Chapter 786: Little Patty of the Grant Domain

Though winter had yet to fully release its grip and the cold winds still swept outside, the sunlight these days was unusually bright and clear.

On sunny days like this, Patty’s favorite thing to do was to sit where the sun could warm her, easing her body’s stiffness, while listening to her maid tell stories or watching the entertaining programs on the magical network.

The magic network was full of fascinating content—tales from distant lands, unheard-of knowledge, and curious magical creations. Recently, the clever folk of Cecil City had even developed something called “Magic Shadow Theater.”

These were plays performed on the magic network terminals, and more and more people were talking about them.

Patty had never been to a theater. Just as she was about to reach the age where she could go with her parents, she lost the chance to go out. Still, she had seen plays before—her mother once invited the best local troupe to perform a classic comedy in the castle. But Patty barely remembered what the play was about.

She hadn’t even lasted through the first act before the maid and butler had to take her to the doctor.

Yet, from those fragmented childhood memories, she was certain that the plays she’d seen back then were nowhere near as interesting as the “Magic Shadow Theater” on the magic network terminal.

Sunlight quietly spilled into the room, casting a warm, bright patch on the floor. Patty sat happily in her little wheelchair, eyes fixed without blinking on the magic network terminal not far away. The holographic projection above it showed immigrants, weathered by hardship but finally safe, helping each other down the gangplank at the southern port. Port officers in sheriff uniforms maintained order.

This was the third time she’d seen this scene.

Her personal maid stood quietly nearby, a gentle woman smiling softly at the scene. When the witch lady appeared on screen, Patty’s excited voice rang out: “The witch lady lives in Cecil City, right? Does she really welcome travelers at the port?”

“That’s just part of the performance, Miss Patty,” the maid bent slightly, smiling. “But yes, the witch lady does live in Cecil City.”

“That’s wonderful…” Patty sighed softly. “I want to visit Cecil City someday…”

“When your health improves, maybe you’ll have the chance,” the maid said kindly.

“…No, Mom would worry,” Patty shook her head gently, then turned her attention back to the magic shadow play. “Does everyone watch this? Will there be new magic shadow plays?”

“Yes, everyone’s watching. The lady of the castle has shown it three times already. Everyone inside the castle has seen it, and more and more people outside are watching too. Many have watched it more than once. As for new plays… I don’t know, but there probably will be.”

“That’s great…” Patty sighed again. “Do you like watching it? Do you like that knight?”

The maid thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “That knight? Of course. Many people like him. I like him too, but my favorite is the weaver…”

“Why?”

“Because I have a sister who’s a weaver,” the maid said patiently. “She works in a factory now.”

The maid answered patiently, but the little girl’s questions kept coming: “Is the mechanical ship really that big? Can people live on it for a month or two? Is it really that cold outside the castle? Why didn’t the lord at the beginning give charcoal to those freezing? He had so much charcoal… When people were really hungry, did they really catch mice to eat? Do they still do that? Why did the knight run when he saw the sheriff after getting off the ship? He’s a good person…”

The maid looked at the girl in the wheelchair with a mix of amusement and exasperation. She’d answered some of these questions more than once.

Still, she bent down again and patiently began explaining from the start.

…

In the great hall of Grant Castle, Lady Ropeni Grant stood at the foot of the steps. Her high cheekbones and tall, slender figure had regained some of her former delicate beauty. She was there to greet Duke Gawain and his party.

Since Duke Gawain had become His Majesty King Gawain, even a simple visit had taken on great significance. Though the new regime was streamlining court protocol and cutting ceremonial expenses, Lady Ropeni, a well-bred noblewoman, still strove to be proper and meticulous within the allowed limits.

“Your Majesty, I salute you,” Lady Ropeni lifted her skirt and bowed. The castle’s attendants and knights stood in neat rows along the carpet like statues. “You bring honor to this castle.”

“No need for such formality—last time I visited, the ceremony was much simpler,” Gawain smiled lightly. “Let’s just treat this as a friendly visit.”

“I’m honored, but proper protocol must be observed,” Lady Ropeni straightened, a sincere smile softening her usually stern face. “Rooms have been prepared for your retinue, and dinner is ready—of course, fully compliant with the Ministry of Governance’s regulations.”

“Very well, thank you for the arrangements,” Gawain nodded. “Is Patty in her room?”

“She is. She’s probably watching the magic shadow play with her maid,” Lady Ropeni replied. “Would you like to see her first? I can send someone to fetch you—”

“No, she’s not well. I’ll go to her,” Gawain interrupted with a smile. “She hasn’t seen her ‘Uncle Gawain’ in a long time. I wonder if my visit will be a surprise.”

“Of course it will—she’s mentioned you more than once recently,” Lady Ropeni said with a smile in her eyes. “She really hopes you’ll keep telling her those stories.”

Gawain was silent for less than a second, then softly said, “Is that so… That’s wonderful.”

…

In the Dream City’s central temple of the Mind Network.

In a resplendent hall adorned with golden brilliance, archbishops gathered around a round table decorated with mysterious symbols and lighting effects. Pope Megor III, a shimmering star-like entity of shifting form, hovered solemnly in the center. A crucial meeting was underway.

