Chapter 921: The God Who Got Away

So many legs…

In that brief instant, even gods—beings who didn’t need to breathe to survive—felt a sudden suffocating pressure.

Myrmina glared at Narithil. She was certain something was wrong with this massive, spider-like “kin” before her. Perhaps it was a warped entity born from a flawed ideology, or maybe a “near-dead” on the brink of madness. Whatever the case, she knew better than to keep engaging with this spider any longer.

Her inability to escape the spider’s pursuit wasn’t due to some childish excuse like “fewer legs.” Myrmina understood this perfectly well. She was simply too weak at the moment and at a disadvantage in this terrain—

To pull off today’s daring plan, she had already fragmented and reassembled herself countless times. For thousands of years, she had consciously controlled her own “growth,” like a prisoner starving herself thin to slip out of her cell. The plan had succeeded, but it left her drained and powerless. This weakness, combined with the unfavorable battlefield, made it impossible for her to leave the spider unscathed.

But she had to leave—and quickly. This place was a strange “boundary of thought currents,” a chaotic, unformed sea of consciousness. Its turbulent waves could “wear down” chains, but they also inflicted great harm on her. She could clearly feel her remaining strength slipping away—and the rate was accelerating.

“Listen, little spider, I have to leave here,” Myrmina said, stabilizing her form as she tried to divert Narithil’s attention through conversation. “Under different circumstances, at another time, I might enjoy talking with you more. But not today—please step aside.”

Narithil was stubborn. “I’m taking you to His Majesty. He said you can only leave if he says so.”

“That won’t do,” the mist-like lady’s lips curled into a faint smile. “I can’t have any contact with mortals right now… I’ve only just managed to sever my ties with them.”

Narithil frowned and stepped forward, intending to reason with her. But in the next moment, the towering lady—like a great clock tower—suddenly transformed. The shifting shadows and mist stretched into countless ribbon-like strands. Between the grids formed by these ribbons, innumerable mirrors materialized from thin air. Reflected within them were chaotic orbs of light and distant thick fog. Then those lights and fog vanished, replaced by flickering starlight. Some stars elongated and twisted into strange symbols, disrupting Narithil’s perception…

Mirrors, threads, light orbs, smoke, starlight, symbols—all common tools or symbols used by mortal mages when casting spells.

Narithil was momentarily stunned by the sudden chaos, but she quickly recovered. Her long limbs sliced across the gray-white water’s surface, which immediately reflected the shadows of those mirrors. The upper-level narrator wove false facts, using the relationship between reflections and reality to contaminate the battlefield her opponent had created. The contamination was effective; the hastily conjured illusions shattered almost instantly, revealing the true form of the “legless lady.”

Narithil lunged forward—the white spider leapt like a predator, its long limbs sweeping down in a deadly embrace. But she immediately sensed something was wrong: her limbs had grasped something utterly unresisting, which quickly disintegrated into countless fragments that dissolved into the air.

An illusion?

Realizing this, Narithil began to use her ubiquitous webs to track the lady’s true location. But the next moment, she was overwhelmed by chaotic, massive feedback: everywhere around her were traces of energy, fragments left behind after the dispersal of the entity’s essence. Those seemingly illusory shards were actually torn pieces from the lady’s real body—she had sacrificed over sixty percent of herself to create this “smoke screen” and escape Narithil’s senses!

The white spider’s legs scrambled across the gray-white water several times but failed to find any trace. Frustrated, she stopped and had to accept the bitter truth: her prey had escaped. After a few seconds of dejection, she slowly began gathering the “ashes” left behind by the dissipated fragments.

Those dark gray remnants were the only evidence and clues left by the intruder’s flight. Not much of a victory, but at least something.

As Narithil collected a larger shard, she “heard” a distorted voice from within: “…I borrowed your magic web, though that was never its intended purpose… I owe you a favor. Tell your ‘Majesty’ that one day in the future, this debt will be repaid.”

A message left by the intruder.

Narithil paused briefly after hearing this, then silently placed the shard with the others. She looked up at the “Unconscious Zone,” which was gradually returning to normal, and shook her head in confusion, muttering, “How can someone without legs run so fast…?”

…

Eleven Franklin sat with the senior magic students in the computing center’s lounge, anxiously awaiting further news.

The lounge door was tightly shut; the hallway outside was silent.

Having been to the computing center several times before, Eleven knew that next door was a large immersion pod room, filled with neat, brand-new pods capable of linking ordinary brains to an incredible neural network. He himself had connected several times; the convenience for research and information transfer was impressive.

Today, he and the senior students were here to connect—not for entertainment or extra lessons, but because the Imperial Computing Center needed additional computing power.

For Eleven, answering the Empire’s call was an unshirkable duty as a noble, but many of his classmates were commoners who had volunteered as well—something he hadn’t expected.

Though he had long adapted to treating commoners as equals and had no noble arrogance, even counting several commoner friends, this situation was new to him.

He glanced twice at the nearest classmate, a big boy named Storm, one of the commoner volunteers.

“Is… something wrong?” Storm noticed the gaze and adjusted his posture nervously, whispering.

