Chapter 469 - 442: An Unheeded Treasure

Chapter 469: Chapter 442: An Unheeded Treasure

The once-glorious civilization of the Aiselon Continent had long since turned to dust over the millennia.

The long passage of time and the resulting gaps in knowledge meant that among Roland’s party, only the Minstrel, with his obsession for ancient legends and epics, knew a thing or two about that lost history.

According to Galvis, though the Aiselon Continent was vast and boundless, its political structure in that distant era was vastly different from the landscape of competing nations Roland was familiar with.

Of course, Galvis didn’t speak with absolute certainty; after all, his knowledge was based mostly on fragmented ballads and vague historical accounts.

But one thing was certain: even with undercurrents of conflict among the various human tribes, they were all, at least in name, subjects of a single, vast, and powerful Empire.

The Dawn Wind Empire.

It wasn’t just humanity. The other major intelligent Races on the Aiselon Continent—such as Elves, Dwarves, and even rarer peoples—all seemed to follow a similar structure, each coalescing into a unified power.

In that era, the largest and most significant conflicts on the continent were typically between one Race and another—wars fought over resources, faith, or philosophies of existence—rather than endless infighting within the same people.

Due to the vast differences in Power, Traits, and population among the Races, the territories they occupied on the Aiselon Continent were naturally distinct and varied wildly.

Weaker Races often inhabited remote, barren, or environmentally hostile regions.

The more powerful Races, on the other hand, occupied the continent’s most fertile core regions, where Magic Power was most abundant.

As humans, a Race whose Power placed them firmly in the upper echelons of the continent’s hierarchy, the Dawn Wind Empire commanded a vast territory known as the "Breath of the Morning Wind."

Whenever he mentioned the "Breath of the Morning Wind," Galvis’s tone would invariably take on the unique longing and flourish of a Minstrel, as if he were reciting an ode to a lost golden age.

"According to legend, the ’Breath of the Morning Wind’ was a blessed land!"

He would begin, his eyes sparkling.

"It had rolling hills as vibrant as the finest jade and clear, winding rivers whose beds were said to be paved with faintly glowing crystal sand."

"The ancient epics say the sky there was always a strange, pale gold—a radiance born not of the sun, but from the gentle, active Magic Particles suffusing the very air."

"Towering mountains, held aloft by anti-gravity Runes, dotted the vast plains like islands in the sky, crowned with elegant spires and hanging gardens."

"Magic was not the privilege of a few but was woven into the very fabric of daily life, from powering Rapid Charge vehicles to nourishing the crops in fertile soil..."

"Lush forests and magnificent cities coexisted in harmony. Giant, softly glowing fungi grew alongside ancient oaks, lining the streets."

"They say that in the ’Breath of the Morning Wind,’ even a common farmer might know a simple Trick or two to tend his fields... It was a radiant nexus of wisdom, art, and Arcane Knowledge, the very symbol of humanity’s peak Power and civilization!"

The tapestry of memory slowly folded in his mind. Roland’s unfocused gaze sharpened, returning to the present reality.

The pervading, deathly gray fog, and the massive, ruined Shadows of buildings looming within it, laid bare the bone-chillingly cruel contrast between the epic tales and their current reality.

"...This... is the ’Breath of the Morning Wind’?"

Galvis’s quiet voice arose beside them, tinged with an indescribable melancholy.

Roland sighed softly. As he gazed out the porthole at the desolate landscape being devoured by the silent, gray fog, a pang of regret, much like Galvis’s, stirred in his heart.

He replied, his voice sounding somewhat muffled in the thick fog.

"If the Magic Flow map drawn by Mr. Bronson and our cross-reference with Elder Duadeng’s map are both correct... then this should be the ’Breath of the Morning Wind’ from your songs."

The effective range of the "Magic Net Disturbance Detector" was limited, so the Shell Ship couldn’t perform long, continuous spatial jumps. After each leg of the journey, it had to exit the unstable, temporary passage and return to the Aiselon Continent to recalibrate its position and fix on the next coordinate point.

The place where they had stopped this time just so happened to be within the legendary region of the "Breath of the Morning Wind."

However, the domain of the Breath of the Morning Wind was immense. Their current location was still a considerable distance from the former core territory of the Dawn Wind Empire and its magnificent capital city.

For Roland, however, this location offered an unexpected convenience.

Their current position was very close to a place he had long planned on investigating.

At this thought, Roland lowered his head to carefully re-examine the ancient map given to him by Duadeng.

He then called out to Bronson, who was busy on the deck not far away with Duraga, hunched over the "Magic Net Disturbance Detector" as it pulsed with a faint blue light.

"Mr. Bronson, how long will it take to lock in the next stable coordinate?"

Bronson looked up from a complex mess of Runes and data, making a quick estimate.

"At least half a day. The Magic Power environment here is even more chaotic than it was near Rusted Town. The interference is intense."