Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 589 - 588: Restlessness

After waking up from the brief dizziness and illusion of spatial displacement, Gawain first saw Amber’s face right in front of him.

He somewhat helplessly pressed on the forehead of the half-elf to push her away a little: "Do you always have to get this close every time?"

Amber put her hands on her hips and argued: "I’m bored! You’re the one who insists I stand here and watch over you. Maybe you should let someone else do it next time."

Gawain ignored her ramblings. He merely stood up, stretching his body that had become somewhat stiff from sitting too long, and then scanned the surroundings.

The place was a sparsely decorated room—a combination of metal frames and wood panels for the walls, an iron-covered roof, furniture that’s easy to assemble and transport, all in a simple and practical style. Apart from the essential tables, chairs, and bookcases, there were hardly any other furnishings. Not far away was a window covered with translucent resin, through which the magnificent sentinel towers standing on the earth could be vaguely seen.

This was "Pinnacle Base," close to the great walls, and this room was his resting and working area.

Gawain moved his neck and casually asked, "Anything happen during my network connection?"

"Soldrin came by once to report the sentinel defense situation, and I’ve already had him put the report on your desk. Besides that, no one else came."

Gawain nodded and breathed a sigh of relief: "Alright... got it."

In his mind, he recalled the new clues from the previous network meeting.

The Oblivion Association holds some kind of technology known as the "Shadow Bridge"... This technology has something to do with the great walls and can be used for communication, but it seems to be intended for more than just regular contact...

Connecting to Soldrin’s previous encounter, it seems high-ranking members of the Oblivion Association were active near the great walls, with one infiltrating the elf surveillance center... was their purpose to use the "Shadow Bridge"?

Some vines in the shadow realm were connected to the communication modules of the sentinel towers, and when those vines burned, the first parts impacted seemed to be the ones connected to the communication modules...

Amber blinked her eyes, watching Gawain fall into silence and contemplation as soon as he emerged from the "network," and couldn’t help but ask curiously, "What happened?"

There was no need to hide such matters from Amber. This half-elf was an expert in intelligence and infiltration, so Gawain straightforwardly said, "Those vines in the shadow realm might be related to something called the ’Shadow Bridge,’ which is a communication method secretly established by the Oblivion Association within the great walls... They not only corrupted and altered parts of the great walls’ surveillance system with vines, but also stole some functionality of the great walls."

Amber was surprised: "They caused such a ruckus?"

"The history of the dark sects is as ancient as the human kingdoms; they were born in the same era as the great walls. It’s not surprising they can do such things," Gawain said casually, "What truly concerns me is the special communication channel they’ve constructed. What exactly are they trying to contact?"

"Hmm?" Amber didn’t quite grasp Gawain’s implication, "What else could it be but their evil cult followers?"

"To contact members within the sect, would they need to steal lines from the great walls?" Gawain glanced at Amber. "The activities of the Oblivion Association are mostly concentrated in some parts of Anzu and Typhon; their members haven’t spread to the extent that requires constructing a cross-continental communication line, and the ’Shadow Bridge’ doesn’t seem convenient for daily sect member contact, given the risk involved in approaching elf-established outposts to get a signal."

Gawain’s implication was clear: for the size the Oblivion Association currently displays, constructing a risky and inconvenient communication channel like the Shadow Bridge seems not quite... worthwhile.

Unless they have a goal that can only be contacted through the "Shadow Bridge."

Both in the room simultaneously fell into thought and silence, and amid the brief contemplation, Amber, sensitive to blind spots in their thoughts from long-term intelligence work, suddenly raised her head thoughtfully, looking at the vine-covered window, gazing out towards the vast wastelands.

...

After leaving the mental network, the discomforting dizziness and temporary paralysis made Aunt Heidi rest in the immersion capsule for a dozen seconds.

Others connected through the immersion capsule to the mental network had roughly the same experience—except for Kamel, who doesn’t have a nervous system.

When everyone sat up from their respective immersion capsules, the ancient Master Mage had already begun using holographic projections to simulate those intricate and complex Elven Runes on the open ground of the "Network Connection Hall."

"The elves’ bottleneck state seems indeed quite severe," the Arcane Master noticed Jenni and others rising, buzzing as he spoke, "Frankly, a small portion of these rune arrays is something I’ve seen before—in a thousand years ago, during the Meteoric Era of the Gondor Empire, elves were using this rune structure. Now a thousand years have passed. They have indeed made little improvements and tweaks on this structure; it’s become more refined, more complex, and more efficient, yet essentially... these runes’ organizational style is still that of the Meteoric Era."

"However, their technology in gravity manipulation is still far more advanced than ours," Jenni couldn’t help saying, "If we really can complete the translation and optimization of those rune arrays, the ’air force’ the leader once conceived would surely be realized."

"Flying in the sky!" Rebecca’s excited voice joined the discussion, "I’m so looking forward to this! You know, the biggest blow I ever had while learning magic was being unable to master levitation and flying spells—of course, I couldn’t learn other things either, but what I cared about most was magical flight!"

They started discussing rune logic and the elves’ magical prowess.

The discussions were lively, and the interest was enthusiastic.

Aunt Heidi silently emerged from the immersion capsule, listening to Kamel and others discuss the magical world’s mysteries while watching Rebecca excitedly gesture between the three of them, and a faint smile appeared on her face.

