Book 3: Chapter 204: The Morning Star of Pelosi

A sixty-meter-long war wagon thundered along the rails, its wake whipping the snow on either side into the air and scattering flakes everywhere.

Sitting at the flip-out exit on the rear of the wagon, Sylutia propped her hand against her ear to keep stray hair from lashing her face, while her other hand gripped the nearby railing. The cold crept through the steel rail, making her fingers turn slightly pale.

Among the many Sixth Tier war machines, this "Furnace War Wagon" was not particularly large. It was a simplified, improved version of the classic "War Furnace," having traded the original heavy armor and heavy weapons for a lighter frame to gain greater mobility.

Racing along the rails, they sped toward their destination, Golanis.

The wind and snow trailed behind, the speeding wagon tearing apart falling flakes. Lamps at its front cut through the white landscape, moving quickly with the wagon and gradually closing in on that tiny mark on the map.

An hour later, the wagon's shrill brakes screamed along the track, sparks scattering, and it finally slowed, coming to a steady stop in the mining town shrouded by the storm.

Many miners and residents who had not yet evacuated still lived here; white walls sheltered several hundred households against the wind and snow while lamps continued to burn through the blizzard.

Jumping down from the wagon, Sylutia barely took a few steps before the rest of the crew disembarked to follow. Novadon arrived at her side as well.

"Let's go, we'll ask about the local situation," Novadon said, leading his group of engineer-mages forward.

Soon they met the town mayor and residents, and once they learned Sylutia and her party's purpose, they quickly agreed to help.

"We have a good stock of coal briquettes. I'll notify everyone to come help right away!" The mayor was an older man with a thick, black beard. He rang the big bell at the town square, calling many residents out from the snow.

When people began to gather, he climbed onto a temporary wooden platform set up in the plaza.

"Hey, folks! There's a big task for us today." His voice was deep and booming.

"The Ninth Column of the army is heading north to Candela. They have an important mission: to resupply the North Wind Defense Line with Scorching Sun Crystals, but their train doesn't have enough fuel. They need our coal briquettes."

"People, this is a top-priority matter for the entire Alliance. Let’s get moving and prepare their supplies quickly so they can proceed smoothly." With a few simple sentences, the mayor explained the situation and rallied everyone into action.

It was as if his passion infected the crowd—many answered loudly and quickly ran to the coal storage, harnessed the town carriages, fetched tools, and began helping with the hauling.

Sylutia and Novadon had prepared many contingency plans in case the locals refused to cooperate, but they did not expect this.

No persuasion was needed; when the townspeople learned the situation, they voluntarily spread the word and nearly everyone in the town came to help. The warm scene left both of them surprised and moved.

"They're truly good people," Novadon said, his emotions stirred, feeling an indescribable gratitude.

"Yes." Sylutia nodded slightly at his side, sharing the same surprise.

After the petty strife they had recently endured, it was unexpected to find such hospitable and sincere people in this small town. They asked for nothing and, despite the bitter cold, worked hard together to load the briquettes into the cargo hold behind the war wagon.

Hundreds of tons of briquettes were carried out piece by piece and placed in the wagon’s hold—no bargaining, no questions, no hesitation. Finally, even Sylutia could not help asking,

"Do you have any other heating fuel left? If the cold wind continues, what will you do?"

"We've got some dried cow dung left over," an older man said. "We can trade with distant shepherd tribes for more. It should hold for a while."

"As long as the wall the Alliance built for you still stands, the blizzard will affect only outside the town. But if the North Wind Defense Line fails, the whole Alliance's northern region will be affected. What you have here is hardly enough," a local uncle pounded his chest and said.

"Don't worry. You people are the Roko, who live more in the north. You're more cold-tolerant than others." The Roko were a northern ethnic group; compared to the other locals, they were better adapted to the cold.

"Even so..." Sylutia glanced at the gathered residents and shook her head slightly.

Even if they were more cold-tolerant, humans are still humans. Against overwhelming calamity, individual endurance matters little. There was no point in saying much now because their mission left no room for mistakes. If the North Wind Defense Line fell, the consequences would be unthinkable.

Taking a deep breath, Sylutia nodded to show she understood. "Do you have any other difficulties? I mean, within our ability, we can try to help."

They could not solve the current crisis completely, but they could provide some compensation or assistance in other ways.

"Difficulties?" The locals fell into thought.

"I can't think of anything at the moment, but there is one thing we are truly worried about," an uncle spoke up.

"All towns and cities to the north rely on the Alliance's network of towers. The facilities inside can relay messages from communication orbs to distant places."

"But our town is remote and can only rely on the nearest node. The tower there stopped responding a few days ago, and our communication with the outside world is almost cut off."

"If that tower can be repaired, it would help us a great deal."

"Alright, I understand." Sylutia nodded and then went to tell Novadon what she had learned.

After hearing it, he quickly grasped the situation.

"What that uncle said is correct. This town sits in the middle of a large pasture area with no other towns around. There’s only that one northern monitoring tower. Normally, a Third Tier mage would be stationed there to maintain it and monitor local monsters and Shadow World incursions."

"But the situation changed. The mage stationed there likely evacuated, causing the communication systems to fail."

"Repairing the equipment isn't difficult. The wagon carries spare devices. Once repaired and a fire seed is inserted, even without a resident mage, it can maintain communications for months."

"However, there are no rails leading there, and our mages' flight speed isn't fast enough. If someone goes, they won't make it back to the train in time." He looked at the young woman as he spoke.

"No problem, leave it to me." There was no one here besides her who could complete the task. When Novadon explained, she understood.

