Chapter 663: Things Remain, People Change

Eastern Territory, White Sand Hills region.

A construction crew had arrived at the mining area a few days ago aboard a train. The once-destroyed mining facilities were now undergoing reconstruction. The White Sand Hills buzzed with a busy yet orderly atmosphere—cranes, engineering vehicles, scaffolding, and safety nets were everywhere. Among all the work zones, one place stood out as especially unique:

The massive “Fallen God Sinkhole” near the Whitewater River.

This was the site where an artificial god had fallen. The enormous sinkhole was under tight surveillance by the Cecil Legion. Several temporary watchtowers and defensive fortifications lined the rim, monitoring every movement inside and outside the pit. At the bottom, near the “Remnant Bones,” a small research station had been established.

The terrifying artificial god now existed only as a fragmented skeleton. Twisted, mutated bone shards jutted from the earth in menacing postures, some partially buried beneath rubble and soil at the pit’s base. Scattered nearby were remnants of flesh and blood—defiled biological tissues that seemed to retain a faint spark of life. They still exhibited some degree of activity, twitching occasionally and continuously emitting strong magical energy signatures.

These incredible remnants were undoubtedly precious research samples.

Accompanied by several apprentices, soldiers, and officers, Pittman slowly walked among the giant bone fragments. The old druid kept his hands clasped behind his back, his posture slightly stooped. His gaze swept over the unsettling remains. Metal frames propped up the precarious skeletons, dividing the area into sections marked by signs reading “Sampled,” “Not Sampled,” and “Cleared.”

Pittman stopped and quietly studied the skeletal structure before him. Some residual flesh writhed slowly between the bones, producing faint, nauseating sounds and spasming intermittently—as if the tissue still suffered phantom pains from the battle it had endured.

“These things still twitch,” a nearby officer whispered, unable to hide his unease. “Such a terrifying creation…”

“The tail of a blue-tailed swamp lizard can twitch and even bounce a week after being severed,” Pittman replied casually. “Nature itself has crafted these incredible life phenomena. That’s nothing unusual.” He gestured toward the massive remains. “What makes this one frightening is simply its sheer size.”

He then turned to his apprentices. “Collect samples from this area—it should be close to its neural center. Maybe what remains here can tell us if it even had a ‘neural center’ as we understand it.”

Several apprentices nervously approached the twitching flesh and activated their cutting tools—plasma swords, laser cutters, and high-powered saw blades. These reliable instruments were the researchers’ best allies. Sparks flew as they cut into the tough tissue.

Despite appearances, the seemingly soft flesh and fragile bones were incredibly resilient. Without specialized tools, they couldn’t be severed.

A rustling sound came from nearby. The sea-serpent-shaped Tyr slithered over to Pittman and the others. The sea witch lady lifted her head, watching the apprentices collect samples, saliva dripping from her lips.

Then she commented, “I’m telling you, this spot tastes the best. It’s the rare chewy part of this artificial meat—won’t get stuck in your teeth either.”

The officer beside Pittman gave a strange, helpless look. “Miss Tyr, haven’t we told you not to eat in unsampled areas? Although the higher-ups have approved you eating here, please don’t interfere with our research.”

Tyr waved her hands dismissively. “No problem, no problem. I only took a tiny bite—won’t affect your work, right, Pittman?”

“As long as you don’t eat in front of us—that would be bad for my apprentices’ mental health,” Pittman shot her a glance, then turned back to the massive bones and twitching flesh. “…It’s really hard to imagine how they even made this thing.”

“We found where this giant stag first appeared,” the accompanying officer said, “and discovered a vast rift and cave system west of Thorin’s Fort. They lead deep underground, where an ancient subterranean complex seems to exist. This monster probably came from there.” He hesitated. “But the underground is too complex and dangerous to explore further for now.”

Pittman pondered for a moment, then nodded slightly. “…The Nest of the End of All Things is indeed underground, but it’s even older and more intricate than the Rebellion Fortress. You’re right not to rush in.”

As a former member of the End of All Things cult, Pittman knew of this underground facility’s existence—but only that. The mysterious subterranean complex was an ancient relic, possibly as old as the Rebellion Fortress, but no one knew its true origin or purpose. The cult had built a complex “vine network” inside to connect various areas and control access to the surface. They also set countless traps and secret doors to fend off invaders—and all of these, including the magical keys to enter, changed frequently.

The underground complex was likely severely damaged after the giant stag went rogue, but many traps and mechanisms probably remained intact.

Pittman had long since left the cult and his information was outdated. He dared not lead anyone to explore it.

“Report the relevant intelligence. This isn’t for us to decide.”

The officer bowed his head. “Yes, Master Pittman.”

…

Jenny lifted her head slightly, the wide brim of her sunhat shielding her from the harsh midday sun. A gentle breeze stirred her white hair around her ears.

Under the bright daylight, the classical and solemn walls and towers of Saint Suniel gleamed in her view. Flags fluttered atop the ramparts, soldiers stood guard with imposing presence, and the ancient streets, rich with Ansurian character, stretched out before her. On either side were old, uneven houses, and hurried pedestrians moved along the roads.

