Chapter 1150 - 1149: Crossing the Border
Chapter 1150: Chapter 1149: Crossing the Border
Sailing on the open ocean far from land, the deadliest risk Travelers have to face is the Chaotic Turbulence—these abrupt, violent Magic Power disturbances appear and vanish without a trace, turning a calm sea region into an extreme environment in an incredibly short time, and each time they cover a remarkably vast area.
For ocean‑going vessels lacking effective early‑warning methods and protective measures, all these characteristics of Chaotic Turbulence are unquestionably a lethal threat. Without effective early‑warning, a ship cannot evade in advance; with such rapidly worsening conditions and such a wide area of coverage, it means the ship has no time to flee the storm zone before suffering fatal damage, and once it falls into the extreme meteorological conditions triggered by Chaotic Turbulence, a ship of the old era may be torn to pieces in little more than ten minutes.
To challenge the ocean, the two great human empires have each developed advanced warships based on their own technological paths—the Typhon Empire, by reconstructing ancient Storm Relics, has manufactured Meteorological Warning Instruments capable of perceiving, to a certain extent, the scale and position of Chaotic Turbulence, and has developed Defense systems sufficient to protect ships for a long time in extreme meteorological environments; the Cecil Clan, on the other hand, builds large battleships from tough alloys and reinforces them with energy shields, while also introducing the navigation techniques of sea demons and Naga to minimize the risks brought by Chaotic Turbulence.
Which of the two routes is superior is still unknown, but one thing is certain: both are very new and remain highly immature.
Therefore, in addition to the mission of transporting support supplies, the fleet led by the Winter carries an important responsibility: to collect, as far as possible, meteorological data from the far‑sea regions and all information related to Chaotic Turbulence. Once they return safely, this data will become a precious treasure for the Cecil Clan and even for all mortal civilizations on the Loren Continent.
Alarms sounded on every ship; at the sound, the crew and passengers reacted instantly and rushed back at the fastest speed to their respective posts or to relatively safe interior spaces.
Byron Kirk returned to the bridge of the Winter and, from on high, looked down at the well‑trained Soldiers as they swiftly went to their stations and prepared to deal with the Chaotic Turbulence: under the control of the operators, the ship’s barrier switched to enhanced mode in the shortest possible time, the power spine began secondary charging, and large quantities of seawater were pumped into the Element Conversion Pool, where it was converted with great efficiency into icy pure water, ready at any moment to serve as an additional cooling medium should the power spine overheat.
Everything proceeded in an orderly fashion. Though the operators were tense and busy, there was not the slightest sense of panicked confusion that heralds an approaching storm, and Byron Kirk knew that even if the situations on the other ships were somewhat worse than on the Winter, they could not be much worse.
Being well trained was one thing; another reason was that this was not the first "Magic Storm" the fleet had encountered on this voyage—since departing from Northport, the fleet had already run into three relatively distant Chaotic Turbulence zones and one relatively close one in the vast far‑sea regions. As everyone knows: restless Magic Turbulence is a very common phenomenon in the far seas, and given the priority of the mission and the wear and tear of the journey, even with sea demons and Naga as navigators, the fleet could not deviate too far from its planned course. Instead, it had to advance along the very edge of the safe route while detouring around storm zones as much as possible. This resulted in the people aboard seeing, every so often, those "scare‑you‑to‑death natural spectacles" appearing in the distance.
A few close brushes with Chaotic Turbulence had already pulled the sailors on each ship out of their initial panic. Though they were still far from being completely at ease, they were at least able to perform normally at their posts.
However, judging from sea demon Cassandra’s words, this time seemed to be the closest the Winter had come to Chaotic Turbulence since departing Northport... At such close range, "brushing past" the storm zone, the scene might be even more thrilling than before.
Just then, a roar from high in the sky suddenly exploded, cutting off Byron Kirk’s wandering thoughts on the bridge. At the same time, a bright blue light shone in through one of the crystal‑glass windows on the side, instantly casting the entire bridge into a sea‑blue glow, and everyone aboard the Winter tensed at once—the Chaotic Turbulence had begun.
