Chapter 773: The Third Border City
The entrance to the cave lay north of Neverwinter, at the seam where the city gave way to the mountain range. Nearby, the mining and furnace areas ran at their usual feverish pace, smoke rising against the grey sky.
At the foot of the mountain, a solid concrete wall appeared—still incomplete in places, still under construction along its upper courses, but already the most heavily guarded location in Neverwinter. Watchtowers anchored each corner. Wire netting crowned the top. On each side of the gate, a machine-gun blockhouse stood with its aperture aimed at the approach.
The guards saluted as Roland walked through and into the yard.
The moment he crossed the threshold, something shifted in his chest—a faint, incongruous recognition.
What he saw here did not belong to this era.
The cave entrance was faced with poured concrete, ten meters wide and more than five meters tall. The two iron doors hung in it like the gates of a fortified keep from some future century: each panel a meter thick, jointed from multiple layers of steel plate rather than solid-cast, their dimensions rivaling the walls of a building. A modern military stronghold would not have been embarrassed by them.
The weight of those doors made ordinary hinges impossible. Slideways ran beneath them, recessed into the floor, and even with the slideways they could not be drawn by hand. One of the two steam engines in the yard was dedicated solely to providing the force needed to move them. If the demonic beasts ever broke through the Taquila witches’ defensive line, the relics could be retrieved in time; and then those doors would seal everything else outside.
Roland had been present the day they were installed and first operated. Standing in the yard listening to the steam engine’s toneless roar, the screech of steel on sliding tracks, watching the immense doors inch shut—he had felt, obscurely, that he was standing at the mouth of the last shelter before the end of the world.
Nearly a third of Neverwinter’s winter steel output had gone into those two doors alone. Their simplicity of shape—plain rectangles—made them sound easy. Their sheer scale made them anything but.
On each door, half a line of characters had been cast into the steel. Together they read: Third Border City.
Roland and the small crowd behind him walked through and into the cave. The light dropped immediately.
Phyllis produced a Stone of Lighting and moved to the head of the column, leading them downward.
“Your Majesty, I’ve never understood why you call it the Third Border City,” Wendy said beside him, her voice dampened by the stone walls. “If Border Town is the first—where’s the second?”
“Because three is the proper number for a stronghold.”
“Ah?”
“Besides,” Roland said, with a slight gesture, “the number doesn’t matter as much as the name being remembered.”
“As long as you’re satisfied with it,” Wendy said, and he could hear the skepticism in her voice even in the dark.
After that the only sounds were footsteps, multiplied by stone, and the distant drip of underground water.
Only the floor had been paved with concrete—the cave was too large for anything more with current materials. Along either side ran a drainage ditch and a section of mine-cart railway; supplies and food were moved on carts pulled by the second steam engine stationed at the entrance. Phyllis had once mentioned that the God’s Punishment Witches, curious about the machine’s power, had set five of themselves pulling against its drag rope and could not slow it down.
The walls and ceiling remained raw stone—no way to waterproof them—and moisture seeped through in irregular patches. But devouring worms, moving through the mountain’s passages, left dried mucus in their wake; it bonded the loose material on the cave surfaces into something like a plastered skin. The ceiling did not threaten to fall.
After roughly half an hour’s walking, the darkness ahead began to ease.
Phyllis slowed. “Your Majesty, do you need—”
Roland understood and cut her off. “Take me through.”
The God’s Punishment Witch looked back at him with an expression he had learned to read as something between concern and respect. ”…Understood.”
They stepped out of the narrow passage and into a large cavern.
The cavern opened into a domed hall the size of a football field. Tens of light beams lanced down from fixtures in the ceiling, scattering bright circles across the floor. Even this far underground, even this far from the sky, the space did not feel oppressive. It simply felt contained—held by stone, lit from above, vast enough to breathe in.
Beyond the witches who served as the permanent watch, soldiers from the First Army stood at their posts; every one of them had passed Nightingale’s examination, each vetted as among Roland’s most loyal. The deeper into the dome one went, the farther from the ceiling lights, until the center of the hall lay in near-darkness. There, three rhombus-shaped magic cores hung motionless in the air—the three Taquila Senior Witches, the original carriers, waiting.
Roland walked toward them, and his right hand was already extended when he reached the nearest one.
“I’m glad we could meet in person at last. You must be Pasha.”
