Chapter 659: The Remains

Eastern Territory, White Sands region.

The fierce storm had finally passed. The apocalyptic darkness and the sheets of rain, along with the deep-sea creatures that had emerged within the downpour, had all vanished.

At the climax of the “feast,” the swirling storm clouds above had ripped open a massive tear in the sky. Within that rift shimmered a cascade of rippling, inverted ocean light—like the sea itself had been turned upside down. Through this portal, the deep-sea allies retreated back to their domain, carrying away most of the giant stag’s remains, leaving only some “residual bones” scattered at the scene.

Now, those bones lay quietly several kilometers from the Iron Throne, nestled between the white sand dunes and the Whitewater River. What had once been a flat, open expanse was now marred by a huge crater. The pit was filled with shattered, broken rocks and lifeless soil, as if a chunk of earth had been violently torn away.

Mariland led a group of officers and soldiers to the edge of the crater. Peering down at the scattered bone fragments still pulsing with intense magical energy—twisting and writhing in chaotic patterns—and the few remnants of flesh, the commander couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotion.

A powerful, even godlike “artificial deity” had died just like that.

Killed in a gluttonous feast.

A rustling sound came from nearby. Mariland turned to see the sea witch Miss Thyr, who had been temporarily stranded in Cecil and had been hiding somewhere until now, finally stepping forward now that the dust had settled.

“You actually… ate it?” Mariland couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, not entirely for eating…” Thyr scratched her head, then decided explaining would be too complicated. She waved her hand dismissively. “But if you want to think of it that way, that’s fine. Either way, they’re definitely going to have a big feast when they get back.”

What a terrifying species.

Mariland felt a flicker of awe as he glanced once more at the enormous crater.

Not only was their power frightening, but their appetite and teeth were just as fearsome.

“That’s really impressive—you even managed to chew out such a huge hole in the ground…”

Thyr froze for a moment, then quickly waved her hands. “That hole wasn’t chewed out! It’s just that the magical energy reaction was so intense, and when the fold field pulled them back, the energy field’s shockwaves created the crater.”

Mariland’s face flushed with embarrassment. As a noble-born man, he felt he had been rude and quickly apologized. “Ah, my apologies.”

“No worries, no worries. Different species, misunderstandings happen. We sea witches always suspect you land-dwellers living in dry places might affect your intelligence…” Thyr said casually, waving her hands. “Anyway, enough about that. The energy fluctuations here have calmed down. When do you plan to start studying these remains?”

She pointed to the “residual bones” left at the bottom of the crater after the sea witch expedition withdrew. Though these fragments were no longer alive, their value was immeasurable. To any researcher, those bones and scraps of flesh were priceless treasures.

“The news has already been sent back to the Southern Territory. Professionals will arrive soon to take over,” Mariland replied, curiosity creeping into his voice. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I was just thinking that if you don’t start studying them soon, I might go down there and have a little nibble myself…” Thyr said matter-of-factly. “I was busy maintaining the guiding beacon before, so I missed the sisters’ feast.”

Mariland: “…”

This noble-born commander had dealt with all kinds of people in his life, but he never imagined dealing with sea witches would be this difficult!

This species casually spoke beyond the limits of one’s knowledge, leaving even the most learned and wise utterly speechless, tongue-tied, and at a loss for words—he truly had no idea how Duke Cecil had managed to establish contact with these deep-sea aliens in the first place!

After staring blankly and fumbling for words, Mariland finally came up with a suitable response: “Well… I’m sorry, Miss Thyr, but I’m afraid I have to report this to my superiors. After all, these remains are considered experimental samples and spoils of war.”

Thyr looked disappointed. “Ah, I knew it would be like this. Why is being a sea witch so hard? Even eating a little snack gets you stopped by a bunch of people…”

Mariland: “…”

…

It was all over.

News of the Eastern Front’s victory reached the Southern Territory immediately and, within hours, was broadcast to the public through special newspaper editions and magical network transmissions.

Though the authorities had yet to release detailed or truthful information, nor hold any formal celebrations, a joyful and relieved atmosphere was already spreading throughout Cecil City.

Despite vast tracts of abandoned land still lying in the eastern Holy Spirit Plains, and the looming threat of another crisis erupting at any moment from the nearby Typhon Empire, at least for now, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

At the edge of the city’s industrial district, at the magi-energy train station, a magi-energy train bound for the eastern regions stood ready at the platform. Holographic barriers indicating the waiting status rose on either side of the tracks, separating the train from the platform.

Inside the barrier, the gleaming new carriages bore Cecil’s emblem and numerical markings. Along the train’s body, repulsion generators glowed faintly with pale blue runes. Outside the barrier, passengers gathered on the platform, lining up under the direction of staff, waiting for the barrier to lift.

Among those waiting were soldiers clad in uniforms or armor, preparing to travel east to maintain order and strengthen the border defenses. Others were civilians in everyday clothes—some heading to the Grant region, others to the White Sands mines. Some were factory or government employees; others were merchants conducting business between these areas.

