Divine Flame Crystal

Chapter 678: Live Up to This Road

"This is... another kind of power." Someone murmured.

Gradually, more people began to believe that technology might be the real power.

A new creed spread across the continent:

——Don't pray, don't beg for mercy, don't bow to the gods.

——We must use our own hands to create the power to fight against the gods.

In just a few decades, the face of the mainland has changed dramatically.

Former magic academies were converted into research institutes. Stone towers were torn down, replaced by blast furnaces belching white smoke and factories humming day and night. Scrolls once covered in runes were now replaced by thick blueprints, densely covered with structural diagrams and formulas.

Steam engines, cannons, airships... new things were born one after another.

In the center of the continent, a new city appeared - the Gear City.

There are no temples here, only countless towering chimneys and flickering lights. The night sky is lit up by artificial lights, as if the stars have fallen to the earth.

In the central square of the Gear City, there stands a huge stone monument.

There is a sentence engraved on the stone tablet:

"If magic is invincible, then we will forge weapons more powerful than magic."

Outside the long river of time, Kronos watched all this quietly.

"Technological civilization..." His voice was low and complex. "This is the 341st attempt."

His figure was much weaker, and every time he looked back, his existence was eroding. His robes were already mottled, and the Eye of Time and Space was no longer as bright as before.

But when he saw humanity rise again with steel and fire, there was still a faint glimmer of hope in his heart.

"Maybe, this time... I can last longer."

At a parliamentary session, a young scientist stood on the podium and said firmly:

"The foundation of magic lies in the hands of magicians, but technology belongs to us! Magicians cannot understand gears, circuits, or dark matter! As long as we move fast enough, they won't be able to catch up!"

There was warm applause from the audience.

But an old scholar slowly stood up and said in a hoarse voice: "Do you really believe it? Do you believe that steel can defeat a demigod? You should know that a demigod can destroy a city with just a glance."

The young scientist gritted his teeth and said, "That's why we have to build star destroyers and giant cannons! As long as one day we can destroy the bodies of demigods, they will fall like mortals!"

Kronos listened to the argument in the dark, but he did not say a word.

I just murmured softly: "I hope you will live up to this journey."

Decades later, the first true giant sky ship appeared over the continent.

It was made of countless steel plates, was hundreds of meters long, and its hull was covered with thick gun ports.

On its bow, a huge rune was embedded - not a magical rune, but a product of the combination of technology and alchemy, which could channel dark energy as the core of the weapon.

As it slowly rose, the entire continent looked up at the sky.

Someone whispered in amazement: "This... is the new wing of mankind."

The ship emitted a low roar, as if announcing:

From now on, humans no longer need to look up to the wings of angels.

The sea breeze, swirling with salt frost, slapped against the newly built steel rails at the dock, creating a cold, hard echo. The morning mist hadn't yet dissipated as the massive factory shed door slowly slid open, revealing the mountain-like gray-black hull within. It lacked masts, sails, or the buoyancy of a former magical airship. Instead, its underbelly was inlaid with rings of molten gold, within which were tightly packed phase coils and dark energy channels.

Craftsmen lined up on both sides of the track, passing signals one after another. The supervisor, tucked a rolled-up cowhide sheet under his arm, lowered his voice and said, "Move Ark No. 1 out of the shed. Clear the track. Prepare the hydraulics."

"Understood." The flag signal returned to the end, the white flag corner was swung, and the hydraulic supports pressed down at the same time. The moment the steel wheels took the giant ship off the ground, the entire dock seemed to hold its breath.

"Can it fly?" a young apprentice couldn't help but ask. His face still held traces of his youth, but his eyes were no longer fixed on the magic tower as they had in the past. Instead, they were fixed on the steel vessel.

"It can fly." The old foreman next to him put out his cigarette, his eyes like stones on the seashore, "Otherwise, what would we have meant in the past few years?"

No one mentioned "god." No one dared, no one wanted to, utter the invisible word outside the factory at this moment. On a broader scale, the quiet, age-old order of life persisted; only a handful of people, on a few nights, gathered around a few tables, whispered the old rumors of "someone coming from the sky"—a page torn from old history books, burning quietly in the hearts of only a few.

——Among them, there is the “old man” who has long since stopped appearing on stage.

Kronos stood behind a distant reef, his cloak lifted and lowered by the sea breeze. His gaze swept over every rivet on the gray-black hull, stopping at the unlit ring in the center of the ship's belly. The ring was engraved with extremely fine guide grooves, connected by extremely thin silver wires. The silver wires were covered with insulating ceramic shards, and the ceramic shards were engraved with new characters—not magical symbols, but technical text, a "formula" translated into the language of artifacts, expressed on metal.

"You are writing a new grammar," he murmured. "Not the grammar of prayer."

Footsteps approached from behind, making a soft sound on the cold, damp rocks. The newcomer, carrying a toolbox, had an unshaven beard and his eyes were red from staying up late. Kronos, without turning around, asked, "How much have you reduced the risk of a core overload?"

"Theoretically, it won't explode within seven hundred cycles." The man put the box down and wiped his face. "In reality, who knows? We don't even have a second life to gamble with."

"There is no second way." Kronos' eyes dimmed slightly. If he didn't prepare before the project started, there would be no backup plan.

The man didn't understand and thought the old man was joking, so he smiled and said, "Want to go on board and take a look?"

One after another, they boarded the ark along the external ladder. There was nothing on the deck, only a cold, hard space, like an open blueprint turned over to the white surface, waiting for the first line to be written. The engineering director came forward and handed over the record board, his voice a little hoarse: "Today is the first test after final assembly. The first is low-thrust glide at sea level, followed by zero-buoyancy static hang, and finally..." He paused, "Finally, see if we can lift the nose tip above the cloud top. It doesn't matter if we can't lift it over, just keep it steady first."

Kronos nodded, noncommittal. He walked to the center ring, his fingers gently sliding along the guide grooves, feeling the "vein" cast into the metal. Unlike the source of magic, it had no personality or emotions; like an obedient river, it simply followed the simplest slope and flowed downward.

"Did you give it a name?"

"'Sky Ark.'" The Director smiled. "The boat that goes upwards. We all wondered if it would be... quieter up there."

A complex trace of compassion flashed across Kronos's eyes. Looking at those faces hardened by silence, he suddenly understood that the most incredible thing about humans wasn't what they would sing or what knives they would wield, but their stubbornness in doing things without saying them out loud.

The whistle blew, and the first thrust module ignited. The vibrations rippled from the deck to the bones, like a sleeping beast turning inside. The steel wheels left the track, and the compressed air formed a distinct white mist. The ring at the bottom of the ship began to rotate slowly, and a thin blue light visible to the naked eye appeared in the dark energy guide channel.

"Look up," the director whispered. In the control room, eight hands simultaneously pressed eight positions, causing the auxiliary wings to tilt slightly. The Ark didn't "float" like a magic airship; it forcibly "lifted" itself from the ground. The entire hull seemed to be underwater, inch by inch, breaking free from the grip of gravity.

First meter, second meter, third meter...

"Lock!" someone shouted, and the anti-capsize mechanical lock clicked, stabilizing the giant ship, which floated quietly above the sea fog like a moving city wall.

On the deck, someone quietly raised their fist, then quietly lowered it. No one applauded. Spreading joy wasn't fashionable in this era, especially under a shadow that seemed to have no idea where it came from or when it would return.

"As planned, item two."

The second ring lit up, the faint light under the belly of the ship increased from one circle to two, and the thrust distribution increased from four points to eight points. The director glanced back at the old man standing on the edge of the deck and lowered his voice: "Should we make it... move upwards?"