Chapter 1591: The Eve of Dawn

“All data transmission complete. The faster-than-light communication array is now in standby mode.”

The voice of Beltira came through the arcane network terminal on the desk. Only then did Highlord gently exhale, leaning back into the broad-backed chair, allowing his mind to slowly unwind.

Outside the window, night had fallen. Brilliant stars were gradually emerging from the darkened sky. In the direction of the city, streetlights flickered on, their artificial glow linking together into shimmering rivers of light. Arcane vehicles wove through these glowing streams as they traveled at night. The magical crystal lamp in the study dispelled the creeping darkness seeping through the window. The summer heat was fading, replaced by a faintly cool night breeze that drifted in, soothing Highlord’s tense nerves.

After an indeterminate stretch of silence, Beltira’s voice returned through the terminal: “Brother Highlord, I’ve just received a report from the Talash Plains. The Ophelia Matrix has already input the second batch of data from the Noy into the homeworld barrier control array. The related computations have begun and are expected to take three to six days to complete. Due to the massive volume of data, the Ophelia Matrix is personally overseeing the process.”

“Hmm. Veronica submitted her leave request today,” Highlord nodded slightly. “She said she needs to focus most of her energy on the homeworld barrier control center. How are things on your end? Continuous large-scale data transmission must be putting a heavy load on the Solin Computing Center.”

“I’m in the process of cooling down,” Beltira replied flatly, her tone as deadpan as ever, as if unaware how odd her words sounded. “Honestly, the pressure is intense—I feel like my brain is boiling. I might have to get a few rangers to help me cast some Frost Nova spells on my mind to feel better. But it’s still better than offloading this burden onto Antavian. At least my computing units are mass-produced; Antavian’s faster-than-light communication array is one of a kind.”

“…You’ve really been working hard,” Highlord’s mouth twitched as he struggled to maintain his ‘steady and reliable big brother’ demeanor. After a pause, he spoke with a hint of melancholy, “Now we just wait for fate to reveal itself. Both we and the Noy have done everything we can—every preparation, every contingency plan. Beltira, the next time you contact the Noy will likely be the last.”

“It will be the last before the magical tide arrives, Brother Highlord,” Beltira said, forcing a stiff smile on her otherwise expressionless face. “We’ve already arranged with that witch to report back safely after the tide ends.”

“Yes, the last before the magical tide. I wasn’t precise enough,” Highlord chuckled, then his expression grew serious again. He fixed his gaze on Beltira’s eyes in the communication interface and spoke slowly, “Are you ready? I mean…”

“I understand what you mean. All preparations are complete,” Beltira nodded gently. “The Solin Great Tree has stored enough energy for its dormant period. Some synthetic brains have undergone cognitive adjustments and can enter hibernation at any time. The root-layer embryo vault and deep shelters are in place. If that day comes, I will faithfully keep my promise to you—survive at all costs until the successor rises again on this land.”

Highlord nodded quietly but said no more. He sat in silence, lost in thought beneath the interplay of night and lamplight. After a long breath, he looked back at Beltira’s hologram, about to speak, but she interrupted him first.

“There’s no need for more words, Brother Highlord. Everything that needed to be said has been said, hasn’t it? And personally… this isn’t too heavy a burden for me.”

As she spoke, she seemed to drift into memories. After a moment’s reflection, she sighed softly, “When I think about it, I’ve been through a lot… Over centuries, I was once a Druid priestess on the borders of Gondor, then the chief cleric of the Eastern Expeditionary Force. Some called me the Saint of the Pioneers; others, the Princess of Typhon. I even fell into darkness, becoming a feared cultist consumed by fanaticism and obsession. And now, I’ve become a tree, sheltering this land. At this very moment, hundreds of thousands live beneath my canopy, countless birds and beasts nest among my vines and branches… Fate is truly strange, isn’t it, Brother Highlord?”

