Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1336: Chapter 1335: Treatment Plan

The action team leader swiftly arrived at the spot indicated by his subordinates—a sunken area some distance from the bomb zone.

By this time, daylight had fully broken, the magnificent giant sun casting a bright glow over Wolf Spine Mountain. Under the sunlight, the edge of the bomb zone was adorned with crystalline formations resembling Obsidian, reflecting colorful hues. The action team members dispatched from the outpost research ship gathered around a peculiarly shaped molten substance, employing various equipment such as magic power detection and life perception to probe the odd remnants nestled within the molten crystal.

The sound of metallic boots striking the ground echoed along the mountain path as the action team leader joined the group. Behind a thick protective visor and wind shield, he frowned slightly, observing the bizarre remnants discovered by his subordinates—it was engulfed by a mass of dark matter, partly buried in the liquid-like slope. Had the discoverer been less attentive, this object might have easily been mistaken for an unremarkable stone at first glance.

But upon closer examination, it became evident that it had more ordered edges and surfaces compared to a stone. Despite its deformation, traces of human craftsmanship were discernible. Furthermore, through its damaged opening, the team leader could spot a more intricate internal structure adorned with crystal-like embedded materials and coiled metal "branches."

"Leader, what do you make of this thing?" one subordinate queried. "It’s probably man-made, right? But it’s clearly not something left by beastmen... Could those creatures emerging from the wastelands create something so advanced?"

"Those creatures lack intelligence; their controllers, however, are not to be underestimated—don’t underestimate our enemy. Those dark priests possess advanced technology. We shouldn’t view them merely as monsters," the team leader’s muffled voice emerged from beneath his protective mask. He stepped closer to examine the molten substance enveloping the artificial remnants. After ensuring his hazardous material detection unit emitted no alarms, he cautiously touched its surface with his fingers, then spoke gravely, "This thing is definitely unusual... Look around; we’re right next to the supercritical accelerator’s bomb point, where nearby rocks have been incinerated. Yet, this object remains..."

"We just checked it with the detection distortion filter, and there seems to be faint magical surge at its core—but it’s only a slight magical surge now, likely very thoroughly damaged," another subordinate reported. "Moreover, unlike the other remnants left by those creatures, this object carries no toxic material residue and lacks any chaotic magic contamination. Strangely, this thing is... ’clean.’

The team leader’s heart skipped a beat at the subordinate’s last description, his expression growing increasingly solemn—the lasting impression of wasteland creatures is "pollution," with no concept of "purity" where they’ve tread. Yet, here sits a "clean" object devoid of contamination—this in itself is the most abnormal aspect.

"...We need to find a way to bring this thing up," he immediately declared, his voice heavy. "Have the intelligent team analyze what exactly this is... Everyone, get ready to get busy!"

"The key is how do we move it?" One subordinate lamented upon hearing the leader’s orders, momentarily feeling a headache. "It’s completely encased in these crystals, and we don’t have the precision tools to extract it..."

"Then slice this whole thing out and take it up. I’ll notify ’above,’ and they’ll send a powerful Cloud Bottom Transporter down," the team leader gestured with his hand. "Take it up and let the laboratory folks figure out how to slowly dissect it. Get to work, get to work!"

Not long afterward, in a large laboratory aboard the outpost research ship, Marin Leslie stood before an expansive analysis platform, gazing at the "research sample" just delivered by the exploration action team, looking slightly vacant.

The light from the laboratory’s ceiling illuminated the clear, bright bald head of this veteran researcher, shimmering radiantly.

"Our exploration team discovered this near impact point number seven," an assistant researcher introduced beside him. "There’s a very evident trace of artificial craftsmanship and a complex internal structure, suspected relic left by those aberrations. Everything around the impact point was destroyed by the energy released from the supercritical accelerator, except for this—which came up encased in crystalline matter, surface conditions didn’t allow for further stripping."

Marin furrowed his brow, pondering for a long time, before suddenly turning towards the Mainframe communication terminal not far away: "...Can the internal structure be scanned?"

