Chapter 583: Phantom Vision

After seven centuries of silence, the corridors and chambers stirred back to life.

As they drew closer to the core control area at the base, the interior passages of the “Spine” grew wider. Flickering runes and veins of energy began to appear along the walls, while elaborately carved pillars in a distinctly elven style lined the broad space ahead. At the end of this expansive corridor, all the internal pathways of the “Spine” converged into a radiant hall shaped like a six-pointed star. At its center stood a cylindrical chamber, surrounded and supported by countless pipes, metal beams, and rune-etched pillars.

This was the Sentinel Tower’s control hub—the place where the magic spirit’s consciousness was housed. To Gawain, it was essentially the central server room for the artificial intelligence.

The entrance to the chamber was firmly shut. Two beams of light slanted down from above, illuminating a small clearing before the door. Amber lifted her gaze, following the curve of the cylindrical room’s outer wall upward. At the top, a hazy, shimmering veil of light hovered, and massive drapes hung down from the glowing mist. These banners bore the crests of the Silver Empire and the various human kingdoms—some so weathered by time that only tattered strips remained, hanging silently like burial shrouds.

Amber blinked. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw something within those banners—dim shadows writhing and curling like sludge, breeding and rolling in the dark corners. Faint human shapes emerged from the shadows, watching the unwelcome intruders who had suddenly appeared.

But in the next instant, the vision vanished like a mirage.

“What’s wrong?” Gawain’s voice pulled Amber back from her trance. “You’ve been staring up there for a while.”

“N-no, I must have imagined it,” Amber rubbed her eyes and blinked. “But what’s that up there? It looks like a floating mist or cloud.”

“That’s the mana cloud canopy,” explained Bannor, the elven mage. “Above it lies the outside world. The base’s roof is actually open to the sky. The mana concentrators draw powerful energy from ley lines and mana nodes, creating this dense cloud canopy over the open area. It supplies power to the ‘Stelae’ and maintains the entire base’s protective systems.” He added, “If the canopy ever goes out, the Sentinel Tower is finished. That’s why it hasn’t shut down once in seven centuries.”

Amber nodded, only half understanding. Bannor approached the cylindrical chamber’s entrance and once again infused the elven reliefs on the doorframe with magic.

Fortunately, the door didn’t jam this time—he didn’t have to pull out his elbow wrench again.

The chamber housing the magic spirit’s consciousness opened. Steel-clad knights stood guard at the entrance under Solderin’s command, while Gawain stepped forward, leading Amber inside.

A magnificent blue glow filled the cylindrical room. Amber gasped softly as she stepped in—its floor was crafted from the purest obsidian, flawless and black as night. Intricate, delicate runes were etched across the surface, emitting a faint azure light that shimmered in harmony with the blue crystals embedded throughout the walls. At the center floated a black cube about a meter wide, suspended in a gravity-defying field.

The cube’s surface was etched with straight blue lines, its material metallic but mysterious. Faint runes flickered on each face, divided by the glowing lines, giving it an arcane and enigmatic aura.

Sensing their approach, the cube emitted a pleasant chime and began to rotate. The blue lines segmented it into countless smaller cubes, which reassembled in a dizzying, Rubik’s Cube-like dance. A somewhat stiff synthetic voice echoed through the room:

“Organic lifeform detected… Identification in progress… Builder-level clearance, authorized visitor, commander… Error: commander clearance illogical, re-authenticating… Commander… Error: commander clearance illogical, re-authenticating…”

The voice grew increasingly confused. Gawain cleared his throat softly: “Ahem, I’ve been resurrected.”

“…Voice authentication passed. Organic mana signature confirmed. Human. Resurrected individual. Incomprehensible. Unbelievable… Ignoring errors. Updating database. Reloading commander clearance. Gawain Cecil, human, leader. It is a pleasure to see you again. The Sentinel salutes you—you’ve lived a long time.”

The cube’s voice smoothed out as it continued its rapid self-reconfiguration. “System has been operational for 706 years, 22 days, 7 hours, 13 minutes, and 12 seconds. This is the first visitor interaction during this period. How may I assist?”

Bannor waved his hand before the cube, releasing a specialized control spell. “Sentinel, continue operation. We are conducting a system check.”

“Sentinel acknowledges. Continuing operation.”

A low hum emanated from within the cube as the shifting blocks swiftly returned to their original positions. The cube reformed into a perfect whole, calmly floating in the anti-gravity field. Bannor then moved to a nearby silver-white alloy pillar and activated an ancient magical array, beginning diagnostics on the “magic spirit’s consciousness.”

Amber’s eyes widened. “Wow—that’s the Sentinel Tower’s ‘Tower Spirit’?”

“The ‘Tower Spirit’ is what humans call the artificial intelligence of their mage towers,” Sonia explained. “Elves refer to it as the ‘magic spirit’s consciousness.’ Different names, different technologies.” She glanced curiously at Amber’s confused expression. “Little one, has your father ever told you about the elven realms?”

Amber’s pointed ears twitched slightly. Sonia had guessed from her ear shape that Amber’s father was an elf.

