Chapter 483: Void Rising, A Monstrous Lie

"Boom!"

Somewhere on the continent, where the Allied Forces confronted the towers of the Utopia organization, another fearless charge by the knights drove a massive lance of battle-aura into the tower’s flank. Amidst a deafening roar, the entire structure disintegrated and collapsed.

"The final tower is confirmed destroyed. All Utopia towers have been razed. Thank you all for your valor and sacrifice."

The communicator from the Sky Mechanical City reached out to the legion, confirming the end of this phase of battle and expressing gratitude, though their voice remained devoid of any genuine joy.

"It appears the Utopia organization’s plan has advanced to the next stage. Though it will be difficult, please prepare for the next engagement. We cannot confirm when it will arrive, but they will undoubtedly be stronger."

The communicator continued, explaining that Utopia had used the towers as bait to launch a surprise attack on the Holy Church, successfully forging a second "node."

After the first node was forged, the strength of Utopia’s forces surged significantly. Now, with the second, neither the Sky Mechanical City nor the Five-Race Alliance could gauge the extent of the power they had gained, nor when they would strike again.

"Understood. We will rest and regroup as soon as possible. Does the Sky Mechanical City have any further progress on Utopia’s objectives or their technology?"

The commander confirmed receipt of the message, gesturing for the nearby medic and alchemist to tend to his shattered right arm while pressing for updates on the scholars' research into the Void and the organization.

This was vital; otherwise, the Five-Race Alliance would remain like a headless fly, unable to discern Utopia’s true intent, where they would strike next, or how to mount a counter-offensive.

"I am sorry, but I must be honest: we remain completely in the dark regarding this organization’s goals. Our research into the Void has seen minor progress, but it is extremely limited..."

The communicator delivered the disheartening news. Truth be told, being allies with a riddle-maker is agonizing, but having one as an enemy is truly unbearable.

Utopia was that riddle-maker, leaving the Alliance utterly baffled. Every blow felt like striking cotton, with no force finding purchase—a sensation of indescribable despair.

"I see... I hope there will be some progress soon."

The commander replied.

"There will be."

The communicator’s tone was firm, carrying a weight of conviction before the transmission ended.

"Sigh... I have no real confidence. How does this organization hide within history without leaving a single trace? Even the Sky Mechanical City has no records of them. Honestly, it is difficult, truly difficult. How is one to deal with such an enemy?"

After the call, the communicator sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair and muttering to himself. The pressure was immense—not just for him, but for all of them. They were the first to receive the news and the first to relay it, and lately, none of it could be called good.

"Hmm?"

While lost in thought, the communicator had been subconsciously tapping his fingers on the desk—a small habit. But suddenly, something felt off. He couldn't name it, but a strange sensation lingered in his mind.

He, a wizard by trade, did not need to investigate for long. Soon, the equipment of the Sky Mechanical City and the observers alerted everyone to what was unfolding.

"The concentration of Void energy is rising. It is not limited to the special environments created by Utopia; this shift is affecting the entire continent."

The situation became clear: the environment of the entire continent was changing. The Void seemed to be drawing closer to the material world, and the material world, contrary to its nature, was not repelling it, but naturally accepting the rising concentration of Void energy.

"We have observed fluctuations in two of the special environments created by Utopia. They are projecting power into the Void, exerting an unknown influence. Preliminary estimates suggest this is what is causing the continent-wide rise in Void energy."

The observers monitored the "nodes" using their instruments and innate abilities. These nodes were operating on principles unknown to them, manipulating the Void.

The Void was now like a reservoir filled to the brim, the water rising slowly, pushing aside the lid and seeping, drop by drop, into the material world.

The first to sense these changes were the wizards, whose connection to the Void was innate. Next were the sensors on the Sky Mechanical City, then the soul-attuned mages, followed by the knights, and finally, the ordinary people with no special power.

The rise in energy was not fast—in fact, it was agonizingly slow. Without careful perception, it was almost imperceptible, leaving only a subconscious sense of unease. If one did not pay special attention, it seemed to have no effect.

But this was unprecedented. Even during the Abyss War, there had never been a continent-wide surge of Void energy. Its implications could not be ignored; what Utopia was doing might be far more terrifying than the Alliance had ever imagined.

