Chapter 1128: Chapter 1127: Beltira’s Hint

The mysterious unknown signals resonate in an invisible field, crossing unknown distances, with meanings unknown to anyone—they create such small ripples in the omnipresent Magic Power field that even the strongest and most sensitive Mages can’t perceive the traces they leave in the atmosphere. However, through crystal arrays of a higher sensitivity receiving and amplifying them, these subtle fluctuations imperceptible to humans gradually become clear in the Sorin Hub system and, after repeated filtering and strengthening, transform into clear and powerful "voices."

Bard and his colleagues have been chasing this voice for a long time, and even before they established this specialized listening department, the scholars who laid the foundations for the Magic Web Nexus had been tracking it for a longer period.

"The signal density seems to have increased compared to before..." a colleague murmurs to himself—what Bard is monitoring now has been shared with everyone in the room, "these oscillations appear to have become very dense..."

"This hasn’t happened before..." Bard frowns, "Aren’t these signals consistent?"

"Who knows?" The colleague shakes his head, looking towards the holographic projection in the room’s center, "Wait, the image seems to be transforming."

Almost everyone’s attention is focused above the large Magic Web Terminal at the listening center, on the holographically projected image where some lines are emerging and quickly connecting to form a pattern—the decoding technology originating from Madam Beltira is now widely applied in eighteen listening stations within the Empire, from the cold Northport to the imperial capital in the southern borders, from Palamere Observatory to the central hub of Sherlin City. No matter which listening station receives a signal, it will be decoded and transformed into seemingly meaningful plane patterns through this special "dot matrix mapping."

This large-scale listening operation has continued to this day, and despite acquiring not much, Bard and his colleagues (including those scattered across the Empire) have managed to capture signals several times and have drawn over ten simple "decoded patterns."

They are without exception the most basic geometric patterns, with each content being largely similar every time, bearing no profound mystery in the simple dots and lines, and even a child could easily draw them on paper—no one knows why these mysterious signals convey some simple geometric shapes using such complex methods. Bard’s colleagues have aptly named them: "Child’s Scribbles."

"Today’s ’Child’s Scribbles’ seem very stable..." The image in the holographic projection continues, with several geometric patterns already clearly presented. A colleague murmurs softly, "So far, there’s been no obvious sign of signal interruption or attenuation... is it because we switched to new main antenna crystal boards?"

"Very likely," another listening operator comments casually while monitoring the device parameters, "the material for these antenna crystal boards comes from the tribal country of Augari, and the crystal mines and original crystal dust produced by Ancestral Peak are of much higher quality than those from Grey Mountain Mine."

"Ancestral Peak’s crystal mines? Indeed—before the trade routes were opened, those crystal mines from the Ancestral Peak were top-notch spell-casting materials, something ordinary Mages couldn’t usually afford..."

Colleagues nearby were discussing topics related to international trade, crystal mines, Spellcasters, and market changes in low voices, yet everyone remained focused on the continuously refreshing lines. Bard was fully absorbed in observing what appeared on the holographic projection, witnessing the orderly squares, triangles, circles, and hexagons—this had been the limit of information recorded in past monitoring records—

But the signal transmission continued, with more patterns continuously being drawn.

When a spiraling curve expanding outward appeared on the screen, the room fell silent, all meaningless chatter ceased, and a dozen pairs of eyes were fixated on the image.

When a dot matrix appeared in the screen arranged in a specific grouping sequence, Bard heard someone nearby break the silence in a whisper: "We should... report this immediately."

...

The omnipresent wooden scent drifted into Queen Belsetia’s nostrils, its refreshing fragrance prompted the Silver Empress to relax uncontrollably.

After arranging for Yilian to rest elsewhere, she, along with Gawain and Beltira, stepped into a hall located within the crown area of the giant tree.

Here, gracefully growing branches support a dome formed by intertwining leaves, light-colored wooden pillars adhered to nearby walls as slightly curved skeletal frames, flowered vines tangled between pillars and roof beams, and luminescent mycelium or vines hung down, providing bright yet gentle lighting, further soothing the mind of every visitor entering the place.

"This is my guest room," Beltira’s figure moved forward in the embrace of vines, "General Margarita suggested that I create a space for regular guests, so they don’t have to be brought to the deep biochemical laboratories or biomass factories every time—though I still insist that the split pools and biomass cavities I’ve personally designed are rather cute."

Belsetia, however, didn’t pay attention to Beltira’s latter remarks; she was merely amazed, observing the place with visible astonishment—it clearly exceeded her initial expectations. Arriving at an arched open area at the hall’s end, she curiously observed the layered green leaves before her, "The leaves here seem to be a different color than elsewhere?"

"This is my balcony," Beltira explained from the side, and with her words falling silent, that layered array of leaves suddenly rustled and began rising like a curtain—a broad arc-shaped opening appeared before Queen Belsetia, with radiant sunlight instantly pouring into the hall, presenting a panoramic view of half of the Sorin Plains and the elegant ancient towers of Sorinburg.

"Sometimes I invite General Margarita or others to admire the scenery here, but more often I test the photosynthetic efficiency of different leaves here, as it’s one of the best-lit areas in the tree crown layer," Beltira continued.

"Truly beautiful..." Queen Belsetia approached the edge of the open terrace, deeply inhaled, then turned to Beltira, finally expressing what she’d always wanted to say, "You’ve truly changed a lot... no, this almost can’t be described as ’change’..."

"We all have changed significantly, whether for better or worse," Beltira quietly observed the now mature Silver Empress, after several moments of silence she suddenly asked, "Are there still my portraits in the Hall of Saints?"

The Silver Empress nodded: "It’s still hanging there."

"Take it down," Beltira said softly, "a dark cultist shouldn’t continue occupying that position."

