Chapter 239: Kamail
“Are you for real?”
The humanoid figure, seemingly forged from pure arcane energy, let out a startled cry that immediately froze both Gawain and everyone else in their tracks.
This being can speak! It can communicate!
Gawain forced himself to halt the “Ironstorm” he was about to unleash, holding his longsword diagonally in front of him as he stared warily at the arcane creature. Behind him, Tyr spread her hands wide, summoning a faint misty veil of water around the entity. Though its purpose was unclear, the magical effect was undeniably powerful—the crackling electric sparks covering the creature’s form dimmed by more than half in an instant.
“You can talk?!” Gawain whispered sharply. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
But the arcane being seemed oblivious to their questions. It lowered its gaze to the dented slash mark on the armor plate over its chest, then glanced warily at the fully alert Cecil soldiers surrounding it. Muttering repeatedly, it whispered, “Real? Fake? Real? Fake? Real…”
“Hey, enough with the ‘real or fake’ nonsense!” Tyr snapped, unable to hold back. “If you don’t explain yourself soon, I’ll make you taste a crab’s pinch!”
“I… I…” The creature finally seemed to register the tense atmosphere. Yet, having apparently gone so long without human contact, it struggled to form coherent thoughts. Though it still had the ability to speak, its logic was fractured. It swayed aimlessly, unable to answer or express itself properly. After a moment of agonized hesitation, it suddenly let out a sharp, piercing howl and shouted, “I must check the barrier! I must check the barrier! I must check the barrier!”
With that seemingly irrational scream, the humanoid figure made of arcane energy began to flicker and destabilize. Then, right before their eyes, it suddenly transformed into a streak of lightning, crackling and flashing as it vanished from sight.
Gawain and the others exchanged bewildered looks. Tyr still held her hands aloft in a grand “wings spread” pose, but it was clear her watery mist barrier had failed to contain the strange arcane being.
“What just happened…” the mermaid lady murmured, flicking her tail tip in confusion. “Where did the lightning man go?”
“No idea. But I suspect he’ll be back,” Gawain said, keeping his longsword ready as he scanned the hall for any sign of movement. “If I’m right, he should be…”
Before he could finish, a series of strange noises erupted from deep within the facility.
The sounds were chaotic and confusing—partly the grinding of massive stones, partly the screech of metal scraping metal—like a tangle of machinery awakening somewhere in the building’s depths. As the racket grew louder, electric sparks suddenly flickered again in the semicircular hall. After a crackling burst, the arcane humanoid reappeared.
Tyr immediately struck the “wings spread” pose again…
But before the watery barrier could fully form, the figure raised both hands—or rather, two crackling arcs of electricity shaped like arms—and a strange, trembling voice echoed from between the armor plates: “Wait! We are not enemies!”
“You attacked us first,” Hetty said, pointing her staff at the being. “What exactly are you…?”
“Surely… surely… illusions wouldn’t be so unpredictable… illusions wouldn’t be so logical…” The creature muttered to itself, wavering between lucidity and madness. Only when Gawain repeated Hetty’s question did it suddenly snap to attention. “Ah… ah… introduction, introduction. I am… I am…”
But the being faltered, unable to produce a clear name. After struggling to recall for a long moment, it grew restless. “Who am I? Who am I?! I have a name… I should have a name! Who exactly am I?!”
Electric sparks crackled wildly across its body again, filling the space with an unsettling surge of arcane power. Hetty quickly erected a magical barrier, but the cold sweat on her brow and her pale face showed she was no match for this force.
Just as the situation threatened to spiral out of control, Gawain suddenly shouted, “Kamail! Your name is Kamail Slane.”
The arcane being froze at the sound of the name. Those syllables seemed to flip a switch inside it, yanking it back from the brink of chaos. It whispered the name softly, then after a long pause, lifted its “head,” two bright points of electric light turning toward Gawain. “How do you know?! You know me?!”
