Chapter 736: Shadows of the Mind

As the month of Frostmoon drew to a close, the northern nations of the continent were already deep into the grip of winter.

A biting north wind howled through the city streets, whipping sharp whistles through the narrow gaps between buildings. Snow piled on rooftops was swept loose, swirling in the air like a hazy curtain, as if heralding yet another snowfall.

But all of this was kept firmly outside by thick walls, layered crystal glass, and the warmth of the heating system.

Gawain sat in his study, leafing through a leisurely tome on the myths and legends of the Northern Continent. In his other hand, he held a dip pen, idly sketching images and ideas that floated through his mind onto a scrap of paper. The howling wind outside was muffled by the glass, reduced to a faint echo that mingled with the low, soothing hum of the arcane devices tucked in the corners of the room. The blend of sounds only deepened the calm that settled over him.

Betty stood quietly by the desk, her hands folded neatly over the apron of her maid’s uniform. She nodded off in gentle, rhythmic dips, a soft snore escaping her lips.

Gawain glanced at the dozing girl and smiled, shaking his head softly before returning his attention to the sketches. Suddenly, his hand holding the dip pen felt an odd sensation. With a soft “pop,” he looked down to see the tip of the well-used pen had cracked, ink leaking through the fissure and blotting the paper with a spreading stain.

Frowning, Gawain set the broken pen aside and looked at the lines he had drawn—a winding river flowing quietly past quaint brick houses with old-world charm, a small stone bridge arching over the water, the sunset casting a rosy glow along the eaves of the riverside homes.

The ink blot was spreading across the stone bridge, as if slowly swallowing the scene whole.

He crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it aside just as the study door swung open. Amber stepped inside.

Betty startled awake, snapping to attention, but after recognizing the visitor, she yawned and relaxed again.

Gawain looked up at the half-elf lady entering the room and couldn’t help but grin. “Winter’s really here, huh?”

“…Huh?” Amber blinked, caught off guard by the sudden comment. “Why bring that up all of a sudden?”

Gawain pointed toward the window. “This time of year, even you don’t come in through the window anymore.”

Amber immediately crossed her arms, glaring. “Obviously! It’s freezing cold and windy out there. You want me to climb up to your second-floor window in a blizzard, risking getting locked out? I’m not crazy!”

Her eyes then caught sight of the crumpled paper on Gawain’s desk. Known for her insatiable curiosity, Amber couldn’t resist leaning in to take a look. Judging by Gawain’s expression, it wasn’t anything secret, so she unfolded the paper—and found only a strange drawing.

“What’s this place… the Gondor Empire? Is the sun drawn too small?” Amber blinked. “Such a weird architectural style, but kind of pretty… Though judging by the building design, it probably isn’t from the north. Where are you planning to promote this?”

“Just a doodle, really. Think of it as a flight of fancy,” Gawain said, flicking the paper with his finger. The sketch of the otherworldly landscape silently disintegrated into dust. “Anyway, enough about that. What’s the news?”

“Hey, don’t destroy it! That’s a shame…” Amber protested reflexively, then shrugged. “Nothing major. Just heard that Typhon’s border troops have started equipping magi-tech vehicles… faster than we expected.”

Hearing this, Gawain pinched his chin thoughtfully. After a moment’s pause, he smiled faintly. “It was bound to happen. It’s the trend of the times. Notify the Longwind Fortress to maintain vigilance.”

“Understood. Also, Heddy asked me to remind you when I came over,” Amber continued. “The Imperial Academy will open next month. Scholars from all over are arriving by the end of this month. Have you set the exact opening date?”

“The Imperial Academy… finally ready,” Gawain nodded. “Opening day will be the first rest day of next month. The rest of the schedule remains unchanged.”

“Got it, I’ll note that down.”

Gawain hummed in acknowledgment, then after a pause asked casually, “By the way, what’s Bard up to these days?”

“He’s at the Druid Research Institute in the Great Sorlin Tree, working as a researcher and special consultant. The surveillance team reports he’s doing well—cooperating actively, helping staff transfer a large number of dangerous specimens out of the catacombs,” Amber reported. “That transfer is basically complete. Next, Bard will assist druids and scholars studying the Great Sorlin Tree’s photosynthesis during winter—they hope this research will help improve crops.”

“Good,” Gawain nodded, then asked, “What about Beltira?”

“Photosynthesizing.”

Gawain blinked. “…Huh?”

Amber rolled her eyes. “What else would she be doing? She’s a plant, after all.”

Gawain paused, hand on his forehead. “…True enough. She is a plant, after all.”

As he mused, a sudden, unusual mental ripple stirred deep within his consciousness, cutting off his next words.

Amber looked at him curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Wait a moment. Daniel seems to need me,” Gawain waved a hand. “Stay nearby. I need to meditate. Betty, stand by the door—don’t let anyone in.”

Amber nodded with practiced ease, and the young maid trotted to the door. Gawain wasted no time, focusing his mind and gradually slipping his consciousness into the realm of the Mind Network.

After a brief dizziness and a sensation of spatial displacement, the scene before him transformed into the endless, serene blue skies and waters of the Origin Space. Massive geometric patterns and gear-like structures turned silently in the sky. On the vast, windless water surface stood metal platforms—unlike when this space was first created, these platforms were no longer empty but filled with various experimental apparatuses, each forming isolated research environments.

In the distance, one platform flickered with light—clearly a team was connected to the network space via immersion pods, conducting experiments.