She paused, then continued with a wistful tone, “Tell me, if the homeworld barrier fails, what will the successor who rises from this land call me? A magnificent tree from a bygone era, a living relic bearing countless ancient memories and knowledge, endlessly recounting tales to the world? Perhaps many will gather beneath my roots, forming a new tribe under the Solin Great Tree. In their culture and understanding… what name will they give to the Solin Great Tree?”

Highlord found himself stirred by the vivid image Beltira painted. Though it was a future everyone hoped to avoid, the scene tugged at his thoughts. Leaning back in his chair, he murmured absentmindedly, “Sounds like the perfect setting for an epic fantasy game’s main city…”

Beltira blinked. “…I don’t understand.”

“I mean, Philm might be interested in making an epic fantasy shadowplay based on this,” Highlord smiled, waving a hand. “I hadn’t thought of it before, but your life story could probably support a whole troupe of playwrights—maybe even three generations of them.”

“Ah, that does sound intriguing,” Beltira laughed. “Maybe after this magical tide ends, we could ask Mr. Philm to produce such a shadowplay? A post-apocalyptic fantasy drama… no one’s ever thought of that angle before.”

She shook her head. “But right now, I have more important things—I really need to find some assistants to help me cast a few Frost Novas on my brain. One of my servitor brains feels like it’s about to boil over…”

Highlord immediately waved his hand, a helpless smile on his face. “Go ahead, go ahead—if your brain’s boiling, you shouldn’t be chatting with me this long.”

Beltira’s image vanished from the screen. Highlord exhaled deeply and rose from his desk, moving to the window. The cool night breeze soothed his nerves once more. But his moment of calm was short-lived—a steady rhythm of footsteps echoed down the corridor, followed by a knock at the study door.

Walking properly down the hall, knocking before entering—this was definitely not Amber. He heard Hetty’s voice: “Ancestor, are you in there?”

Highlord quickly composed himself and turned toward the door. “Come in.”

The heavy wooden door swung open, and Hetty stepped inside, dressed in her usual attire. She glanced at the now-idle arcane network terminal on the desk, then bowed slightly to Highlord. “Ancestor, Rebecca has returned.”

“Rebecca… Has the gathering at the Rebellious Court ended?” Highlord raised an eyebrow. “That’s earlier than expected. Did everything go smoothly?”

“Everything went well. The final handover and plan adjustments are complete. According to the schedule, the Rebellious Assembly Hall will close after today. The Theocratic Council’s monitoring focus will shift to regional church headquarters. Subsequent sacrificial ceremonies across the alliance will proceed as planned—until the homeworld barrier activates,” Hetty reported seriously, but then her expression turned odd. “However, there was an unexpected situation with Rebecca.”

Highlord’s heart skipped a beat. “What unexpected situation? This is the last gathering—did she set fire to Amorn’s Golden Oak?”

“…She brought back a huge pile of gifts from the assembly, claiming they were graduation mementos left by the gods,” Hetty said, expression blank. “Three large carts full. They’re already unloaded in the back garden. Lady Enya is inspecting them for residual contamination. Rebecca’s afraid to see you—she thinks you’ll accuse her of accepting academic bribes…”

Highlord blinked. “…Is ‘academic bribe’ the right term here?”

Hetty sighed, pressing a hand to her temple. “She even took the armrests from the Forest God’s throne as a souvenir. And you’re worried about her choice of words?”

Highlord was speechless.

Meanwhile, deep within the Talash Plains, beneath a sky full of stars, the edge of the Deep Blue Well impact crater was aglow with countless high-powered magical crystal lamps clustered around a massive structure standing beneath the starry sky. The building was brightly lit inside and out, its sharp, rigid lines illuminated by construction spotlights like blades pointing toward the heavens. The main body consisted of a towering central tower surrounded by four hexagonal prism structures. On the front of the main tower hung a huge banner, its lettering clear in the light: “Celebrating the Successful Completion of the Homeworld Barrier Control Center Main Building.”

