Chapter 575: The Forward Base

Powerful magic crystal lamps illuminated the vast cavern like broad daylight. The hum and clatter of mixers, hoists, and various magical arrays blended into a constant symphony. Workers and technicians, all clad in matching uniforms, bustled between machines and support frames. The construction site of the South Gate Fortress was a hive of activity.

Gawain arrived with Hetty and Amber at what had once been the Shadow Experiment Grounds. At the cavern’s center, they found the site manager, Gordon.

“Lord,” Gordon reported on the fortress’s progress, “the support structures and foundation have been laid. The main walls are over halfway complete. The southern gate, battlements, outer armor plating, and extended firing platforms are about 60% finished. The barracks and power station are operational. As of yesterday, the fortress has basic defensive capabilities.”

“Good work,” Gawain said with satisfaction, eyeing the progress Gordon’s team had made. Workers were reinforcing the cavern’s boundary walls, and between the southern gate and the inner cavern, a layer of cement-steel armor was beginning to take shape. Massive support frames spanned the cavern, with arcane engines powering hoists fixed atop. Winches pulled cables, lifting enormous cargo pallets to the fortress’s second level. Around each pallet, faint rune glows shimmered—weight-reduction rune matrices at work.

At this stage, weight reduction magic remained only partially understood. Rune masters had yet to solve the interference caused when multiple weight-reduction effects acted on a single object, making it difficult to apply on large-scale items like vehicles. But for smaller cargo, it was an indispensable aid in transport.

Along the cavern’s edge, technicians wielding arcane terminals rapidly reshaped the rock walls using “Fossil to Mud” and “Mud to Stone” spells, preparing for the installation of wall panels. Nearby, another crew embedded magic network units into the newly installed panels. Plasma welding beams flashed continuously, a testament to the teams’ efficiency and coordination.

Harnessing supernatural power as productive force rather than mere weapons of the strong—that was the secret behind this astonishing efficiency.

Of course, Gordon’s capable leadership was also a key factor in the swift progress.

Gawain withdrew his gaze and looked down at a circular pit in the cavern floor. Ancient, arcane runes and a ring of archaic devices lay embedded at its base. He casually asked, “Any unusual activity from the Shadow Portal lately?”

“No,” Gordon shook his head. “We’ve set up magical sensors around it and have detected no signs of activation.”

“Good,” Gawain nodded, then turned toward a brand-new gate at the cavern’s far end. “Open the gate. I want to see the forward base.”

“Yes—opening the gate now!”

The rune array hummed to life. Gears and winch heads creaked and groaned as steel chains and bearings pulled the heavy iron door. The ground trembled slightly as the South Gate Fortress’s gate slowly swung open before Gawain.

To begin repairing the wall along the wasteland border, they first had to clear a path from the civilized world through the Black Forest—a vast, forbidding woodland untouched by humans for centuries.

After deciding to repair the wall, Gawain had considered two options to open this route. The first was to cut directly through the mountains from the South Gate Fortress, building a forward base at its front and forcefully carving a straight road through the Black Forest to the wasteland. The second was to bypass the entire Rebellion Fortress, exiting through a mountain pass west of Cecil City, then still cutting through the Black Forest to build the road.

The first option was clearly faster and easier. The second was more discreet, preserving the secrets of the Rebellion Fortress and South Gate Fortress. Gawain didn’t want too many outsiders to know that Cecil held such a special portal, or that he controlled a complete ancient fortress. Though rumors about the Duke of Cecil possessing relics of Gondor were common, the Rebellion Fortress held far too many secrets.

But for now, Gawain chose the first plan. He was certain neither the royal family nor the Eastern Territories would send personnel to assist—they were conserving strength for the ongoing conflict. For Gawain, that meant he could keep full control of the project.

Letting a bunch of northern nobles and slave laborers interfere would only slow down Cecil’s engineering team.

Thanks to convenient elemental manipulation spells, laying a simple road in this world was no great challenge. A wide path hardened temporarily by “Mud to Stone” magic now connected the Rebellion Fortress to the Black Forest’s edge. Shortly after setting out by carriage, Gawain spotted towering magic network relay towers and rising smoke—the temporary base built by the “Pathfinders” lay ahead.

A dozen or so panel-style buildings of various sizes clustered at the forest’s edge. Surrounding them was a protective barrier of wooden fences, steel wire mesh, waist-high walls, and watchtowers. Guards stood vigilantly atop the towers, eyes fixed on the Black Forest. At the base’s entrance, two towering White Knights stood like iron sentinels.

As Gawain had emphasized before—beyond the civilized border, danger lurked everywhere. This forward base, pushing into the wasteland, naturally required tight security.

“Salute!”

The two White Knights noticed Gawain in the carriage and immediately straightened. From beneath their full steel helmets came deep, commanding voices. The base gates swung open, and the magic-powered carriage rolled smoothly inside.

Stepping down, Gawain saw a broad-shouldered figure approaching quickly.

Light Averkin, leader of the White Knights and the new High Priest of the New Church.

