Chapter 292: The Simulation Testing Ground

Gawain had lost track of how long he’d been trapped inside this isolated space, cut off from the outside world.

From past experience, he knew that the virtual spaces created by the Sleepless operated on a different time flow than reality—likely due to some kind of “perceptual distortion” in the human brain. He felt as if he’d been here for days, but in truth, only minutes might have passed on the surface. After all, Amber still hadn’t woken him up.

Surely that half-elf wouldn’t just stand there watching him sleep himself to death…

Gawain stood up and stretched deeply. Even though his body didn’t actually feel tired in this virtual world, stretching was an instinctive reflex. Then he looked up, satisfied with the independent space he had created.

The landscape remained vast and open. Gawain hadn’t cluttered it with pointless decorations or buildings—every unnecessary ornament would only waste storage space and processing power. Between the clear blue sky and the endless expanse of water, all that could be seen were massive white metal platforms. Most of these platforms were empty, but a few held alchemy tables and various strange contraptions—these were all things Gawain had built to test the “simulation fidelity” of this space.

On the surface, the only visible change was the addition of these platforms. But the real, most important changes were invisible to the naked eye: Gawain had invested a great deal of effort into the space’s secrecy. To make it completely “disappear” within the Sleepless’ mental network, he had layered it with heavy camouflage and encryption, even creating multiple layers of protection within the network itself. All traces were hidden deep within the chaotic, sprawling information nodes at the network’s lowest levels.

Given the Sleepless’ current level of network security awareness, Gawain was confident it was impossible for them to detect that he had stolen their network resources to create this space.

Beyond secrecy, he had also embedded numerous preset “templates” deep within the space’s underlying data. Whenever needed, he could call upon these templates to quickly assemble suitable experimental environments.

After finishing all this, Gawain focused his mind, and in the next instant, he appeared atop one of the metal platforms.

He paused briefly, then raised his right hand and began to simulate an object.

In the next second, a cellphone materialized in his palm.

He pressed the power button, but as expected, the “phone” didn’t respond at all.

Objects whose principles couldn’t be parsed, or which conflicted with the rules of this world, simply couldn’t be simulated.

He waved his hand, and the hollow phone dissolved into scattered sparkling fragments that vanished into the air. Then, a hexagonal rune board condensed into shape, embedded with a fully charged mana crystal.

Gawain activated the rune trigger, and instantly, a scorching beam of light tore through the air, striking the ground a short distance ahead.

The basic template had been called up smoothly, and the simulation was flawless.

He dispersed the rune board and moved to the edge of the metal platform—where a massive device had been installed. It featured four parallel metal rails fixed to a huge base: two arranged horizontally side by side, and two vertically stacked, forming two “sets.” The horizontal rails were etched with a series of gleaming runes, and on their inner sides were numerous repulsion units angled precisely. The vertical rails also contained repulsion mechanisms, but these were aligned parallel along the rails—not to accelerate the projectile, but to keep it “levitating” throughout the acceleration process, preventing it from colliding with the repulsion units on the sides.

After all, these repulsion acceleration rails were unlike any similar devices on Earth—the inner surfaces weren’t smooth but covered with tilted, protruding repulsion points. Due to the nature of repulsion magic, these points couldn’t be shielded, so the accelerated projectile had to be securely fixed within the track to avoid collisions.

Keeping the projectile levitating also minimized frictional energy loss with the launcher, maximizing the cannon’s range and energy efficiency. This was the best solution Gawain could devise based on current technology.

He opened the protective cover at the start of the acceleration track and placed a grooved “shell” in the center of the rails. After confirming that the two grooves on the top and bottom made good contact with the levitation rails, he closed the cover and activated the device’s main rune trigger.

With a strange humming sound, the shell detached from direct contact with the launcher thanks to the levitation rails. Under the first stage repulsion units, it propelled forward into the acceleration zone between the side rails. In a flash, the accelerating whistles compressed into a sharp, piercing blast. Gawain saw a metal object shoot out from the front of the acceleration track, slicing through the air with a high-pitched whistle. Seconds later, a fiery explosion lit up a distant metal platform, and the thunderous boom reached his ears moments after.