To maximize efficiency and shorten construction time, this grand building was almost entirely devoid of decorative elements. Its construction heavily relied on prefabricated components and engineering magic. Some of the structural frames supporting equipment were welded in factories and transported directly to the Talash Plains on massive anti-gravity platforms for assembly. This method, which pushed the limits of construction time while ensuring quality, was extraordinarily costly. The final product was anything but “beautiful” or “delicate,” yet from another perspective, the rugged, towering structure possessed its own unique aesthetic.

It stood like a stubborn stone, its rough, unpolished lines facing the starry sky, as if proudly displaying a certain power and fearless resolve. Yet inside this coarse edifice lay the pinnacle of the world’s technology—an engineering marvel crafted by the wisest and bravest mortals on this planet.

Within the main control building, a massive alloy-shelled pillar with an extraordinarily complex internal structure spanned more than half the floors. Countless neural circuits extended from this pillar, connecting to computing nodes, exchange arrays, and power units throughout the building. At the base of this alloy pillar, three floors underground, lay a spacious hall—the “neural core” of the entire control center and the critical junction where the “sky” and “earth” components of the homeworld barrier connected.

One of Ophelia’s directly controlled “puppet avatars” stood quietly in the “Foundation Hall,” eyes fixed on the dimly humming Mind Hub before her. The pillar’s surface flickered with lights, and the low, steady drone emanating from within signaled the massive data throughput it was processing. Beyond sight, Ophelia could directly sense multiple communication lines extending from the depths of the Deep Blue Well underground, connecting into the compatible array at the base of the Mind Hub—these lines were, in essence, extensions of Ophelia’s own matrix, almost like parts of herself.

Though the building had only been completed yesterday, many of its core systems had been operational for days, running even as construction continued. When survival is at stake, pragmatism trumps all else. As long as it functioned reliably and safely, Ophelia paid no mind to the “completion celebrations” happening outside.

“Deep Blue Network control node responsiveness… good. Planetary shield on standby. Communication test with the Sky Station… normal. Data broadcast channels clear. Critical keys currently decrypting…”

Streams of data raced through her mental threads. The puppet avatar’s face remained expressionless. While many on the surface were already celebrating the building’s completion, rejoicing over the successful acquisition of the critical keys and the achievements so far, Ophelia—an ancient intelligence capable of mechanical precision—knew this was far from a time to relax.

The homeworld’s shield consisted of two crucial “elements.” One was the planetary shield itself, a barrier formed by modulating and releasing the Deep Blue Network within the planet, projecting it outward into space as a shield. This process effectively shifted the Deep Blue Network from an internal celestial phenomenon to an external defense system. Control of this shield relied on rune stones embedded within the Deep Blue Network, but at the execution level, it was the Ophelia Matrix deep underground in the Deep Blue Well that directly managed it.

The other element of the homeworld’s shield was the “Inversion Anti-Divinity Barrier,” or as the Noyans called it, the “Unified Mind Field.” This was a vast data projection system, centered on the “Homeworld Shield Control Center.” The key to activating this Unified Mind Field lay in the “keys” that were still in the process of being decrypted.

At present, the key decryption was incomplete, and the Sky Station’s space modifications were unfinished—though both were progressing smoothly, some nearing completion. But until the final results were confirmed, the Ophelia Matrix would remain perpetually vigilant.

Because this was not just her duty—it was her promise.

Deep beneath the Deep Blue Well, the massive Ophelia Matrix hummed steadily. The low drone echoed throughout the hall as another of Ophelia’s puppet avatars moved slowly among the server nodes. She reached the central platform, where an ancient descendant of the Norton royal line lay sealed in a crystal container, as if asleep.

As she had countless times over the years, the Ophelia Matrix gazed upon this “Creator” lying on the platform—an exact replica of herself in appearance. She felt the data surging through her computational nodes—from the entire Loren Alliance, from the Sky Station in space, from a planet four light-years away—and a faint smile finally touched her lips.

“I will not fail your expectations.”

(End of chapter)