“Uh… no,” Eleven cleared his throat. He felt his earlier thoughts were inappropriate, perhaps even a form of noble arrogance, so he pushed them aside. “I’m just worried. The teachers went in with the first group a long time ago…”

“The teachers have more experience,” Storm whispered back. “And didn’t they say it’s just extra computing power? No real risk. The real tough stuff is handled by the experts.”

“The real tough stuff…” Eleven’s expression darkened as a sudden thought struck him. His fingers clenched tensely.

Most students probably still didn’t understand the situation, but he had a vague sense of what was going on.

Today was the day the Empire’s entire magic network was being linked. And if even the teachers were nervous, it was likely connected to this “networking” event. After all, these teachers weren’t ordinary school instructors—they were top scholars, many affiliated with the highest government research departments.

Not long ago, he’d heard strange, faint howling from the direction of the Magic Technology Institute. Passing through the academy square with classmates, he’d noticed the largest magic network terminal there malfunctioning, with several teachers anxiously inspecting it. On the way to the northern development zone, he glimpsed the newly built hub tower at the institute restarting, with several mages flying around, checking the magical devices atop the tower…

This all pointed to a terrible accident. And his father, Duke Bertram Franklin of the Western Territories, was one of the project leads for this “networking” operation.

The more Eleven thought about it, the more anxious he became. He wished he could find a working magic network terminal right now to contact Tenlin City and check on the situation. But he knew how unrealistic that was, so he sighed quietly and nervously tugged at the hem of his academy uniform.

Just then, a voice interrupted his wandering thoughts: “Don’t worry, nothing will happen.”

Eleven looked up, surprised to see the usually nervous, introverted Storm speaking to him. He shook his head, about to say he was worried about something else, but Storm quickly added, “I mean about the magic network… I know your father is the Duke of the Western Territories. I think he’ll be fine.”

Eleven’s eyes widened. “How did you…?”

He hadn’t expected Storm to read his mind. The magic network linking wasn’t exactly a secret, but as ordinary students unrelated to the matter, they wouldn’t normally think that far. And Storm, usually silent and a bit dull, didn’t seem like the type to make such connections… so how did he figure it out?

Storm looked at the duke’s son and, after a brief pause, smiled awkwardly. “My father is the guardian of the Luan hub tower…”

Eleven was stunned.

Before he could respond, a small figure suddenly appeared in the room, startling everyone. Then came a booming voice: “Students, all of you go back! It’s over!”

Eleven and the other seniors exchanged glances. Someone stood up in surprise: “Over… what’s over?”

“The incident ended early. No more computing power is needed,” Magnum waved dismissively. “Go back. No classes this afternoon, so enjoy your free time.”

Then, as if remembering something, he added, “By the way, although the incident ended early, your voluntary participation is commendable—I’ll personally add two points to your final comprehensive evaluation.”

The students were both confused and surprised, but everyone understood the value of those two points. The lounge erupted in thanks, as if afraid Magnum might change his mind, then they quickly left.

Eleven stood as well, preparing to leave and find a chance to check on his father’s situation. But just as he was about to step out, the stern instructor called out with a strong voice:

“Eleven, Storm, you two, wait.”

Eleven and Storm exchanged puzzled, slightly nervous looks and stayed behind.

Magnum drifted toward them like a ghost. After giving the two students a quick once-over, he waved them off with a hint of impatience in his voice. “If everything’s fine at home, then get going—don’t waste time here.”

…

At the front of the hall, a massive holographic projection displayed a shimmering map of the entire Empire. White dots marked active nodes, connected by a web of lines crisscrossing the surface. The network wasn’t dense, but it broadly covered the whole Empire.

Sorinfort, Tenlin City, Winterhold… each major hub appeared as a miniature projection on the map, quietly humming with activity.

All communications had been restored. Every network was back online.

“The hubs at every level are successfully online and connected… it worked?” Rebecca stood at her command station, reporting the situation to Gawain. But as she spoke, she scratched her head in confusion, dragging out the last word uncertainly.

Gawain remained grave, staring at the holographic map before him in silence.

The network integration had indeed succeeded. So far, all data and evidence matched their expectations. Yet… this inexplicable success did little to ease his mind.

He was still waiting for further updates from the neural network side.

This time, the wait was short. Moments after Rebecca finished her report, the small arcane network terminal embedded in the command desk suddenly lit up. Duvalet’s figure appeared above the screen.

The so-called “God of Humanity” bowed slightly. “Your Majesty.”

“How’s Nariel’s situation?” Gawain stepped forward immediately. “Did you catch the intruder?”

“The intruder was severely wounded but managed to escape,” Duvalet said, a trace of regret and frustration crossing his face. “Nariel only brought back some ‘embers’ that are difficult to analyze…”

“Escaped?” Gawain frowned deeply, his heart sinking. Instinctively, he pressed, “What exactly was the intruder? Can you tell their true form or origin?”

“It was—” Duvalet barely uttered the first syllable before his image flickered as if disrupted. He was pushed aside, and Nariel squeezed in beside him.

“A woman without legs,” Nariel gestured in a language no one else could understand, speaking words even more cryptic. “She ran faster than anyone…”

Gawain: “???”

(End of chapter)