“I don’t even know who my real parents are,” Amber said frankly. “I was adopted by two humans…”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sonia’s expression softened, a hint of awkwardness in her voice. “So you were raised by humans. No wonder you don’t know much about elves. Are your adoptive parents still alive?”

Amber’s ears twitched again. “My adoptive father passed away, but the other is still alive… Yes, both my adoptive parents are men.”

Sonia blinked, stunned. “So human society has become this open in seven hundred years…”

Gawain, who had been quietly listening, suddenly couldn’t hold back. “Ahem, I think you might have misunderstood. The ones who adopted Amber are…”

But Sonia seemed lost in her own worries, muttering anxiously, “This won’t do… Solderin in this environment… Could it be that’s why he can’t find a girl he likes…”

Gawain and Amber exchanged a glance.

Apparently, this elven mother had some serious misconceptions about Amber’s two adoptive fathers. Before Gawain could explain further, Bannor suddenly broke the silence.

“High-level messenger, Duke Cecil, no fault records found here either.”

The elven mage looked up, noticing the slightly awkward atmosphere. “Ah, what were you talking about?”

Everyone refocused on the matter at hand. Gawain waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing important. You said there are no fault records here?”

“Yes. Logs show the Sentinel Tower has been operating normally,” Bannor said, stepping aside. Around the silver alloy pillar, numerous illusory projections appeared, displaying elven script that detailed the tower’s operational records over the past two to three years. “No alarm records for the first overload were found—only the last overload.”

Sonia frowned, glancing at the black cube in the center. “Sentinel, query.”

The cube responded immediately: “Sentinel standing by.”

“Did this tower experience any overloads between two and four years ago?”

“Searching… no results. No overloads recorded during that period.”

“Everything normal during that time? No faults?”

“All systems normal. No faults recorded.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. The group exchanged uneasy looks.

Something was wrong with the AI’s answers.

Sonia had already drawn a clear conclusion—the first overload had occurred at this very Sentinel Tower in southeastern Ansu, about three years before Gawain’s resurrection. That overload had allowed the aberrations roaming the old Cecil lands to break free and wreak havoc.

Yet the magic spirit’s consciousness, which had run continuously for seven centuries without shutdown, claimed to have no knowledge of this fault.

Nor had the tower sent any fault reports to the Silver Empire’s central control.

Gawain frowned at Bannor. “Is the magic spirit’s consciousness itself functioning normally?”

“Everything is normal. I’ve checked all its cognitive nodes—no signs of tampering or self-restructuring,” Bannor said gravely. “Under these conditions, the Sentinel would never betray us.”

“Then the problem lies elsewhere,” Gawain said, taking a deep breath. “If even the Sentinel has lost full control over the tower, we’re in serious trouble.”

This was one of the reasons Gawain insisted on inspecting the Sentinel Tower—these towers really had issues.

But the magic spirit’s consciousness at the tower’s core showed no fault records, which was the most unsettling fact of all.

The fault had occurred in a blind spot of the system.

“Is there anything that could block the Sentinel’s perception and control of the tower, or alter its records without leaving a trace?” Gawain asked the only expert present, Bannor. “If the tower overloaded, where would the earliest alarm signals originate?”

“In theory, no alarm signal could bypass the Sentinel’s monitoring,” Bannor replied immediately. “Its priority is absolute.”

Sonia, Gawain, and Bannor then launched into a detailed discussion, analyzing the Sentinel’s operating mechanisms to uncover potential vulnerabilities. Meanwhile, Amber, standing to the side, couldn’t understand any of the technical jargon. The half-elf girl’s mind began to wander.

She blinked, taking in the room filled with soft blue light and magical energy.

Once again, she seemed to see a phantom—

Near a rune focus pulsing with magical power in a corner of the room, a sudden black crack appeared in the air. Shadows spilled out from the fissure, spreading and trembling in the atmosphere. Amber blinked, but the shadows didn’t vanish immediately. Instead, a vague human figure emerged from within the darkness.

It was a shadowy figure without any facial features or limb details, its entire form seemingly bound by loose, tattered strips of cloth. It swayed twice between the black cracks, then leaned halfway out and waved at Amber.

Amber blinked in surprise and whispered, “Huh?”

The figure raised its hand, pointed straight above with emphasis, then gradually faded away.

“What’s wrong?” Gawain noticed Amber zoning out again. He saw her staring at an empty corner and immediately asked, “What are you looking at?”

“I think I saw someone… a shadow dweller?” Amber blinked, shaking herself awake, only to find the crack and the figure were gone. “That’s strange. How could there be a crack here… I couldn’t sense it at all…”

She shook her head, then looked up curiously. “Hey, hey, Auntie, is there something up there?”

“Auntie…” Sonia’s expression blanked for a moment, but she still looked up. “The roof. Beyond that is the Mana Cloud Summit…”

Just then, Banner suddenly caught on. “Wait, it’s not just the Mana Cloud Summit! It’s the stone tablet!!”

(End of chapter)