Chapter 581: The High Tower

The Sentinel Tower stood tall upon the earth.

For those born in the era of humanity’s great decline, the Sentinel Tower was nothing short of a miraculous structure beyond their wildest dreams. These colossal magical constructs, hundreds of meters tall and reaching nearly a kilometer when including their bases and levitating heights, far exceeded the technological limits of any contemporary human kingdom—including the Duchy of Cecil. The immense energy surging through each tower could power every mage tower in the entire Ansu royal city simultaneously. The advanced technologies they employed—massive anti-gravity fields, adaptive shield systems, combined force field projection—were marvels that modern scholars could only gaze up at in awe.

After establishing the Third Forward Base to secure supply lines and ensure smooth passage, the Cecil engineering team pressed southward. Finally, on the first day of Frost Moon, they arrived at the foot of the Sentinel Tower that required reinforcement. Near the highland known as Thunderclap Hill, the engineers drove the first wooden stake into the ground to mark the camp.

Bruce, a middle-aged carpenter from the royal capital and a former member of the Hundred-Strong Aid Corps, was the chief architect of this “Pinnacle Base.” The stocky man stood atop a large wooden crate in the center of the camp, clutching reference blueprints and watching the workers with wide eyes. His nose, reddened from excessive drinking, glowed even more vividly in the faintly foul winds of the wasteland.

“First, connect the magic network—don’t rush to power up the obelisk! Get the baseplate linked first! Those heading to the walls, stay within the shield’s range, especially don’t leave the Breeze Barrier—this air isn’t good for your health! Char, Bob, take three men and set up the disruptors. Without them, the obelisk won’t power on…”

Bruce’s booming voice echoed across the construction site. The man from the capital was full of vigor and determination. He looked out over the bustling camp, the alien wasteland beyond, the towering Sentinel Tower looming just steps away, and the shimmering energy shield surrounding it. His nervousness had completely transformed into excitement, exhilaration, and even a touch of pride.

This was exactly where a master architect belonged.

Born into a family of carpenters stretching back generations, Bruce Pan Shi was never one to settle for a quiet life. His surname alone betrayed his dwarven ancestry. From birth, he swore he was destined for greatness. He yearned for adventure, to accomplish something extraordinary beyond the safe confines of the capital. Yet he lacked any remarkable talent—his dwarven blood only granted him extra strength. In the end, he inherited the family craft. But the southern frontier development plan gave this restless carpenter hope.

He was one of the few who had volunteered for the Hundred-Strong Aid Corps.

“Are the disruptors in place? Report immediately once they’re set up—they’re your safety net! Don’t waste time!”

Bruce’s voice rang out again.

He had witnessed extraordinary opportunities in the south: the onslaught of aberrations, the rise of a mage-tech city, the founding of the duchy, and the grand “Industrial New City Plan.” He had done everything to prove his worth before Master Architect Gordon. And now, at last, he faced his greatest chance—

To build on the wasteland.

Without a doubt, this mission would become his crowning achievement. Bruce believed that upon returning, he might even be promoted directly to “Master Architect,” joining the ranks of Cecil’s highest technical experts—alongside the likes of Master Craftsman Nicholas Egg, Mage-Tech Master Kamail, and Miss Rebecca.

The camp’s infrastructure was rapidly taking shape. Modular magic network units were connected first, forming a powerful array. Several “Iron Ambassadors” stood at the heart of the network, already linked and ready. But before these multifunctional war machines could activate their crystals as magic obelisks, several special devices were erected around the base.

They were metal poles, deeply embedded in the ground, branching out two meters above into several parallel “limbs.” Runes covered the surfaces of these branches, and small crystals, like the heads of wands, were set at their tips, faintly glowing.

These were the disruptors.

Using high-powered magical devices near the grand walls was extremely dangerous. The monsters spawned by the magical tide craved pure mana uncontrollably. Just as aberrations wandering outside would actively approach human settlements, a powerful magic obelisk was like a beacon in the night to these creatures. The Sentinel Tower’s highland was already within the sensory range of some of the more perceptive magical tide monsters. To prevent the obelisk’s activation from immediately attracting powerful beasts—and to protect the already fragile grand walls from their assault—the construction team had to prepare in advance.

That was the purpose of the disruptors.

The runes inscribed on their branching limbs concealed breath, masked mana, and disturbed elemental energies. Though imperfect, these effects were sufficient to confuse the average wasteland monster’s senses from a distance.

Of course, if enemies got too close or were especially perceptive and intelligent, these simple disruptors wouldn’t help much. At that point, the camp’s safety would rely on the grand walls and the loyal soldiers’ guns. But filtering out sixty to seventy percent of the monsters met Gawain’s standards.

