Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 542 - 541: Aftershocks in the Shadows

Pittman’s words made Gawain stop once again.

"The other half you mentioned is..."

Pittman, fiddling with his somewhat scruffy beard, had an unusual look of solemnity on his perpetually unserious face: "So far, all ancient magical devices can only achieve ’instant release’ kind of spells, but spells like The Sculpture Hand, which require mental guidance, are out of the question, right?"

Gawain instantly understood what Pittman meant, and his eyes widened slightly with the potential prospects of neural linkage technology.

Magic Guide Technology has its flaws—or limitations—these limitations have existed from the very beginning.

The spells of this world can roughly be divided into two categories: one is instant release, where as long as the spellcaster completes the spell mould or sets up the array in advance, energy injection allows the spell to be released immediately without further human involvement—such as Fireball Technique, ice arrow, Repulsion trick, etc., which all belong to this category; while the other type is ’mental guidance,’ which, as the name suggests, requires humans to use mental power to maintain and control it constantly. The Sculpture Hand and various mental spells fall within this scope.

Clearly, current magic technology can only achieve the first scenario—where a specific array is arranged in advance, storing the spell mould in machines, and pressing a button releases a spell. This is the essence of most ancient magical devices.

This is also the only method Gawain, using his Earth Thinking Approach, could think of to universalize Magic.

However, Magic in this world is not singular—as for those spells that require mental guidance, magic technology falls short—ordinary people without mental power can’t control complex and ever-changing spells through button press. Although Jenni’s side has been attempting to control The Sculpture Hand through an array for various operations and seeking a breakthrough for ’mental guidance’ spells, the clumsy, sluggish, and error-prone prototype system shows no practical value up to now, nor sees hope for breakthroughs in the foreseeable future.

Moreover, because of this limitation, several ancient magical devices encountered significant constraints during development, such as the recently completed Immersive Neural Capsule—the "hint scenes" inside it, used to distinguish between reality and illusions, must be edited by a Mage, and regular technicians from common backgrounds can’t intervene at all, which obviously contradicts Gawain’s research philosophy.

"The initial intention of the Eternal Sleepers commissioning the Oblivion Association to develop neural node technology was to expand the evil cult, to allow those who were not priests of Eternal Sleepers—such as converted merchants, small aristocratic, and even priests from rival religions—to connect to their dreams, and undergo transformation through dark teachings, though their starting point is dark, yet what they aim to achieve is quite close to our idea: letting people without certain Beyonder gifts achieve Beyonder powers through tools."

Pittman spoke leisurely, after all these years separated from the dark sect, those deeply imprinted knowledge in his memory began to gradually resurface. These obscure knowledge slowly intertwined with the miracles of the City of Magic before him, as his thoughts became clearer.

"Neural nodes connect the human brain with magic symbols, replacing the human ’mental power sensing’ process. So why not expand the thinking: if ordinary people who cannot sense Magic Power connect to neural nodes, could they indirectly control Magic Power? If we equip this setup with some auxiliary power devices, spellcasting machines, and auxiliary machinery, then... would a regular person connected to neural nodes and full external equipment differ from a real mage?"

The breakthrough for mental guidance spells was found.

It was outside magic technology, within the technology tree of evil cult followers.

"There’s a difference..." Gawain suddenly laughed, looking at the old Druid in front of him, "A real mage might take years to advance a level, needing enough luck, talent, and money, whereas a ’manmade mage’ connected to a neural node advancing a level... might just need to swap for a bigger Magic Capacitor."

Pittman shrugged: "Developing a new model of Magic Capacitor also takes time."

"Indeed, but once developed, it could immediately be used by hundreds of thousands, even millions of people..."

Amber, standing behind the two, glanced at Gawain and then at Pittman. This half-elf started feeling drowsy right when the two began discussing the technical issues, but she still understood what the two were discussing—finally unable to hold back after hearing the last few sentences, the half-elf lady burst out: "Holy... are you serious about this idea?"

"Any technology challenging the norm feels like a fantasy before realization," Gawain said with a smile, "but ’norms’... aren’t they set to be broken?"

Then he turned to Pittman, seriously stating: "I think this idea is quite feasible. You can give it a try—in the field of Druids, you are an expert. But keep one thing in mind: we are not the Eternal Sleepers, nor the Oblivion Association."

"I understand your meaning," Pittman bowed his head deeply, "rest assured, I am not one now, nor will I be in the future."

...

Everything seemed to return to normal, this continent was still developing along its original trajectory, the aristocratic remained decadent, kingdoms engaged in open and secret struggles, wars continued, developments prolonged; the abnormalities of the sun and the great walls once caused some panic, but these fears gradually subsided with the restoration of the great barrier, and on the surface, everything appeared as usual.

But for those closely watching the wasteland, the aftereffects of the great walls’ mutation continued.

Anzu Eastern Region, deep within the underground ruins.

The rustling sound of roots grinding against stone slabs echoed in the deep and dark underground palace, Magic crystal lamps embedded in the ancient stone walls emitted light, creating interlocking bright and dark zones within the dim palace. Beltira traversed the corridor she was already extremely familiar with, arriving at the place where Archbishops held their meetings.

