Chapter 596: Daniel’s Self-Cultivation

Deep within the eastern region of Ansu, in the shadowy depths of the catacombs, Beltila Augustus stepped into a small chamber covered from floor to ceiling with intricate runes and mysterious symbols.

Compared to the spaciousness of the rest of the catacombs, this room was cramped and confining—no more than two or three meters across. It was bare of any furnishings, save for a single magic crystal lamp embedded quietly in the center of the ceiling. Under its soft glow, the walls, floor, and ceiling were inscribed with runes—the runes of the Sleeper.

Beltila moved to the center of the room and waved her hand casually. Behind her, the door clicked shut, and an invisible magical barrier sealed the chamber completely from the outside world.

She then calmly surveyed the complex, dazzling runes around her, slowed her breathing, and began to release her own magical energy.

One by one, the runes lit up, their brightness pulsing rhythmically. At the hem of her priestly robe—stripped of all holy symbols—vines and root-like patterns began to unfurl and creep outward. With a soft rustling, the tendrils merged slowly with a circle of runes etched into the floor…

Beltila opened her eyes and saw before her the image of a middle-aged man, tall and sturdy, dressed in a black robe, his expression serious and composed.

This black robe was unlike the plain black cloaks worn by the cultists of the End of All Things. It was more elaborate, embroidered with runes and symbolic threads—a fusion of a mage’s robe and a cleric’s vestment.

Beltila knew this man was not truly standing before her. This was a projection, a phantom conjured within her senses. The stern face might not even be his true appearance, but rather a construct of imagination—one of the Sleeper’s most practiced techniques, to which she was long accustomed.

“I hope this communication will be free of irrelevant interference this time,” Beltila said calmly. “Have you reached any conclusions about the situation we encountered last time?”

The man, whose true body was likely thousands of miles away, nodded slightly. “We have. Your communication was neither corrupted nor infiltrated.”

Beltila raised an eyebrow. “That conclusion doesn’t reassure me.”

“Don’t be hasty. There’s a detailed explanation,” the man continued, his tone professional and steady. “Psychic projection is a highly advanced secret art, and its principles are very reliable. But as a new technology, it does have flaws—during projection, the user’s mental impressions are amplified, and unexpected phenomena can occur within the consciousness. Trained Sleepers can counteract these effects with magic and willpower, but those untrained in Sleeper secrets may inadvertently create sounds and images that shouldn’t exist.”

Beltila frowned. “You mean that ‘intruder’ was just a figment of my imagination?”

“Exactly. No offense intended—just the truth,” the man said calmly. “Ms. Beltila, please reflect carefully: do you harbor any similar imaginations or worries, even subconscious ones? During psychic projection, the deepest hidden thoughts can surface. Think hard—was what you saw something you might have imagined before?”

Beltila’s face darkened.

She pictured the scene: Roland Augustus suddenly appearing before her, her once closest and most revered brother, angrily confronting her, disappointed by her choices, even raising his sword…

She didn’t believe she was still haunted by such “shadows,” nor that she had ever truly feared such a scenario.

But what about her subconscious? The very depths of it? Even if she had full control over her deeper thoughts, could the souls and memories of those she had devoured over seven centuries have mingled with her own, creating a hidden risk?

She began to analyze calmly—and the more she did, the more she thought it was possible.

Perhaps in some deleted dream, some nightmare, she had indeed dreamed of her brother coming back to life in anger and raising his sword against her…

“Very well, I accept that explanation,” she finally exhaled softly, fixing her gaze on the middle-aged man. “Now I want to confirm—will this phenomenon happen again?”

The man nodded meticulously. “I can’t guarantee it won’t happen at all, but if the user prepares mentally in advance and gives themselves sufficient psychological suggestion, the chance of ‘extra phantoms’ appearing can be greatly reduced.”

Seeing a trace of doubt still lingering on Beltila’s face, the man straightened his back slightly, his expression proud and resolute. “Ms. Beltila, you need not doubt—Sleepers always prioritize their allies’ interests. We have analyzed your problem with utmost professionalism. What I’ve just told you is the conclusion personally reached by Bishop Daniel, the Sleeper’s highest security officer and master of the psychic network. Any Sleeper would attest to his wisdom and thoroughness.”

Beltila crossed her arms. “I’ve heard the name. I have no further questions.”

“Then I wish you a pleasant day.”

The projection and voice vanished from her mind, and Beltila closed the magical array in the room.

“Just a fantasy from the subconscious…”

The female cleric murmured to herself, her expression turning icy.

What the Sleepers said was probably true—the things she saw that night were likely just illusions. Yet she still wasn’t ready to fully let her guard down.