Without any warning, magnificent curtains of light suddenly surged up over the sea area around the sailing fleet. That scene was like the firmament suddenly shattering, ancient starlight pouring down from the fissures in the sky. Those gorgeous, drifting curtains of light stretched continuously across the high heavens; yet this beautiful spectacle would lead to no pleasant aftermath. Hot on the heels of the light curtains came colossal bolts of lightning that suddenly bridged sky and sea, and countless large and small high‑energy sparks sprouted from the air along those lightning paths!
The process of violent energy release began. The entire sea region entered a charged state, the abundant water elements "boiling" rapidly under the influence of Magic Power. Surges rose upon the sea, howling gales swept in; the sea surface, tranquil and expansive a second ago, was now rearing up into a towering, destructive wall‑like curtain, bearing down with overwhelming momentum before the eyes of the crew of the Winter and every other vessel—at its closest point, this "curtain wall" was only a few kilometers from the fleet, making it look all the more terrifying.
At this moment, even the most steel‑hearted warrior could not help but feel a sincere shudder before this horrifying might of nature.
...
Inside the Iceborne Mary, the adventurers were gathering in the interior dining hall beneath the deck as instructed. Outside the reinforced portholes along the side of the hall, the blinding blue flashes of Magic Power discharges and the ghastly white glare of lightning flared again and again. This steel mechanical ship, which in the eyes of ordinary people was already like a mountain upon the sea, was rocking left and right, and unsettling creaking sounds kept coming from certain corners. The adventurers, who usually strutted about, full of bravado and itching for a fight, all now wore tense expressions, faces taut, fists clenched white beneath the tables—no one was laughing loudly or making comments about the strict rules aboard; instead, each of them was as quiet as a student in an academy waiting for the teacher to hand out test papers.
The young huntress Lola sat near a porthole, her face a bit pale—she actually did not want to see the storm raging outside, but hiding somewhere away from the portholes and only hearing the sounds was even more unsettling. So she had no choice but to grit her teeth and sit here, keeping an eye on how far the sharply defined boundary line of the storm was from the ship while muttering under her breath, "I don’t like this feeling... No matter how capable you are, you’re still trapped in an iron can, like a lamb waiting for slaughter..."
"This helps you develop a sense of awe toward the forces of nature," a middle‑aged man in a Druids’ short robe sat nearby, working hard to maintain a composed expression and the calm, wise tone of an elder as he said to Lola, "In the face of powerful natural forces, individual courage and prowess must ultimately bow their heads. In this storm, I have comprehended certain truths that are hard to touch upon on land..."
Lola glanced under the table of that Druid gentleman and felt a heartfelt admiration at once—honestly speaking, she herself could never manage to brag so smoothly and naturally when her legs were shaking so hard they were practically leaving afterimages.
She withdrew her gaze and, by reflex, looked at the "adventurer" old gentleman sitting opposite her—and was startled to see a pair of eyes brimming with excitement, eyes that were fixed unblinkingly on the sea outside the window.
"Did you see that just now?!" Modir said in high spirits, as if a mountain of gold had just been dropped in front of him. "At the very instant the Chaotic Turbulence formed, did you see it? The initial energy release started from high altitude, and I’d bet it was at least at the top of the static layers... maybe even in the turbulent layers! So the Chaotic Turbulence on the sea surface should actually be a ’by‑product’ of some kind of high‑altitude atmospheric phenomenon—no wonder human beings can’t predict its appearance! Our field of vision is simply too low!"
Lola’s expression grew even stranger, but her state of mind at least stabilized somewhat under the old man’s influence. She swallowed and, with some difficulty, asked, "With things like this, you still have the mood to do your ’research’?"
"Things like this? Of course it’s things like this! Do you have any idea how rare this is?" Modir immediately widened his eyes. "If not for experienced navigators and these advanced mechanical ships, we’d probably never, in our entire lives, have a chance to observe the formation of Magic Turbulence from this close and yet safe distance—some secrets would thus remain forever undiscovered. I’d guess the clever folk on the Winter have also noticed what just happened, but I don’t know if they’re thinking the same way as I am... Ah, what a pity that what I just said is all conjecture. To truly verify what’s happening up there, I’d have to personally fly up and take a look..."
"You even plan to fly up there and take a look?!" Lola was instantly aghast. "You really, really need to think this through! This isn’t just a matter of going up to rub shoulders with a dragon..."
