Chapter 927: The Spirit Song

At the invitation of Kamail and Jenny, Gawain arrived at the “Holographic Analysis Chamber” within the Rune Research Institute. The spacious, square room featured a raised platform fixed in the center of the floor, upon which a high-precision crystal array was mounted. As the rune projector was activated, a holographic image—far clearer and more vivid than any ordinary projection—materialized before everyone’s eyes, accompanied by a faint humming sound.

Floating in the center of the display were several sea witch runes, each with intricate swirling patterns and curved structures.

The moment Gawain saw those runes, he felt a subtle mental uplift, as if his thoughts sharpened and cleared—though he knew much of this was psychological. Technicians had already tested the effects: sea witch runes didn’t actually enhance human brain function. Their true power lay in strong mental protection. The so-called “brain acceleration” was merely an illusion experienced by test subjects in a calm, clear state of mind.

Shifting his gaze away from the runes that could boost SAN values, Gawain turned to Jenny beside him. “You said you’ve made significant breakthroughs in sea witch rune research?”

“Strictly speaking, we’ve gained a better understanding of the ‘uniqueness’ of the sea witches themselves,” Jenny nodded, then signaled to an assistant nearby. The assistant manipulated the projection device, and the hologram shifted to show a sea witch’s form, constantly changing shape. Jenny added, “By the way, all our research has been strongly supported by Miss Tyr.”

Gawain nodded. “What exactly have you discovered?”

“We found that the ‘mental protection’ effect isn’t limited to the runes on the sea witches’ bodies,” Jenny explained. “Any ‘information entity’ that points to the sea witch species can produce a similar mental defense effect…”

“Hm?” Gawain’s interest was immediately piqued, his tone rising slightly. “Information entity that points to the sea witch species?”

“For example, their runes, but also… their songs,” Kamail said from the side. He waved his hand and activated another device in the room. With a soft click, a soothing, melodious hum began playing from a recording device. As the humming filled the chamber, Gawain instantly felt the same kind of mental uplift and pleasure he’d experienced when looking at the sea witch runes.

“This was recorded with Miss Tyr’s help,” Kamail explained. “Unlike the casual tunes she hums in her free time, she says this song is the ‘Deep Sea Song,’ containing the ‘truth of ocean waves’… We still don’t fully understand what she means by that, but this special melody clearly has effects similar to the deep sea runes. Even after being recorded and played back through equipment, the effect remains—though somewhat diminished.”

Kamail continued, “I later analyzed the melody using resonance crystals and found many waveforms beyond the range of normal human hearing. These form very brief and complex oscillations. After extracting and testing these oscillations, we confirmed two things: first, these vibrations trigger magical resonance imperceptible to humans. Essentially, it’s an extremely complex ‘casting’ process, but the source and residual traces of the resonance are invisible to us—only highly sensitive crystals recorded indirect evidence. Second, these inaudible oscillations produce the ‘mental protection’ effect.”

Gawain’s eyes betrayed his astonishment—this was an incredible breakthrough, the kind everyone had long hoped for!

Since first encountering the strange markings on Tyr and learning about the sea witches’ many anomalies, Gawain and his technical team had been striving to unravel their secrets. They had created mental protection barriers based on the deep sea runes and developed increasingly effective “anti-divine coatings.” Yet all these applications were crude imitations, never truly uncovering the underlying principles. This had been the greatest regret—and a chasm—in the hearts of all researchers.

But now, Kamail and Jenny had taken a crucial step forward, and from an unexpected direction: the sea witches’ divine resistance wasn’t limited to their runes alone!

“So, if these hidden oscillations within the melody were extracted and fed into the Ley Network, they could produce effects similar to the deep sea runes?”

“In theory, yes, Your Majesty,” Jenny nodded. “And their effect would be even more comprehensive, covering every corner. The only downside compared to runes is that these oscillations require continuous maintenance. Once the runes are made into coatings, they last indefinitely. But these oscillations need specific devices to sustain them. If interrupted, the effect stops. However, if integrated into the constantly operating Ley Network, this limitation becomes negligible.”

Gawain’s mind raced, then he suddenly asked, “Wait—have you tested whether this works on deaf people?”

To his surprise, Kamail immediately nodded. “I thought of that too and conducted tests. The results were fascinating. Although these oscillations are beyond human hearing, theoretically their effectiveness shouldn’t depend on whether a person can perceive them. But in practice, the effect noticeably diminished in deaf individuals—not completely gone, but reduced by a certain percentage. We also tested volunteers with deafness from different causes. Those with organic damage to their auditory organs showed little decline—the ‘Deep Sea Song’ still had a strong effect. But volunteers with deafness caused by brain lesions showed the opposite…”

“In the latter group, the ‘Deep Sea Song’ barely worked. It felt as if not only their bodies were deaf, but their souls as well.”

“…A strange result,” Gawain muttered.

Kamail nodded. “Yes, very strange. We’ll continue researching this. It might help us uncover some secrets about how humans perceive magic.”

“Back to the melodies,” Gawain said, looking up. “Can these ‘Deep Sea Songs’ now be integrated into the Ley Network or made into practical applications?”

“Some preparation and testing are still needed,” Kamail replied quickly. “This is a recent discovery with many unverified aspects. It’s best not to rush applications. For now, Jenny and I have only integrated the verified runes into the Ley Network to protect key nodes.”

