Traces of Strange Technology

The old temple stood proudly in the middle of a forest that was almost reclaiming it. The black stone walls were cracked, covered in large roots that crept like giant hands. Moss covered almost the entire surface, leaving only a few ancient carvings that were still barely legible.

But the most disturbing thing wasn't the silence of the temple… but the faint vibration coming from within.

Lyselle held her breath. “…Do you feel it?”

Caelan, who was walking in front, nodded with a tense expression. “There’s… some kind of hum. But it's not from magic. It’s more like…” He stopped, as if unable to form the word.

Valterion, who was always cynical, looked the most vigilant. “A machine.” All eyes immediately turned to him.

“A machine?” Lyselle asked with a furrowed brow.

Valterion stared darkly into the temple corridor. “This vibration isn’t from just anywhere, but from something that’s spinning. A system that doesn’t work with mana, but with another mechanism.”

Lyselle felt her heart beat faster. Machine. The word shouldn’t exist in this world. Things that work with metal, gears, or—worse yet—the technology she knew from her original world.

“Could it be…” she muttered softly, “…this isn’t a relic of the High Elves or ancient Drezhen. But something completely different.”

Caelan led the way deeper. The humming sound became clearer, soft but constant, like the long breath of a strange, sleeping creature.

They arrived in a large, domed room. Sunlight entered through cracks in the collapsed roof, illuminating something in the center of the room.

A metal circle nearly two meters in diameter, half-buried in the ground, with a shiny black surface that was completely untouched by rust. Strange symbols were etched on its side—not magical runes, not the elven language, nor demon script.

And from within the circle, the sound of a machine hummed softly, as if the object were still alive despite being buried for centuries.

Lyselle covered her mouth, almost at a loss for words.

“It's impossible…”

Caelan stepped closer, his gaze serious, almost transfixed. “This… isn’t an artifact of this world.”

Valterion added, his voice heavy, “If it's not from our world… then someone brought it here.”

A chilling silence enveloped them. Only the sound of the machine continued to echo, like the ticking of a foreign clock counting something no one understood.

And for the first time, Lyselle was truly certain—there was an unseen hand moving the pieces on this world’s stage.

Their footsteps echoed softly inside the old temple. The moss-covered stone walls seemed to hold thousands of years of secrets. The air felt damp, but it wasn't a normal dampness—something seemed to be vibrating within it.

“This place… is different from other ruins,” Lyselle murmured, her fingers tracing the strange carvings on a pillar. The carvings weren’t ancient Eirenthal letters, but straight lines and sharp angles that formed a pattern resembling a mechanical circuit.

Caelan lit a small orb of light at the end of his magic staff. A bluish-white beam of light shone on the wall, reflecting a faint metallic glint buried within the stone.

“Look at that,” he whispered. “Not ordinary stone… it’s a metal alloy. But… no kingdom in Eirenthal is capable of smelting a metal like this.”

Lyselle looked down, noticing a small gap in the carvings. She felt it, and her heart pounded when she found something cold—a flat, smooth surface, smoother than a gem. She pressed down gently.

Click.

The wall trembled. Dust fell from above, and the carvings slowly lit up with a pale blue light. The light moved like a flowing river, following a complex geometric pattern.

“What in the world is this?!” Caelan exclaimed, taking a half-step back.

But Lyselle remained fixated. The light wasn't magic—she could feel it clearly. There was no flow of mana. No elemental resonance. It was as if another energy was at work, beyond their comprehension.

“This is… technology,” Lyselle whispered, almost disbelieving her own words.

“Not magic.”

Suddenly, a section of the floor in front of them shifted. The heavy stones moved on their own, forming a large circle. From the opened gap, a rusty but intact metal cylinder emerged, adorned with foreign symbols that even Lyselle couldn’t read.

Caelan approached carefully. “I… once read records in the Virelion library. There’s a legend about observers from the sky—beings who came bearing magical tools, then disappeared just like that. Don’t tell me this is… one of their relics.”