Behind him, he felt Nightingale shift her weight—ready to pull him into the Mist at the first wrong movement. Her hand settled briefly on his shoulder.
Pasha was silent for a long moment. Then her voice came, recognizable from the Illusion Core sessions, now resonating in the open air.
“I’m surprised, Your Majesty. Before today we’ve communicated only through the Illusion Core—and those projected images were not, perhaps, fully alarming. But standing here, in person, to encounter this shell and respond as though nothing had happened… you are the first. Even the Taquila witches, when they first saw this form, were not as composed as you are.” A tentacle extended—coarse, moist against his palm, warmer than he expected—and curled gently around his hand. “But you’re right. I’m Pasha. Thank you for your support.”
“He hasn’t supported us.” A second voice, cold and clipped. “It remains unclear whether the common people he sent were help or surveillance. We can assess his character after he’s finished exploring the snow mountain.”
“Alethea.” A third voice, firm and slightly reproving. “We agreed.”
“Fine. I’ll be quiet.”
The two others were Alethea and Celine—Roland had heard their names and recognized their registers. He did not hold the tone against them. These witches had lived through an era when witches were unchallenged; shifting that perspective was not an afternoon’s work. And he cared less about their attitudes than about what they held in this cavern.
“The Fjords’ most celebrated explorer once wrote that fear comes from the unknown,” Roland said. “Whatever your appearance, your souls belong to Taquila—and Taquila is not unknown to me. Agatha has become an essential member of the Witch Union. A trusted one.”
Pasha’s tentacle tightened the smallest fraction.
”…I see.” There was something wistful in it. “Our cooperation began long before today.”
“Against the demons, everyone has to let go of old prejudices and join hands.” A brief pause, and then Roland moved to what he had come for. “The relics of gods—they’ve arrived? May I see the things on which humanity’s fate rests?”
Pasha’s upper tentacles swept an arc of invitation.
“Of course. Come with me.”
Chapter 773: The Third Border City
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
The entrance to the cave was located to the north of Neverwinter. It could be found in the juncture between the city and the mountain range. On the nearby hillside, there was the ever-busy mining and furnace areas.
Near the foot of the mountain, a solid concrete wall appeared in front of everybody. Although there were many facilities still under construction, this place had already become the most heavily guarded area in Neverwinter. There was a watch tower on each one of its corners and wired netting lining the top of it. There was also a machine gun blockhouse on each side of the gate.
The guards saluted Roland as he walked through the gate and into the yard.
Upon walking into the yard, he faintly felt as if he had traveled back to the modern world.
What he saw in here was definitely not supposed to be in this era. There was a huge cave that had its entrance covered with concrete. The cave was over ten meters wide and over 5 meters tall. The two grand iron doors were oversized compared to the entrance and their thickness reached an astonishing one meter. They were not solid poured but were rather jointed by several layers of steel plates. This was on par with many doors at modern military strongholds.
Since the iron doors weighed so much, the entrance had to be modified and slideways were installed on the ground to support the doors. Even with the slideways, they could not be pulled open by manpower alone.
Due to this, one of the two steam engines in the yard was used to provide the driving force to move the doors.
If the demonic beasts broke the defensive line set up by the Taquila witches, as long as the relic of gods got retrieved, these two doors could block any following demonic beasts outside.
Standing in front of the doors that were as big as a multi-layered building, Roland could feel their solidness. Almost 1/3 of Neverwinter’s winter steel output was used to build these two doors. Their simple rectangular shape might seem easy to produce, but their size alone required a higher level of skill.
On the day the doors were installed, Roland had witnessed the scene as they were opened and shut. Listening to the toneless roar of the steam engine, the harsh grating on the sliding tracks, and watching the slowly closing doors, Roland felt as if he was in charge of the entrance that protected them from doomsday.
On each side of the two iron doors, there was half a line of words. Combined together, they meant the Third Border City.
Roland and the crowd of people that followed him walked into the cave. The light suddenly dimmed.
Phyllis took out the Stone of Lighting and walked in the front of the team. She began to lead everybody down the deep cave.
“Your Majesty, I don’t quite get why you call this place the Third Border City.” Wendy said with bewilderment, “If the outside Border Area is the first Border City, then where is the second Border City?”
“Because the third is the proper title,” Roland replied.
“Ah?”
“Anyway, don’t you think the number three goes quite well with a stronghold? Besides, it doesn’t matter what name we give it. What matters is
people can remember it,” Roland said with his hands laid out.
