CH1437 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1437: Silver Lining

“No — stop—!”

The scream tore out of her before the thought was fully formed.

If the magic power’s circulation stopped, the Deity of Gods became a dead mountain. No circulation. No flight. Just weight.

“This is my ability,” Nassaupelle said, without any particular feeling. “My body isn’t here, but I can control the magic power core through the network remotely. It didn’t exist in the beginning — I built it piece by piece, after inheriting the legacy. It requires no talent. It doesn’t vary from person to person. This network may not rival the Realm of Mind yet, but give it a century. A millennium. You must understand — having broken free of a body’s constraints, I no longer lack time.”

The trembling started in the walls before it reached the floor.

In the plaza above the Red Mist Lake, soldiers lost their footing. Many went down hard, caught entirely off guard by the sudden shift in the island’s equilibrium.

“The Deity of Gods is in free fall!” Silent Disaster’s voice was flat and immediate.

“Damn it — what happened?” Hackzord spun toward Celine’s carrier. “Witch! Answer me!”

“Mask is interfering with the core instrument — we have to break his connection!”

She screamed it. She said it multiple times. The faces outside remained blank, unresponsive — and she understood: her spirit was inside the parent body while her carrier body was an empty shell. They couldn’t hear her. A transparent wall of glass between them, as solid as any stone.

“Your spirit is housed within the parent body. The carrier outside is simply a shell. How could they hear you?” Mask’s tone carried the particular pleasure of someone watching a prediction confirmed. “And why would you expect it to be easy to sever my connection? In my race, this parent body holds a position comparable to the King and the senior lords. Its magic power is on par with theirs; its physical form equally resilient. And above it sits a deep layer of Red Mist. Killing it will not be easy. And without the parent body’s spirit, how does anyone control the core instrument? The outcome is already determined.”

“There are millions of lives still inside this city. Do you intend to bury them?”

“I find it odd that a Witch from the Union would feel sympathy for demons.” Nassaupelle turned the observation over as if finding it quaint. “Regardless, they chose to side with the traitor Hackzord. They deserve what follows. The Symbiotic Demons — yes, a waste, but I can produce more given a little time. If you are searching for an argument that might change my mind, it will need to be considerably more compelling than that. Those outside don’t have long.”

How does he know I’m from the Union? Celine registered it and let it go — no time. “This is a God’s Stone mine. If the floating island crashes and fractures on impact, Hermes and Graycastle’s western borders both suffer. Are you certain the King will accept that loss?”

“Sky Lord was rather thorough in his explanations.” Mask sounded unmoved. “But destroying humans takes precedence. The King will understand the necessity. With traitors among the senior lords, a small price is unavoidable.”

“A small price? The God’s Stone mine is the foundation of the Red Mist towers. Without sufficient Red Mist, you cannot hold the Fertile Plains. Without the Fertile Plains, how do you resist the Sky-sea Realm when it arrives?”

“That argument is more substantial than the previous one.” He acknowledged it without conceding anything. “But you’ve overlooked two facts. First: Symbiotic Demons require far less Red Mist than Primal and Junior Demons. Even with a shortage, they won’t complain. Second: I have confidence in your humans.”

“Confidence — in what sense?”

“I underestimated Ursrook’s capability. Humans are slow to develop magic power, but their achievements in other domains are remarkable. If I absorb your legacy and merge it with my own techniques, dealing with the Sky-sea Realm becomes manageable. Even without the two God’s Stone mines, I can win the Battle of Divine Will.”

She understood, then, what had been happening from the beginning. He had never been negotiating. He had been watching.

A hunter.

Celine stopped trying to reach him and turned to what she could actually do.

If her messages couldn’t go out, she had to solve this from inside.

“See? You’re out of time.” Nassaupelle looked into the distance as though watching something she couldn’t see. Once the magic power sustaining the Deity of Gods fully dissipated, the slow descent would steepen into genuine fall. At that velocity, no soldier would be able to stand — they would be pressed flat, pinned to the surface. “I’ve heard that when a large mass falls freely, the living things on its surface float with it. I wonder if I’ll get to see that.”

How do I restart the core?

She forced her attention inward, away from Mask, away from the soldiers she couldn’t reach. He was not physically here. He was connected through the network. If I can expel him from it — if I can sever that connection — the magic power core resets.

She reached toward the four cores with her perception.

The backlash was immediate. A wall of cyclones — dense, interlocked, mutually reinforcing. Each Instrument of Divine Retribution balanced precisely against the others. The combined pattern formed cyclones of such complexity that analyzing a single one would consume more time than remained, let alone all four.

“Art, isn’t it?” Nassaupelle amplified the image above them: a grand starry structure, magic power threads weaving through each other in slow-burning brilliance. “Nearly a century of calculation. Two thirds of my mind working continuously on the underlying problems. The other senior lords call me a monster — it’s laughable. Without transforming my body and absorbing additional minds, none of this would have been possible.”

Staring up at the cyclone of stars, Celine felt something she rarely encountered. Despair. Not the performative kind — the genuine structural kind, where the problem simply exceeds available resources.

Simultaneously she sensed Mask working at the edges of her consciousness, a slow corrosion, patient and methodical. She didn’t have the focus to resist it and pursue a solution both at once. And if she stopped looking for a solution — if the Deity of Gods fell, if the Union died with it — then what did it matter what happened to her afterward?

Think.

Roland’s face surfaced in her mind — the particular quality of him, the shape of his thinking, how he had reached into the wreckage of the impossible and pulled out options that shouldn’t have existed. But the Dream World won’t help here. Mask’s network is completely different. There’s no way in.

How do I analyze the stars?

She thought back to her own work: the transformation of a core instrument into the Instrument of Divine Retribution. What had she actually done, in that process?

The answer struck like a light thrown across a dark room.

She turned sharply toward the network. This technology came from the underground civilization’s legacy — and those gray, dim nodes scattered through it were magic cores not yet assimilated by the magic power core.

Neverwinter had those cores.

If she could connect to the Deity of Gods’s central hub using a core instrument, then the connection should be reversible. Reach through the hub. Contact the other cores from the inside out.

What if Pasha and Alethea could reach her?

No. Not enough. Not for this.

There was one person whose calculation she trusted for something of this scale. One of the Three Chiefs. The person who had helped her work through the core computations — Lady Eleanor.

She didn’t let herself dwell on the probability that Eleanor’s central carrier had gone silent, that the consciousness might not respond, that this could be a thread thrown into empty dark.

This was the thread. She would throw it.

She focused everything on the obelisk.

Not analysis. Not precision. Just power — she increased the output to its limit.

“What are you attempting?” Nassaupelle continued his slow work at the edges of her consciousness, unhurried. “Expanding the network’s scope? You don’t understand — carriers and parent bodies without spirits don’t change regardless of input. Even the King must first merge with a magic power core to handle power at this scale—”

“Is that so? How fortunate — I know exactly such a person!”

She released her consciousness through the network entirely — one focused, total output.

“Adjust the core. Turn it into balance.”

The obelisk answered with a hum she couldn’t hear so much as feel in the structure of everything around her. The violent magic power undulation swept through the entire network like a stone dropped in still water, all the nodes flickering as though they would go out.

Except one.

A single point of light, burning steadier than the rest, began to move — westward, deliberate, as though it recognized the call.

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