From now on, unless absolutely necessary, she resolved not to use the psychic projection device again.

…

In Oldernan, the imperial capital of Typhon, inside a private lounge of the Imperial Engineering Association, Daniel, clad in black robes, awoke from meditation and blinked slowly.

He had received a message from a junior cleric within the order, informing him that negotiations with “Beltila Augustus” had concluded smoothly.

That cautious and cunning female cleric might not fully trust him, but she would believe most of it. At least, the effect his master desired was assured.

Break time was nearly over. Meditating too long during the day could invite unwanted scrutiny.

Daniel glanced at the mechanical clock hanging on the nearby wall and then stood.

The artificial nerve cords behind him twitched slightly before settling comfortably out of the way. The old mage felt energized, in excellent condition.

The maddening noise and stabbing pains had long since ceased. Even though he rarely looked at those “pleasure patterns” anymore, the headaches and auditory hallucinations showed no sign of returning.

“Thanks to the Master’s grace…”

Daniel muttered habitually under his breath, then left the lounge.

Along the way, lower-ranked mages bowed respectfully, humble craftsmen stepped aside, and scholars and assistants greeted him with bows.

But Daniel rarely responded. He strode quickly down the corridor until he reached the laboratory of the project he was currently overseeing.

The spacious, well-lit lab buzzed with activity. Dozens of craftsmen, mages, and assistants in short robes busied themselves throughout the room. Long tables piled with scrolls, calculation tools, and writing materials lined the walls. At the center stood a large workbench cluttered with complex mechanical and magical devices—unfinished prototypes.

This was a far cry from a traditional mage’s laboratory. It resembled more an engineering and alchemical workshop than a place for arcane research. In fact, even within the Imperial Engineering Association, such a collaborative environment was unique.

In most other labs, low-level craftsmen rarely participated in magical device development. Though Emperor Rosetta had established this facility to bring together talented minds, rigid hierarchies, the division between the mundane and the transcendent, and innate talent barriers remained deeply ingrained. Only under Daniel’s direct leadership had these walls been forcibly broken down.

He was modeling this after what he had seen in the Origin Laboratory—the “magitek engineer” system.

“Master Daniel,” a craftsman working near the bench noticed his arrival and immediately stood to salute. “You’re here.”

Daniel nodded and looked over the mechanical parts on the bench. “How’s the progress?”

The craftsman, clearly gifted in mechanics but conditioned by his environment to be deferential, bowed repeatedly with a nervous expression. “We’re trying to figure out how to make the two rear wheels rotate independently. No breakthroughs yet, but we’re close—very close…”

Daniel’s brow twitched ever so slightly at the man’s ingrained humility, but he said nothing.

He simply glanced at the half-finished devices on the bench and nodded slightly. “Don’t rush. Precision is more important.”

His gaze then swept the room and landed on a rack nearby where several sketches were pinned to the wooden frame.

The drawings depicted a concept still in its infancy—at least here:

A vehicle powered by repulsion mechanisms, transmitting power through mechanical means, capable of moving without animal traction.

When Daniel had come to Oldernan under his master’s orders to demonstrate the magic network technology to the empire’s rulers, he had brought other innovations as well.

Among them was a simple power engine driven by repulsion runes.

His master hoped these foundational technologies would accelerate Typhon’s “industrial upheaval,” and indeed, they had achieved the desired effect. But as these technologies entered the view of Typhon’s technicians, further development became inevitable—

The principle behind the repulsion mechanism was not complicated. Basic gears, levers, and bearings had long existed. Once the craftsmen and mages of the Imperial Engineering Association grasped the potential of the “repulsion mechanism,” they naturally began to imagine applying it in more fields.

Now, Typhon’s domestically produced magical engines powered mining machines, spinning wheels, and looms. Merchants and nobles counted their flowing gold coins atop these machines, while the more farsighted pondered further advancements.

One court advisor realized that factory operations would inevitably demand better transportation. Acting on this advice, Rosetta Augustus ordered the Engineering Association to develop a magically powered vehicle.

Daniel gladly accepted the task. As a “genius mage” gifted in magitek, he assembled this engineering lab.

Then he deliberately slowed the project down—there were so many technical hurdles to stall on: differentials, transmissions, power transfer, braking, heat dissipation, shock absorption… Having seen complete magitek vehicle data in the Origin Laboratory, he was confident he could hold this project back for three to five years without raising suspicion.

He was waiting for his master’s next command—the order to “invent” or “replicate” the magitek vehicle would come in due time.

His master was already preparing to meet Rosetta Augustus, so the next order should be arriving soon.

(End of chapter)