The Silver Empress gazed into Beltira’s eyes. She wasn’t surprised but still shook her head, "...I anticipated you would say that, but there’s never been a precedent in the Hall of Saints for removing the portrait of a sage—perhaps you think you’ve lost the qualifications to be among them, but your past achievements haven’t reached the day of total denial. For the silver elves, seven hundred years is far too brief."

"Then how long would be considered not brief?"

"Until this giant tree withers," the Silver Empress said calmly, "only then can we determine where Saint Beltira’s life truly leads to."

Beltira stared at the Silver Empress for a moment before turning her gaze to the distance, "...You elves truly are a stubborn bunch."

"We’ve merely grown accustomed to pondering matters over a larger time span, and if you continue to survive, you’ll eventually understand our way of thinking," Belsetia suddenly chuckled, then shifted her tone, "Speaking of which, since we’ve mentioned the Oblivion Association, there are a few issues we’d like to confirm with you."

Beltira turned back, her gaze lingering briefly on Gawain and Belsetia, "Is it about those cultists in the wasteland?"

Gawain was somewhat surprised, "How did you guess?"

Beltira spread her hands, "It’s related to the Oblivion Association, and the fact that it can still make you display such headaches at this point, I can’t think of any other topic."

"Indeed, it’s related to them," Gawain quickly nodded and then detailed the intelligence he had received from Veronica, "Recently, we’ve confirmed one thing: Not only are those cultists still active in the wasteland, but they also seem to be eyeing the residual energy of the Well of Deep Blue, even..."

As Gawain recounted, Beltira’s expression showed little change, yet the aura emanating from her gradually grew heavier. She gestured behind her, and the layers of leaves outside the balcony began to close, blocking the overly bright sunlight from the outside world. Nearby, the floor suddenly opened a crack, from which emerged a strangely shaped ancient magical device.

It appeared to be a Magic Web Terminal, but its base was entwined with numerous vines, with some extremely fine fibrous materials extending into the gaps between projection crystals and magic symbol frames. These special structures made the entire Magic Web Terminal look as if it was parasitized by some bizarre biological entity—but this wasn’t the result of any "parasitism," but rather Beltira’s own improvements to the Magic Web Terminal assigned to her, enabling her to directly control this ancient magical device, even allowing her thoughts to connect directly with the machine.

The next second, the terminal activated, clearly presenting the images sketched in Beltira’s mind in a holographic projection.

A tall, twisted, ancient tree-like creature appeared in the image. Upon closer inspection, distorted and bizarre human faces manifested on the surface of this "ancient tree," with tumor-like and vascular proliferations covering the branches and withered leaves, the roots writhing on the ground, resembling the lower half structure of Beltira yet more twisted, more unsettling.

Upon seeing these things, Gawain’s brow furrowed instinctively, "This is..."

"These are those Oblivion Association believers active within the great walls, theoretically...our former kin."

"Unbelievable mutated limbs..." Belsetia couldn’t help but exclaim, "They seem to have completely diverged from the human realm! How...how have they survived?"

"It’s precisely because of this form that they’ve managed to survive in such dire environments as the Gondor wasteland," Beltira said calmly, "This form is adapted to the terrifying environment of the wasteland. Initially, it stemmed from limb mutations caused by chaotic magic radiation; subsequently, those mutated dark cultists proactively underwent adaptive mutation, a process they referred to as ’Ascended Evolution,’ eventually stabilizing into this state."

"You mentioned ’theoretically our former kin’," Gawain noted Beltira’s wording, "It seems there isn’t as much unity within the Oblivion Association—and those cultists within the Gondor wasteland have significant disagreements with you ’external cultists’?"

"Until just before the body of the fake god was completed, we who lived outside the walls believed in the unity of the association, but upon reflection, it was merely wishful thinking," Beltira tugged at her mouth, seemingly trying to reveal a mocking smile, "Brother Gawain, I recall speaking to you about those Oblivion Association believers within the walls—over the centuries, they’ve lived in the Gondor wasteland, an environment we cannot comprehend, providing us with firsthand data regarding chaotic energy, sentinel towers, aberration, divine factors, etc. Our cooperation with them persisted for such a long time; thus, we’ve maintained ’perfect harmony’, leading us to overlook certain matters.

"If there’s such a group of ’people’ who no longer possess human bodily structures, lack human social organization, live in an environment where humans cannot survive or understand, deal with their surroundings in non-human ways, having persisted for seven whole centuries—what are their chances of maintaining the essence of being ’human’?

"In this scenario, what are their chances of still identifying with their human identity and seeing us, who have always lived in the safe zones outside the walls, as their fellow kin?"

Saying this, Beltira glanced down at her limbs no longer human, shaking her head gently, "After becoming this way, I’ve become more certain of this: Even I need to manufacture auxiliary thinking organs to maintain my personality cognition, then those Oblivion Association believers who’ve lived in the Gondor wasteland for years... they probably ceased being ’humans’ long ago."

"So as I suspected, you actually don’t know what those ’kin’ living in the wasteland are plotting," Gawain shook his head, "You believe the association is engaged in a great salvation plan, but in reality, to those cultists in the wasteland, your plan has little to do with them..."

"But if it has absolutely nothing to do with them, why would they cooperatively play act with us for seven hundred years?" Beltira looked at Gawain, her puppet-like delicate albeit lifeless face carrying a stiff smile, "They live in the wasteland and have successfully adapted to that environment; it’s an invincible secure position, outsiders can’t threaten them, yet why would they obediently comply with orders from the Grand Dark Archbishop, pretend eternal loyalty to the association, pretend as if devoting their energies to the great cause? Is it fear of exposure? Certainly not, they should be indifferent towards us."

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