“The armor on your chest,” Gawain said, pointing. “Your name is written there.”
The “arcane creature” slowly lowered its gaze. Floating among the runic armor plates on its body was indeed a piece inscribed with words:
My name is Kamail Slane. I am the Watcher of the “Rebellion” Fortress.
“My name is Kamail Slane. I am the Watcher of the ‘Rebellion’ Fortress…” The being repeated the phrase slowly, and with it, its condition miraculously began to stabilize.
After a moment, under everyone’s tense watch, it raised its head again. The arcane energy flowing through it was far calmer than before. It looked around in confusion, then drifted toward Gawain, urgently asking, “Who are you? Humans? Imperials? Survivors? Are there still people alive? What is the outside world like? What has become of our empire?!”
Hetty instinctively raised her staff. “Ancestors!”
“Don’t worry!” Gawain waved his hand, signaling everyone to stay calm. He stepped aside slightly, putting some distance between himself and Kamail. “First, calm down and answer me this—were you a mage of the Gondor Empire who entered this facility during the Spark Era?”
“The Spark Era…” Kamail paused, as if the term was long forgotten. After a moment, he responded slowly, “Ah, yes, the Spark Era… I was then… I was still human…”
The soldiers on alert shifted uneasily. Someone whispered in disbelief, “Human? He was really once a person?!” “How does a human become like this?”
Tyr was equally shocked, turning to Hetty. “You humans can transform too?”
Her seafood logic was clearly on a different wavelength from everyone else…
Gawain ignored the murmurs and Tyr’s loud voice. He focused on Kamail. “You can rest assured, we are humans—except for this long one here, she’s our ally. We are indeed descendants of the Gondor Empire.”
“Humans! Descendants of Gondor! You survived! Our plan worked!” Kamail suddenly grew excited, but this time he controlled the energy crackling around him well, settling down after a brief burst. “So the empire has been rebuilt? How many years have passed? Who leads now? Is it Norton’s bloodline? What about the rest of the continent? Have they rebuilt as well?”
Kamail’s questions came fast and furious, and his excitement was palpable. Gawain had to pour cold water on him to calm the ancient soul—though to Gawain, he still seemed quite young.
“I have bad news—the Gondor Empire is history.”
“…What does that mean?”
“The Sundering Tide destroyed the empire in Gondor 1740. Many descendants escaped the wasteland, but rebuilding the empire is impossible—the Deep Blue Well was destroyed, and the foundation of imperial civilization lost. I don’t know what your plan was back then, but it didn’t fully succeed. Survivors fled on their own.
“They scattered in four directions, each founding new kingdoms. The place you’re in—the main facility outside—is called the Dark Mountains, part of the Kingdom of Ansu. And the current year… is seven hundred years after the Sundering Tide, a full thousand years after your time.”
Kamail fell silent.
Gawain guessed the ancient soul was deeply shaken. The electric glow dimmed visibly. After half a minute, Kamail’s low voice came again: “Is what you say true?”
Gawain shook his head. “I have no reason to lie. Inventing four kingdoms to crush you would be pointless.”
The arcane energy around Kamail flowed quietly. After a long silence, his glow brightened once more.
“That’s wonderful,” the ancient Watcher said, uplifted. “So many survived!”
Gawain looked at this ancient Gondor mage, now transformed into this strange form, surprised. After a long pause, he said, “I thought you’d be devastated.”
“Survival is everything. This is far better than our worst fears,” Kamail’s voice trembled with crackling energy. “Wonderful, truly wonderful…”
“What exactly happened here?” Seeing the ancient being calmer and more communicative, Gawain pressed on with his most pressing questions. “What was this facility for? What was your plan? And you—why… why have you become like this?”
Kamail was silent longer this time, as if sorting through shattered memories. Finally, he whispered, “To preserve our race, we stole the power of the gods.
“This place… is where the ‘White Star Fell.’”
(End of chapter)