The city seemed much the same as when she had left years ago, yet somehow profoundly changed. A feeling both familiar and strange welled up inside her, making the chief runesmith of Cecil’s expression complex.

An officer approached and saluted crisply. “Master Jenny, will you report directly to Silver Fort?”

In Cecil, all senior technical researchers and master craftsmen held the title “Master.” Jenny was among the earliest to earn it.

“I want to visit one place first,” Jenny said, smiling gently at the knightly officer. “Please take the others to the castle.”

“Yes, Master—I’ll arrange your escort immediately.”

Jenny hesitated, then instinctively waved her hand. “Escort? No need. I know this place well. I can go alone…”

The officer looked troubled. “Master, this is a direct order. The city is still under special status. All your movements here require military protection.”

Jenny glanced at the knight who had accompanied her all the way from the Southern Territory to the capital. Being naturally mild and averse to causing trouble, she didn’t insist. She nodded. “Then… thank you, sir.”

Minutes later, two black magi-tech vehicles bearing the Cecil insignia departed Saint Suniel’s southern gate, rolling along the centuries-old Iron Cross Street toward the inner city’s mage district.

Outside the windows, the worn, weathered houses receded. The wheels rattled over uneven cobblestones, the slight bumps stirring Jenny’s restless thoughts. She leaned against the window, her gaze drifting over familiar streets, buildings, and faintly remembered faces.

There were fewer pedestrians than she recalled. They still wore patched, dull-colored coarse linen clothes, moving quickly with blank expressions. Occasionally, someone would pause at a street corner, craning their necks to stare at the magi-tech vehicles—these “magical monsters” pieced together from steel. But soon, they’d lower their heads in reverence, as if afraid to meet the gaze of these mechanical beasts.

The narrow streets of the commoner district were easily congested, even with few people. The engineer driving occasionally honked the horn, prompting many pedestrians to duck and bow—some even forgetting to step aside, forcing soldiers to lean out the windows and loudly remind them to clear the way.

To avoid injuring anyone, the vehicles moved slowly. Curious children approached the magi-tech cars, pointing and whispering, but were quickly slapped and dragged home by adults.

“Though we’ve been in the city for half a month, people still struggle to adapt to these new things,” a female arcane combat soldier sitting beside Jenny said awkwardly. She was part of the First Legion that had marched north to take over Saint Suniel and was now assigned to Jenny’s escort—both as bodyguard and guide. “It’s much better now… On the first day, some civilians even knelt and kissed the ground before the magi-tech vehicles.”

Jenny sighed softly. “That needs to change… We’ve all been through that phase.”

“Yeah, we have. When the first magi-tech water pump was installed in my village, my father forbade us from going near the fields, fearing it might eat people. But just a year later, he wanted to pool money with neighbors to buy a threshing machine. The agricultural machinery station’s machines were always in short supply, and queues were long. This year’s harvest might be so large that manual labor won’t keep up,” the soldier laughed, looking at Jenny with deep respect. “That’s thanks to masters like you.”

Jenny was at a loss for words. Shy and absorbed in her research, she wasn’t used to direct praise. She lowered her head and whispered, “Thank you… but there are many more skilled than me.”

By then, they had passed through the outer city’s commoner district and entered the wealthier, more prosperous inner city.

The narrow streets suddenly widened, the houses grew taller and tidier, and well-dressed citizens walked with heads held high. At the street’s end, tall spires and glowing runes floating above the road came into view.

She took a deep breath.

They had arrived at Saint Suniel’s mage district.

The two vehicles rolled through the affluent streets and straight into the mage quarter. The entire area was now under the control of the Cecil Legion. Vehicles bearing military insignia passed through without hindrance.

Guided by Jenny, the car finally came to a stop in front of a mage’s tower—its pale purple spire piercing the sky, the walls a muted gray-white, rising about four or five stories high.

This was a classic traditional magic tower, built atop a sturdy stone foundation. Faint magical runes shimmered just beneath the surface of the gray-white walls. The heavy, ornate oak door was sealed by a magical barrier, and above the spire, crystals and metal constructs floated, slowly revolving around the peak—these devices served multiple purposes: surveillance, early warning, even combat. Jenny knew them well.

A squad of soldiers climbed down from the vehicle and followed Jenny to the tower’s entrance. The oak door, locked with runes, flickered a few times before the magical seals dissolved, and the door creaked open.

No need to knock—the tower’s AI spirit automatically recognized visitors and alerted the guards.

After a brief pause, Jenny saw a figure emerge from the dark doorway: a young apprentice clad in a deep gray robe.

His name was Mark, one of the mentor’s apprentices.

Not a servant apprentice, but a true apprentice.

Jenny’s impression of him was lukewarm—not bad, but not great either. He was an average talent, but at least worth more than a slave. That was all she thought of him.

Mark kept his head down as he stepped out, only lifting it slightly when he reached Jenny. His eyes quickly took in her face, surprise flickering across his features. Then he noticed the fully armed soldiers behind her and the two magic-powered vehicles parked nearby.

His expression shifted to one of shock, and he hunched his shoulders awkwardly, his voice tinged with a complicated mix of emotions: “Jenny… is that really you?”

“It’s me. Go tell the mentor—I’m back.”

(End of chapter)