Chapter 503: Secondary Dimension

Complain all you want.

The third assembly call had already sounded, and Gao De had already entered the city.

Not to mention anything else, just his identity as a Sea Sentinel mage guaranteed he couldn’t stay out of this.

Otherwise, not even the post-event accountability matters—after this, he’d never survive in the Sea Sentinels.

The Sea Sentinels are all elite mages; a deserter is looked down upon.

“Let’s go together,” the guard mage said solemnly.

“Alright, let’s go,” Gao De nodded.

The municipal square of Oakland City lies at its center, directly accessible via the Taiwa River.

The guard mage pulled Gao De onto a patrol boat designed for inland waterways.

It was a typical oar-and-sail vessel, long and narrow, agile enough to navigate even the tighter stretches of the Taiwa River, powered primarily by sail and oars.

Both bow and stern were sharply pointed, making its speed on inland waters faster than Gao De’s own boat.

The assembly call originated from the bell tower at the center of the municipal square.

By the time Gao De and the guard mage arrived, the vast municipal square was already packed.

A quick glance revealed the crowd exceeded ten thousand.

This was the depth of the Jin Quehua Dynasty—within a single city, the number of official mages could reach tens of thousands.

Though he couldn’t clearly discern each mage’s rank, Gao De activated his Mandora Magic Eye and scanned briefly; through subtle energy flows, he could confirm that over two-thirds of the crowd were first-circle mages.

The rain still fell, and the square’s flagstones were flooded, yet no debris remained—clearly already cleaned.

At the very front of the municipal square stood Oakland City’s city hall.

The white stone city hall gleamed coldly beneath the overcast sky; at its peak, the Jin Quehua emblem shone brightly, crafted from pure gold.

Even after the catfish attack, the city hall remained unharmed, showing not a single mark of damage.

Before the city hall’s entrance stood Count Roland, clad in a black rainproof cloak edged with silver, standing atop the steps.

Behind him stood the most prominent nobles and mages of Oakland City.

Gao De and the guard mage arrived among the last to come.

After all, they had come from the farthest city gate from the center.

Thus, barely two minutes after their arrival, Count Roland spoke.

“Everyone should be here.”

“Second-circle mages and above, step forward to the front row.” Using magic, Count Roland’s voice wasn’t loud, yet it reached every mage’s ears clearly.

Slowly, a scattering of mages moved forward and gathered in the front row.

Gao De and the guard mage remained where they stood.

But he noticed that among the mages pushing forward was another mage wearing a Sea Sentinel uniform.

Of course, the man wore the uniform of a warrant officer.

“I’m glad to see so many of you responded to the mage assembly call and arrived so swiftly.”

Count Roland’s gaze swept over the front row of second-circle and higher mages, then turned to the much larger group of first-circle mages behind, speaking in a tone both calm and heavy.

“But I must deliver bad news.”

He paused, as if granting everyone time to brace themselves.

After roughly three seconds, Count Roland continued: “The appearance and expansion of the catfish have been far too abnormal; the three consecutive small whirlwinds that followed are unprecedented. Thus, I summoned our Oakland Chief Mage, Theo, to investigate at sea.”

As he spoke, he turned slightly, and an elderly man with silver hair stepped forward—he wore a deep purple robe, had a hooked nose, and held a black obsidian staff, radiating an unmistakable aura of authority.

He was Chief Mage Theo of Oakland.

In a city of Oakland’s stature, the chief mage is at least a seasoned fourth-circle mage.

“By the count’s orders, I sailed out to investigate and reached the origin of the catfish whirlwinds.”

“There, I saw a space rift expanding continuously,” Chief Mage Theo paused; raindrops fell from the eaves of the city hall, yet before they touched his body, they were deflected by a transparent barrier.

“On the other side of the rift lies an alternate dimension saturated with wind elements.”

“Intense wind elements and violent gales are pouring out through this rift.”

