Chapter 517: Pittman’s Assistance

Gawain’s description seemed to open a whole new world for Rebecca.

Across the vast southern plains, iron rails stretched endlessly toward the horizon. Mage-powered locomotives hauled hundreds, even thousands of tons of cargo, racing across the land. Mechanical gears and levers roared, and the powerful magical engines thundered like beasts. These creations, far beyond human strength, were the lifeblood of the Duchy of Cecile—able to transport goods and people to distant places in just days, where before it might have taken a month’s journey fraught with danger.

Rebecca was eager to see this vision her ancestor had painted come to life.

“We should give it a name,” Gawain said. He had wanted to call it a ‘train’ outright, but reconsidered—he didn’t want to make life harder for the scholars compiling the arcane engineering textbooks. Those poor academics were already losing hair trying to explain why the term ‘mana capacitor’ included the baffling word ‘electricity.’ “How about ‘mana train’? That way it’s clearly distinct from the mana car. Its operating principle is completely different. It transports far larger loads with greater efficiency, though it’s limited to fixed tracks. But that limitation is more than made up for by its speed.”

He paused, then added, “The mana car still has its place. It’s more flexible and convenient, ideal for short distances and smaller loads. Together, the mana train and mana car form a perfect complement, creating a transport network that covers every corner of the southern lands.”

Rebecca’s eyes sparkled as she began sketching the concept in her mind. “First, we’d need an incredibly powerful mana engine… we don’t have one that large yet, but maybe we could link several engines together… or distribute engines across multiple carriages as a power unit. We’d also need a high-capacity mana network on board to supply the engines… the engine compartment alone won’t be enough space, so the mana network units would have to be spread throughout the carriages… braking systems would need a complete redesign, and the tracks themselves would have to be engineered… ah, there’s so much to consider!”

“I’ll give you some conceptual materials with more detailed descriptions. They should inspire you,” Gawain said, looking at Rebecca. Then he shifted tone. “But this is a huge project. It will demand a lot of your energy. Don’t let it interfere with the ongoing development and production of the mana car or other concurrent projects. From what I know, the Arcane Engineering Institute recently expanded its staff—you can use that opportunity to form a new research team.”

The mana train was an important idea, and Gawain was naturally excited about it. But he knew human energy was limited—even for someone as gifted as Rebecca. This wasn’t a matter of handing her a plan and expecting instant results. And although the mana car was finalized, that didn’t mean all related research was done. There was still a mountain of follow-up work to be done—and honestly, Gawain wondered how many ‘threads’ this girl’s brain could handle. Could she really manage all this?

Especially given her usual stubbornness and tendency to act before thinking, her mental bandwidth probably wasn’t that high…

“I know!” Rebecca nodded vigorously, clearly still buzzing with excitement. “I definitely won’t neglect the main work!”

Seeing the gleam in her eyes, Gawain knew his warning had probably been wasted.

…

At the Arcane Engineering Institute, inside Archmage Kamail’s laboratory, a mage technician in a white researcher’s robe was helped up from a strangely shaped chair. He moved stiffly to a nearby resting seat.

His eyes were dazed, muscles tense for several seconds before he finally relaxed and looked toward Kamail, who hovered nearby. “Master, I’m back to normal.”

Kamail floated half a step forward. “Good. How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. I saw a flood of complex, tangled illusions and heard meaningless noise—sometimes even a broadcast, like a mana network radio program,” the technician described. “Sitting in that chair, my muscles stayed tense. Even when my mind tried to relax, it was no use. It felt like something was interfering with the connection between my brain and body.”

Kamail listened carefully, then sighed (though he no longer breathed). “It seems the neural interference and data injection functions are working, but the connection and compilation are flawed. The immersion process is unreliable.”

He drifted to the center of the lab, approaching the peculiar chair the technician had just vacated.

The chair was clearly a magical artifact, but unlike any arcane machinery made in Cecile. It was a semi-reclining lounge chair, with a complex metal base covered in flickering runes. The runic patterns resembled those on the mana network communicators’ bases but were far more intricate and arcane. From the backrest extended numerous curved metal arcs, stretching from mid-back up to the neck and occiput, resembling a twisted, elongated spine that disappeared into the base.

The reclining surface was covered in deep blue leather-like material, embedded with neatly arranged metal contact points aligned roughly along the human spine, forming a matrix.

