Chapter 807: Visiting Sandbox One

Gawain had long been intrigued by Sandbox One, especially curious about where its entrance might be. According to previous intelligence, although Sandbox One operated as an independent cognitive network, it still had an access point connecting it to the main network. Yet, despite thorough scans of the entire mental network by Gawain and Daniel, they had never been able to locate this elusive gateway.

Now, at last, he understood why no one had ever found it—

After the decision to proceed was made, the archbishops in the Golden Council Chamber rose from their seats. Gawain, unsure of what was happening, stood as well. He then noticed everyone stepping back a pace, and the golden round table inscribed with mysterious runes began to ripple with waves of shimmering light, blending the real and the ethereal.

The starry, pulsating form of Meigel III slowly descended from midair, like a viscous liquid settling onto the center of the table. In the next moment, the rippling light was suffused with layers of starlight, expanding rapidly like a halo to cover the entire surface of the table—

Within the starlight, a swirling vortex appeared. Through the whirlpool, faint clouds, drifting dust, and hazy outlines of mountains and rivers could be seen.

As the portal opened, the round table sank flush with the floor, transforming into a gateway embedded in the ground.

This golden council table was the entrance to Sandbox One, and Meigel III was the “key” that unlocked it.

“…That’s a bit more surprising than I expected,” Gawain said with a smile, standing beside the swirling portal and peering into the misty depths. “So this is Sandbox One? We just walk right in?”

“Entering Sandbox One is easy,” Meigel III’s starry form floated back up, his voice a little weaker than before. “But we cannot be certain what will happen once inside. The last exploration team reported many strange changes occurring within, proving that Sandbox One has been continuously evolving on its own without supervision. Outer Wanderer… though my warnings may seem redundant to you, please remember—exercise extreme caution.”

“I will,” Gawain nodded.

At his side, Selina Gerfen stepped forward and entered the swirling mist.

Gawain, Yuri, and Magnum followed closely behind.

The four figures quickly vanished into the vortex. Once the mist closed, the rippling starlight around the entrance slowly settled back to normal, and the round table embedded in the floor returned to its original form.

Two seconds of silence filled the hall before Meigel III’s voice broke it: “Everyone, it begins—do what must be done.

“Redirect all remaining computing power to Sandbox One and the security systems. Shut down all non-essential functions of the main network. Shut down… Dream City.”

The archbishops responded in unison: “Yes, Your Holiness!”

One by one, the figures disappeared from the Golden Council Chamber, and with each departure, the light within the hall dimmed slightly.

Outside the chamber, the entire Dream City began to change—

The once clear, bright sky faded to gray, an endless pall of white chaos blanketing the world. The magnificent golden palaces, soaring elegant towers, and rare, dreamlike plants all dissolved into drifting specks of light. Black-and-white grid lines spread across the city’s ground, only to be swallowed by an endless fog moments later.

The once breathtaking Dream City, a marvel born of human imagination, reverted within breaths to the most chaotic primordial dream. In this boundless darkness, lit only by mist and chaotic light, only the Golden Council Chamber—now shrunk to a single hall—stood firm on the earth.

Inside the dimmed hall, the pulsating starry form quieted, floating silently as if deep in thought or memory…

…

In the underground palace of the Sleeper in the real world, robed priests—clad in black or white—returned to reality. Maintaining a basic connection to the mental network, they contributed their spare computing power while rushing about the palace.

“Dream control initiated! Dream control initiated!”

Some priests shouted orders, others inspected every ward within the palace, and some set out for the surface to monitor the entire Orlandell region’s dreamscape.

Even in the lowest levels of the dungeon, the noise was audible. “Spirit Song” Wendi, whose containment level had been lowered due to symptom relief, sensed the shift in atmosphere from her cell. She lifted her head and approached the iron door etched with complex runes, gently asking, “Guard, what’s happening out there?”

“Dream control, Archbishop Wendi,” came the muffled voice from outside, as if muffled by a heavy helmet. “Please remain calm and do not enter the dream.”

“…I wish I could help.”

“Staying awake tonight is the greatest help you can give.”

“You’re right, Guard.”

Wendi whispered softly, retreating to her bed and sitting quietly.

On the wall opposite her, shimmering crystal dust paint depicted a complex symbol made of curved lines and circles, resembling a deep-sea creature’s emblem—mysterious and profound.

Gazing at the symbol, Wendi’s mind cleared swiftly, her nerves calming. The tension and anxiety that had gripped her faded.

Though she did admit to herself, she was a little hungry… craving some giant squid…

…

Gawain felt as if he were walking down a slope that stretched endlessly into swirling sands and mist. After an unknown time, the strange, indistinct atmosphere suddenly lifted. The clouds dispersed, revealing a clear view.

Before Gawain and Selina stood a city rising from the yellow sands.

Its walls were a dusty ochre, tall and imposing, with arrow towers and watchtowers standing proudly beneath a bright blue sky. Yet, no guards were visible on the walls or at the gates.

Along with the sight of the desert city came a strange, rotting stench that drifted into Gawain’s nostrils.