“In other words, this catfish phenomenon is not a natural weather event—it is entirely caused by this rift, an alternate dimension disaster.”

The municipal square fell into absolute silence, broken only by the sound of rain striking cloaks and magical artifacts.

After reporting, Chief Mage Theo stepped back silently, yielding the stage once more to Count Roland.

“Everyone here understands the danger of alternate dimension disasters—just like earth veins, they can topple thriving cities in an instant.”

“Earth veins are space rifts connecting the earth vein dimension to our mage dimension; this rift linking our mage dimension to the wind-element alternate dimension shall be temporarily called the Wind Vein.”

“The bad news is, this Wind Vein is only 180 kilometers from Oakland City.”

At the mention of 180 kilometers, Count Roland’s expression turned grave, his voice tinged with resignation.

“One hundred and eighty kilometers!”

“My god.”

As his words landed, the faces of countless mages in the square changed; murmurs broke out uncontrollably.

Simply put, this distance was far too close.

“At 180 kilometers, and with this being a wind-element alternate dimension, once the Wind Vein stabilizes fully…”

“Forget other consequences—catfish-level whirlwinds will become routine for Oakland City, possibly occurring once or twice a month.”

Hearing this, Gao De understood the gravity.

If catfish struck once or twice a month, Oakland City would be a ruin within a year.

Yet the term “wind-element alternate dimension” still stirred some doubt in him.

He had only ever heard of the earth vein dimension; of course, if that existed, other alternate dimensions must too—it made sense.

But he had never before heard of any alternate dimension beyond the earth vein dimension.

Perhaps the earth vein dimension was of higher rank, explaining why it intersected so extensively with our mage dimension, spreading across the entire world?

He speculated.

Count Roland’s next words confirmed his guess.

“The good news is, this is merely a secondary dimension composed purely of elemental energy, not a stable material dimension like the earth vein dimension.”

“Secondary dimensions have limited size and measurable energy; if we scatter the elemental beings within before the Wind Vein stabilizes, we can drain its energy drastically.”

“Once the secondary dimension runs low on energy, our mage dimension—as the primary dimension—will automatically heal the unstable rift through its powerful self-repairing ability, causing the Wind Vein to vanish.”

“That’s why I issued the mage assembly call—to gather you all to sail out and eliminate the elemental beings in this secondary dimension.”

“Chief Mage Theo has already confirmed: based on the energy concentration of this secondary dimension, the strongest elemental beings within are fifth-rank, mostly first- to third-rank.”

“If any fifth-rank elemental beings appear, we will handle them—no need for you to worry. Your task is simply to eliminate the first- to third-rank elemental beings.”

First- to third-rank elemental beings.

Upon hearing this, the mages’ tense atmosphere instantly eased; each breathed a sigh of relief.

They had come here—whether out of genuine willingness or forced by the assembly call’s authority—as Oakland mages, none wished to see their city destroyed by the Wind Vein; all carried some measure of protective intent.

But if the mission were too daunting, that resolve would quickly dissolve into fear and cowardice.

Fifth-rank elemental beings? Even if they had more numbers, they’d be useless.

The higher the rank, the greater the gap—this is an eternal truth.

A gifted elementary student might know more than some middle schoolers, but a doctorate holder is still vastly superior to a master’s graduate.

Still, the mission remained extremely dangerous.

After all, once combat began, it would be at sea—chaotic, without rules.

A third-rank elemental beast could easily target a first-circle mage; though allies would rush to aid immediately, the risk remained immense.

Yet under the weight of circumstance, even fear could not justify evasion.

“A space rift takes only days to stabilize.”

“So our time is running short.”

“The ships are ready. Everyone, move out now—sail immediately to the Wind Vein’s location!” After briefly explaining the situation, Count Roland issued his final order.

The specific deployment had already been arranged by Count Roland and Chief Mage Theo.

All mages summoned by the assembly call were merely “NPCs”—pawns, to follow orders.

Gao De understood this perfectly and obeyed their arrangements without question.