“…That concludes the entire exploration,” Archbishop Yuri’s voice echoed through the hall. Before him, memory projections reconstructed by psychic power displayed key scenes from the Phantom Town. “There’s no need to elaborate on the town’s strange nature or its psychological symbolism; I’m sure everyone has studied these areas extensively. This time, our focus should be on the ‘Upper Narrator’ cleric’s possession of ‘divine magic.’

“At least one thing is certain: the ‘divine magic’ cast by that projected cleric can take effect within Phantom Town and can truly attack the minds of us ‘real people.’ This is clear evidence that the Upper Narrator’s power has evolved, approaching that of a god.

“The ‘divine descent’ spell the projected cleric attempted failed, likely because his ‘projection nature’ prevented him from casting such high-level divine magic, or due to the isolation between Phantom Town and Sandbox One. However, we cannot rule out the possibility that the Upper Narrator in Sandbox One is not yet fully formed or that something unexpected occurred…”

The starry entity above pulsed and shifted as Megor III’s voice entered everyone’s minds: “Archbishops Yuri and Magnan, you nearly suffered contamination by the Upper Narrator during your mental calibrations. Based on your experience, do you believe the Upper Narrator has glimpsed outside the sandbox during this contamination? Has it extended part of its essence into that town?”

“…I do not think so, Your Holiness,” Yuri said after a moment’s thought, shaking his head. “Though the contamination is hard to guard against, it remains a projection. After the failed contamination, it showed no further ‘initiative.’ It likely has no connection with the Upper Narrator inside Sandbox One.”

“Phantom Town has now completely vanished,” Archbishop Magnan stood. “I performed several psychic storms to ‘cleanse’ the area afterward. Subsequent monitoring confirms the data zone is fully cleared. Theoretically, we need not worry about it anymore.”

“Phantom Town is gone, but Sandbox One remains,” a deep, hoarse female voice spoke. A strikingly beautiful, mature woman in a black gown rose and looked toward the hovering pope. “Your Holiness, it seems we must take some risks. The ‘monster’ born from Sandbox One has exceeded all danger limits. Maintaining the sandbox as is no longer makes sense. We… must carry out an ‘active disposal’ of Sandbox One.”

Magnan glanced at the woman, whose pointed ears and elongated features marked her as an elf hybrid—at least in her virtual form.

He nodded slightly. “I agree with Archbishop Miyue. Entering the sandbox to confront and resolve the problem may be our only option. Your Holiness, archbishops, we should summon our psychic choir and spirit knight forces.”

Yuri frowned deeply. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then said, “Our spirit knights are limited in number, perhaps—”

Before he could finish, a loud alarm suddenly interrupted him. Then a young woman’s slightly nervous voice came through the hall’s speakers: “This is the monitoring team—there’s a massive void outside District 16 West of Dream City!”

The archbishops attending the meeting were startled. In an instant, their figures vanished from the hall, reappearing above the area where the void had opened on the city’s outskirts.

The magnificent, golden Dream City’s border was torn open by a shocking rift that pierced the city’s outer barrier, connecting a small section of the city with the vast wilderness beyond. Strange forces raged within the rift, twisting and compressing the engulfed streets and wildlands into a massive vortex of distorted light and shadow. Elegant palace domes, towering spires, and smooth streets were all caught in the terrifying whirlpool, spinning wildly and howling endlessly.

The archbishops hovered above the “Great Void,” their eyes fixed grimly on the swirling fragments of light and shadow. Each wore a deeply troubled expression.

They could see many confused and terrified worshippers gathered outside the torn district, and likely some trapped inside the spinning vortex as well.

This was no longer a problem that could be solved with a few memory wipes or area resets.

Archbishop Magnan’s red hair bristled as he looked at Yuri, his tone grave and commanding as always: “Archbishop Yuri, we must immediately assemble our forces—”

“As you say,” Yuri took a deep breath. “We must gather our troops.”

Selina Gelph floated quietly among the archbishops, tilting her head slightly with a strange expression as she muttered, “Gather the troops…”

“At that time, we gathered our troops immediately. With just a single order, everyone would come,” Gawain said softly, sitting beside Patty’s wheelchair, a gentle smile on his face as he recounted the memories. “Back then, things were different from now. Our food supplies were scarce. Every time the army assembled, no matter how much the lords emptied their coffers, we could usually only scrape together enough provisions for a month or two. So many knights, their squires, and apprentices had to bring their own rations. The war against the Aberrations brought no profit at all—everyone volunteered out of their own will.”

Patty’s eyes widened. “Just like Dad once told me—‘a glorious expedition’?”

“Exactly. The phrase ‘glorious expedition’ originated then. It meant going to battle not for plunder or gain, but for the honor in our hearts. Unfortunately, over time, corrupt nobles twisted that idea, turning it into a phrase used to glorify acts of looting.”

Patty thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “…I think I understand now.”

Gawain looked quietly at the girl in the wheelchair and said gently, “Is that so… good.”

(End of chapter)