Chapter 855: The Prototype
Compared to Cecil’s existing network technicians, the Sleepless had one major advantage: their intimate familiarity with the process of mind-linking and handling all sorts of unexpected situations. For many years, they had been exposing their brains directly to vast computational networks in the most dangerous ways imaginable. The lack of safety mechanisms and the inherent flaws of “human networking” forced the Sleepless to constantly face perilous scenarios—brain nerve overloads, mental damage, memory cross-wiring, and all manner of spiritual afflictions.
For them, this was just everyday life.
Because of this, the “immersion pods” created by the Cecilians—with their layers of safety features and physical safeguards—felt to the Sleepless like impenetrable steel fortresses, protecting both body and mind. Lying inside one brought a rare sense of relaxation: no need to expend energy maintaining the network connection, no fear of mental noise waves bombarding the brain. Many bishops claimed they could spend their entire lives inside those pods.
At first, Magnum was genuinely surprised by the high safety standards of these immersion pods. He could tell how much research and development Cecil had poured into these protections. But soon, he understood the key difference: the Sleepless’s original mind network was designed for the supernaturally gifted. Except for a rare few, every connected individual possessed powerful mental strength. If problems arose, they could usually tough it out; if not, a proper burial was the worst-case scenario. After all, they were a dark cult—losing one or two members was part of tradition.
Cecil was different. Their network was meant for ordinary people, whose fragile minds and bodies required far more protection. As a responsible empire, they had a duty to safeguard their citizens. This meant their immersion pods prioritized safety above all else, even at the cost of some connection efficiency.
Which approach was right or wrong? The archbishops, including Yuri and Magnum, agreed there was no question: Cecil’s emperor was an otherworldly wanderer; their priests wielded warhammers bigger than human heads; locals loved blasting mountains apart with explosive and earthquake magic.
The truth was, and would always be, firmly in the hands of the Cecil Empire.
At the Empire’s Computing Center, in the Mind Hall, before the Mental Nexus.
A shimmering glow danced across the silver-white alloy pillars. Arcane energy veins pulsed between the metal modules like breathing, rising and falling. The towering columns connected the floor to the dome above, occasionally revealing complex runes and geometric patterns that raced upward along their metallic shells. A low, pleasant hum echoed softly through the bright hall, as if alive with awakening vitality.
“The third test startup is complete. The base magic network is now stably powered,” a technician from the Arcane Technology Institute announced loudly from a nearby console, eyes fixed on the glowing runes. “The Mental Nexus is beginning to output sequential signals—all signals confirmed!”
Yuri and Wendy stood before one of the silver alloy pillars, listening to the technician’s report. Yuri nodded slightly. “Looks like the startup went smoothly.”
“Finally, it can begin…” Wendy murmured, as if answering Yuri or perhaps speaking to herself. She stepped forward, gently placing her hand on the pillar’s metal surface, and began to release her mental energy.
In this era, in the realm of research, “supernaturals can manipulate magic without extra tools when calibrating certain devices” had become their only real advantage over ordinary researchers.
All eyes in the hall instantly focused on Wendy.
The local Cecil technicians watched her—and the Mental Nexus before her. Countless people had poured their efforts into this device. Only those familiar with immersion pods and networks truly understood its significance. Watching this moment was like witnessing the future of technology itself.
The Sleepless present also watched her, but for them, this was a look back at their own past: an old era ending, a new arcane technology ready to take over all they had created. That cold machine loomed over them, within it seven centuries of accumulated knowledge awakening in unprecedented ways.
Some felt anticipation; others, nostalgia.
Ripples of magic shimmered within the Mental Nexus. Wendy exhaled softly, a faint smile crossing her lips. “Hello, future.”
Almost simultaneously, a clear holographic projection appeared above the nearby control console. Magnum’s figure materialized, eyes wide, voice booming as always: “Whoa—startled me! Am I already inside the Mental Nexus?”
The arcane technician at the console acted as if he hadn’t seen Magnum’s sudden appearance, continuing his meticulous report with a stern face: “The Mental Nexus is outputting responses… all channels are clear. We can ‘see’ the signals from the test group.”
Magnum blinked, glanced around the hall, then pointed at himself. “The ‘signals’ mean me?”
Yuri immediately frowned. “Enough. This is a serious occasion—we shouldn’t have let you be the first to enter the Mental Nexus!”
Magnum, now transferred into the Nexus, shrugged. “Ms. Selina is monitoring from above, Lord Megal is with His Majesty the Emperor, and I’m the only mind in the network—are you planning to upload yourself to keep me company?”
Yuri instinctively rubbed his forehead. “…I shouldn’t argue with you. Anyway, how do you feel?”
“…From a general perception, it’s no different from our own mental space,” Magnum finally got serious, answering Yuri’s question. “But it’s still very… ‘barren.’ I’ve been placed in a void. There are only some basic ‘frameworks’ and ‘platforms’—probably the Mental Nexus’s built-in primitive space. But I can sense others—our comrades using immersion pods. I can feel their minds around me, though I can’t see them yet…”
Wendy nodded slightly. “Several test groups are still waiting for the next instructions. It’s normal you can’t see them until all channels are open.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Magnum said casually. “Also, this place feels… cramped. But I guess that’s because the number of nodes is limited.”