"I don't understand. Where did these people get this technology? We have studied for so long; our magitech and alchemy are vastly superior to the past. Why, then, are we inferior to Utopia in every aspect of Void research? Why, even with better conditions, can we not manufacture something like the 'Morning Star'?"

A scholar researching the Void threw down his instruments and clawed at his hair in hysteria. The shifting concentration of Void energy around him had become the final straw for this middle-aged man.

Long periods of stagnation, combined with Utopia’s technology—which overturned his fundamental understanding of the Void—had kept him in a state of high psychological stress. Before, he could console himself with the thought that he was safe aboard the Sky Mechanical City.

But now, sensing the Void energy shifting around him in tandem with the rest of the continent, he could no longer lie to himself. As a wizard, he knew exactly what would happen if the concentration continued to rise, and it filled him with a profound, wordless despair.

"Snap!"

Another scholar slapped him hard on the back, pulling the panicked man back to reality.

"Hey, pull yourself together! You’re a wizard. If your will falters, I’ll have to deal with a suddenly warped, rampaging Void creature. Think of me, at least. Don't be so hopeless; there is some good news."

The other scholar’s complaining tone reached him, helping him regain his balance. He asked about the "good news" as a way to distract himself.

"The fluctuations from those two special environments were distinct—so distinct that even our shallow-range observation equipment could pinpoint their locations. And based on that, we’ve found a line that isn't so obvious, one that doesn't originate solely from those two environments."

The other scholar explained.

"You mean we can confirm where Utopia will act next?"

The middle-aged scholar asked.

"Yes. Let me see... the location is confirmed. Good heavens, it’s this place—the Ash Barrens. Whether it’s the surface or the City of Sin below, I can't be sure, but there is still hope. Whether we understand the Void or not, as long as we can stop their next move, we’ll be fine."

The other shrugged, offering the answer.

"Right... as long as we prevent them from creating new special environments, we can win."

The middle-aged scholar clenched his fist, whispering firmly. He forced himself not to think of the more desperate possibilities, engaging in simple self-hypnosis: "What if Utopia doesn't need another node? What if destroying the nodes is useless? What if this is just another bait like the towers..."

"Mr. Icarus’s experiments are showing results. His approach of starting from the basics has solved many problems that previous theories couldn't. Perhaps there is a chance we can figure this out."

The other scholar reminded him.

"How is Mr. Icarus’s research going?"

"That is the good news. He seems to have made a discovery and is working in isolation. We should have results in a day or two."

"Though it’s unprofessional for a scholar, I suppose I’ll try relying on the Chairman for once..."

...

At this very moment, Icarus was in his quarters, looking at the documents before him with a grave expression. He was not truly a commander; he was a scholar by trade, but his superior intellect and position on the Central Council had forced him into this role.

For now, he had entrusted his duties to Astartes, the tower spirit of the Sky Mechanical City, and trusted members of the Academy, while he focused entirely on a hypothesis he could no longer ignore.

On the two tables before him lay a comparison of research results on Utopia’s technology before and after the fundamental re-evaluation of Void studies. Before, progress had been nonexistent; after, there was improvement, yet it remained a struggle.

The more Icarus thought, the stranger it felt. How could there be so many errors in the theory?

Technology, provided there is no major collapse, always advances. Magitech, alchemy, even knightly cultivation—all followed this path. Why, then, did it not apply to the Void?

"It defies logic. The only thing that could make later technology inferior to the past, or completely stagnant, is deception. If all subsequent efforts were built upon a foundation of errors, then any progress made would only be progress in the wrong direction."

Icarus’s hypothesis grew bolder and more terrifying.

"This wouldn't work for other technologies. Magitech and alchemy are observable, visible, and verifiable. Only Void knowledge is not."

"Could it be that all the data on the Void, all the methods of wizard cultivation, are flawed? To hide such fundamental errors for so long, every step described must be 'correct' in a way that yields the intended results..."

Icarus’s thoughts began to dissect the possibility. To achieve this, one would have to ensure that followers experienced a process where "the steps are wrong, the results are right, but the foundation is fundamentally flawed." In other disciplines, this would be impossible. But the profession of a wizard, the nature of the Void—it was inherently ambiguous.

Were the records of the Void and the cultivation methods passed down to this day all deliberately rewritten with misinformation from the very beginning?

If the truth is indeed as preposterous as this, then it is a lie of monumental proportions.