As his voice fell, a hazy figure hovered over the communication device, a synthesized feminine voice emanating from it: "Only the general outline within the crystalline matter can be scanned, unable to reconstruct the specific structure of the contents—currently transmitting the analysis results to the analysis platform."

At the next moment, a Projection Crystal near the analysis platform began to shimmer, and a faint blue holographic projection appeared in the air, displaying a distorted but marginally discernible cube-shaped object.

"This object..." Marin’s brow furrowed deeply as he stared at the image presented in the hologram, recalling something he had seen not long ago in the high-authority data chain of the neural network—it was intelligence sent by the sea demons far beneath the ocean...

"Immediately contact the Dawn of the mortal world!" He reacted quickly, turning to the Main Brain. "I fear we’ve captured significant clues!"

...

The complex aroma of alchemical potions drifted in the air, and from the depths of nearby ventilation ducts came the low hum of a mechanical device in operation. Bright daylight poured through the wide crystal glass windows, illuminating the room’s tidy, simple furnishings and bringing a rare hint of warmth in winter.

Wickcliff lay on the soft bedding, feeling the gradual repair of hidden injuries and toxins in his body by the alchemical potions, yet his gaze couldn’t help but repeatedly drift towards the view outside the window.

Even now, he still experiences a sense of disbelief—merely looking at this spacious and bright room, who could imagine it being located up in the sky?

He is currently aboard a medical ship floating in the sky, soaring above Ruby City alongside this massive aerial fortress! What an incredible experience is this?

In truth, Wickcliff does not lack sky-soaring experiences. As a powerful Transcendent and one of Augari’s "Five Kings," short flights by personal power or flying atop gryphons are trivial for him. However, those flight experiences are fundamentally different from boarding an antigravity flying fortress. He still remembers the astonishment he felt after being transported to this medical ship by a Dragon Cavalry Fighter—

In the dim light of dawn, the enormous floating city hovered among the clouds, its majestic buildings standing proudly on the steel-forged floating platform. Steel aircraft circled around the aerial city, weaving through the clouds and mist, and above these flying cities, dragon herds soared in the sky. As the morning light rose, the sun rose from the distant horizon, the darkness fading. The earth stretched out below, giving him an illusion, the illusion that mortals were already standing at the height of the gods of old, overlooking and dominating everything...

But perhaps it was no mere illusion. For the Cecil Clan, who had completed the grand endeavor of deicide and constructed miraculous engineering creations like the "Dawn of the Mortal World," they might truly have the qualification to overlook everything on this land...

Chaotic thoughts rose and fell in the mind of this human king. Perhaps it was the "Healing Force Field Generator" beside the sickbed having an effect, or perhaps it was the remnants of the "Sacred Mixture" that the nun gave him to drink two days ago. He felt that he had more chaotic ideas than ever before, and at that moment, an enormous shadow suddenly appeared outside the window and slowly moved in the depths of the clouds and mist.

That was the Dawn of the Mortal World, the "core mothership" of this "Sky Fortress Combat Group," now the new central hub of the entire Augari defense line. The "medical ship" he was in, the two "War Churches" he had seen before, and several other aerial fortresses belonged to the escort formation of the Dawn of the Mortal World. Except for the two War Churches and this medical ship stationed at Falm Fortress, every day, aerial fortresses would separate from this formation and head to the southern and eastern battlefields—carrying out "purification and elimination" missions.

Under the combined sweep of these powerful and terrifying aerial warfare machines and the Cecil expeditionary army led by Duke Baldwin Franklin on the ground, large fallen areas of the tribal country of Augari were gradually being recovered, and the wandering deviant forces entrenched between the mountains and forests were being rapidly eradicated.

It is said that when the Dawn of the Mortal World again steps onto the battlefield, it will be the day the entire western front launches a great counterattack toward the wasteland—that day might not be far off.

At that moment, the sound of footsteps and the opening of the door at the ward’s entrance suddenly interrupted Wickcliff’s daydreams. He was startled awake and turned his head toward the direction of the sound.