"Then I'll have them move the spare equipment quickly. Don't worry—that device isn't large; it should fit in your storage key." Novadon immediately ordered his companions to act.

Ten minutes later, Sylutia packed the equipment and the fire seed and received the map the locals provided. Novadon gave one more briefing and handed her a memory gem.

"This stores the device's operating principles and repair steps. If anything's unclear when you get there, you can review it."

"I've planned your route. After installing the device, fly 30 degrees east of north and cross about 240 kilometers of wasteland. You'll find the rails that cut through it."

"Time is tight. Two hundred forty kilometers is a long distance. If you can't catch up to the train, you'll have to continue north on your own and reach Candela on foot," Novadon warned.

"Good luck, Hedra."

After accepting Novadon's blessing, Sylutia bowed to the mayor and the gathered townspeople, then expanded wings of silver light-woven threads from her back and leapt upward. Her wings beat, her speed surged, and she vanished into the swirling snow.

"What a brave young girl." The mayor and townspeople watched Sylutia depart and prayed for her.

"May she catch that speeding train and, like a morning star, pierce the night."

"The Morning Star of Yuhenggu." The crowd bowed their heads in prayer.

Legend said that in the distant Fourth Era a golden morning star streaked across the night sky, its brilliant light illuminating half a small continent and forever etched into memory. Poems about that morning star were written across the lands, and a bard named Silius once sang the tale with the most heartbreaking beauty. Scholars came to call the star "Silius's Morning Star."

For those living year-round in the frigid zones, life was full of dim, cold snow; that gloom, noise, and ice were a constant violent storm, like a rain that never ceased and soaked every corner of existence.

So the people there despised flames. In the quiet taverns, the songs of bards doused in alcohol were about the only things that could summon a faint warmth for life, allowing them to face another day.

The story of "Yuhenggu's Morning Star" was not yet forgotten on the southern small continent; though only mentioned in ancient poetic tomes, the tale still circulated locally.

On that harsh wasteland of broken silence and white sky, perhaps only a streaking morning star in the night could give travelers a sliver of hope.

Through the swirling snow, Sylutia flapped onward. Cold winds continually washed past her sides, stealing body heat. Her delicate face tightened as frost formed.

Snow packed into the gaps at her forehead and froze the outer layers of her hair, and her cloak stiffened from the cold. Her normally soft, translucent ears now felt like they were being cut by knives; even as Sylutia accelerated blood circulation, it only slightly eased the pain.

At her current flight speed, any surface heat would be quickly blown away by the gale. Maintaining an airflow shield to block the wind would slow her down and cost extra energy.

To keep her speed as high as possible, she had to forgo constant protection, only deploying the shield briefly when she could no longer bear it to gain a bit of warmth.

About half an hour later, she found the silent tower on the pitch-black land submerged in wind and snow.

Circling and approaching the tower, she lowered her speed and finally landed slowly on a small window near the top.

She spread her fingers and shattered the window glass with an invisible force, then leapt inside and looked around.

As expected, the mage who had been stationed here had long since left. It looked like a deliberate evacuation; the doors and windows were sealed before departure, and most things inside were largely intact.

At the tower’s communications platform, the original gilt bronze orb was gone.

For a tower, the most valuable thing was its communications device, which had likely been taken by the mage upon evacuation. Fortunately, Sylutia had anticipated this before arriving.

She produced a heron-feather key from her cuff, opened it, and took out a gilt bronze orb about seventy centimeters in diameter, placing it back on the pedestal like a shrine base.

She then installed the fire seed, the Anvis crystal Novadon had given her, beneath the pedestal. When activated, pale blue light spread along the pedestal's inlaid patterns and lifted the gilt bronze orb, letting it float in midair.

Sylutia then began to manipulate the orb, slowly calibrating it to the positions of the stars and synchronizing the timing. A faint ripple spread out from the tower in all directions.

Once complete, the system would run unattended for at least three months, maintaining communications. Beyond that would require someone to come and perform maintenance.

After she confirmed the communications were normal, Sylutia contacted the train crew and Novadon, who was on his way back, to learn the train's rough location and speed, then resumed her flight.

She sealed the broken window and then surged into the firmament. Snowflakes disappeared from her sight as she ascended into the clouds, then broke through into air higher than the cloud layer. The air was thinner and even colder, with more turbulent currents.

Without the interference of snow, the world opened into vast emptiness and silence. The high-altitude airflow was fierce yet soundless; only the cold moonlight hung above, still shining.

Sylutia adjusted her own abilities and applied the long-neglected Luminous Moon Breathing Technique to her body. The faint moonlight reflected and flowed, and her exhausted, chilled body gradually recovered.

She flew on again across the endless, moonlit cloudsea.

Against this vast sky, her small moving figure was almost invisible as she crashed into giant cloud mountains and then slipped out the other side, over and over.

...

An hour later, a pale silver morning star pierced the layers of clouds in the night, glittering through the falling snow as it slowly descended. It moved in the same direction as the train racing across the land—like two mirrored meteors in sky and earth, drawing steadily closer.

Finally, Sylutia landed on the train’s roof, took a few steps forward on bent knees to steady herself, and then her back wings dispersed like dying stars.

Cerise and the others who had been waiting on the roof hurried over, wrapping the girl in blankets and carrying her back into the warm carriage.

Under the warm orange glow of the lamps, Cerise ran her fingers through the frost-frozen hair on the girl's forehead, melting the ice crystals and wiping gently.

"Welcome home, our brave little princess."