Chapter 258 Call Of The Tower [Part 3]
Northern's irritation toward the Feral Sage seed to soar over the top the more she spoke.
She acted in a way that just infuriated him from every angle.
To think he had admired soone like her and thought her aweso.
He couldn't help but be disappointed in his own taste.
Raven's voice interrupted the eerie silence.
"So, can you please tell us exactly what happened?"
Northern was silent for a while, full of skepticism.
In that interim, Helena was already getting...a little impatient.
Tapping her feet on the floor annoyingly and glaring at Northern.
It was nothing childish, just that he disgusted her...all of her.
Finally, Northern opened his mouth and gave a response.
"There's not much to explain...other than the Tower summoned ."
Not much to explain...
...However, this statent of his caused the eyes of both ladies to widen.
"What do you an, Northern?" Raven inquired to ensure she heard correctly what he just said.
"It is as I said it...the Tower called ," he continued further, "When I got here, there was no door. After touching it, however, a door appeared and opened."
He looked around and concluded, "I think there's sothing in this place that resonates with sothing in my soul."
"Just how special does the la guy have to be..." Helena muttered but could be heard clearly.
Northern glared at her and looked away. After a few seconds, his voice rang out:
"Right now, I'm trying to study the symbols on the wall for any clues...but I think I'll have to find where it originated."
"Huh?"
Raven and Helena's voices ca out simultaneously.
Both of them looked at each other with a dazed expression and then turned their eyes to Northern.
"You can decipher this gibberish?" Helena retorted.
"What Helena ant was...how is it that you can understand these...I thought they were just symbols. Even if they do hold significant aning, shouldn't it be significant to the world in the rift and not this world."
Northern was silent. Not that he was hesitating.
Before opening his mouth to speak, he had considered how much information about himself he was willing to divulge and had even pondered as far as what to answer should there be any questions that aid to delve further into revealing his abilities.
Not that he intentionally wanted to hide them, but at the sa ti, he didn't want to disclose them all, at least not intentionally.
Taking his precious ti, he finally responded:
"Well, they are not quite difficult to comprehend. The strokes are quite similar to ours, and if you know your runic letters like the back of your hand, it will be easy for you to interpret the symbols into text."
Raven's eyes grew somber as she said:
"I see..."
"You make it sound so effortless."
Northern threw a quick glance at the Feral Sage.
He was still angry at her, but he ignored it and answered her.
"Well, it would be so effortless if you were actually serious about basic understanding of languages."
Helena shrugged,
"Then bla my parents for not having enough to get
a tutor or send
to one of those basic schools."
Northern's frown did not soften; he just looked away and turned.
Not even pity was going to end the spite between them.
He said as he walked away.
"I intend to inspect it from the highest floor. I'm sure I'll find sothing."
He suddenly paused and turned, brows heavy with a scowl.
"Can I ask why you ca here..." his eyes drifted toward the unconscious Terence, "And why your companion is unconscious?"
"There's going to be a sandstorm. We were trying to avoid it by coming here. Terence, however, refused to co because Ul asked her not to...so Helena knocked her out and brought her here."
"Is that so..." Northern's eyes drifted from the unconscious Oracle to the Feral Sage—who frowned slightly.
His patience was reaching its peak...he might lash out without caring about the consequences.
Northern averted his eyes from her and started walking up the stairs.
Each step he took echoed in the cavernous space, a sound that reverberated with an ominous, almost sentient quality.
As he ascended, the air grew thicker, charged with a palpable sense of mystery and power.
Higher up, vast rooms opened up, filled with strange, dark chanisms.
Gears the size of houses turned silently, their surfaces etched with cryptic runes.
These chanisms moved with a precise, almost hypnotic rhythm, suggesting a purpose beyond mortal comprehension.
Chains of an unidentifiable tal dangled from the high ceilings, swaying gently as if touched by an unseen hand.
Bridges of delicate-looking glass connected the higher floors, spanning dizzying gaps and offering views of the tower's internal workings far below.
As Northern walked across them, he felt like he was stepping into the void, the translucent material giving a vertiginous sense of floating in mid-air.
The walls of these upper levels were lined with shelves holding ancient texts, their pages filled with dense, spidery script and elaborate illustrations.
The books seed to hum with knowledge, their presence almost sentient, as if aware of the secrets they held.
In the highest chamber, a vast do arched overhead, its surface a tapestry of dark, glittering constellations.
At the center stood a grand, imposing chanism, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its purpose as enigmatic as the Tower itself.
This chamber exuded a profound stillness, a sense of reverence that inspired awe and fear in equal asure.
Northern cautiously walked toward the center and paused.
The chanism, whatever it was, dominated the space like a dormant titan.
Its base was a vast, circular platform, forged from an unknown tal that shimred with a dark, almost liquid brilliance.
Around the edges, intricate engravings spiraled inward, converging at the center where a massive, crystal socket lay empty, the broken remnants of its forr power source scattered around it like shards of a fallen star.
The chanism's core was an elaborate array of gears, wheels, and cogs, all interlocking with a precision that defied human craftsmanship.
So gears were as large as a man, while others were delicately small, yet each of them radiated a silent, almost reverent grace.
This dormant machinery hinted at a purpose far beyond ordinary comprehension, its design both beautiful and fearso in its complexity.
Northern could discern at a glance that this was the center, this was the core of the Tower.
And whatever this chanism was—was his clue to uncovering the beginning of all of this.
From the central platform, a network of tallic arms extended outward, their joints and pivots gleaming in the faint light.
These arms connected to a series of concentric rings that surrounded the platform, each ring adorned with more of the enigmatic runes he had seen throughout the Tower.
The rings were designed to rotate independently, their motion governed by the intricate dance of the chanism's gears and cogs.
High above, suspended from the do by thick, braided cables, hung a series of massive, multifaceted lenses.
These lenses, darkened by age and coated in a thin layer of dust, were positioned to focus and direct light or energy into the crystal socket below.
Northern lingered for a few monts, studying and trying to trace in his mind how the lenses guided the rays of light toward the center of this marvelous contraption where an empty crystal socket sat.
The walls around the chanism were lined with panels of ancient script and diagrams, so after doing that, he quickly moved and began to observe each text, each diagram.
It took a while for Northern to grasp, but the mont he did.
He paused, took a couple of steps back with his mouth open.
And, trembling, his voice muttered:
"The Tower can move?"
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