The test was over. Everyone had retreated to what they considered a "safe distance" from the silvery-white metal pillar at the center of the hall, while Byron stared at the empty floor ahead, deep in thought.
There seemed to be an invisible boundary here. Taking one step forward would be deemed entry into some "restricted zone," after which the ancient system still operating within the tower would conduct an "assessment" of the intruder. Those who failed to meet a certain screening criterion would receive a warning and be driven away; otherwise, nothing would happen.
Out of common sense, Byron naturally did not have the soldiers risk finding out what would happen if they ignored the warning and kept moving forward—those Primal Elves who had wandered in here tens of thousands of years ago had already performed that particular act of suicidal stupidity. An ultra-advanced race had been hit with a mass stupidity spell by the Voyager Legacy's black technology, then slapped with a genetic-disorder debuff. By the time they fled this place, they had nearly forgotten how to operate their own ships. Knowing that history, Byron certainly was not going to gamble on whether the soldiers he had brought could withstand the tower's "security system."
The results of the test were already obvious. Apart from the three Sea Monsters present and Asalina, who was dragon-blooded, everyone here failed to meet the Voyager system's "screening criteria"—or, in the warning's own words, the "boundary-crossing conditions."
"What do you think?" Asalina's voice came from beside him. The red-haired Dragon Seal Witch looked intently into Byron's eyes. "Where do you think the problem lies?"
"...I suspect the criterion is race. Humans don't meet it, and neither did the Primal Elves back then," Byron said gruffly. "But Sea Monsters and dragon-blooded people do... or rather,