Chapter 877: Chapter 876: The Once Abandoned Land

As Gawain quickly and secretly glanced at Nuoletta, the high-ranking agent from the Mithril Vault who was temporarily replacing Melita Ponia returned his gaze with curiosity—this legendary pioneer hero who was resurrected, overthrew a kingdom, and established a new order was decidedly unique among the many "legendary" figures she had met during her long life in the human world.

She controlled her gaze and expression with a faint smile: "So, what do you wish to inquire about?"

"Strictly speaking, it’s not inquiry; I wish to confirm something with the ’Dragonkin’ behind the Mithril Vault," Gawain gestured seriously, "Not long ago, a large magical device we set up in the Plains of the Holy Spirits captured some mysterious signals. Upon extensive comparison by humans, elves, and even sea demons, their source remains unclear, so now I suspect they come from the Dragonkin.

"Considering the development of Magic Guide Technology, to prevent future misunderstandings between humans and Dragonkin, I deem it necessary to confirm with you..."

"Mysterious signals?" The white-dressed woman called Nuoletta raised her eyebrows, her expression turning more serious, "What... content?"

"We haven’t deciphered it yet; it’s a series of very brief tremors and echoes, an unprecedented structure that leaves scholars baffled. But we have recorded its replica using magic crystals." Gawain explained while casually gesturing, causing a small, faint blue crystalline plate on a nearby shelf to silently fly into his hand.

This recording medium, improved by Kamel, has origins in traditional mages’ memory crystals—after optimizing the etched structure within the crystal and implementing more advanced standardized production, similar recording mediums are increasingly used in devices like Magic Web Terminals and Immersion Capsules.

"It’s stored in here," Gawain said, "Though I don’t know what devices your Dragonkin usually use to read such things, there might be a need for conversion..."

"No need, I can perceive its magical structure." Nuoletta interrupted Gawain, reaching out for the crystal plate and gently brushing her fingers over the fine magic symbol engravings on its side. In that brief moment, her light-colored eyes seemed to flicker like starlight, and Gawain could feel the magic around her become incredibly active and complex, as if a very high-level spell was compressed into a small space and completed in an instant.

In just a moment, Nuoletta finished reading and recording the storage medium, handing the warm crystal plate back to Gawain: "I’ve recorded it and will pass it to my superior for further analysis. Thank you for your timely notification and sincere attitude; it truly helps maintain a good relationship between our sides."

Gawain, taking the crystal plate, couldn’t help but deeply gaze at the white-dressed woman before him: "Excellent magical skills—Melita never demonstrated similar abilities before me."

"In fact, she’s not adept at this either," Nuoletta smiled slightly, "I usually handle paperwork or engagement nature work from behind; these are just ’small tricks’ used during work."

"It looks like the Mithril Vault has a complex and efficient post structure within; I’m curious about it," Gawain remarked casually with a smile, "Shall I just wait for the news then?"

"You won’t wait long," Nuoletta nodded, "We will swiftly finish the analysis and comparison of the signals. Although I can’t give a definite answer now, based only on the content I read... it’s most likely not sent from Talronde."

"...Not the Dragonkin?"

"We use another communication technology, which doesn’t produce such signals’ characteristics," Nuoletta nodded, "But this world is vast, with many corners and secrets even unknown to Dragonkin. Some matters are only known to my superiors, so I need to report, perhaps the Mithril Vault’s Treasurer and high-ranking agents can ascertain where this originated from."

"Thank you very much."

...

The Courage has been docked along this desolate and bleak coast for roughly a week.

Besides some uncommon, human-unafraid beasts on land, there are only lush vegetation, damp hot sea wind, and town ruins covered by bushes and vines.

Earl Owen Dyson stands atop a coastal reef, and as the glorious giant sun gradually rises halfway, he pulls out a gilded mechanical watch from his chest and opens the cover to glance.

Around the same time, a few moving figures appear on a path leading deep into the island from the coast, as several sailors emerge from trails shrouded by shrubs and tall grass.

"Half an hour late from the scheduled gathering time," Once the sailors come forth, Earl Owen calmly asks, "Did you run into trouble?"

A sailor, wrapped in a red headscarf, stands straight and salutes, reporting rigorously: "Report captain, a gigantic snake confronted us returning, which may have mutated due to the magic-pervasive environment, but it’s been handled."

"Hmm," Earl Owen nods, "Anything discovered?"

"Only an abandoned estate, showing signs of refurbishment like the central town," the sailor explains while pulling something from his chest, "Also, we found this in the estate."

Earl Owen accepts the item, seeing it’s a heavily worn talisman whose front marking is entirely indistinguishable, but from its material, it seems to have been a magical thing—recently, Owen Dyson had seen similar items.

"Left by the Sons of the Storm... likely deserted here over ten years ago," the Typhon aristocrat promptly assesses the talisman’s abandonment time, "Indicating that at least a decade ago, the Sons of the Storm still dominated these near and far-sea dividing islands, but then they relinquished these near-human-world bases, heading further seas..."

"These evil cult followers always occupied the Empire’s properties, using island fasilities for themselves," Courage’s deputy mutters disdainfully behind Owen Dyson, "Their mind-mad graffiti spawned all over town, then they left. Hope they were swallowed by the deep-sea, sacrificing their fanatic actions to the sea-demons below."

"I don’t care about the fate of the cultists," Earl Owen remarked casually as he put away the talisman and looked at the chief mate, "How is the Courage ship?"

