Chapter 235: The Door’s Stirring

When Gawain answered, Tyr blinked but said nothing, instead signaling him to continue.

After all, she wasn’t very familiar with the human world—though sea spirits like her did occasionally observe the continent’s affairs. Information wasn’t exactly sealed off, but Tyr herself clearly wasn’t the type to care much about other races’ news.

“You should know what happened on this continent seven hundred years ago,” Gawain sighed, then gave a rough overview of humanity’s technological regression. “Back then, the Kingdom of Gondor was the most advanced nation on the continent. But the Cataclysm of the Deep Blue Well caused a massive collapse in our technology. Because the Deep Blue Well’s energy source can’t be replicated, and nearly all the top talents of the ancient empire perished in that disaster, our decline was far worse than you might imagine. It wasn’t just technology that regressed—our social structures and even people’s ways of thinking deteriorated as well. To this day, human nations’ production methods remain as you described: a few craftsmen and mages working in their own workshops or labs, making handcrafted goods. The idea of industrial mass production is basically nonexistent.”

Pausing briefly, Gawain continued, “Currently, the Land of Cecil is the only place trying to build an industrial system—I don’t know if the term ‘industrial system’ I coined in the common human tongue makes sense to you, but in short, I want to establish a brand-new mode of production and development. I want to popularize ‘magic’ as a convenient power, turning it from a privilege of the few into a tool accessible to everyone. On that foundation, I hope to achieve great technological progress, and use that progress to transform production methods. I want to harness tools and intelligence to mass-produce industrial products—like these rune circuit boards being made on the assembly lines before you.”

As he spoke, Gawain watched Tyr’s expression closely. The sea spirit’s usual casual look gradually faded, replaced by focused attention. The ends of her beautiful blue hair even shimmered faintly with glowing particles—perhaps a sign of her good mood?

When Gawain paused, Tyr blinked and asked seriously, “And then?”

“Abundant resources will change our society—how people interact, social relationships, and the laws and class systems built upon them will all shift,” Gawain said frankly. “No doubt—that’s exactly what I’m aiming for.”

“Interesting… you’re more fascinating than I imagined,” Tyr said, swaying her long serpentine tail as she circled Gawain. (Honestly, if this salty sea spirit could walk without looking so ridiculous, her aura would be at least twice as impressive.) “Your ideas surpass those of your peers, even those of your so-called ‘advanced’ ancestors from over seven centuries ago. I know a bit about that ‘Kingdom of Gondor.’ It was indeed a powerful human empire with advanced magical technology, but that was just an illusion propped up by a natural energy reservoir. All the civilizations on this continent—even the still-strong Silver Elves—have been unbelievably backward. The continent’s abundant resources and convenient magical environment nurtured you, but also shackled your thinking. Yet… here you are, such an outlier.”

Tyr tapped her chin, casually delivering a rather harsh critique of all the continent’s kingdoms. Gawain knew that, given her civilization’s level, she was fully qualified to make such judgments—they were objective and factual. What pleased him even more was that from Tyr’s attitude, he could roughly guess the sea spirits’ own developmental path—and it was probably similar to his.

They, too, seemed to be pursuing technological advancement to drive productivity, and using that to promote social progress.

“I lived through a glorious and prosperous era, saw what an advanced civilization looked like with my own eyes. I once led a group to carve out new lands in the wilderness, hoping to rebuild that glory,” Gawain sighed softly, flipping through memories both from Gawain Cecil and from his Earth life, speaking from the heart. “Then I slept for seven hundred years, and when I woke up, I found society hadn’t returned to its former glory—it had become even more backward, more decayed, more corrupt… I couldn’t stand this decline and rot. Naturally, I want to do something about it—even if it’s just to make my own life a little more comfortable, I have to get society moving forward.”

“I agree—many technological advances are just to make it easier to sleep in,” Tyr said cheerfully, wagging the tip of her tail. Then she suddenly asked, “But aren’t you worried that if magic really becomes widespread, and even common folk can use it to rebel against their rulers, your rule might be threatened?”

Gawain couldn’t help but laugh. “If most people are driven to the point of wanting to blow up their lord with fireballs, then that lord deserves to die. I firmly believe this: if a ruler can only govern through violence and oppression, then it’s not really governance. Any wild beast could do the same.

