CH1002 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1002: A Race against Time

Azima took a breath and said, “There’s a stone made of the same material in your drawer.”

Roland smiled — satisfied, confirmed. He set the second box on the desk. “But I’m curious. Why ‘same material’ and not ‘identical’?”

“Because the reactions differ. Both are source material — but the first is stronger.” She described what she had seen: the twin beacons, their relative intensities.

“Can you locate more pieces?”

“Let me try.”

She closed her eyes and reached for the light again. The first two stones blazed, half-blinding her — she had to navigate around them the way you look away from a lamp to find something faint nearby. Gradually the other threads emerged: three lines extending east, west, and north. Each was thick, significant — but each was made of dozens of thin dimmer threads braided together.

More stones. Larger ones. But fragmented, distributed.

She reported what she saw. Roland nodded, already thinking.

“So you won’t know how far they are until you actually travel there.”

“Correct.”

“Then go east first, then north.” He spoke with the ease of someone crossing off a list. “West is too dangerous — you’d be crossing the Barbarian Land. If you haven’t found what we need by the time you reach the shore, turn north.”

Azima hesitated, then asked what she’d been holding since the first flash. “Your Majesty — is this stone worth more than gold?”

She wasn’t a combat witch. If anyone learned what she was carrying — or hunting — the danger would follow her like a shadow. She’d survive it poorly. So would the mission.

Roland read her concern and answered without dismissing it. “Yes and no. To someone who doesn’t know what it is, it’s just an ugly rock. But to me, it’s worth far more than gold. It’s the key to the ‘Resplendent Radiation’ Project.”

“Resplendent Radiation.” The words made no sense to her. “What’s that?”

“I wouldn’t send you alone regardless.” He gestured toward a guard at the edge of the room. “This is Sean — your protector. A combat engineer unit from the First Army will accompany you as well. Your priority is locating the stones. Sean will liaise with local officials to clear any obstacles.”

“You’re saying — they’ll answer to me?”

“Why not?” Roland shrugged. “They aren’t lords in the old sense. They serve the central government, and the central government is telling them to help you.” He paused. “Since the search may take time, I’ll pay thirty percent of your salary in advance. The rest comes monthly. That’s the shape of the contract. What do you think?”

Azima considered it. “Your Majesty — could you direct the payments to Doris?”

His eyebrows rose. “If that’s what you want, yes.”

“Then I’ll take the job.” She bowed. “I’ll be ready by tomorrow morning.”

There were still things she didn’t understand — the project, the purpose, the scale of what he was building. But the shape of the task was clear, the support was real, and the money would reach people who needed it. She couldn’t find a flaw.

“Good.” Roland rose. “I look forward to the good news.”


After Wendy escorted Azima out, Roland moved to the French window. Below, the city’s winter lights lay scattered across the dark. He exhaled.

“Finally. We’ve got it rolling.”

“Creating a sun?” Nightingale stepped out of the Mist behind him. “You go bright-eyed every time this project comes up.”

“Because it’s the path.” He turned, pointing up at the ceiling. “At this moment, humanity has entered a new era — not the era of watching the sun, but of making one. Nothing could be more romantic than that.” He dropped his hand. “Do you see a yellow exclamation mark up there?”

“I see a mumbling daydreamer,” Nightingale said, with no change in expression, “in his perfect delirium.”

Roland almost choked. “Did you have to be that direct?”

“I’m just being honest.”

“Then I’ll tell you that I’m very willing to get this done.” He shot her a stare, half-annoyed, half-amused. He knew she was joking. And he knew she was right — most people would think him mad until they saw it finished.

Even he didn’t know if it would work.

He wouldn’t have conceived of it without the witches. The Manhattan Project had required the full industrial and financial weight of the most powerful nation in the modern world. To attempt something similar from near-scratch would be absolute lunacy — except that Lucia, Soraya, and the rest made the math change entirely. The bulk of the work that had once demanded entire facilities could now fall to abilities he couldn’t have imagined two years ago.

Minimal investment. Maximum witches. It sounded like the punchline of a joke. But the chance was real.

He’d begun preparing from the day Lucia came of age. He’d gone back through the periodic table, asked Kyle Sichi to isolate uranium samples from Lucia’s extracted elements and seal them away. Uranium existed everywhere in nature — in granite, in coal, in seawater — but the conventional cost of extracting it was staggering. Lucia bypassed that entirely. She could pull scattered uranium directly from raw matter. No separation process. No refining infrastructure.

What she gave him was the starting line.

But he’d left something out of the speech he’d given in the meeting. His eloquence had been genuine — but incomplete. The sun was one reason. There was a second, darker reason he hadn’t named aloud.

What is the origin of magic power?

He didn’t know. That was the problem.

The Senior Demon had told him: demons evolved through upgrades. Four hundred years of relentless acceleration. Agatha’s defensive strategy had an elegant logic to it — hold, endure, outlast — but its flaw was built into its premise. Time worked against the defenders. The Union’s defeat had proven that. Left to their own schedule, the demons would defeat the undersea monsters, complete the third Battle of Divine Will, and upgrade again. What would they become then?

We won’t survive it.

He needed a weapon that didn’t rely on magic power. Something that rendered the question of upgrades irrelevant. A last resort.

Which was why Azima’s ability, and these ugly grey stones, mattered so much more than he could explain to her tonight.

“I’ll have the kitchen send up spicy barbeque, mushrooms, deep-fried shrimp, and Chaos Drinks,” Nightingale said, already moving toward the door.

Roland blinked. “That’s entirely what you want.”

She turned back with a look of perfect innocence. “Order whatever you like, Your Majesty.”

He shook his head and let her go.

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