“So this is the mining device you built...?”

Dozens of researchers and the platform’s architects gathered inside the vast building called the Arc Center, a steel crescent seated over the sea.

Faces shifted like weather over water. Every gaze fixed on the behemoth floating in the pool, a metal leviathan gleaming like wet scales.

Beside Cerqin, a temporarily assigned Divine Officer stared, breath caught, at the giant with a bright metallic sheen, a monster that glinted like a blade.

It was hard to believe such an iron beast sat on the water as lightly as a lotus leaf, buoyed by unseen currents.

The circular colossus filled half the Arc Center. Its diameter spanned a hundred meters, a single moon pressed into the hall.

It almost swallowed the pool that anchored the building’s heart, water and steel breathing in slow rhythm.

“How did you even do this...?”

Silver Luan and Aileaf were seeing this arched giant for the first time. They’d been summoned at short notice, like gulls called by a horn.

Cerqin couldn’t help a flicker of pride. She tilted her chin and spoke, voice steady as a drawn bow.

“I named it the Ladder of the Deep Sea. It’s one part of the entire mining apparatus.”

“One part?”

Aileaf had just wrapped a major project and was waiting on results. In her spare hours, she’d begun studying Arcanotechnology, curiosity bright as fireflies.

Cerqin didn’t tease. The Ladder was the fruit of months of collaboration with many researchers, a work that felt like a new dawn.

“Anyway, let’s go in.”

She lifted a hand toward the distant control dais. The operators answered, and the Ladder’s gate opened with a slow, tidal hush.

Cerqin led them in. Her steps rang like drops on bronze, and her words unfolded as they walked.

“From the name, you can guess the use. It’s an ascent device modeled on the Sanctuary’s deep-sea mining method, meant to lift ore from far below to surface freighters.”

Over half the Ladder’s inner volume was built to store ore, a round stomach for the ocean’s stone.

Its upward drive fed on the sea’s mana currents, drawing strength like a whale drinking the tide.

That cut power costs sharply. It was still pricier than land mining, but way cheaper than the Sanctuary’s old deep-sea barrier approach, and far more nimble.

After her explanation, Silver Luan, closest to Cerqin, raised a brow, voice cool as a shaded stream.

“So this is just a ladder for transporting ore, not the device that actually mines it.”

“Exactly.”

Cerqin showed them the core control room, then guided them to the vast storage bay, a cavern of iron and echo.

“I told you—it’s a part of the set. The machines that actually mine are these...”

They entered the giant storage space, and everyone’s eyes were dragged to a colossal door that loomed like a cliff.

The gate faced their corridor. It stood half-open, its seam a dark river. Through it, a smaller chamber glimmered faintly.

Shapes hid beyond: strange boats with odd spines, rigs bird-boned and blade-toothed, silhouettes like sharks at dusk.

“Mag-Isle deep-diving vessels. And deepsea mining rigs.”

...

While the sea-city crowd marveled at arcanotech, far away in the Sanctuary of Eastern Sea City, Spring Tide studied the latest reports, her face still as a winter pond.

The Nun giving the briefing stood tense, fingers twisting like reeds in wind.

“The communication net’s connected, but they still haven’t reached out...”

Spring Tide was quiet a beat. Then she let out a breath, frost thinning a shade, weariness brushing her lashes.

The timeline hit earlier than Cerqin’s first plan by a lot. Still, three months felt long, a slow rain on stone.

“How’s the harbor warehouse construction?”

Spring Tide looked up at the Nun before her. She frowned after, the crease neat as a folded page.

“And where’s White Thought?”

White Thought, a former princess, had joined the Sanctuary of Eastern Sea City. In just months, she’d become Spring Tide’s close aide, a favored moon among stars.

The other Nuns were a little jealous, their glances cool and warm like spring and shade.

White Thought was young, her power not strong, and her prophetic bloodline couldn’t be used lightly, like a sword kept sheathed.

But her gift in Arcanotechnology was second only to Silver Luan, a bright vein in dark ore.