“As for the consequences of popularizing magic… sure, it might create new conflicts, but I believe the benefits far outweigh the risks. Technology develops through widespread use. To get more talent, more people must have access to it, and the barriers to learning and research must be low or nonexistent. Only then, with a large population base, can enough researchers emerge to truly uncover the secrets of the world. Right now, only a few gifted individuals can use magic, and their efforts are wasted on maintaining appearances and boosting personal power. Even if a million years pass, the world will only gain a handful of great mages. And if another magical catastrophe strikes, even if those mages survive, human civilization will still be wiped out. Then those mages will have to live like savages in the wild, fighting beasts for territory.”

Tyr stared at Gawain for a moment, then turned her gaze to the machines clanking and forging runes. The tip of her tail tapped the factory floor absentmindedly. After a long pause, she suddenly said out of nowhere, “I wish you had woken up earlier…”

“What?” Gawain heard the words but didn’t understand. “Why do you say that?”

“The magical catastrophe is indeed approaching,” Tyr said, turning to look Gawain in the eye with grave seriousness. “It will bring devastating destruction to all civilizations. We sea spirits, being elemental beings, have some natural resistance, so we’ve survived multiple times. But you humans, made of flesh and blood, cannot escape the ‘material reshaping’ process.

“We’ve always suspected that if the catastrophe is a natural phenomenon, then it should follow certain laws and principles. But because of our own… ‘peculiarities,’ we sea spirits still haven’t uncovered the deeper principles. Still, we believe this line of thinking is correct.

“The technological progress and pursuit of truth you seek align with our suspicions. I think your path might be right, but… I worry you woke up a little too late.”

Gawain’s face twisted into an awkward, stiff smile. He twitched his mouth slightly. “Don’t you think saying that so bluntly is a bit of a blow?”

“We sea spirits are used to speaking frankly,” Tyr said calmly. “And I tend to be pessimistic first—you can be optimistic. After all, I said the catastrophe’s cycle isn’t exact. Maybe it’ll be delayed by a thousand or eight hundred years this time. Maybe you or your descendants will figure out how to resist it, or maybe your technology will leap forward and you’ll understand its principles in just a couple of years.”

Gawain pulled a wry smile. “You’re being overly optimistic. I might as well hope there’s an all-powerful creator who suddenly rewrites the world’s rules the day before the catastrophe, so human civilization lives forever.”

“Who knows,” Tyr shrugged—tail tip included. “Civilizational progress is sometimes illogical and unreasonable. Some races can’t see a clear sky for hundreds of thousands of years; others fall from glory to ruin overnight. But as long as we’re alive, we have to hold onto hope. We sea spirits believe in one thing: as long as life continues, there’s always something worth looking forward to.”

Gawain looked at this self-proclaimed pessimist sea spirit with some surprise. He felt her words carried hidden meaning. But when he looked closer, Tyr’s face had already returned to that casual, lazy expression.

She turned away, resuming her curious observation of the machines. Gawain smiled and followed, making sure the sea spirit didn’t disrupt the rune-forging workers.

Just then, a sudden commotion came from outside the factory gates. Gawain frowned and looked over, seeing a lightly armed Cecil soldier rushing in.

The soldier jogged up to Gawain, saluted hastily, panting as he spoke quickly, “Sir, the door… that door is stirring!”

“The door?” Gawain frowned. “Don’t just blurt it out. Catch your breath and explain.”

The soldier quickly composed himself, took a deep breath, and reported, “It’s the ancient facility’s lowest-level circular magic gate. The guards at the gate say it’s changing—seems to be activating!”

“That gate activated on its own?!” Even Gawain was stunned. After a moment’s thought, he ordered, “Notify Hetty and… Pittman. Have them come immediately.”

Then he turned to Tyr. “You should head back for now…”

“No, I want to come with you,” Tyr said, wagging her tail. “You keep talking about that ancient facility in the mountains, some kind of Gondor Empire tech relic. I’m curious—though if it’s classified, I won’t go.”

Gawain hesitated briefly, then nodded. “Alright, if you want to come, then come along. Maybe your knowledge will be useful.”

He recalled that the mountain ruins had once been studied for their connection to divine flesh. If the gate at the bottom led to a place related to the gods, then Tyr—a deep-sea sea spirit who dared to consume divine flesh—might have some role to play… at least as an expert appraiser.

(End of chapter)