Just as he had predicted—the shell had successfully accelerated. However, the hastily drawn “aerodynamic runes” on the shell had no effect, so its flight distance fell far short of expectations. Moreover…

Gawain glanced at the now powerless acceleration track. All four rails showed varying degrees of bending and misalignment. This was because the repulsion points not only acted on the shell but also exerted strong forces on the other rails. The intense mutual repulsion between so many points in such close proximity generated tremendous force, and without proper reinforcement, the rails naturally warped.

Additionally, the poor arrangement of the repulsion points was a major factor. If their positions could be adjusted, the pressure on the rails could likely be better distributed…

Watching the test results, Gawain’s initial excitement gradually cooled. He began analyzing the true potential of this simulation testing ground.

Without a doubt, this was the real purpose behind the Sleepless’ creation of the “virtual space.” Those cultists wasted such a powerful tool on illusions and escapist fantasies—it was a tremendous squander. This thing… should be used for scientific research!

But the virtual world wasn’t omnipotent.

Gawain could simulate his “repulsion rail cannon” here, but the runes hastily drawn on the shell refused to function.

This meant the space was currently only suitable as a testing ground—bringing in roughly developed conceptual items for trials. Thanks to the high fidelity of this time-space simulation, he could gather a wealth of valid data during the process.

This would undoubtedly save massive research and development costs. Many expensive, time-consuming real-world tests could be shifted into the virtual space, and dangerous experiments could be safely conducted here first. Once parameters were refined, actual production could proceed outside. Of course, Gawain suspected the simulation’s fidelity had limits. Tests here would inevitably differ from reality, especially for complex items involving deep magical principles. After all, the Sleepless were mere mortals. Even if they used “quasi-divine” dream magic to create this place, they couldn’t perfectly replicate every law of the real world.

Still, even if the simulation was only ninety percent accurate, this virtual space was already unimaginably valuable.

Beyond simulation fidelity, Gawain cared most about how to harness the mental network’s “computational” power.

Everything in this virtual world was the product of accumulated computing power—countless Sleepless’ brains formed a massive computational device that “calculated” the Eternal Dream. Yet this computing power couldn’t be directly applied to pure numerical problems. This was probably the biggest difference between this otherworldly “computer” and Earth’s electronic computers.

At least so far, Gawain hadn’t found a “mathematical computation interface” within the mental network. Without it, he couldn’t use the network’s processing power to optimize and reconstruct the rune arrays on his shells. That work still had to be done by Jenny and her Rune Research Institute.

But Gawain wasn’t discouraged. He was even prepared for the possibility that he might never find this interface. After all, the Sleepless’ creation wasn’t a supercomputer like those on Earth. Dream magic was still just a form of magic. The magical world had too many peculiarities and limitations. Having lived here so long, he had to accept that.

Magic had its conveniences and its shortcomings. In this world, the Sleepless used dream magic to achieve fully immersive virtual reality that Earth hadn’t managed, but they couldn’t match even the most basic electronic computer’s mathematical efficiency. Yet Gawain believed in technological progress and possibility. Not finding the interface now was fine—he trusted that someday, this problem would be solved.

After confirming all encryption settings were intact, Gawain exited his self-created “secret laboratory.”

The “City of Dreams” remained unchanged.

The Sleepless cultists still bustled through the city. The grand metropolis glittered with gold and jade. The floating node crystals in the plaza emitted soft light. A dozen high-ranking cultists gathered nearby, placing their hands on the crystals to connect to the network as a group…

No one noticed their mental network was compromised. No one realized a portion of their computing power had been hijacked. No one suspected that, in a hidden corner of their virtual world, a new “mounted entity” had suddenly appeared…

Gawain left the crystal with a calm expression, feeling a quiet sense of accomplishment that even casually tapping into the network wouldn’t get him kicked out. He walked aside, gazing at the magnificent city and the cultists moving within it, gradually sinking into thought.

(End of chapter)