"We’ve repaired the anti-magic hull, the barrier group, and two magic-powered engines, but there are still some issues with the transmission mechanism connected to the engines. The technicians say that those big ones need professional port facilities to be completely fixed; here on this beach with nothing, they can only ’heal one leg.’"

"To what extent can it be repaired? Can it sail?"

"Setting sail won’t be a problem, but the speed is likely only two-thirds of what it was before, and if we encounter chaotic turbulence like before again, the entire drive shaft will break," the chief mate said frankly, emphasizing again perhaps for persuasion, "It will definitely break."

"Since this is already the result of the technicians’ best efforts, we can only accept it. We have to return. Trust that the Courage ship will overcome this difficulty, and we should be unlikely to encounter chaotic turbulence twice inshore," Earl Owen said, glancing back at the Courage ship moored calmly on the nearby sea surface—the beautiful and advanced magic vessel lay still between the gentle sea waves, its mage metal hull and the powerful storm crystals at the bow shimmering under the giant sun’s light. After a brief gaze, the Earl withdrew his sight, "Notify the mechanical group for final adjustments to the engines; we will set sail in three hours."

The chief mate nodded, casually took out a short magic wand inlaid with numerous gems from his waist. As the gems on the wand lit up one by one, he cast a communication spell to relay the captain’s orders to the personnel on duty aboard the Courage ship.

Having watched the chief mate complete it all, Earl Owen nodded, his gaze directed towards the island’s depths: "Take a few people; let’s go into that town again."

The chief mate glanced at the Earl without asking anything further; he quickly selected adept and alert sailors, embarking on the path leading to the island’s center together with the Earl.

Walking on the ancient stone road, which showed signs of repair but was again abandoned, Owen Dyson proceeded deeper into this former empire territory. Sailors who had previously scouted ahead had used spells and swords to clear away obstructing bushes and vines, and since the entire Tasos Island itself wasn’t very large, he soon passed through a wood-covered path and reached the quiet and desolate edge of the small town.

This was the largest human architecture group on Tasos Island; seven hundred years ago, it was also the first stepping stone near the empire’s shores. During that prosperous yet overly brief period, countless diligent builders, ambitious captains, merchants, and adventurers in pursuit of dreams gathered here; spices, gold, precious minerals from the distant seas, and rare things unseen on land circulated here, making this unremarkable Tasos Island into the once-bustling "Land of Flowing Gold."

After that brief golden age ended, a longer decline ensued—the former sea protectors turned into frenzied fallen cultists in an instant; the Land of Flowing Gold became the territory of the Sons of the Storm, and the empire’s wealth became nutrients for the cultists’ proliferation, while those who hadn’t evacuated in time...

Earl Owen raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the abandoned houses and towers; the former dwellings were now inscribed with the obscure symbols left by the Sons of the Storm, no longer showing the original Typhon or Dyson family emblems.

At the end of the road, Earl Owen saw a small square where the embers were still smoldering; amidst the ash pile, he could vaguely see broken sculpture fragments and ceremonial utensils—these were relics from the dark sects that sailors had collected from various places in the town. The cultists who once occupied here had retreated, so the sailors could only burn what they left behind.

Earl Owen bypassed the pile of ashes, bypassed the small square, and arrived in front of the town hall.

On the steps before the hall, a tattered deep blue flag was thrown on the ground, with a twisted emblem of storms and lightning depicted upon it.

Owen glanced at the flag briefly before walking forward—he and the sailors stepped over the stairs, entered through the open hall’s front doors, arriving in the empty assembly hall, and finally stopped in front of the wall at the back of the assembly hall, where only two empty hooks remained along with some moss growing along the wall.

The Earl looked up for a while, then lowered his head and began to rummage through his arms. Soon, he extracted a piece of cloth folded neatly within his embrace and carefully unfolded it.

It was an extremely old and faded flag, but since it was interwoven with magic threads and had been meticulously preserved, it remained intact after seven hundred years. On that solemn black background, the emblem of shield and crown, although dim in color, remained clearly visible.

After carefully observing it, the Earl raised his hand and reverently rehung the Typhon flag within the town hall of Tasos Island.

Then he loosened another item from his waist—a sword passed down through generations in his family.

The sword’s hilt was engraved with a faint golden harpoon pattern, the emblem bestowed by Typhon’s first founding monarch to the first Earl Dyson seven hundred years ago. This sword represented the legacy of the Dyson family, as well as the honor of Tasos Island’s first generation of builders.

The sword and flag were items the family ancestors took with them when departing Tasos Island—the ancestor did not leave any words to return these items to Tasos Island, as he was buried at sea during organizing the second evacuation, but thereafter, the relics left by the ancestor became a long-standing responsibility for the descendants of Dyson.

After placing the sword beneath the flag, Earl Owen finally exhaled lightly, returning to the sailors’ side, turning around and quietly watching the sword and flag on the wall with everyone else, just as the people in this hall did seven hundred years ago.

A few minutes later, they left the town hall and set foot on the road back to the Courage ship.

The giant sun’s light bathed the town in ruins, some unknown birds and beasts made noisy calls in the dense forest nearby, lush vegetation quietly thrived on this land, and in the far coast direction, the majestic yet melodic whistle urging crew members to gather back at the beach on the Courage ship was sounding.

...

In the study of the Obsidian Palace in Aldernon, Emperor Rosetta Augustus put down the document in hand, looking up towards the two mages sitting opposite him with a trace of a smile on his face:

"After overcoming hardships, the Courage ship has finally sent good news of successfully reaching Tasos Island—today is a day worth celebrating, distinguished masters."