Gawain concentrated on the image that only he could see, confirming that it indeed displayed the topography centered around the current Cecil settlement within a hundred-kilometer radius. However, his familiar controls to zoom in or out had stopped working, with the view locked at a fixed range. The once-crystal-clear satellite image had degraded into a blurry view obscured with strange patches of color.
What did these colors represent? Heat signatures, some other kind of sensor data… or simply a malfunction?
He recalled the words he'd heard upon disconnecting from the high-altitude perspective: phrases like "power failure," "mainframe restart failure," and "escape protocol." This strongly suggested the system was malfunctioning. Moreover, his inability to adjust the view confirmed his suspicion.
Reflecting further, he began to realize that his soul—or rather, his mental state—had undergone some transformation. Although he'd been granted a human body after returning to the ground, his spirit had retained the ability to connect with some "entity" in the sky. Over the past few months, he had been offline, but the crystals he found had seemingly restored and strengthened that connection.
As for whatever ancient device floated above—whether satellite or space station—it was still in a faulty state. Whether from a last-gasp power surge or a successful reboot of its mainframe, it somehow clung to life, still functioning, albeit with corrupted visuals.
In light of this, Gawain began to worry: if his connection to the "satellite" was so profound that it implied a symbiotic link—if the thing up there completely shut down, would it be fatal to him?
While he knew this scenario was unlikely—after all, he had fully reincarnated in the body of Gawain Cecil, and he'd heard mention of the "escape protocol"—he couldn't ignore the risk entirely.
But the problem was clear: that device was most likely in a geostationary orbit, while he was trapped in a medieval kingdom. Not only could he not repair the "satellite," he couldn't even see it.
As these thoughts raced through his mind, he continued studying the details of the aerial view, noticing that the colors weren't static. Different areas gradually brightened or dimmed in a rhythmic cycle, maintaining a mostly stable pattern even as they fluctuated. Just as he tried to analyze the changes, the image abruptly transformed.
A floating window appeared at the top of the screen, displaying a line of text in flickering, distorted characters. He couldn't recognize the language—it wasn't Chinese, nor any language from the continent of Loren. But as he stared at it in astonishment, the meaning translated directly into his mind: *"New data: gas giant activity increase detected, alert level raised to four."*
The display started shaking, overlaid with layers of interference. Alarmed, Gawain snapped his attention back to the real world, his vision shifting as he reoriented himself, steadying only after a moment. Ignoring the lingering dizziness, he leaped from his desk and dashed towards the tent entrance.
Amber, who had been silently watching from her shadow form, yelped in surprise and leapt out of the shadows. "Whoa!"
Gawain had already burst out of the tent, startling the two militia guards stationed outside, who looked back at him in confusion. Ignoring them, he raised his head to gaze at the sun high in the sky.
The great sun was slowly and majestically crossing the sky, a faint halo surrounding it like a thin mist, everything seemingly normal.
But soon, red streaks started appearing on the sun's surface, faintly resembling blood vessels across an eyeball.
In his mind, the aerial view continued, with colors surging in intensity until they reached a new equilibrium. Numbers occasionally flickered at the edges of the display, unreadable yet suggesting some form of measurement.
A realization dawned on him: these colors weren't mere glitches—they were part of a special monitoring mode, perhaps even more informative than the direct overhead view.
The crimson lines across the sun thickened and spread into blotches, gradually drawing the attention of the workers in the camp. They pointed and whispered, until the overseers' shouts reminded them to return to work.
Heidi, who had been nearby helping to solidify foundations with her transmutation spells, also noticed the change. She looked up at the sun, then glanced over at the center of the camp, where she spotted Gawain standing solemnly and watching the sun.
She quickly ran over. "Ancestor, it appears there are red spots on the sun again."
Gawain raised a hand, signaling her to remain silent. His eyes stayed on the sun, but his focus was on the image in his mind.
After some time, the red areas on the sun stopped growing, and a new message appeared in the monitor view: *"New data: gas giant activity normalizing, alert cleared."*
The red streaks on the sun's surface quickly receded, and the colors in the display returned to their original state.
Though the alert had been lifted, Gawain's sense of caution remained. Each new discovery yielded more questions than answers, as clues quickly morphed into problems that multiplied.
He reined in his racing thoughts, determined to calm himself first and approach these mysteries with rationality.
"Ancestor… are you alright?" Heidi asked, worry evident on her face. "You look pale…"
Amber, who had silently joined them, finally found her voice, adding, "He rushed out of the tent before the red spots even showed up. Scared the daylights out of me…"
"Heidi, can you sense any change in magic levels?" Gawain asked, looking at her intently.
"There was an increase just now, making spells easier to cast…" Heidi nodded. "It's a common phenomenon when red spots appear on the sun. In fact, red spots on the sun aren't unusual, but they have been more frequent recently."
Gawain shook his head, reassuring her. "Not to worry; it's not serious enough to cause a monster outbreak. Besides, I've checked for signs of magic contamination, and elemental forces in the air remain stable, so there's no danger."
"Still," Heidi said, clearly uneasy, "red spots and magic surges should only occur every few years, yet this is the second time in just a few months…"
Gawain's unease mirrored hers, if not exceeded it. On top of everything else, he worried about the link between himself and the "monitoring satellite" above. But he knew he couldn't let his anxiety show—he was the pillar of the Cecil territory, especially for Heidi and Rebecca. Showing any sign of doubt or weakness wouldn't help anyone.
"Trust me, no monsters will appear. Even if a magic tide does come, I've been through it before," he said, steadying his voice. "Let everyone carry on with their work. Only by building a solid, secure home can we hope to withstand nature's fury."
Heidi nodded, reassured by his confidence, then bowed and returned to her work.
Watching Heidi use her magic to aid in construction, Gawain nodded in satisfaction. While Heidi and Rebecca's worldview was still limited by the norms and status of their time, they had one invaluable trait: they didn't see themselves as separate from their people. Otherwise, a noble lady like Heidi would never be caught using magic to reinforce construction.
Observing the foundation solidifying under her spells, Gawain mused that hiring some down-and-out freelance mages might be a worthwhile investment once they had the means to mint coin.
But before then, he had more pressing matters to consider.
Returning to his tent, he sat down at the desk, took a blank sheet of paper, and swiftly wrote down three questions:
1. What is the connection between the "sun" and the magical tides on the ground?
2. What are the possible functions and current state of the "monitoring satellite"?
3. Why did the Gawain Cecil of seven centuries ago leave behind a crystal capable of reestablishing a connection with the satellite?