The central open area of Origin Space remained untouched by these experiments. A white round table stood there, surrounded by empty chairs. Daniel stood before one of them. Seeing Gawain appear, the old mage bowed respectfully. “My lord, I apologize for the sudden intrusion.”

“No need for formalities,” Gawain waved him off and settled into his own high-backed chair. “What’s the matter?”

Daniel immediately replied, “My lord, there have been anomalies in the Mind Network recently. I believe it necessary to report them to you.”

“Oh?” Gawain raised an eyebrow. “Tell me more.”

Daniel proceeded to detail the strange rumors and reports circulating among the Sleeper’s Mind Network over the past period. He shared the clues he had uncovered through his contacts and influence, leaving nothing out.

“…Basically, these are the main anomalies reported recently. The High Ecclesiarchy insists these are mere rumors, and my investigations have yet to find concrete evidence. But judging by the frequency and spread of eyewitness accounts, plus intelligence I’ve gathered from within the clergy, the situation is likely more complicated.

“The Mind Network’s operation seems to be faltering. Some virtual spaces are losing stability, and certain Sleeper devotees who have been connected for long periods appear to be encountering trouble—I found some hidden distress signals in the deep databases. Yet when I located those who sent the calls for help, they claimed to know nothing of these issues.

“Three zones on the outskirts of the Dream City have recently been sealed off. The High Ecclesiarchy says it’s for data reconstruction and necessary maintenance—normal procedures, and temporary lockdowns of peripheral areas have happened before. But the timing is suspicious.”

Daniel laid out the intelligence he had gathered, and Gawain’s frown deepened with every word.

The anomalies were undeniable. While ordinary followers might still be deceived by the High Ecclesiarchy and the Sleeper Pope’s reassurances, Daniel’s position as a bishop gave him access to information confirming the Mind Network was indeed malfunctioning.

Its operation was flawed—but why?

Gawain instinctively glanced around the Origin Space. An odd thought crossed his mind, twisting his expression.

This Origin Space was carved out from the Mind Network’s deepest secrets, borrowing the Sleeper’s computing power and network bandwidth. Recently, with several new project teams established at the Magi-Tech Research Institute, the Origin Space’s usage had been steadily increasing…

Good grief, maybe I’ve been milking this resource too hard. I’m about to shear this sheep to death…

Daniel, of course, had no idea what the powerful otherworldly wanderer was thinking. He only noticed Gawain’s sudden silence and grew a bit anxious. “My lord?”

Snapping out of his reverie, Gawain looked at Daniel. “Do you think the Mind Network’s anomalies could be related to the Origin Space?”

“…My lord, to be honest, I have considered that possibility,” Daniel said thoughtfully. “After all, the Origin Space is closely tied to the Mind Network’s operation and has recently been running several large-scale projects, drawing massive computing power from the network. But after careful examination, I believe it’s unlikely the Origin Space is causing the Mind Network’s faults.”

“Oh?”

“The computing power Origin Space draws is from the ‘redundant’ portion of the Mind Network—that is, outside the core network, not affecting overall operation,” Daniel explained. “The Sleepers’ original resource management was crude and wasteful. After I restructured their system, the previously wasted computing power was hidden and dedicated to maintaining the Origin Space. So theoretically, no matter how much the Origin Space expands, it shouldn’t impact the core network…”

“Hm…” Gawain stroked his chin, pondering. “So the Mind Network’s anomalies shouldn’t affect the Origin Space either?”

“In theory, yes. But we should still increase monitoring of the Origin Space,” Daniel nodded. “We haven’t yet determined the cause of the core network’s anomalies. If there’s a fundamental flaw in the Mind Network’s infrastructure, even if the Origin Space is isolated, problems could still arise.”

“Are the researchers working in the Origin Lab in danger?” Gawain asked, voicing his greatest concern.

“Not at the moment,” Daniel replied quickly, clearly having thought this through before. “All the connectors in the neural network showing abnormal states share a common trait: they maintain long-term connections, have undergone deep neural modifications, and can hardly ever fully disconnect. They also frequently engage in deep immersion, their minds tightly bound to the network. In contrast, our researchers in the Origin Lab connect through immersion pods, which provide a layer of protection from the real world, and they don’t experience deep immersion. Plus, they strictly follow your mandated work hours, avoiding prolonged connections. So their safety is assured.”

Gawain let out a slight breath of relief. “That’s good to hear… but we still need to stay vigilant. I’ll remind my team to be extra mindful of their mental state during network sessions. You, meanwhile, keep monitoring any anomalies in the neural network.”

Daniel bowed deeply at once. “Yes, my lord.”

Gawain exhaled and tilted his head back, gazing up at the vast, endless sky above.

The massive geometric structures and cryptic symbols continued to rotate in the clear firmament. An invisible wall of data separated this secret space from the main network. Standing between the expansive water and sky of the Origin Space, any visitor would be completely unaware that a far larger network was running in parallel here.

But with his elevated access privileges, Gawain could see much more—

He saw a colossal network world existing alongside the Origin Space, a magnificent dream city hovering above it. Countless points of light drifted and danced in the void—these were the Sleeper cultists, the computational nodes, the inhabitants of this network realm.

Beneath his feet, below the boundless “water surface,” flowed an even more chaotic and complex stream of light. This was the deeper foundation of the neural network, the darkest, most profound “abyss” of this virtual world, painstakingly built over centuries.

His brow furrowed.

So the sheep wasn’t killed off by me after all…

Then how did it suddenly end up like this?

(End of chapter)