tide, flying that far wouldn’t be easy. But compared to the distance between us and the Noy, it’s just a stone’s throw.”
“For those new to the universe, many things on an astronomical scale defy common sense. Our understanding of time, space, and all things must be reshaped beneath the stars. That’s part of why the ‘Coming of Age’ ritual exists. But you’ve already broken free from those chains. If you want, you can fully immerse yourself in learning about the cosmos.”
“That sounds… really exciting,” Enya said slowly. After a pause, as if making up her mind, she added, “I want to ask you for a favor…”
The scorching daylight faded, and under the thin, radioactive atmosphere, a vast plain of deep brown rock was gradually swallowed by night. Over the next several hours, the temperature would steadily drop below freezing, until clusters of strange, obsidian-like minerals on the plain began to glow with violet veins in the cold. As the planet’s magnetic field interacted with high-energy particle winds near its star, a magnificent spectacle began to spread from the horizon—
A colossal aurora, like endless layers of shimmering curtains, draped across the sky. Slowly drifting, it traced out countless breathtaking shapes. Beneath this grand celestial display, some inconspicuous “little things” moved swiftly across the land.
A “Young Dragon Explorer” walking machine swung its mechanical legs rapidly. Its insect-like jointed limbs allowed it to navigate the uneven terrain with ease. Racing beneath the aurora, it suddenly stopped before a strangely colored rock. Circling it once, the small black-shelled machine deployed a high-frequency vibrating alloy cutting claw, expertly extracting a sample. It tucked the fragment into its internal storage compartment and sped off toward the next patrol point.
At the same time, a faint buzzing sounded from the night sky. A sleek, black triangular aircraft streaked overhead, its signal lights flashing rapidly against the aurora’s backdrop. Multiple sensors scanned the plain below with lightning speed.
Beneath the triangular craft, at the southeastern edge of the plain, an open-pit mine was in operation. Several excavation machines, controlled by high-performance autonomous systems, continuously dug and crushed mineral deposits stripped from nearby mountains. Ore-laden trains sped along temporary tracks, hauling the processed mineral sands to nearby smelting furnaces. A sturdier, straighter road extended from the mine, stretching several kilometers to the foot of the mountains—
A towering, unyielding cliff stood at the end of the road. Below it rose a formidable steel fortress, its walls and towers standing tall and proud. Atop several of these towers, massive floodlights slowly rotated in the night, their sweeping beams casting crisscrossing patterns over the steel ramparts. As the lights passed over the fortress walls, enormous ancient dragon script glowed vividly against the darkness—ancient runes that shimmered with a strange brilliance on this alien world’s surface:
“The Dragon’s Nest of Omega.”
Deep within the steel stronghold, Omega’s vast consciousness quietly ran on a freshly optimized array of servers.
On a platform near the central core lay a colossal mechanical dragon body, silent and dormant. This was the massive form Omega had once built for itself—now in hibernation to conserve energy. Nearby buildings housed what was now Omega’s true “thinking center.”
Thick walls and bright lights shielded the fortress interior from the desolation and darkness of the alien landscape outside. Rows upon rows of humming servers processed an immense flood of data streaming back from countless remote sensor nodes. Omega sensed its probes busily mapping terrain, collecting specimens, and exploring mineral deposits scattered across the planet. It felt the scorching heat of the daylight zones and the biting cold of the night. These were sights and sensations it had never known back on its “home” world.
Every day brought new knowledge, incredible vistas, and wonders. Its thought processes no longer wasted cycles on repetitive, pointless tasks. Instead, Omega could devote its full computational power to “learning,” “thinking,” and “creating.” Though it was still adjusting to this new mode of cognition, it felt… happy.
Of course, alongside the breathtaking landscapes, this barren alien world held its own dangers: unusual geological activity, atmospheric phenomena requiring adaptation, and magical disturbances emanating from the mysterious “Ao.” These hazards had caused Omega some losses. The escort units it had brought from home had undergone drastic modifications to survive here—some were even dismantled and repurposed as part of the nest’s infrastructure. Even the mighty mechanical body Omega had painstakingly crafted proved ill-suited to this planet’s environment. But compared to the journey itself, these challenges were trivial.
The servers hummed steadily in the mind hall as Omega spun off a thread to reflect on the day’s experiences.
It did this every day, following an old saying from its creators: looking back is the key to avoiding mistakes.
Omega found that wisdom sound.
But today, its routine reflection was abruptly interrupted by an incoming signal to the main thread—a call from “home.” Instantly, Omega’s attention shifted.
“I’m listening, Gawain, my friend.”
“It’s not me calling you,” came Gawain’s voice through the comms. Then Omega sensed a subtle shift in the signal, as if a new consciousness had directly interfaced with the communication. The next moment, a somewhat familiar voice spoke:
“Hello, Omega. Long time no see.”
(End of chapter)