So when the tech team went to the offshore platform, White Thought naturally took the role of arcanotech advisor.

The Nun being questioned flinched, face blanching like paper, eyes fluttering like sparrows.

“The harbor warehouse is progressing in order... Lady White Thought is still in the lab.”

“What is she working on now... Don’t tell me she’s still ‘improving’ instruments of punishment. Tell her if the warehouse fails, I’ll send her to the Law Enforcement Hall to experience her own upgrades.”

“Yes!”

“Go.”

The Nun had just turned to leave when Spring Tide spoke again, voice a thin bell.

“Right—pass that message to White Feather with the Knight Order too.”

After giving her orders, Spring Tide rubbed the corner of her eye. The platform project had stretched the Sanctuary thin, important hands pulled like silk.

That’s why she had the once-princess White Thought help with administration and core tasks, a second lantern for a long night.

Even so, for half a year the worst knots were the core matters—the gears that kept the Sanctuary turning.

Key personnel decisions. Major documents from other cities in the East District. Papers heavy as stones you must lift alone.

Those usually required Archbishop Mingxi’s personal review, a seal and gaze that decided the river’s course.

As Holy Maiden, Spring Tide was acting as proxy, but every decision demanded careful thought, like crossing ice by candlelight.

That was why Spring Tide felt drained and looked so busy—the burden lay on her shoulders, not Cerqin’s.

Ming Xi had left with Ming Duo nearly half a year ago. No one knew when they’d return, a horizon fogged with salt.

Thankfully, no great crises had erupted. Thanks to the joint sweeps by many superpowers, the cults that rioted during the Sacred Patrol had gone quiet.

Spring Tide used the Archbishop’s authority to investigate certain threads, but only pulled loose ends, dust rather than gold.

She sprawled in her office chair and remembered her master’s face when he set out—half smile, half storm.

“‘Try the seat ahead of time,’ he said. He doesn’t really mean to push me into the Archbishop’s role before twenty, does he...?”

It was just a mutter, a soft wave against the shore.

Normally only Divine Officers at the Eighth Rank could be promoted to Bishop. As Holy Maiden, at Seventh Rank, she could apply to serve as Bishop in select cities to train.

Only after reaching the Eighth Rank could one inherit the Archbishop’s position, a mountain you climb by years.

Seventh Rank jumping straight to Archbishop had no precedent, no bridge over that gorge.

Though she was acting Archbishop for now, the Sanctuary’s bishops across the major cities hadn’t opposed it. Some even clapped, smiles like lanterns.

Spring Tide understood why—her master’s usual behavior had frayed tempers. Still, taking the true seat demanded stronger power and sharper experience.

This offshore platform plan would load her ledger with merit, a harvest of deeds for future storms.

That’s why she cared so much, a hand steady on the tiller.

The harbor warehouse was being built specifically to receive ore from the platform, a land throat to swallow the sea’s gift.

Spring Tide glanced at the report on her desk. After a moment’s thought, she tapped the crystal sphere beside her.

The communication crystal pulsed faintly, like a pearl catching dawn. Spring Tide spoke, voice clear as a bell.

“Notify all Divine Officers’ offices. Meeting in the main council chamber shortly.”

“Yes!”

A Nun’s voice came from the crystal, the core communications room humming like a hive.

This sphere ran on a dedicated line built from the city-to-city communication net, a design Cerqin rushed out once the platform’s link to Eastern Sea City came online.

Compared to the intercity net, its prime strength was routing through the core device to specific personnel, with directed transfers and group notices, a loom for voices.

The researchers remaining in the Sanctuary, together with White Thought, completed the build. After days of use, it won unanimous praise from the Divine Officers.

Work efficiency surged severalfold, like wind behind sails.

After the notice, Spring Tide rose and tidied the files on her desk, sleeves whispering like water.

Fresh schematics had just arrived: designs for an arcanotech sea patrol ship, and retrofit plans for submersible craft—whole packets of steel dreams.

These would anchor the next meeting, a chart to carry them further out on the deep.