After all, he was merely a first-circle mage; in a “major plot” like this, being a pawn on the board was already more than he deserved—did he expect to have his own will?

Unless he was the protagonist.

Honestly, Gao De disliked participating in wars, especially as a lowly soldier.

Danger was secondary; more importantly, in war, unless you were a top-tier mage like Chief Mage Theo, individual strength meant nothing.

Even if he were now a third-circle mage, in this Wind Vein “major plot,” he’d still be insignificant.

In such a war, his presence made no difference—neither victory nor defeat would hinge on him.

And whether they won or lost, he could still die in battle.

This feeling was unpleasant.

But since he had no choice, Gao De quickly pushed aside his aversion and focused his mind on the coming battle.

At a command, led by Count Roland and Chief Mage Theo, the crowd of mages surged like a tide toward the Oakland docks.

At the docks, dozens of warships stood in orderly rows, stretching into a continuous line.

These were official warships, built primarily of sturdy oak and teak, their massive hulls gleaming with an oily sheen under the downpour.

All warships featured multiple decks; the largest even had three decks.

Dozens of flags embroidered with the Jin Quehua emblem fluttered fiercely in the wind.

Unlike ordinary passenger or cargo vessels, these warships were powered not only by dozens of sails but also by alchemical machines providing additional magical propulsion.

Additionally, gun platforms were mounted along both sides of the hull, loaded with alchemical magic cannons distributed across multiple decks to provide supplementary firepower.

The lead warship, the “Thorn Crown,” was entirely forged from metal and armed with a classic weapon rarely seen outside city fortifications—Gao De had encountered it repeatedly in Western fantasy novels: the Crystal Cannon.

Unlike conventional cannons, the Crystal Cannon’s barrel was cast from a pale silver-mith alloy, its surface inscribed with runes.

These runes writhed like living things along the metal, the barrel extending over six meters in length with thick walls.

The breech housed the Cannon’s core, designed as a fusion of rune arrays and alchemical machinery, centered on a massive rhombic crystal slot for energy sources.

Under the coordination of official mages, the summoned non-official mages were orderly dispersed and boarded different warships in sequence.

Here, Gao De parted ways with the guard mage who had guided him.

For the official mage assigned to oversee boarding, upon seeing Gao De’s Sea Sentinel uniform and confirming his identity, assigned him to another warship of noticeably higher rank, whispering: “This is a noble mage’s dedicated warship.”

Gao De immediately understood.

This was special treatment.

Under the Mage Mobilization Order, every mage was required to answer the call and sail to sea; noble mages were no exception, and in this regard, they held no privilege.

But when assigning warships, they could be given vessels better equipped and more heavily armored to improve survival rates.

In any circle, there exist unwritten rules—never recorded, yet universally acknowledged and followed by all.

At least in this regard, the Jin Quehua Dynasty was decent.

For in Jin Quehua tradition, nobles were expected to lead from the front in war.

In the Xien Duchy where Gao De had previously lived, the scene would likely have been noble mages remaining safely in the rear to command while others fought on the front lines.

With time pressing, the mages moved swiftly and urgently, scurrying across the decks like ants.

Soon, a blue flag rose on the Thorn Crown.

It was the departure signal flag.

Immediately after, the other warships sounded three consecutive whistles in succession, their echoes rippling through the rain like waves.

They signaled they were fully prepared and ready to depart at once.

The next moment, the Thorn Crown surged ahead, leaving the harbor.

Gao De watched the massive silhouette of the Thorn Crown cut through the rain, and his heart steadied.

The Jin Quehua Dynasty had become the oldest human dynasty in this plane for many reasons; the tradition that nobles must lead from the front was one of them.

The other warships spread out like a disciplined flock of geese, forming a fan with the Thorn Crown as the spearhead.

From above, the fleet resembled a blade piercing the rain.

The Jin Quehua emblems on the sails flickered in and out of sight amid wind and rain.

(End of Chapter)