In the wide hall of the underground ruins, long tables and chairs were arranged, the light from magic crystal lamps poured down from the ceiling, illuminating the faces of those attending the meeting. Some faces turned towards the entrance, and a preceptor, upon seeing Beltira, couldn’t help but frown: "You’re late again, Preceptor Beltira."

"As long as you haven’t discussed anything useful, I don’t consider myself late regardless of when I arrive," Beltira responded with implicit sarcasm and took her seat at her designated spot by the long table, "Or have you... already discussed something useful?"

This woman’s manner of speaking was always like this. The preceptors present were long accustomed to it. Sitting across the long table, the Elven Twins, Fyrna and Lelena, even laughed in unison and said, "Ah, that’s indeed not the case—if you hadn’t come, we might have to start discussing dinner."

"We can discuss it later, but for now, let’s focus on that wasteland," Beltira shook her head, "The Archbishop has seen a revelation in the Ultimate Tome; our sun... indeed has issues. Its emitted power is disturbing the magical environment of the entire world, accelerating the collapse of that barrier greatly."

The preceptors began low murmurs, and during this brief discussion, someone looked up at Beltira: "We had previously speculated about this. The key issue now is—just how much is the sun’s influence? How much longer can the wall at the Gondor wasteland last? If everything is to occur earlier... by how much exactly?"

"Unfortunately, the Ultimate Tome doesn’t provide an answer, as it is merely a man-made counterfeit," Beltira shook her head, "Moreover, we don’t know the specific technical details of the barrier made by the elves."

A tall, thin middle-aged man looked at the assembled Elven Twins: "We do have two elves here..."

"Unfortunately, we don’t understand barrier technology," The Twin Elves laughed, "But at least we can be sure of one thing—our Queen will definitely take action. Perhaps the team she dispatched to warn countries and repair the barrier is already on the move."

Beltira, after the Twin Elves finished speaking, gave a soft cough, stood up: "Regardless of the elves’ actions, we must be prepared—as the wasteland has prematurely shown disturbances, we need to consider advancing the plan."

Someone exclaimed quietly: "Has it come to this point?"

"This is the Archbishop’s will," Beltira looked to the direction from which the voice came, "The answer given by the Ultimate Tome is not optimistic, and we don’t have the time to prepare slowly anymore."

At the end of the long table, a person stood up: "If the plan is to be advanced, we must contact our comrades on the other side of the wall..."

"Due to the malfunction of the communication system of the great walls, our contact with those within the wasteland has been severed," said a middle-aged man in a black robe, half of his face oddly bark-like, "The elves will undoubtedly update communication channels during their barrier repairs, making our ’Shadow Bridge’ completely ineffective. Now we must quickly restore contact with comrades inside the wasteland—to grasp the internal situation of the wall."

"I’ve dispatched someone to contact the Eternal Sleepers—their mental Projection Technique may break through the barrier’s block," Beltira said, "Additionally, Archon Xidon, what is the progress on biomass collection?"

The tall, gaunt Archon Xidon lifted his head: "There remains a gap—the changes in the southern borders were unforeseen circumstances."

"... We originally thought the war in the southern borders would last for at least several years, never anticipating that Gawain Cecil would directly flatten all the Noble Coalition Army," another preceptor shook their head, "Moreover, he is promoting large-scale cremation and purification rituals in the southern lands, making usable biomass sources on that land pitifully scarce."

"Complaining about these things is useless," Beltira interrupted, "We’ll take what we can get—the body of the fake god is nearing completion. The lacking biomass... after next spring, the Anzu Kingdom’s military and Duke of the East’s military will naturally supplement it for us."

The meeting ended.

Figures draped in priest robes rose and left the hall. The grand space soon became quiet. Beltira remained in place, not leaving. Apart from her, the last to leave was the pair of Elven Twins.

"Beltira, you’ve been quite restless lately," the Elven Twins approached the female preceptor, their faces lively with smiles like mirror images, chiming together, "Would you like us to ’treat’ you a little?"

"I haven’t reached a pitiable state yet," Beltira coldly refused the pair, "But you, as elves, do you really not care about the fate of the Silver Empire if the barrier collapses?"

"Ahaha," the Twins laughed melodiously, their laughter like silver bells as they turned to leave, leaving only one sentence drifting back to Beltira’s ears, "Don’t you also not care about Typhon’s fate, Lady Augustus...?"

Beltira quietly watched the back of the departing Elven Twins. She let out an exceedingly soft sigh, then sat back in her position, raising her head to gaze at the ancient stone ceiling above.

"Augustus, huh... It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that."

The mottled, ancient ceiling still shone bright with magic crystal lamps, and around the magic crystal lamps, newly installed metal plates were arranged neatly, extending all the way to the adjacent pillar tops. The symbols on the metal plates glimmered slightly in the darkness, like breathing.

"In any case, the Magic Web is indeed a useful thing."