Chapter 536: A Dangerous Signal

The Bitter Moon.

The coldest month in Ansu had arrived.

The colossal sun rose solemnly and slowly into the sky. Its vast disk, surrounded by a misty halo, displayed swirling bands of yellow-brown streaks resembling wood grain. The shifting colors of these bands foretold one thing: the most severe cold snap of the winter was imminent.

The sun—the largest celestial body in the sky and the one most intimately tied to people’s lives—was closely observed by experienced farmers who could predict roughly when and how much the temperature would drop based on the sun’s surface patterns. Scholars, meanwhile, had developed methods to forecast the overall climate of the coming year by studying these solar changes. Observing the giant sun was an essential part of daily life in this world.

In Saint Suniel City, within the Mage District.

A faint scraping sound echoed as the “Sun-Chasing Platform” atop the Observatory Tower slowly opened its massive, heavy skylight. The magic-powered lift rose steadily to the center of the platform’s passageway. Morgan Hugo, the venerable royal mage, descended with his assistants and took their positions at the observation point, ready to begin their routine solar study.

“Open the filter panel—Filter Mode III,” the aged mage instructed an assistant, then beckoned toward a nearby bookshelf. Quills, parchment, and ink bottles floated over and hovered steadily before him. The assistant hurried to a control node and began channeling magic into the rune pillars surrounding the platform.

Seeing the assistant’s somewhat clumsy movements, Morgan couldn’t help but call out, “Careful! Those runes are priceless!”

The assistant quickly adjusted the magic flow. As the rune pillars around the platform glowed brighter, a thin layer of shimmering light appeared on the skylight, filtering the sunlight into a mode more suitable for human eyes.

Moments later, the magical glow solidified into a crystalline layer of light, transforming the sun’s rays into a clearer, gentler image. Morgan nodded slightly. This magical apparatus, built a century ago, still functioned perfectly. As the most senior astrologer in the tower, Morgan took great pride in having exclusive access to this device.

Standing beneath the magically formed filter panel, the old mage tilted his head back, scrutinizing every colored band on the sun’s surface. The quill and parchment hovered beside him, rapidly recording all data and diagrams.

Other assistants gathered at their stations, noting their respective measurements. A solemn, focused silence enveloped the observatory’s summit.

But the quiet didn’t last long. One assistant suddenly whispered in confusion, “The red band near the bottom has shifted three degrees east?”

Morgan shot a sharp glance at him. “What nonsense are you spouting?”

“It’s true, Master!” the assistant hurriedly insisted, pulling out his notes and the previous observation records. “Look, here’s the last report—you personally verified it.”

Morgan took the pages, scanning them quickly. He froze for a moment, then examined them more carefully before raising his eyes to the sun again, staring unblinkingly.

“This can’t be…” the old astrologer muttered. He conjured an illusion spell to calibrate coordinates, marking reference points around the sun’s image on the filter panel. But even after recalibration, his shock only deepened. “No… impossible… such a massive shift… never seen before…”

“Master, should we report this to Silverkeep?” the assistant asked cautiously. “This is clearly an abnormal celestial event.”

“Report to Silverkeep immediately!”

…

At the Second Celestial Observation Station in the Dark Mountains, a young mage responsible for recording solar changes also set down his clipboard in stunned silence.

“Could it be a solar storm?” he murmured, studying the data and diagrams again. Then he looked up through the station’s large filtered lens at the sun’s image, disbelief etched on his face.

A nearby colleague glanced over curiously. “Could the historical records be wrong?”

“No, all data is double-checked and recorded,” the young mage replied, standing and heading toward the station’s door. “I’ll go outside to take a look. You keep recording inside.”

Stepping out onto the platform connected to the station, the cold northern wind howled over the Dark Mountains, sweeping through forests and ravines. The young mage shivered as the chill bit through his warm indoor clothes.

He raised a magical shield to block the biting wind, then pulled out a portable filter lens to study the giant sun carefully.

These observation stations scattered throughout the Dark Mountains were part of Kamail’s “Essence of Magic” project, designed to study the connection between the sun’s activity cycles and fluctuations in natural magic.

Kamail had long believed that the world’s magic originated from the giant sun. But since the entire world was enveloped in a powerful magical field, observing external magical changes was extremely difficult. To minimize interference and improve accuracy, Kamail had overseen the construction of a series of observation stations in the Dark Mountains.

The Second Celestial Observation Station was one of them.

These stations served dual purposes: monitoring magical fluctuations and observing celestial phenomena. Built high in the mountains, they also kept watch over the Magnificent Wall.