The chair looked strange, mysterious, even a little unsettling. An ordinary person unfamiliar with such things would probably hesitate to sit in what looked like some kind of sacrificial device.

“It was built exactly according to the lord’s specifications, including the base rune arrays and every neural connection point. We only reconfigured the connection directions to interface with the mana network,” another technician explained. “But it seems ordinary people can’t connect their consciousness to the chair, let alone transmit anything.”

Another technician added, “Even removing clothing to allow direct skin contact with the neural contacts didn’t improve the connection. It actually worsened the side effects.”

Kamail said nothing, his arcane eyes fixed on the glowing runes.

This eerie device was created under Gawain’s orders, using technology that might seem terrifying to most. It was a creation of the Everwake—an ancient, enigmatic race—and a variant of a “neural interactive psychic network connection array.” The lord had found this complex, profound array in the Everwake’s knowledge and commanded the institute to reconstruct it using new techniques.

The researchers weren’t afraid of its origin—after all, those working here understood the principle that “technology is innocent.” But after painstakingly constructing the intricate runes and building the chair, they found it failed to meet the lord’s expectations.

“Maybe we’re missing some crucial element,” the technician who had tested the chair said after a pause. He had regained some composure, his voice steady. “I heard the Everwake didn’t just use dark magic—they also subjected themselves to terrifying modifications, like the corrupted druids. I suspect this chair requires the user to be similarly ‘modified.’ Ordinary people won’t work.”

A nearby technician shook his head. “That’s not good news…”

Kamail listened to their discussion but sighed inwardly.

If only his own nervous system were still intact—he might be able to sense exactly what was wrong with the chair. But alas, he no longer had nerves, or even a face or eyes.

He shook his head and rumbled, “Further discussion won’t help. Let’s readjust the connection points and the curved spinal arcs, then try again.”

The technicians immediately set to work. A new tester stepped forward, ready to try the chair once it was rebooted. With a legendary mage like Kamail overseeing, there was no fear of fatal accidents—human testing was the fastest, most straightforward method.

This was the “efficiency mode” unique to a lab guarded by a transcendent expert.

But just as the technicians busied themselves and Kamail prepared to order the test, a voice interrupted from the lab entrance.

“Trying several times won’t help—there’s a key step that’s wrong.”

Kamail looked up toward the voice and saw Pittman hobbling in. The little old man still wore his dusty druid robes, his hair and beard wild, and a mischievous grin on his face.

Pittman’s smile always looked like it deserved a punch, so Kamail decided to ignore it.

“A key step?” Kamail asked as Pittman approached. “And how do you have time to come here?”

“I heard about your project from Miss Rebecca. She thought this druid might be able to help—and I think she’s right,” Pittman chuckled, circling the strange chair. “The Everwake’s technology connects magical artifacts to the human brain—note, the human brain—and the artifact. You seem to have focused only on the artifact side, neglecting the subtle role of the biological structure. You’re missing expert druid guidance…”

Kamail nodded slightly, his tone serious. “The institute’s budget is limited.”

“I haven’t even asked for money!” Pittman shot back, narrowing his eyes, then glanced sideways at Kamail. “By the way, you immortal old geezer, you’ve learned to joke now?”

“I’m not joking. I’m just trying to protect the institute’s funds,” Kamail replied, his tone dry. “Last time you came to advise us, you caused us to lose half a team’s budget for two weeks. Of course, if you can really help, I wouldn’t mind treating you to a meal personally.”

“Forget it. Nobody wants a second meal with you. I sit and eat, and you float next to me changing colors eighty times a minute—I can’t eat like that,” Pittman waved him off, then pointed at the chair. “The design itself isn’t the problem. But even the lord probably doesn’t know a technical detail here—the base rune array is connected by something called artificial nerve cords. You can’t just replace those with ordinary mana-conducting materials.”

Kamail’s curiosity piqued. “Artificial nerve cords?”

“A substance made by combining biomass with magic-conductive metal—you could say it’s alive, though it’s more like a magical puppet,” Pittman said calmly. “I’m not sure if I can actually make one, but maybe it’s worth a try.”

Kamail studied Pittman’s face, which never seemed to take anything seriously. “…I don’t think that’s the kind of knowledge an ordinary druid would have, is it?”

Pittman smiled faintly. “Who knows? I happen to be a naturalist.”

(End of chapter)