Though several experimental rail lines had recently transitioned to formal operation, the system was still new. Ticket prices remained relatively high, and many ordinary people had no immediate need for long-distance travel. Thus, those who could and were willing to ride the magi-energy trains were still a minority—usually government officials on assignments or wealthy merchants.

Most wore the latest fashion: short coats or “simplified” dresses designed for both style and practicality. They carried similarly styled small suitcases. Women often wore sun hats with veils, while men carried black or dark brown umbrellas.

These were the latest trends in Cecil City—priced moderately, affordable to most. When people suddenly found themselves with extra money to spend on items that weren’t strictly necessary but made life more comfortable and convenient, such “new gadgets” quickly became a way for some citizens to “dress up” and express themselves. In a sense, these items even served as signals from new urbanites:

I’m well-fed now, and I have the means to live decently.

Besides clothing and daily necessities, nearly everyone carried a newspaper or magazine to pass the time during the journey. Discussing the news with fellow passengers in the station’s waiting area or on the train was considered a mark of being “in touch with the times” and “cultured.”

Of course, not everyone sought such “signs of decency.”

Many newly freed immigrants, just recently out of poverty, still clung to a mindset of saving money and food, holding onto the “hunger anxiety” from harder times. But among those with some economic standing—people who had been closer to the “citizen class” even in the old era—these “signs” held real meaning. It was these people, through their acceptance and use of new things, who were gradually shaping a “Cecil-style” social atmosphere, creating a new “Cecil citizen” identity beyond the old concepts of nobility, serfdom, and freemen.

People chatted about the news in the papers, about the victory on the Eastern Front. No detailed reports had been released yet; the latest paper only briefly announced: “The strongest evil creation of the End of All Things has been destroyed; the Holy Spirit Plains enter final cleanup phase.” But even this simple sentence was enough to ease everyone’s tension and spark lighthearted, proud conversations about the triumph.

At a corner of the platform, clad in a black short robe, Pittman directed several apprentices as they loaded large crates onto a luggage cart. He glanced at the joyful crowd around him and whispered to Kamail beside him, “Honestly, when I first heard what those End of All Things fanatics had made, I seriously thought about running away.”

Kamail, who had known Pittman for some time and trusted his judgment, replied casually, “I don’t believe you.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“With your personality, if you were really going to run, you’d already be on the road.”

“…Talking to you is getting more and more pointless.”

Pittman waved his hand dismissively. Kamail eyed the old druid’s attire curiously. “By the way, you always wear that old-fashioned robe. Ever thought about trying the new simplified formal jackets or short coats? I hear they’re great—more practical and comfortable than the old stuff.”

“I’m used to this,” Pittman rolled his eyes, then glanced at the runic armor plates covering Kamail’s body. “Come back and talk fashion with me when you figure out how to get rid of all that armor.”

A strange buzzing sound came from Kamail’s body, as if expressing helplessness. Just then, a loud bell rang across the platform.

“The train’s ready,” Pittman looked up at the magi-energy train nearby, watching the barriers along the platform fade away one by one. He turned and waved. “I’ve got to go—see what those End of All Things lunatics have cooked up. You’d think with Cecil’s growing power and all the druids registered, I wouldn’t have to be the one old bone running around. Maybe it’s time for a raise…”

The old druid muttered complaints but strode quickly toward the train with his apprentices. He had been ordered to investigate the fragments left behind after the “artificial deity” died in the White Sands dunes. As the most senior druid in the territory and the only expert familiar with the End of All Things’ inner secrets, he couldn’t avoid the task.

Kamail watched Pittman board the train and saw groups of passengers filing into the carriages.

The massive magi-mechanical engine began to hum deeply. Power cores charged, runes lit up, and the train slowly accelerated along the tracks, heading into the distance.

Nearby, on the streets and open spaces outside the station, groups of children chased after the train, shouting in awe from behind the safety railings. Passersby stopped to watch—some waved at the train, others studied the advanced machinery as it moved forward.

The rise of magecraft industry was, after all, beginning to transform this world—from the details of daily life to cultural customs and the very fabric of social order.

“Magecraft industry, huh…” Kamail murmured to himself, the light around him flickering slowly. “Looks like this really is the right path…”

An arc of electricity traced across his body, illuminating the rune-etched armor plate on his chest. On that ancient metal shard, the faded emblem of the old Gondor Empire was still faintly visible.

“It seems I truly can witness the day when humanity regains its former glory… Princess Ophelia, I hope you have waited all this time for that very day as well.”

This newly born magecraft industrial empire might still be far from matching the greatness of Gondor’s heyday, but one day, it would catch up—and even surpass it.

Having lived through humanity’s most glorious era and witnessed the heights of an advanced society, Kamail now awaited that day with unshakable hope.

(End of chapter)