He did not see the "physician" responsible for his care these days or the nun who had brought him here before—appearing before him was a strange old man.

He was draped in what looked like a dirty researcher’s short robe, as if he had just come out of a laboratory. His hair and beard were all white and seemingly unattended for a long time. He was stooped, with a smiling face, and as for his demeanor... although Wickcliff usually did not like to judge strangers by their appearance, to be honest, this little old man’s demeanor was really hard to associate with "majestic" or "steady."

But Wickcliff knew that since the other party could appear here and walk around on a medical ship in such a sloppy outfit, he was definitely not an ordinary person.

Facts proved this human king’s judgment.

"Good morning, King Wickcliff—it looks like your spirits have recovered well," the little old man spoke with an upbeat tone and a bright smile, "I am the person in charge of this medical ship, you can call me Mister Pittman..."

Wickcliff was taken aback—he hadn’t guessed wrong, this indeed was no ordinary person.

But he hadn’t expected it to be someone of this caliber.

The person in charge of this massive aerial medical fortress was evidently worthy of respect. Wickcliff’s expression immediately became solemn, and he stood up to greet, "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Pittman—apologies, my current state might not be very refined."

"It’s fine, don’t worry about it, I don’t usually follow decorum much either," Pittman waved his hand immediately, then walked unhurriedly to Wickcliff’s bedside, leaned forward to look at the empty right arm of this human king, "I’m here to check on your condition—primarily to confirm how your physical strength and energy have recovered."

"I feel much better already," Wickcliff said immediately, "Thank you for the treatment provided, those potions and healing devices are very effective."

"That’s good," Pittman nodded, rubbing his increasingly sparse chin whiskers, "Since your physical strength and energy have mostly recovered, it’s time to consider the issue of your arm. Such limb restoration treatment should not be delayed. In short, I have two plans for you.

"The first plan is Flesh Regeneration Technique, as the name suggests, using Druid Technology to directly regenerate your limb—it will involve several manual interventions and surgical adjustments. The advantage of this plan is that the eventually regenerated limb will be almost indistinguishable from your original body, as if it was never injured. The downside... the process is lengthy, your new arm will need prolonged treatment and adjustments to grow and reach a usable state, and the newly grown arm will certainly be much weaker than your original one honed over time and adapted to magic power, your strength will be greatly reduced. It’s easy to understand how a transcendent gains an ordinary person’s arm.

"The second plan I recommend is the new technology we developed in collaboration with the mechanical engineering department that involves creating a new arm for you with magic-conducting machinery and artificial nerve cords, among other things. Does it sound incredible? But it is indeed feasible. We can manufacture a powerful steel limb for you.

"The advantage of this plan is speed, creating a prosthesis in the laboratory is faster than letting you grow a new arm yourself, and once the finished product is attached, it’s immediately usable, and the time you need to pay for this is basically just the process of adapting to the new limb. Additionally, this has some connection with the technology transmitted from Talronde, it has a promising future, as long as materials keep up, your new arm itself can be a powerful weapon—you can recover your strength in a very short time, and even return to the battlefield. Of course, it also has drawbacks, after all, that thing isn’t your original flesh, so it might require..."

"I’ll choose the second option." Wickcliff interrupted the old man in front of him calmly, his expression unchanged.

He seemed to have already made up his mind.

"Are you sure? I must remind you, this thing isn’t something you can just change whenever, we have to do very complex processing for the ’interface,’ a part of your nerves and bones will be replaced with implant interfaces, and it won’t be easy to change in the future... except for those dragons in Talronde born with various implants in their bodies, many people on our side still can’t accept this."

"I understand, but my decision is already made," Wickcliff said seriously, "My kingdom and my people are caught in the flames of war, I do not have the time to lie in a sickbed slowly accepting ’treatment’—I need to return to the battlefield and organize a counterattack, Mister Pittman, please allow me to recover in the shortest time possible."