“This is the first city you see upon entering Sandbox One: the city-state of Nim Sandro,” Selina whispered. “It’s also the cradle of civilization within the sandbox. This desert was originally grassland—at least, that was the initial setting when the sandbox was launched. But over time, with climate changes and history unfolding, the desert encroached. Still, it remains a vital trade route, bustling with commerce.”

“Now it’s a ghost town,” Yuri added. “The last exploration team reported the city and surrounding villages were completely empty. They were also attacked while spending the night here, so we need to be very cautious.”

“There’s a foul smell,” Magnum muttered, frowning. “Like something’s rotting.”

“The previous team reported the same strange phenomenon,” Selina nodded. “The stench of decay lingers throughout Nim Sandro and nearby villages. It’s not overpowering, but widespread. They couldn’t find the source, and the smell itself doesn’t seem harmful.”

Gawain wrinkled his nose and said casually, “Could it be that the missing sandbox residents are decomposing somewhere we can’t see? Or maybe they’re in a state invisible to us, slowly rotting away?”

Yuri’s face twitched involuntarily at Gawain’s words, while Magnum instinctively scanned the vast, empty desert, frowning deeply. “Do all Outer Wanderers have to be so good at scaring people?”

“Just call me Gawain—that might help you relax,” Gawain smiled at Magnum, then without waiting for a reply, strode toward the city gates. “No time to waste. We only have ‘ten days.’”

Magnum and the others followed. As they walked, Gawain quietly activated a deep mental setting, attempting to communicate with the perception runes he had placed in the real world near himself.

He vaguely sensed the runes and, through them, detected the presence of Amber and Tyr.

But the sensation was strange—clumsy and sluggish, as if observing a world slowed to a crawl through a heavy delay.

This must be the effect of “time iteration”…

Gawain pondered.

A tenfold time iteration already blurred his perception of reality and made communication difficult. At the thousands-fold or higher iterations Sandbox One experienced, its residents would be utterly cut off from the real world.

Even if information occasionally crossed over, it would be distorted and incomprehensible.

This sandbox was an isolated island…

With that thought, Gawain led his three temporary companions into the sand-surrounded city.

Rows of ochre and gray-white buildings lined the streets, most with flat roofs and arched window frames. Bright red and yellow banners hung between the taller houses, stretching across the streets, fluttering in the dry wind.

“This is completely different from the phantom town we saw before…” Magnum couldn’t help but comment.

Selina spoke up, explaining to Gawain, “Sandbox One is vast. Besides Nim Sandro in the desert, there’s the Forest Valley city, the Maple Creek city on the swamp’s edge, and various other city-states and kingdoms. With accelerated time, it has developed over thousands of years, with millions of virtual personalities thriving inside. The sandbox’s civilization starts in the Iron Age, which allows its residents to expand their ‘world’ extensively.”

Gawain raised an eyebrow. “The civilization starts in the Iron Age?”

“Yes,” Selina nodded. “If it began in the primitive era, the sandbox would need a very long time to develop true civilization, with too many uncertainties. Even with time iteration speeding things up, the experiment would drag on. So we preset a foundational dataset for each sandbox, including a complete history from the primitive to Iron Age, supported by archaeological evidence. This lets the virtual and physical residents enter the civilization phase much faster.”

“…That’s quite an undertaking.”

Selina seemed to catch a hint of meaning in Gawain’s tone and grew curious. “Is there a problem?”

“No… nothing for now,” Gawain shook his head. “I just admire the patience and perseverance it must have taken to create all this.”

Selina wasn’t sure if it was genuine praise or sarcasm, but just as she was about to say something more, a building appearing in her line of sight cut her off before she could speak.

At the end of the sand-covered street stood a structure clearly taller and grander than the surrounding buildings, flanked by dozens of pale golden sculpted pillars and stone statues.

“Is that a temple?” Gawain asked casually, gazing into the distance.

“It matches the outline described in the exploration team’s report,” Yuri nodded. “It should be the city-state temple of Nim Sandro.”

Gawain pondered for a moment. “Its style is completely different from the church in the Phantom Town.”

“But it worships the same ‘deity,’” Selina whispered.

The same god, yet the temple’s architecture varied due to regional cultural differences.

This realization struck Gawain anew—how impressively the sandbox simulated reality, how the civilization within it had evolved step by step.

Lost in thought, they soon found themselves close to the temple.

Facing the street stood the temple’s entrance, where Gawain’s eyes caught a familiar relief carved into a massive stone on the plaza before the temple:

A giant hand stretched over a symbolic earth—this was the emblem of the Upper Narrator.

Gawain’s gaze swept over the relief, then he stepped over the stone, ready to enter the temple.

But at the doorway, his steps suddenly faltered.

His eyes locked onto one of the stone pillars framing the entrance.

Etched deeply into its surface was a line of text—its strokes bold yet chaotic and twisted, each line seeming soaked in blood, dark red hues pulsing beneath the surface, conveying an overwhelming sense of despair and madness.

It read simply:

The god is dead.

(Holy hell!!)

(End of chapter)