This now-prominent High Priest hadn’t stayed in his cathedral. Upon hearing of the push into the wasteland, he had volunteered to come forward and command the Pathfinders’ guard forces. Since the White Knights excelled at protective duties and their holy light could heal corruption and repel monsters, Gawain had approved his request.

Behind Light, Gawain spotted several distinctive figures—

Sonia Frostleaf and a few elven messengers she had brought along.

These elves clearly cared deeply about the barrier repairs. Though the bustling, novel Cecil City fascinated them, their focus remained on the southern Dark Mountains’ construction progress. Over recent days, Sonia and her companions had spent only a third of their time in Cecil City; the rest was devoted to the Black Forest.

“I came to check on progress,” Gawain greeted Light first, then turned to Sonia. “You’re here again today?”

“Seeing the work advance puts my mind at ease,” Sonia smiled calmly. “Besides, not staying in the city helps avoid some awkward… mother-son conflicts.”

Sonia’s remark was clearly a joke. In truth, her relationship with Solderin seemed quite good from Gawain’s perspective. Still, he understood the conflicted feelings this elven mother must have when seeing her son—

Honestly, if he had a son who hadn’t come home in seven hundred years, had no partner, never wrote letters, was bald under a wig, and liked cross-dressing…

He didn’t dare imagine the rest.

He figured he’d just crawl back into his coffin and ask someone to nail the lid shut.

“…As you can see, we’re pushing hard to speed up the road construction, aiming to open the path to the Corrupted Plains before the Harvest Festival,” Gawain said, shifting the topic to mask his momentary awkwardness. “So far, barring major setbacks, the project should finish on schedule.”

“We’ve seen it—that’s a relief,” Sonia exhaled softly. “Honestly, I didn’t expect you to move this fast. You’ve already started paving roads in the Black Forest in such a short time. I can tell how much manpower and resources you’ve poured in. But looking at your royal family—they still haven’t sent the first batch of supplies! To be frank, we’re all Ansu, so how can your efficiency be so different?”

“Not everyone turns magic into productive power,” Gawain shook his head helplessly. “Besides, northern nobles don’t necessarily grasp how dire the wasteland threat is. The magical cataclysm seven centuries ago might still be vivid history for elves, but for humans… it’s just an ancient legend from many generations ago.”

Sonia had dealt with humans before and knew Gawain’s point was valid, so she said no more. Instead, she gazed toward the Dark Mountains, toward the South Gate Fortress, and sighed softly. “A fortress from ancient Gondor… Seven centuries ago, I heard the northern pioneers discovered an ancient ruin crossing the Dark Mountains. I never imagined that seven centuries later, it would play such a role in your hands.”

“We didn’t expect it either,” Gawain smiled. “Like how I never thought I’d see the grand wall built before I fell, only to wake from my long sleep and have to rebuild it all over again—fate is always unreasonable.”

“You’ve had a rough time,” Sonia shook her head. “You fell during the hardest period, then woke up in another. Fate seems determined to pit you against disaster without giving you a moment’s rest. We had seven centuries of peace, and you haven’t enjoyed a single day of it.”

Gawain said nothing. After all, he wasn’t truly Gawain Cecil, so he felt no regrets. But beside him, Hetty suddenly lifted her head. The stewardess of the Cecil household seemed deeply moved by Sonia’s words. She glanced at her ancestor and suddenly felt ashamed of her usual smoky eye makeup.

Gawain had no idea why Hetty had blushed so suddenly.

…

At the same moment, in the northern part of the Duchy of Cecil, at the harbor square of Rockhold City.

Commander Sir Walder Perrich stood with his guards and honor guards, preparing to bid farewell to envoys from the capital. These envoys had paused briefly in this gateway city for half a day. Now, they were about to board ships bound for Cecil City.

“This city is impressive, Sir,” said the envoy leader, Cohen Loren, deputy commander of the Ansu Royal Knights, sincerely admiring Walder. “I visited this land two years ago, but it was nothing like this then. I must admit, it’s truly remarkable now.”

Sir Walde looked at the knight standing before him—the deputy commander of the order, bearing the distinctive surname “Rollen,” yet aligned with the royal faction. The delegation he led included envoys from the Eastern Territories as well as special emissaries from the capital. The implications were hard to ignore, but Walde himself wasn’t one to get caught up in court intrigues or noble power plays. He simply smiled and shook his head. “Rockhold is just a gateway. The truly remarkable side of this land is something you’ve yet to see.”

“Oh, I’m a calm man,” Cohen Loren replied with a polite smile. “I view new things here with appreciation. After all, no matter how extraordinary, they’re still man-made.”

“Then please, allow me,” Walde said, raising his hand toward the docks. Almost at that moment, a melodious whistle echoed across the bay.

A large ship, without sails or oars, approached the harbor, cutting through the waves with the roar of machinery. Cohen Loren stared in astonishment.

The vessel looked as if it were forged entirely from metal.

“To ensure efficiency, the lord has dispatched the inland express steamer, the ‘Wavebreaker,’ to escort your delegation,” Walde Perrich said with a cheerful smile. “Please, board the ship.”

(End of chapter)