“Alright, as long as you like it,” Wendy said, twitching her mouth.
After they stopped talking, the only sounds in the cave were the echoing footsteps and water dripping.
Due to the lack of spraymecs, only the floor of the cave was paved with concrete. On the two sides of the floor was a ditch and a mine railway. If materials and food were needed, they would be transported by carts hauled by the other engine at the entrance. Roland had heard from Phyllis that the God’s Punishment Witches were once interested in measuring the power of the machine, and they found out that even five of them pulling a rope together could not stop the steam engine from dragging them forward.
Since the walls and ceiling of the cave could not be covered with concrete, leaking became inevitable. Luckily, the temperature inside of the mountain would not get too low so the water inside would not freeze. While devouring worms would leave a trail of mucus behind while crawling forward, when its mucus dried out, it would glue the dirt together as if smearing a layer of paste on the surface of the walls and ceiling. Because of this, there was no danger that the cave would collapse.
After about a half an hour’s walk, the cave got brighter.
“We’re almost there.” Phyllis slowed down. “Your Majesty, do you need…”
Roland knew what she wanted to say and interrupted her. “It’s ok. Take me there now.”
The God’s Punishment Witch turned back and looked meaningfully at Roland, “… Ok, I understand.”
Upon exiting the narrow cave, they entered a large cavern. In front of them was a spacious dome building that was the size of a football field. Throughout the cavern, tens of light beams were projected onto the dome and cast bright spots on the floor. With the help of this light, people would not feel oppressed in this area even though they were deep under the mountains.
Besides the witches, the First Army was also dispatched to guard this place. Each of the soldiers had been examined by Nightingale personally to make sure they were Roland’s strongest supporters.
The deeper into the dome they went in, the more they got away from this light. In the center of the spacious dome, there was only a few rhombus shaped magic cores. They were the three Taquila Senior Witches… or in other words, original carriers.
Roland walked to the three of them with a smile on his face. He stuck out his right hand toward the leading blob monster. “Finally we could meet. You must be Pasha, aren’t you?”
At that moment, Roland could feel someone panting behind him and felt that a hand was on his shoulder. Undoubtedly, if anything went wrong, Nightingale would drag him into the Mist instantly.
The blob being fell silent for a while then a familiar voice sounded, “I’m surprised, Your Majesty. Before today, we’ve only been communicating through the Illusion Core. Perhaps the illusionary images weren’t that frightening, but at this moment, in front of me, the calmness you’re showing is astonishing. To be honest, you’re the first one who’s seen this shell and reacted as if nothing had happened. Even when the Taquila witches first saw this form, they weren’t as calm as you are. I’m curious, aren’t you afraid at all?” She paused, reached out a tentacle, and gently tangled it with Roland’s hand. “But you’re right. I’m Pasha. Thanks for supporting the Taquila witches.”
“He hasn’t supported us. It’s hard to say whether the group of common people he sent are meant to help or supervise us,” a cold consciousness came in. “It won’t be too late to tell him after he finishes exploring the big snow mountain.”
“Alethea! We made an agreement!” a third voice interrupted.
“Alright. I’ll shut up.”
It seemed the other two were Alethea and Celine, who often appeared beside Pasha. Roland did not mind their tones. Firstly, those ancient witches had lived in an era where witches were superior and so it would be difficult for them to change their mindset. Secondly, compared to having their attitudes changed, he wished more to make some substantial gains.
“The Fjords’ most famous explorer once said that fear comes from unknown. No matter how you look, your souls belong to Taquila witches,” Roland said, smiling, “and I’m no stranger to the latter. Agatha has become an essential member of the Witch Union and a beloved and trusted member at that.”
Roland noticed that Pasha’s tentacle was rather coarse and the surface of it was not as dry as it looked. The surface of her tentacle felt moist. Perhaps it was because she constantly crawled in the dirt. Roland could clearly feel the warmth beneath her skin. This giant blob in front of him was, undoubtably, a fresh lifeform.
“…I see,” Pasha’s voice sounded sentimental, “and you’re right. Our cooperation had begun long ago.”
“Faced with the threats of the demons, everybody should let go of past prejudices and try hard to join hands.” After some short casual conversation, Roland came to the main subject. “The relics of gods have arrived, right? Can I have a look at the things that determine mankind’s lives?”
Pasha waved the main tentacles on top of her head. “Of course. Come with me.”