What is the scenery of Antarctica like? At first glance, it seems devoid of any color other than white and ice blue. The wind howls like a blade, sharp and merciless. Even a half-dragon like Aslan can't help but shiver in its bite. Perhaps only dragons with ice attributes could live happily in such a place.
Maybe, beneath the endless ice, ancient dragons truly slumber. Yet every breath here is painful, the cold air scraping at the throat until it feels raw. In such an environment, Teacher Aslan had no desire to take a deep breath, much less test the air for any lingering scent of dragons.
Deeper into Antarctica, Chaldea stood atop a snow-covered mountain. Compared to the pristine white facility in memory, only two-thirds of the current structure had been completed; the remaining third was still under construction.
Inside, few people could be found. The technicians who were present busied themselves with monitoring the unfinished Sheba. It would take another year or two before Sheba was fully completed, but even now the projection of the Earth flickered with its strange, luminous light. The readings were still crude, the accuracy unreliable.
Aslan regarded the instrument with little interest. Melusine, however, was captivated. After 4.6 billion years of slumber, everything was new to her. Strange, unfamiliar things drew her curiosity like a magnet, and now, faced with this unfinished instrument, she approached with wide-eyed wonder.
Seeing this, Aslan nearly choked on his drink. He would have to lecture his dragon about the dangers of modern technology. Some of it might seem crude compared to ancient magical artifacts, but that didn't make it harmless.
Perhaps because Melusine carried such overwhelming magical energy, her presence immediately disturbed Sheba. The sphere that displayed the Earth suddenly blazed with bright blue light, drawing the magic from her body in an instant. Within moments, the white-haired girl shrank and reverted into her small black dragon form.
The whole of Sheba pulsed with light, blue particles swirling wildly around it.
The staff monitoring the scene turned pale. Panic spread across their faces. This reaction was one they had seen before—but never under controlled experiment.
"Everyone, stay alert!" one of them shouted. "This is the precursor to spiritron transfer! We haven't mastered full accuracy yet. Don't get caught in it!"
Without proper coordinates, there was no telling where someone might be sent—or when. They could end up in any dynasty, any continent, perhaps even another world entirely. To be caught in such a transfer was to face the unknown, with no certainty of return.
To recover someone lost this way, the technology would first need to be perfected. Only then could they lock onto the displaced individual, track their coordinates across time or world, and attempt retrieval. And if the transfer reached into parallel worlds… perhaps even Da Vinci might struggle to recover them.
In short, anyone caught in the pull was in serious trouble.
Melusine, her magic drained completely, collapsed in her dragon form. Her body wavered, breaking down as the transfer light wrapped around her. Seeing that she was about to vanish, Aslan's expression hardened.
Her condition was fragile. If she were sent alone, as a dragon, into an unfamiliar world, there was no telling whether she would ever return. No—he had to go with her. And besides, given enough time, he was confident he could unravel the secrets of spiritron transfer himself.
As an immortal species, time was on his side. His half-human blood made him adaptable, less constrained than Melusine, who could revert into a powerless form at any moment. If nothing else, he could serve as her shield.
With that thought, Aslan lunged forward, wrapping Melusine tightly in his arms. Dizziness flooded his mind—a sensation uncannily similar to when Merlin had once kicked him from the Tower of Paradise. The memory made him grit his teeth and curse the magus silently. If only he had a hammer handy…
Still holding Melusine close, he let the dizziness fade.
When he opened his eyes again, he frowned. The sky stretched endlessly above him.
Really? Was it a rule that every spiritron transfer had to dump him in midair?!
Without hesitation, he summoned his supreme masterpiece. The scarlet mecha dropped from the sky and landed with a heavy crash, shaking the earth beneath. A gust of wind exploded outward as its massive frame struck the ground.
Inside the cockpit, Aslan didn't rush to disembark. Instead, he scanned the outside world through the mecha's sensors. Green fields, blue sky. The Supreme Masterpiece's analysis confirmed that the magical density was post-Age of Gods, though faint traces of divine magic still lingered in the air.
Soil, humidity, vegetation—all pointed to Europe. At least he wouldn't need any special disguise. But whether this was his original world remained uncertain.
After confirming that no high-threat units lurked nearby, Aslan opened the hatch. He jumped down, cradling his dragon, and drew a deep breath of fresh air while channeling magic into her weakened form. His brow furrowed. The first order of business would be to gather information.
But then, the grass beside the mecha rippled unnaturally. A hand as pale as jade swept aside a camouflage cloak.
A girl stepped forward—long light-blond hair tied in a pigtail, clad in sharp, practical clothes. Her starry eyes lit up as they fell upon the red mecha.
"Oh, oh, oh!! This is the ultimate masterpiece of my ideals!!"
-End Chapter-
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