Only the best apprentices and assistants under Kamail’s command were stationed here. Yet now, this promising young mage was gripped by profound shock.

The sun still hung quietly in the sky, providing light and warmth as always. To ordinary eyes, it showed no sign of change. But to this young mage, the sun had become utterly unfamiliar.

He stared unblinking for a long time. Even with the filter lens, his eyes soon began to ache. He lowered his gaze, casting spells to ease the pain, then meticulously cross-checked the parameters on his clipboard.

Suddenly, a strange, low rumble reached his ears.

The sound seemed to come from an impossibly distant place, like a hurricane mixed with thunder. It traveled so far that by the time it reached him, it was faint and indistinct. The young mage looked up toward the source, his expression turning blank.

His gaze passed over the mountain ridges, beyond the dark forest at their base, beyond the corrupted plains ravaged by the magical tide. At the southern horizon, the entire Magnificent Wall shone with a light several times brighter than usual.

The low rumbling thunder came from the Magnificent Wall.

“…Goddess of Magic…” the young mage whispered in shock, then spun around and dashed back inside. “Notify Master Kamail! Alert the Lord!”

…

Far to the south on the horizon, the Magnificent Wall’s glow shimmered like a fallen aurora, its brilliance many times stronger than normal, radiating a breathtaking majesty. The unsettling rumble of thunder continued, though much quieter than before.

Gawain stood silently on the observation platform in the Dark Mountains, staring at the distant scene.

In his mind, the satellite monitoring system’s alarm still echoed relentlessly:

“Warning: Giant planet activity abnormally increasing. Warning: Giant planet activity abnormally increasing…”

Natural magic fluctuations were closely tied to the sun’s activity. According to events seven centuries ago, changes in the sun often heralded the approach of a magical tide. The sea witches’ records confirmed this: whenever a magical tide rose, the sun was the first to show abnormal reactions.

Was time running out? Or had it already come?

Gawain silenced the alarm in his mind and turned to the young mage beside him. Aside from himself—the “satellite expert” who detected the solar anomaly first—and this young man, no one else in the territory had reported anything. The young mage had also been the first to alert them to the Magnificent Wall’s strange glow and sounds.

“How long has it been since the Wall started glowing and rumbling?”

“Four hours, my lord,” the young mage replied nervously. “But I can only confirm the rumbling began four hours ago. I’m not sure when the brightness changed—we were focused on other observations before that.”

Gawain nodded, appreciating the researcher’s careful precision.

Behind him, Hetty and the others looked worried. Amber was the first to break the silence. “Do you think… the Wall is about to collapse?”

Gawain wanted to give a clear answer, but after a few seconds of thought, he shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Hetty and Rebecca spoke in unison, “You don’t know either?”

“All I can say is this: the strange sounds and increased brightness are signs the Wall’s magical barrier is under extreme strain. It’s bearing tremendous pressure, but it hasn’t shattered yet. That means the stress hasn’t exceeded the threshold. According to the original design, if no new impacts come, it should self-repair. But after seven centuries of wear and tear, I’m not sure the safety systems can withstand this test.”

Rebecca swallowed hard. “What if it can’t?”

“The Dark Mountains might hold off the first wave of the magical tide, but the aberrations will soon try to breach the barrier. The best-case scenario is that the chaotic magic in the Gondor Wastelands has weakened significantly over the past seven centuries, no longer strong enough to destroy the human world outright. Then the southern lands will revert to the state they were in when Ansu was first founded—constant battles against monsters spilling from the magical tide, an endless war of attrition,” Gawain shook his head. “The good news is we now have arcane cannons and prismatic devices. The bad news is that elsewhere in the south, there are no longer the Cecil Wolf Cavalry, nor the fearless cleric shock troops or noble death squads of old.”

A government official behind Hetty whispered, “So we’d better pray it holds…”

“Whether prayers help is uncertain, but we can’t just wait idly,” Gawain said, turning to Hetty. “Put the government on emergency status. Prepare to mobilize strategic resources at any time. Towns with large shields installed are designated evacuation points. Increase surveillance south of the Dark Mountains. All observation posts focus on the Magnificent Wall. Prepare public announcements. Security forces stand ready. No place is to be left unmonitored.”

As Gawain’s orders were issued one by one, everyone present grasped the gravity of the situation more clearly. Yet amid the tension, a faint sense of reassurance also took root.

There are orders, there are plans—much better than being lost and helpless.

(End of chapter)