Lyselle held her breath. Inside the cylinder, there was a kind of black glass panel with a thin frame. Cracked in some places, but its shape was still clear. She knew this object. Or at least, Ayaka Ishikawa within her knew.

“…It’s a monitor,” she whispered.

Caelan turned quickly. “What is that? You know?”

Lyselle bit her lip. The word had almost slipped from her mouth, a foreign term for this world. She couldn’t fully explain. Not now.

“I… I’m not sure,” she answered briefly, trying to cover it up. “But this object is clearly not from our world.”

Meanwhile, the temple walls continued to tremble softly, as if responding to their presence. The glowing carvings now formed a perfect circular pattern, and a faint sound like the humming of a machine began to be heard from underground.

Caelan sharpened his ears. “Do you hear that? Like… a beating heart.”

Lyselle nodded. There was both fear and a burning curiosity inside her. It was as if every second they stood in this old temple, the closer they were to a truth that Eirenthal was not meant to know.

But one thing was clear—this discovery was not just an ordinary ruin. It was the first evidence of outside interference in this world.

And for some reason, Lyselle felt this discovery was not a coincidence.

As if… something was waiting for them to find it.

Night fell slowly on the ruins of the old temple. A half-moon hung in the sky, its pale light penetrating the cracks in the ruined roof. In the main chamber, a small bonfire burned, casting an orange glow that reflected on the stone walls.

Lyselle sat leaning against one of the cracked pillars, her eyes fixed on the faintly glowing relief they had found earlier. Her fingers moved slowly, as if trying to understand the flow of the pattern. But the longer she stared, the clearer it became that the carvings were not merely ritualistic decorations. They were diagrams—complex, precise, resembling a blueprint for a machine.

“I’m more and more certain…” Lyselle’s voice was hoarse, almost a murmur, “…that this is not the work of this world's hands.”

Caelan, who was busy examining a metal fragment nearby, looked over. The piece was no longer than an arm’s length, but there was a faint, electric blue line that still pulsed on its surface. “You speak as if you know for a fact.”

“I can’t explain it clearly,” Lyselle replied, her eyes sharpening, “but this pattern… I’ve seen it before. Not in Eirenthal, but… something tied to a faint memory of me as Ayaka.”

The bonfire crackled softly. Both were silent for a moment, the air seeming to tighten. The words hung between them—Ayaka, her original world, a memory that shouldn’t exist in Lyselle’s body.

Lyselle clutched her knees. “In that world, objects like this… are technology. Machines, devices, tools made by humans. But why… why are there fragments of it here, in an ancient temple?”

Caelan got up, walked closer, and placed the metal fragment near the firelight. The glowing blue line on its surface flashed, as if reacting to the heat. “If this really came from your original world, then one thing cannot be denied: someone, or something, once brought these objects to Eirenthal.”

Lyselle straightened her body, her heart pounding. “That means…”

“Yes.” Caelan stared intently at her. “There was outside interference. And not just a small coincidence. Look at this—” he pointed to the relief pattern on the wall, “—it’s too systematic, too precise, as if this temple was built to store or connect something.”

A cold feeling ran down Lyselle’s spine. All this time, she had thought that all the mysteries in Eirenthal were rooted in gods, magic, and royal corruption. But the reality in front of her opened a door to a far more dangerous path: there was a power that crossed worlds, bringing foreign technology to this land.

“If that's true,” Lyselle whispered, “then their purpose… could be darker than just a power struggle.”

Caelan did not answer. He only stared at the metal fragment that was now faintly vibrating, as if there was still life inside it.

Outside the ruins, the night wind blew hard, howling between the stones. The glowing relief on the wall pulsed a little brighter, and in the air, Lyselle could feel a strange beat—a rhythm that belonged neither to magic nor to the spirits of nature.

“Something is about to awaken,” she said softly.

Caelan gripped his sword tightly, his face tense. “And we have to be ready, because whatever it is… it’s not from this world.”

The bonfire crackled again, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Silent, but aware that what they had found in this old temple was only the beginning. Tomorrow, these traces would lead them even further—to an undeniable truth.

A truth that would culminate… when Caelan finds an artifact from Earth.