Yuri nodded. “Right now, including shift workers, we can only maintain about a thousand nodes with floating connections. Some of those nodes are reserved for extra testing projects, so it’s impossible to sustain the previous scale of the mind network. But it’ll improve quickly—all immersion pods have passed testing, and the second batch of volunteers, testers, and maintenance staff are ready. Once the Computing Center is fully operational, the mind network will be reborn…”
“It’s the ‘Narrator Neural Network,’” Magnum corrected seriously. “Times have changed, my friend—ha, saying that actually feels kind of fitting. I’m starting to understand why the Cecilians love chasing these ‘trendy’ terms.”
Yuri’s eye twitched slightly but he decisively ignored Magnum’s holographic presence in the hall. He turned slightly to Wendy. “Notify Semler—tell him to begin the next phase.”
In the upper levels of the Computing Center, inside a large connection chamber, rows of immersion pods stood neatly arranged.
Their silver-white lids were open. Inside each lay a former Sleepless priest—now dressed in white uniforms provided by Cecil’s technicians. Each wore a calm expression tinged with a hint of vacancy.
They were currently in shallow connection mode, maintaining the Mental Nexus’s operation as pure computational nodes. They awaited further instructions. The man in charge of this room was none other than Semler, a former Sleepless archbishop.
This middle-aged man, always serious, stood beside the central control console, watching the pillar connecting to the Mental Nexus while lost in thought.
Suddenly, Wendy’s voice came through the mental link, breaking Semler’s concentration.
He looked up. A nearby former bishop immediately reacted: “Is it time to start?”
“The Mental Nexus is stable. Magnum is ready inside,” Semler nodded slowly, voice grave. “Tell our comrades to begin—close the lids, deepen the connection, and sift through their memories and minds. Let us… first build the earth and sky.”
One by one, the alloy lids began to lower smoothly, guided by mechanical devices. The faint hiss of closing pods filled the air. Semler closed his eyes slightly. With his powerful mental perception as a high-level supernatural, he could “see” faint lines extending outward from this room.
Lines connecting into a web, streams converging into rivers.
And this room was not the only one sending out these lines.
Throughout the Computing Center, in many rooms above the Mind Hall, torrents of thought were being linked together. Individual human brain nodes were activating.
Among them were not only former Sleepless but also Cecil’s original network technicians and volunteers recruited specifically to provide computational support.
Tonight, a thousand people were participating in this work at the Computing Center. They would build the prototype of the “Narrator Neural Network” and perform the initial “Genesis” within it.
What they created tonight would be stored in floating form across all nodes, preserved long-term through the addition of new nodes and rotation of old ones, evolving rapidly and gradually improving…
Among these technicians and volunteers, ordinary people made up the majority—hundreds of them forming the initial nodes of this prototype network. The immersion pods allowed these ordinary people to stand on equal footing with supernaturals at the starting line.
In the network space formed by human minds, there would be no distinction between the extraordinary and the mundane.
Back in the Mind Hall, Magnum’s holographic projection widened his eyes in delight as he described what he saw inside the network:
“Light is beginning to appear, along with the most basic earth—they’re constructing a vast virtual interface… Oh! I see the sky! It’s crude, but beautiful!”
But Yuri no longer paid attention to Magnum’s booming voice.
Because the clever Cecil technicians had anticipated the need to add a volume control to Magnum’s voice device. After confirming that this loudmouth had no intention of heeding the friendly advice to keep quiet during the experiment, the arcane technician at the console simply turned Magnum’s volume down to the minimum.
To complete the work, Magnum had to remain inside the Mental Nexus. Unable to move freely within the network meant he couldn’t project his consciousness to other nodes or form a “psychological projection” as usual. He could only communicate externally like a broadcast signal through the hall’s audiovisual equipment—thank arcane technology, silencing him was just a matter of pressing a few buttons.
Yuri even felt the whole world had suddenly become a better place.
“You know, Ms. Wendy,” he said, turning his head slightly, unable to hold back the feeling welling up inside him, “as someone who only joined the Order during the Rosetta era, my greatest regret used to be that I never got to witness firsthand the moment when the Order built a world from nothing within the Mind Network. But now, I have no regrets—because we are witnessing history in the making. Something destined to change the world is being born right here.”
Wendy smiled faintly, her voice soft. “I hope the Wanderer from Beyond will be pleased with our work.”
“He will be,” Yuri replied cheerfully. “In a few days, He’ll come to inspect everything. Hopefully, by then, He’ll finally tell us what the ‘Narrator’ in this ‘Narrative Neural Network’ actually means…”
For a brief moment, Wendy’s smile faltered.
She instinctively reached to the back of her neck—and suddenly felt a sharp ache there again…
(End of chapter)