Chapter 1342
On this planet, where gravity was impossibly strong, space itself was compressed to a terrifying degree. A distance of just a dozen meters here would be hundreds of kilometers in normal space. With such overwhelming suppression, even the Soul Devourer couldn't mimic Hughes' soul abilities anymore...
Unable to imitate soul powers, the Soul Devourer could only follow Hughes' trajectory, maintaining its current form. Once its soul strength ran dry, the immense gravity here would tear it apart—not just into fragments, but down to the smallest particles, until it was reduced to the very same matter as this planet...
Hughes struggled to return to the Northend World, and the moment he arrived, he collapsed on the ground like a dead bird.
"Lord Merlin, I'm dying, Hughes is dying..."
Hughes lay on the ground wailing pitifully, looking utterly miserable. Both wings were broken into countless segments, every bone shattered, and most of his feathers had fallen out. He looked exactly like a half-plucked wild chicken ready for the pot...
Leon’s eyelid twitched. He pulled out a vial of life potion and forced it down Hughes’ throat, then used another to create a wave of healing water that enveloped Hughes. After more than ten minutes, Hughes finally recovered, looking exhausted. Physical recovery was no simple matter—if he were a normal lifeform, he’d have died countless times by now. Only as a soul entity could Hughes stubbornly keep his body from falling apart...
"Hughes, maybe I should get you a new body..."
Before Leon could finish his sentence, Hughes’ eyes lit up and his bird head began shaking wildly.
"No, no, no, Lord Merlin, this body is perfect! I’m very satisfied—not only can I eat desserts, I can fly..."
Leon frowned as he looked at Hughes. A sphere of life potion enveloped Hughes, and it took a full five minutes before he finally recovered. However, the feathers burned off his body didn’t regrow immediately, leaving him looking like a plucked, bald chicken.
Leon sighed internally. He didn’t even need to think to know how this would end—this plane was off-limits for now. If Hughes, with his unmatched escape skills, was roasted into a featherless bird, Leon himself would be annihilated in an instant.
Leon sorted through the spatial coordinates he’d gathered, discarding the vast majority. Of all the planes that seemed suitable, nearly ninety-nine percent could be ruled out immediately. These coordinates pointed to locations that were either bustling with powerful magic or perilously dangerous death zones—places only the strongest dared occupy, or where stepping in meant instant death.
After abandoning most of the best options, Leon was left with only three sets of spatial coordinates. These were the weakest of the suitable planes, but ‘weak’ was relative—compared to the previous ones, they were less dangerous, but still formidable for Leon’s current strength.
Leon had Hughes traverse space once more to scout ahead. The first two planes held little promise—the marked coordinates pointed to one where a massive beast of at least level forty-eight lay sleeping, another to the nest of a terrifying species that nearly destroyed Hughes’ body.
In the end, only one plane remained. Leon’s brow furrowed with dissatisfaction. While this last coordinate could meet the Gilded Rose’s needs, it was the least ideal of all the options.
With a sigh, Leon sent Hughes to investigate one last time. Less than ten minutes later, Hughes returned with good news—there was nothing dangerous near the coordinates, just a vast emptiness.
But Leon couldn’t feel any joy. The only suitable plane was an odd one—its spatial barrier was much weaker than others, and the coordinate itself was in the midst of the starry void. Opening a path to this plane meant emerging in open space, and its unique nature made it impossible to establish a stable entry point inside.
After confirming there was no immediate danger, Leon had Hughes bring him along for a look. In just a few seconds, Hughes adjusted the spatial fluctuation around Leon to match his own, then vanished with Leon from the Northend World.
They reappeared in a boundless starfield—billions of kilometers of empty space, with nothing nearby except a distant, colossal star burning with crimson flames, radiating heat across the void.
Gazing at the empty void before him, Leon silently calculated, then reached out with his senses in a particular direction. After more than ten minutes, he finally detected a faint, unusual fluctuation along a straight line.
That fleeting, anomalous ripple was where the plane’s spatial barrier overlapped with this location, causing subtle collisions. Even after tens of thousands of years, such phenomena remained exceedingly rare.
Finding a breakthrough into a plane from the endless void was pure luck—unless, like Leon, you knew the exact coordinates and search direction. Only then was it possible to locate such a point of entry.
Otherwise, searching the endless void for a breakthrough point barely a few kilometers wide was harder than finding a grain of sand in the infinite ocean of Northend World.
After a careful investigation, Leon had Hughes take him back. Seconds later, both disappeared from the starfield.
Such spatial traversal consumed immense energy, and Hughes could only bring Leon along. Each jump took considerable time, and without confirmed safety, it was impossible to travel freely.
Back in Northend World, Leon found himself troubled by how to conquer such a peculiar plane. Conquest itself was easy, but the plane’s unique nature carried enormous risks. Entry was only possible from the starry sky, and it was impossible to station large forces inside for long.
This hard-earned lesson cost countless strong lives in the future. That’s why, eventually, the spatial coordinate became the site of a colossal void island—artificially constructed by Northend World’s mages. Even then, stationed defenders were kept far from the entrance, and the Gilded Rose would need to build its base at the barrier’s threshold.