“Good, caution is warranted,” Gawain agreed, then glanced again at the holographic “sea witch” on display—though the image was deliberately altered, he could still tell it was based on Tyr’s likeness. “Anything else you’ve found?”

“Still related to the ‘Deep Sea Song,’” Kamail said. “As you know, only sea witches can naturally hum this song. But in fact… some humans can too.”

“Humans?” Gawain was surprised. “You mean humans can produce the ‘Deep Sea Song’?”

“For humans, it’s not singing—it’s a complex casting process. There’s a special group of casters among humans who have mastered techniques similar to the Deep Sea Song,” Kamail said seriously. “Of course, before contact with the sea witches, this group didn’t know the exact melody. They used a different tune, but tests show they can imitate the sea witches’ ‘song.’”

Gawain frowned, as if recalling something, then said thoughtfully, “This group of casters is…”

“Disbanded now, but I can find a way to rebuild it,” a voice suddenly spoke from the room’s entrance before Kamail or Jenny could respond.

Gawain turned toward the voice and saw a graceful woman in a form-fitting white gown entering. He recognized her as one of the former Archbishops of the Sleepless—the “Spirit Song” Wendy.

“Spirit Choir?” Gawain raised an eyebrow, then quickly recalled the information. “Ah, I know that group…”

“It originated as the Dream Church’s choir, tasked with calming and uniting believers’ spirits during important ceremonies through special ‘spirit songs.’ After the Sleepless sect was founded, the Spirit Choir became a key defensive force, helping core clerics resist divine mental invasions or heal those with damaged minds,” Wendy said with a gentle, serene smile. Her voice was as melodious as her title suggested. “When we evacuated from Typhon, the Spirit Choir disbanded. Now, fewer than a fifth of its members have come to Cecil.”

“You can imitate the sea witches’ Deep Sea Song?” Gawain looked at the former Archbishop with some surprise. “Can your ears perceive those hidden oscillations in the melody?”

“…No,” Wendy said. “But we perceive it through means beyond hearing. Its essence is a casting process, and spirit singers trained specially are familiar with such processes.”

She paused, a hint of wistfulness in her sigh. “Our singing techniques differ greatly from the sea witches’. Honestly… humans’ talent in this area is far inferior. But if it’s just imitation, with diligent training and some talent, we can manage.”

“We need to train a new batch of spirit singers,” Kamail said. “When it comes to resisting divine corruption, you can never have too many trump cards.”

“Is training spirit singers difficult?” Gawain pondered, then looked at Wendy. “How long would it take to rebuild the entire Spirit Choir?”

“…Honestly, it’s very difficult,” Wendy admitted after a moment’s thought. “Spirit singers aren’t just ‘singers.’ It’s not enough to have a good voice. They’re essentially casters, requiring keen magical perception, special mana control skills, and long, tedious training. Even after all that, they must learn a series of knowledge from the sea witches that’s completely alien to human understanding… In fact, I still don’t fully grasp what Miss Tyr means by ‘perceiving the deep sea.’ For ordinary people, achieving that would be even harder.”

“On that basis, I can’t say how long it would take to rebuild a Spirit Choir… it could take many years.”

Gawain frowned. “That means mass production is extremely difficult, and success would be highly random and uncertain…”

But then he caught the key points Wendy mentioned earlier. “You said becoming a spirit singer requires keen magical perception and special mana control skills?”

“Yes. Those two are the biggest talent bottlenecks for spirit singers. Aside from that, most limitations can be overcome through training and study.”

Gawain immediately looked to Kamail, who was already catching on before Gawain could speak.

“Your Majesty, perhaps we could try using Neural Thorns,” Kamail said with a slight nod, his voice humming softly. “The practical version of Neural Thorns is ready for mass production. Our next step is to use it to mass-produce basic mages. We could allocate part of the testing quota to train psionic singers—if we can add more trained psionic singers to our ‘Divine Defense System,’ our future security would be much more assured.”

“Sounds feasible,” Gawain nodded immediately. “I’ll issue you an expedited permit for that.”

As he spoke, a strange image flickered through his mind—what would a fusion of arcane technology, dream divine arts, traditional magic, and siren tech even look like? A soldier clad in specialized combat gear, with artificial neural cables flickering at the back of his head, humming unfathomable psionic melodies on the battlefield to support his comrades, and in his downtime, communing with the ‘power of the deep sea’…

And mass-produced, no less.

Gawain shook his head, pushing those far-fetched thoughts aside for the moment. His attention returned to the earlier topic. Gazing at the nearby holographic projection, his mind lingered on the runes and the “deep sea song.” Thoughtfully, he said, “Though we’ve made significant progress, the key question remains… what is the deeper principle behind all this? Why do these siren-related things exhibit such strong resistance to divine corruption?”

Kamail paused briefly before breaking the silence. “On that point… Jenny and I have some hypotheses after discussing it.”

Gawain raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“We suspect… it has something to do with the sirens’ ancestral spirit, ‘Eva.’”

“‘Eva’?” Gawain repeated with curiosity. “I recall Tyr mentioning her to me before…”

“Yes, she described it to us during our joint research,” Kamail nodded. “After analyzing the nature of this ‘Eva’ she spoke of, I suspect that this ancestral spirit might essentially be an… ‘alien god’ whose mode of existence is completely different from the gods we know.”

“Of course, that’s just a metaphor. Because by our definition of gods, the ‘Eva’ the sirens speak of isn’t really a god at all, but rather a far greater, more conceptualized entity—an immense siren of sorts…”

(End of chapter)