Translator: CinderTL
The shell ship glided smoothly through the kaleidoscopic Astral Plane.
Roland walked up to Durga, who stood by the main control runes on the bridge, and asked, "How much longer until we reach Aetheron?"
Without looking up, Durga continued adjusting a glowing sequence of runes and answered in his gravelly voice, "Hey, Rudolph, I'm not like you or Duerden. This will be my first time visiting that continent."
He extended his left hand, encased in a heavy iron gauntlet, and tapped the main control crystal pillar. Closing his eyes, he seemed to be sensing their course and distance through some form of resonance.
After a moment, he opened his eyes and grinned. "But based on the waypoint Duerden gave us... well, maybe just the time it takes to take a nap?"
Roland was already well-acquainted with the shell ship's wondrous method of travel, which utilized spatial properties and far surpassed any conventional means of transportation. Thus, he wasn't surprised by this vague yet indicative estimate of an extremely short duration.
After a brief exchange with Durga, he watched as the energetic Gray Dwarf Leader turned and strode toward the center of the deck.
He began shouting orders to his kin, directing them to resecure the cargo crates that had grown particularly "restless" during their Astral Navigation.
Meanwhile, Roland walked slowly to the ship's railing. Leaning against a mast support that seemed to be formed from some kind of biological carapace, he took out the parchment scroll Duerden had handed him upon their parting.
He untied the cord and slowly unfurled it.
"This is..."
The moment the scroll was fully open, Roland's gaze was locked, and his breath caught slightly.
It was not the crude sketch he had imagined, but a map drawn with such exquisite detail it could be called a masterpiece.
The brushstrokes were delicate and fluid. Mountains and rivers were outlined in varying shades of brown and blue-green, creating a majestic sense of three-dimensionality. The rivers, painted with silver-blue pigment, seemed to shimmer with actual flowing water.
Winding roads, deep forests, and rolling hills—every feature was rendered with breathtaking realism.
Even more striking were the countless place names densely annotated across the map in an ancient, elegant script. From natural landmarks to the towns and citadels of various races, the level of detail was astonishing.
Roland's gaze traced the unfamiliar names on the map, silently reading them aloud.
"duskwood... Splitspine Mountains... Stillwhisper Lake... Silvermoon Elf Outpost..."
Finally, his eyes were drawn to the absolute center of the parchment scroll.
There, a magnificent and strangely structured complex of buildings was drawn. It was no mere fortress of piled stone like a traditional castle; its lines were exceptionally fluid. Massive domes, soaring spires, and aerial bridges spanning canyons combined to create an incredible sense of geometric beauty and harmony. The surfaces of the buildings seemed dotted with countless tiny points of light, faintly shimmering even on the static parchment. Its precision and design, which seemed to transcend the era, far surpassed any city Roland had ever seen. It even gave off an otherworldly aura, as if it didn't belong to this age.
"...Silverglow City."
As he spoke the name, Roland's brow arched, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. He turned his head to look at the bard, who had crept up beside him and was now straining his neck to get a better look at the map.
"Galvis," Roland asked, "this 'Silverglow City'... have you ever heard of it?"
"Galvis, this 'Silverglow City'... have you ever heard of it?"
At Roland's question, Galvis's pointed elven ears seemed to twitch with excitement.
He bounded to Roland's side like a cat who had just discovered a treasure, leaning in so close his head almost rested on Roland's shoulder. His eyes gleamed as he stared intently at the mark for "Silverglow City" on the map.
"Silverglow City?"
His voice soared, infused with the dramatic flair unique to bards.
"Roland! Your fingertip rests upon a place of dreams, sung of in countless ballads yet seen by none!"
He gestured grandly in the air, as if painting a magnificent canvas, his tone a mix of awe and disbelief.
"The most ancient epics—the ones my own master had to decipher from tattered parchment with a magnifying glass—vaguely record that in the Mythic Age, so distant that even the mountain ranges had yet to take shape, Aetheron was considered the center of the entire world. And this Silverglow City..."
His finger hovered delicately over the strangely structured city-state on the map, his voice filled with a near-reverent longing.
"Legend has it that the city was the most brilliant jewel in the Crown of Aetheron—a miracle forged by the collective genius of all the sapient races of that era: elves, humans, dwarves, and even those who have long since vanished from the world!"
"Just imagine it, Roland! Different races living under the same city dome, knowledge flowing together like rivers, and new skills sparking from the friction of their meeting... What a magnificent sight that must have been! It was undoubtedly the most prosperous heart of that age, the absolute nexus of population, wisdom, and art! But..."
At this point, Galvis's fervor subsided slightly.
He scratched his perpetually disheveled hair, his tone turning a bit sheepish.
"Hey, truth be told, these legends are just too old. So old that even our elven traditions have grown hazy."
"As for exactly how grand it was, what kind of magic flowed through its streets, and why it faded from a physical coordinate into a mere legend on a map... I know just a smidge more than those braggarts in the taverns."
"So many details have been lost to the river of time, leaving only a few tantalizing fragments and a web of contradictory clues."
Despite his words, his gaze remained glued to the map, as if trying to peer through the parchment and witness that lost glory firsthand.
Hearing this introduction, Roland's slender fingers traced the map's fine grain as he nodded slightly.
"So, this must be the map of Aetheron."
"Absolutely!" Galvis chimed in immediately, his elven fingertips tapping excitedly across the parchment.
"Look here, 'Morningwind's Breath.' Ancient records say it was the site of the most prestigious academy in the human realms. They say its library's dome was inlaid with starstone that glowed in resonance with knowledge... and here..."