That meant magic-powered warships were absolutely necessary. Even though the area was barren for lightyears, the void was unpredictable—defending against spatial creatures and prying eyes was essential, and only magic-powered warships could do the job.
The USS Dauntless could be deployed for battle, but it was a special entity—a massive warship built from the remains of gods and demons, lacking a soul yet alive in its own way. Its mark belonged to the Blazeforge Realm, so it could only be stationed there or in its satellite planes, never anywhere else for long.
The USS Dauntless, with its god-demon frame, was terrifyingly powerful. Yet, in this situation, its strength was a flaw—fine for combat, but unsuitable for long-term defense. Only magic-powered warships would suffice.
But in this era, magic-powered warships were just emerging. Even Agalon only possessed a five-hundred-meter steel warship, which a Stellar Behemoth could tear apart in an instant—something unthinkable in the future.
A five-hundred-meter magic-powered warship, in a situation like last time, could tear a Stellar Behemoth apart in three minutes. An experienced Title Archmage was all it took to operate such a vessel.
In Northend World, the best warships were the floating kind, but even during the peak era—seven or eight thousand years later—they were little more than garbage ships for handling magical waste, not fit for transport duty.
Agalon’s steel warship was just a means of transportation, capable only of dealing with stray meteors in the void to save mages some effort. In real combat, it was nothing but a sitting duck.
Even the lowest-grade magic-powered warship, a hundred meters long and crewed by a handful of archmages, could easily shred dozens of steel warships.
Leon frowned in deep thought, feeling a headache coming on. Of the three major races under his command, the Firerock Dwarves had been stationed on the USS Dauntless, along with many alchemists sent to study the ship. After so long, they’d barely scratched the surface—the Dauntless was a Sky Rank alchemical array of the highest order, and the research so far had only laid a shaky foundation. Building a magic-powered warship with his current team was impossible, at least in the short term.
With the Gilded Rose expanding, the demand for alchemists was growing. Recruiting lower-level alchemists was simple—just sign them to a contract and the problem was solved.
But to build even a basic magic-powered warship quickly, he needed master-level alchemists—at least Grandmasters, preferably Creators—who had a solid foundation and had already developed valuable technologies from their research on floating warships.
Leon sighed. Building a magic-powered warship was a massive undertaking, not something one or two people could handle. Even he couldn’t master every detail—he knew the general direction and the key technologies, but constructing the ship was out of reach for now.
Where could he find so many Grandmasters and Creators? Other than Astral Academy, Leon couldn’t think of anywhere else.
There were plenty of alchemical factions, some with good relations to the Gilded Rose, but Astral Academy’s alchemists were the best fit for warship research—their main research direction was similar, only branching off in different ways.
Unfortunately, Leon couldn’t borrow Astral Academy’s alchemists permanently. They’d be happy to lend a hand, but such experts couldn’t be given away for free—they’d have to return after helping. For any alchemical faction, Grandmasters were pillars, and Creators were the heart of their research.
Only Astral Academy, an alchemical sanctuary with fewer restrictions, allowed for poaching so many high-level alchemists. With Agalon’s support, even if the alchemists were transferred to Gilded Rose, there’d be no problem. Agalon was already preparing to hand Astral Academy over to Leon anyway—left hand to right, it was all his in the end. Besides, letting those alchemists learn advanced techniques would be a boon for Agalon.
The three deans of Astral Academy probably already knew about this. Recruiting some Grandmasters and Creators from the Academy shouldn’t be difficult.
Leon left Gilded Rose for Astral Academy, and as soon as word got out, it stirred up unrest among the other factions.
Wilder of the Rodney Family listened to his subordinate’s report, his face twisted with anxiety.
“What? There are more than twenty Sky Rank alchemical golems in the Gilded Rose’s convoy, and Leon went to Astral Academy?”
Wilder’s face went pale, cold sweat streaming down his forehead.
I knew this wasn’t over. Leon barely reacted when someone attacked his convoy—he just defended passively. That’s way too strange. No, something’s definitely wrong.
Those twenty-plus Sky Rank alchemical golems must have been sent by the Grand Star Magus. Such a grand gesture could only come from Astral Academy. With so many golems, the attackers must have suffered heavy losses. Leon would never just let it go—now that he’s gone to Astral Academy, he must be seeking help.
Leon probably doesn’t know who attacked his convoy, but he won’t give up. If he asks for help at Astral Academy, with the Grand Star Magus there, the three deans will definitely support him. Those fools won’t be able to hide anymore. Offending the Grand Star Magus and Astral Academy means they’ll never thrive in Odin Kingdom again.
Just one word from the Grand Star Magus, and even the Odin royal family would give him face and help suppress those fools.
Damn it, I never should’ve listened to those two bastards and gone after Leon. Now, if he finds out they visited the Rodney Family, I’ll have no way to explain. This time, the Grand Star Magus won’t show any mercy…