"I know, I know, I was just saying," Modir waved his hand repeatedly before Lola could finish, "An operation like that needs extremely thorough planning and preparation. At the very least it should include a full set of Magic Power amplification gear and protective equipment, plus a brave assistant, a reliable notary for my will, and a will without a single typo. None of those conditions are met right now, so I will stay honestly in the cabin."
Lola: "..."
Modir didn’t care how wonderfully colorful the huntress’s expression had become. He only glanced once more at the storms outside the window, and suddenly his eyes grew a little unfocused, his tone turning hesitant: "Come to think of it... I keep feeling this sight is familiar. I’m not talking about the storms we’ve seen from the ship these last few times—I mean... I keep feeling that a long, long time ago I personally went through something like this as well, just this close... maybe even closer..."
Lola had long grown used to the astonishing lines that popped out whenever this forgetful old man suddenly recalled something from the past. They had nothing better to do at the moment anyway, so she simply followed his words: "Even closer? How’s that possible! You’d have to be swallowed directly by that kind of terrible storm! Right now we’re practically brushing along its very edge as we sail..."
"You’re right, that would mean being swallowed by the storms," Modir said, looking at Lola with utter seriousness. "So I’m certain I was swallowed by the storms, but thanks to some miraculous stroke of luck I obviously didn’t die—and then I must have had an adventure grand enough to brag about to my descendants for several centuries. The awful part is, I’ve forgotten every last bit of those great adventures! I’ve lost my chance to brag to my descendants... Wait, do I even have descendants?"
The old Mage suddenly covered his forehead, muttering in great distress. Yet this time he didn’t hear the huntress in front of him step in with words to guide or console him—in fact, in that instant, he felt the surroundings abruptly fall into an extreme silence.
The confusion in his mind gradually faded. Modir slowly lowered his hand and lifted his head, looking around with a somewhat dazed expression.
The entire dining hall was empty. The adventurers who had packed the place just moments ago seemed to have evaporated from this world in an instant. A strange, washed-out black-and-white texture lay over everything in his field of vision. Under this shroud of black and white, every table, wall, floorboard, and ceiling took on a faintly twisted state, as if some bizarre filter was covering his sight, and everything he saw had become the projection of things that existed only in another world.
The shadow realm... It looks very much like the shadow realm, but not quite the same.
Instinctively, Modir made the assessment in his mind, though he himself didn’t understand why he could judge something like this so swiftly and naturally. He didn’t remember ever having dealt with the shadow realm, nor did he know where the corresponding knowledge in his head had come from.
With cautious movements, the old Mage craned his neck to look out through the porthole.
A vast figure crisscrossed by countless gray-white fissures suddenly appeared in his view without the slightest warning.
The boundless sea outside the porthole had turned into a "desert" at this moment, gray-white grains of sand filling heaven and earth. That figure sat at the very center of this endless, desolate world, leaning against a throne already collapsed and twisted—or perhaps against an altar. The figure was draped in pitch-black garments and appeared to be female, yet her true form was so immense that it was impossible to see her in full. Uncountable gray-white fissures covered her body, overlapping with her silhouette in a way that defied the laws of optics. It looked eerie, and yet emanated a sense of the sacred—majestic, and terrifying.
This was a sight Modir had never seen before, indeed a sight no mortal should ever behold.
Yet he felt an abnormal calm rise within his heart, as though not only had he seen this figure before, he had seen her countless times...
Just then, he heard a voice—a lazy female voice that resonated directly through the entire world, as if it were everywhere at once: "...Do you have a new story?"
Modir froze. He didn’t know whether the voice was directed at him, nor whether he should respond. And while he hesitated for that brief instant, another voice suddenly emerged, answering that question which rang through heaven and earth: "...I’ve already told you all my stories more than once. Of course, we can tell them again.
"Only, before I start telling my stories, it’s your turn to tell yours."
Modir’s eyes widened at once.
He recognized the voice that had just responded.
It was his own voice!!
The old Mage felt his heart suddenly race. It seemed to him that he had finally drawn near to some answer he had been pursuing for centuries—yet he didn’t know whether he was prepared for it. At the same time, that lazy female voice echoing through heaven and earth sounded again: "Indeed, it’s my turn—but I have no story to tell... I only have the new dreams I’ve had lately."
In the next second, Modir heard that voice, almost identical to his own, speak once more: "Dreams hardly count as stories... But very well, your dreams are sometimes more interesting than stories."