Translator: CinderTL
Just then, the melodious strains of a lute echoed through the cabin.
Galvis had begun strumming the strings at some point, his eyes shining with a near-obsessive fervor. He sang aloud in his signaturely flamboyant tone:
"Ah! Behold this lost jewel!"
"Silverglow City, the legend made flesh!"
"A thousand years of dust cannot dim your glory!"
"The river of time cannot wash away your splendor!"
Durga's thick fingers gripped the railing tightly, a rare expression of awe crossing the grey dwarf's stern face.
"In the name of the Soulforgers—"
His voice trembled deeply.
"This craftsmanship... this architecture... it's even more magnificent than Lava City!"
Bronson was practically pressed against the viewport, his eyes wide with astonishment. He didn't even notice his notebook slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor.
"Incredible—the accounts in A Study of Ancient Architecture were true! Look at the structure of that crystal dome; it perfectly matches the description of the 'Crown of Flowing Light' from the ancient texts!"
Avril leaped lightly onto the control console, her keen elven eyes sweeping over the city's silhouette.
"Every curve is so elegant—" she murmured, her fingers tracing the architectural lines in the air. "It's like a dream woven from moonlight."
"Even the Silver Star's Descent, sung of in our oldest elven ballads," she continued, "could hardly compare to this—"
As the rest of the crew remained lost in awe, Roland was the first to snap back to reality. He cleared his throat, his voice slightly hoarse from astonishment, breaking the silence in the cabin.
"Friends..."
He clapped his hands sharply to regain their attention.
"Don't forget where we are. Stay sharp."
Once everyone had composed themselves, Roland held his breath and gazed downward. Thanks to his superhuman senses, he noticed the anomaly far sooner than his companions.
"Durga," he said, narrowing his eyes at the Grey Dwarf Chief. "Begin a reconnaissance orbit around the outskirts of Silverglow City. Do not enter the city limits directly."
As the shell ship began its orbit, Roland's gaze remained fixed on the distant city.
Yet the more closely he observed, the deeper his frown grew.
Something's wrong... Something is very wrong.
What first alerted him was the city's unbelievable state of preservation.
Everything he had seen on the Aetheron Continent had been broken walls, crumbling ruins, and desolate wastelands. Yet Silverglow City appeared as pristine as if it had just been built, as though a thousand years of time had left no trace upon it.
Even more unsettling was the thin mist flowing over the city's surface.
Without Roland's keen perception, this faint, ethereal veil would have been nearly impossible to detect. It resembled neither a standard protective magic formation nor naturally occurring fog, but instead swirled and spiraled slowly around the city. It breathed with the gentle rhythm of a living creature, pulsing with an indescribable vitality.
But what truly sent a chill down Roland's spine were the figures moving within the city.
From this single, fleeting glimpse, he saw at least several thousand living beings. These were not the downtrodden survivors common in the ruins, but residents walking the streets with calm composure.
Their clothes were neat, their faces wore pleasant smiles, and they chatted in small groups. Children chased each other on the plaza, and vendors called out warmly from their stalls.
Such an ordinary, heartwarming scene of daily life would be utterly commonplace in any normal city.
But here, on this continent shrouded in death and desolation, within this impossibly intact ancient city, the natural smiles on the residents' faces felt all the more eerie.
It was as if a vibrant paradise had suddenly appeared in a painting of the apocalypse—a beauty so perfect it was unsettling.
Roland's fingertips unconsciously tightened against the edge of the viewport.
In his initial expectations, even if Silverglow City had once been the most brilliant jewel of the Crystal Era, it should have still borne the scars of time after millennia of vicissitudes.
It might have retained its general outline, but it was bound to have collapsed domes, mottled walls, or ruins eroded by wind and sand.
Even if the incredible technology of that era had preserved it relatively well, it should never have looked like this.
How could Silverglow City, the one before his eyes, resemble an ancient city that had weathered a great calamity?
Set against the backdrop of the endless desolation surrounding it, the city was so perfect it was unsettling—a veritable Eden lost amidst a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
Could Silverglow City have developed some incomprehensible existence or device back then? Something that not only allowed them to survive the disaster that swept across the entire era, but also—isolated them from the flow of time?