His fingers moved swiftly, listing place names like a man recounting his most prized possessions. Though his tone still carried the uncertainty of one reciting legends, his passion never wavered.
Suddenly, as if struck by a flash of inspiration, Galvis snapped his head up, his pale eyes shimmering with excitement.
"Hey! Roland! Come to think of it, we've actually... seen a glimpse of Silverglow City! Or rather, encountered a trace of its legacy."
"Huh?"
Roland tilted his head, his eyes filled with confusion.
"Gilles!" Galvis clapped his hands together. "The Demon Capital Gilles, that place that crawled out of the ground in the River Domain Nations! Rumor has it its founder was once a high-ranking official in Silverglow City..."
"I read about it in a crumbling ancient geography book. Its core is said to be modeled after the defense system of one of Silverglow City's districts!"
"Gilles..."
The name caused Roland's gaze to darken instantly.
In a flash, the scene of those silent, twisted ruins in the Mistland seemed to resurface before his eyes.
Broken colossal pillars pierced the gloomy sky, and an eternal mist clung to the shattered streets.
More chilling were the magitech constructs that wandered the ruins—tireless, efficient killers.
They were cold, precise, and devoid of life, yet possessed terrifying combat power.
Even though that city had long since fallen into ruin, decaying beyond any semblance of the "crystallization of ancient wisdom," those silent killing machines were enough to offer a glimpse of its origin.
Silverglow City.
The name alone spoke of technology and power beyond all imagining.
Roland shook his head, shaking off the chillingly sinister memory that had just flashed through his mind. Suddenly remembering something, he turned to Galvis, who was still engrossed in the ancient map.
"By the way, Galvis, you mentioned your mentor... Lady Vesna? I asked you to inquire with her about 'Rudolph.' Any word?"
Only then did Galvis reluctantly tear his gaze from the map. A look of utter helplessness crossed his face as he spread his hands.
"Nothing! Not a damn thing!"
He let out an exaggerated sigh.
"My mentor is more elusive than the most mysterious Astral creature. Not only does she live in the remotest corner of Eversong Forest, but even the sunlight seems to need her permission to pierce through that place."
"She's always had a rule: no outsiders, ever! Not even me."
The bard lowered his voice, his tone a mix of complaint and reverence.
"As her only nominal student, I was only allowed to hear her speak from behind a thick curtain that blocked even her shadow whenever she taught me those ancient arts."
"She never spoke to me of anything else, not a single extra word!"
Galvis's expression soured.
"So, not long ago, I finally plucked up the courage to ask her about 'Rudolph' through the curtain. The result... dead silence from inside. She didn't even give me the sound of her breath!"
He subconsciously rubbed his lower back, as if it still ached.
"I wouldn't give up. I pleaded with her for three whole days, saying every kind word I could think of. In the end... sigh, I don't know what method she used, but an invisible force 'sent' me straight from the door of her treehouse to the edge of the forest. The fall nearly broke me apart!"
Hearing this, Roland asked with some curiosity, "If that's the case, how did you know the name 'Rudolph' in the first place?"
An awkward expression immediately crossed Galvis's face. He rubbed the tip of his nose, his gaze drifting.
"Well... when I was a child, I once snuck into her study while she was out. That's how I saw it. When she found out, she flew into a rage and nearly banished me forever, refusing to even acknowledge me as her student again."
The bard's voice trailed off, tinged with a lingering fear.
"I knelt in the brambles before her door for what felt like an eternity, my blood staining the thorns red, before she finally... grudgingly forgave me."
Seeing the genuine, lingering dread on Galvis's face, Roland sighed helplessly inwardly.
The truth about "Rudolph" was separated from him by a thin veil, yet he couldn't pierce it. This feeling of being so close yet so far was truly frustrating.
Suppressing his annoyance, Roland turned his gaze back to the ancient map in his hands. His fingertips traced several place names Duerden had deliberately circled.
According to the drow elder, these locations had been thriving core zones of the Aetheron Continent in ancient times. Even after all these ages, they should still hold clues to lost ruins or legacies.
Just as he was carefully studying the ancient place names and mentally plotting his route...
"Roland!"
A clear, bright voice broke his train of thought.
Avril, who had been leaning over the railing, curiously gazing at the Astral Plane's bizarre and shifting vistas, turned and waved vigorously at him. Her slender fingers pointed ahead of the shell ship.
"I think we're almost there!"
Before the words had even fully faded, Roland felt the ship shudder gently.
Ahead of the bow, a deep, dark rift silently tore open.
As if drawn by it, the shell ship's speed surged, and it glided smoothly into the breach.
After a brief moment of weightlessness—as if passing through a membrane of water—and a distortion of light, the view outside the viewport snapped back into sharp focus.
But...
Roland quickly rolled up the map, stowing it away securely, his brow furrowing.
The scene before him was... a bit different from the Aetheron Continent he had envisioned from the map and the legends...
Before he could even process the bizarre environment around them, a roar of anguish exploded in his ear.
"Hey! Damn it! My baby! What's wrong?"
As the words were spoken, the veins of steady, deep purple light flowing across the shell ship's hull—the very veins Roland was watching—flickered and dimmed like severed filaments. The glow faded rapidly, then vanished completely into darkness.
The familiar hum of the engines abruptly ceased, and a sudden sensation of weightlessness struck.
The massive shell ship had lost all power. Like a great bird with broken wings, it began to plummet from the sky.
(End of the Chapter)
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