At the camp’s edge, Gawain stood atop a boulder beside Thunderclap Hill, watching the pathfinders set the disruptors at designated points. As each was activated, the crystals and rune arrays emitted a faint glow, and the camp’s magical aura quickly became weak and chaotic.

Such camouflage wouldn’t fool high- or even mid-level experts, but it would likely filter out over seventy percent of the aberrations.

The air nearby shimmered slightly as Amber’s figure materialized beside Gawain. She casually remarked, “The disruptors are activated.”

“I see that.”

“To be honest, I only felt relieved after they were turned on,” Amber said, theatrically wiping nonexistent sweat from her brow. Then, curious, she added, “But come to think of it… to survive in the wasteland, you really need this kind of interference tech. We rely on disruptors to protect the camp, but how do the other ‘tower repair teams’ handle it? Like the squads over in the Western Territories…”

Gawain glanced at the half-elf. “Are you stuck again?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Such a simple question? The disruptors are basically spellcasting devices, and not even advanced magic. The teams without disruptors just have a few mages standing guard in the camp, casting Breath Concealment and Mana Veil all day. When they get tired, they switch out or sit down for a bit.”

Amber blinked, then muttered, “Oh man, picturing that is just so dumb…”

“Dumb? Maybe. But before the advent of ‘general-purpose’ and ‘civilian’ mage-tech devices, all mages did exactly that,” Gawain shrugged. “They took pride in wielding and releasing supernatural power themselves. Even today, most supernaturals outside Cecil think the same way.”

Amber, who usually avoided deep thought, found herself pondering Gawain’s words. He shook his head and turned to gaze at the Sentinel Tower.

The massive gray-white tower floated within its anti-gravity field, quietly radiating immense energy amid the polluted, twisted sky. Its mountain-like base was set atop Thunderclap Hill, partially fused with the earth. Complex structures were hidden deep beneath rock and soil. Several raised “ridges” extended from the base’s connection to the hill, like aerial roots stretching far across the land—some reaching toward the Black Forest. The Cecil engineering camp was located near one of these ridges.

Gawain knew these root-like ridges were actually the Sentinel Tower’s integrated sensors and engineering conduits. Each base extended six symmetrical ridges—three outside the shield, three inside. They continuously collected pollution data from both sides and uploaded it to the tower’s AI for reference, ensuring the shield could adjust in real time to pressure changes. The tower’s miraculous “adaptive shield” technology relied on these vast, complex sensor arrays.

So close to the human kingdom stood such advanced technology. Yet just a dark forest, a shadowy mountain range, and seven centuries of decline had brought Ansu to its current state of decay. Civilization was truly fragile.

What did the elves who built the Sentinel Towers think when they saw the human kingdoms, especially Ansu’s downfall?

Did they look down on them? Or marvel, like people on Earth marvel at Europe’s technological collapse after the fall of the Roman Empire, at barbarism replacing civilization? Or… had they no time to lament humanity’s decline, because even they could no longer recreate the towers’ core devices?

A nimble figure leapt onto the boulder, appearing before Gawain with a short bow in hand. It was Solderin.

“The surrounding area is posted with sentries. No corrupted monsters detected nearby so far.”

“Good. Have the rangers increase their vigilance,” Gawain nodded slightly, then suddenly said, “Organize an elite squad. Bring Sonia along. I want to see you both.”

Solderin blinked. “Bring Mother? What for?”

“I’m going into the Sentinel Tower,” Gawain said. “To inspect the interior.”

Before Solderin could respond, Amber gasped, “Oh man—are you joking, Old Zongzi?”

“Do I joke about this?” Gawain shot the half-elf a glance. “We’re here to solve the Sentinel Tower’s problems. Building auxiliary towers and pressure relief points is something a skilled architect and an engineering team can handle. But our purpose here is to uncover as many clues as possible from the tower itself.”

“I understand,” Solderin bowed his head. “I’ll arrange the men immediately.”

“Do I really have to go with you?” Amber couldn’t help but point at her nose. “You never told me before that we’d have to run inside the Sentinel Tower—I’m telling you, standing eight hundred meters away from the barrier is already my limit…”

Gawain said nothing, just gave her a half-smile, half-smirk. When Amber saw that familiar look—the one that basically said, ‘You can complain all you want, but I’m still dragging you along’—her sharp ears drooped. “Alright, alright. Who else is going to cash your paycheck for you…”

“You could’ve just said that from the start.”

(End of chapter)