Pushing his conjectures aside, Roland took a deep breath and gave Durga a grave instruction.
"Steer further away. Do not approach the city's perimeter."
Limited by their abilities, Durga and the others couldn't see the city's details as clearly as Roland could. They were bewildered by his sudden caution.
But out of their absolute trust in him, no one objected.
The shell ship slowly turned, sailing away from the outskirts of Silverglow City.
Throughout the maneuver, Roland kept his gaze fixed on the city.
The farther they drew, the more intense the sense of dissonance became.
Between the boundaries of Silverglow City and the surrounding wasteland, there seemed to be an invisible dividing line.
Inside the line lay a perfect city-state, shimmering with light and teeming with life.
Outside the line was a dead, broken, and forgotten world of desolation.
This nearly brutal sense of fragmentation sent a chill running down Roland's spine.
But before he could fully process this unease, the sight beyond Silverglow City's walls made his nerves tighten once more.
Just beneath the towering walls of the perfect city, the shocking ruins of a battlefield came into stark view.
Shattered armor and broken weapons lay half-buried in the scorched earth, while massive impact craters and the scars of magical burns marred the landscape.
Judging by the postures of the corpses—not yet fully covered by wind-blown sand—an incredibly brutal battle had taken place here.
And it had happened recently.
Roland's expression hardened instantly. He immediately signaled Durga to land the shell ship at the edge of the battlefield.
He first surveyed the surroundings from the deck, and only after confirming there were no immediate threats did he lead Avril and Galvis cautiously onto the scorched earth.
The soil beneath their feet was scorched in varying shades of black, as if it had been eroded by different types of energy in succession.
Avril knelt down, her fingertips lightly touching a skeletal remain half-buried in the dirt. The elf's keen senses made her frown slightly.
"These wounds... they don't look like they were caused by ordinary weapons," she murmured, pointing to a puncture wound on the skeleton's chest with an unnervingly smooth edge.
"And there are at least three completely different combat styles evident on this battlefield."
Galvis bent down and picked up a fragment of broken shoulder armor, the emblem of the Rust Knight Order still faintly visible on its surface.
"It seems they fought a desperate battle here."
The bard, for once shedding his usual flippancy, spoke with a grave tone. He then pointed to a completely different mark on another nearby corpse.
A sun symbol pierced by three diagonal slashes.
"This must be the insignia of another survivor faction."
Roland walked slowly through the battlefield, his piercing gaze scanning every detail.
Besides the standard-issue gear of the Rust Knight Order, he discovered at least four distinct styles of weapons and armor. Some bore the crude marks of modification, clearly handcrafted from materials scavenged from the ruins. Others retained the characteristics of ancient craftsmanship, seemingly unearthed from the relics of a lost civilization.
But beyond all this, what drew the most attention was the metal rail extending from the edge of the battlefield.
Forged from a dark alloy, its surface was etched with intricate geometric patterns. Despite the aftermath of the war, it remained astonishingly intact. The pale blue crystals embedded along its sides were now dim and lifeless, yet they still hinted at the exquisite craftsmanship they contained.
The track stretched straight toward Silverglow City, which stood intact in the distance, like a ribbon connecting the past to the present.
Just then, a faint vibration suddenly pulsed from the direction of the rails.
Roland's pupils constricted. He instantly pulled Avril and Galvis to their feet, and the three of them swiftly retreated from the battlefield, vanishing behind a heavily weathered sand dune at its edge.
Almost the moment they took cover, a peculiar train glided silently along the track.
Its streamlined body was cast from a dark metal, its surface etched with intricate runes. A massive, deep-blue crystal embedded in the locomotive's front emitted a soft, steady glow. The armored plates along the train's sides were covered in fine scratches, yet they did nothing to mar its elegant lines.
Most astonishing of all, the train moved in near-perfect silence. Only the crystals on the track lit up briefly as the train passed over them, sending out concentric ripples of faint light.
The train slowed to a halt just dozens of meters from their hiding spot.
With a nearly imperceptible hiss of depressurization, the armored plate on the side of the carriage slid open like a living thing, forming a perfect circular exit.
A slender figure stepped slowly from the carriage and turned, gazing directly toward the sand dune where the three were hidden.
(End of the Chapter)
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