She was also a Mage, once deeply immersed in the laboratory, wandering among those runes and formulas.

How wonderful.

But the foundation laid by the ancestors needed an internal steward more than it lacked a researcher of ordinary talent.

Aunt Heidi tidied her slightly disheveled hair and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress caused by using the Immersion Capsule. Moments later, the Cecil Clan’s remarkable Great Steward returned.

With the ancestor temporarily away from the territory today, she still had many tasks to tend to.

Of course, the first thing she must do is knock on Rebecca’s skull—after all, it’s been three days since she last did it.

...

In the dark and deep underground palace, high priests from the Oblivion Association, wearing black robes or priestly garments, and bearing various minor mutations on their bodies, sat around an oval table.

"Our ’Shadow Bridge’ has been exposed," High Priest Heston, tall and thin with a sinister look on his face, stood up from his seat, "Gawain Cecil has detected those vines growing in the shadow realm, and the elf will soon be alerted."

The evil cult priests began to discuss quietly, but soon a pale-faced black-robed man with limbs as slender and angular as tree branches coughed twice: "Cough, cough—actually no need to worry too much. After the great walls were damaged, the Shadow Bridge was already abandoned. We’ve reestablished contact with the wastelands through the Eternal Sleepers’ assistance, and those vines in the shadow realm are now just some rotting plants. Losses are merely losses."

"Our plan has entered the final stage, the awakening of the ’God’ will solve all issues. Under this premise, the loss of the Shadow Bridge is acceptable," a female Archbishop spoke, "However, we must be cautious, the exposure of the Shadow Bridge could bring variables, that Gawain Cecil is extremely vigilant, he will warn all forces he can contact."

"Damn, can’t we figure out a way to deal with that old bone crawling out of the coffin?" A short-haired Archbishop with a hooked nose and deep-set eyes grumbled angrily, "He is already a huge uncontrollable factor—and now he’s conveniently left his territory, at the border of the wasteland, we have opportunities to act."

"Even outside his territory, he’s a legend," Beltira finally broke her silence, coldly looking at the Archbishop who had just spoken, "A legend, surrounded by several powerful beings, along with a heavily armed army, are you going to use your fiber-like brain stem to assassinate him? That will only bring more uncertainty."

The short-haired Archbishop, mocked by Beltira, spread his hands: "We have to do something."

"Speed up the awakening of the body of the fake god, ensure the deployment of the divine evils Mutagen, that is what we should focus on," Beltira said indifferently, "Our comrades sent back data from the wasteland with difficulty, we must make sure this precious knowledge is of use."

"Now let’s discuss the next issue—the passage between the Flesh Abyss and the surface."

The meeting did not last long, evil cult followers are always more efficient than kings and aristocrats, all matters were quickly discussed, and soon only a few remained in the vast underground ruins hall.

Beltira stayed, along with the Elven Twins, Heston also did not leave.

"Let’s talk about the divine evils Mutagen," Beltira said slowly, looking at Heston after most attendees left, "Although everything externally remains normal, I heard... the Mutagen has shown some unexpected... activity?"

"Just a minor issue," Heston said stiffly, "It should be due to human genetic changes over the seven hundred years away from the wasteland, causing an overly intense reaction to the Mutagen. This is unavoidable, after all, the Mutagen our compatriots produced ’inside the walls’ came from the original wasteland environment, its effects outside the wasteland will certainly change."

"The Archbishop does not concern himself with the reasons, as long as the Mutagen works as planned in the end," Beltira replied, then turned towards the Elven Twins not far away, "How is the Eternal Sleepers’ mental projector situation? When can we conduct the next contact with inside the wasteland?"

"The projector is ready for use, but it requires the ’Wanderers’ inside the wasteland to reach near the projection site to establish a connection," the Elven Twins said in unison, "According to the agreement, they will reach the site sometime between tomorrow and the day after."

"Very good," Beltira nodded slightly and stood up, "The Archbishop will be pleased."

Amidst the sound of roots scraping against the floor, the woman who had lived for centuries left the hall.

...

In the depths of the wasteland, within the corrupted and mutated Gondor wastelands, the tireless Wanderers continued their seemingly endless trek.

Twisted and grim giant "trees" moved among the soil and rocks, with roots like tentacles licking the barren, cracked earth. Disordered winds carried deadly radioactive dust, whistling between the branches of these giant trees.

The leading giant tree stopped, and behind it, all the giant trees and accompanying massive aberrations also halted.

The surface of the leading tree’s trunk writhed, revealing an ancient, eerie face amid the cracked bark, dry and strange words emanating from the rustling branches and roots: "Uninvited guests have begun reinforcing the cage."

"They can only delay it for a while longer," another giant tree spoke, "Our paradise will inevitably spread across the new world, the foolish creatures of the old world are destined to become dust in time and history alongside their gods. Every struggle they make now is merely setting the stage for a more intense apocalypse to come."

"Soon, soon... " "Soon... " "Soon... "

This writhing forest echoed with chilling voices, accompanied by rustling and writhing sounds. In this eerie chorus, they resumed moving their roots, continuing their seemingly endless wandering.

"The new world shall come..."

The writhing forest chanted in unison.

"We will take root in the new world.

"We have already found the best place for the next epoch.

"This place... needs not the intervention or scrutiny of anyone from the old world..."