From American Internet Celebrity to God Among Men

185: Chapter 185 Echoes of Iron and Ice and the Second Piece of the PuzzleWithdrawing from the humid stickiness of the tropical jungle and suddenly plunging into the crispness of a Nordic fjord was like jumping from a heavily saturated oil painting into a print with sharp strokes and a cold color palette.

The air was so clean it stung the lungs, carrying the scent of pine needles, seawater, and rock.

Massive granite cliffs, as if cleaved by the axe of a god, plunged vertically into the bottomless, ink-green seawater, with waterfalls hanging like silver ribbons, and the cries of seabirds echoing far across the expanse.

The Viking petroglyph site was located on a relatively gentle terrace by the bay, backed by rock walls and facing the open fjord.

Dozens of rocks of various sizes were covered with patterns chiseled out with primitive tools: twisted serpentine shapes, abstract sun wheels, longships, spear-wielding warriors, and a large number of undecipherable runes.

There were no magnificent buildings here, only these silent stones scattered among moss and low shrubs, appearing small compared to the vast nature, yet exuding a stubborn and mysterious sense of presence.

The local contact was a museum researcher and historical reenactment enthusiast named Eric, who was tall, red-bearded, dressed in practical outdoor gear, and had enthusiastic and knowledgeable eyes.

He was very supportive of the team’s research permit (applied for under the name of ”Transnational Acoustic Archaeology and Cultural Heritage Recording”) and provided a wealth of materials regarding local legends and academic research.

”This place is called ’Helgard’ by some of the older generation, which means ’the place of listening’,” Eric said, pointing to the largest slab covered in runes.

”Legend has it that on certain nights, when the aurora appears and the wind blows from the sea, these stones will ’sing’, with a sound like ancient iron scraping against ice.

Of course, modern science suggests it might be the whistling sound produced by wind blowing through specific rock crevices, or rock resonance triggered by fjord tidal vibrations.”

The team’s camp was set up in an abandoned cabin (which had been renovated) about one kilometer away from the petroglyph group, maintaining a research distance while providing basic protection against the cold.

The working environment here was more comfortable than the jungle, but the cold and potential wind and rain were new challenges.

On the first day, after familiarizing themselves with the environment under Eric’s guidance, work began quickly.

Valentina and Joe focused their equipment deployment on monitoring the acoustic coupling relationship between the petroglyph group, the fjord water, and specific wind directions.

Alex, meanwhile, began his ”perceptual stroll” once again.

The energy field here was completely different from the Mayan jungle.

The energy of the rocks was solid, cold, and highly inert, like a sleeping giant beast.

The life energy of the moss and lichens was thin but tenacious.

The fjord’s water contained deep and slowly flowing massive energy.

The overall atmosphere was one of empty, metallic ”cold silence.”

Alex touched those cold carvings.

Information Texture Discrimination meticulously scanned the energy differences between the chiseled lines and the original rock surface.

Thousands of years of weathering had made the two nearly merge, but at the microscopic level of perception, he could still ”feel” the extremely faint ”stress memory” left by the instantaneous violence of the tools applied, as well as the subtle energy gradients produced by the different erosion rates of rainwater, frost, and microorganisms along the carvings versus the flat surfaces over the subsequent years.

However, when his perception swept over several slabs with specific patterns (especially those complex spiral-shaped sun wheels and intertwined serpentine shapes), he vaguely caught a hint of something unusual.

It was not the ”energy imprint” like in the Mayan ruins, but more like a trace of... ”guidance” or ”focusing.”

The chiseling direction and depth of these patterns seemed to have unintentionally (or intentionally?) formed some kind of extremely rudimentary ”receiving” or ”reflecting” structure for specific frequency energy flows in the environment (possibly geomagnetic micro-variations, extremely low-frequency sound waves, or even ionospheric disturbances triggered by auroral activity).

They did not produce anomalies themselves, but under specific environmental conditions, they might act like rough lenses or antennas, ”converging” or ”marking” the weak, unconventional energy fluctuations that already existed in the environment, thereby allowing sensitive individuals (such as ancient shamans or priests) to have the experience of ”listening” to something.

He shared this perceptual impression with the team.

Valentina immediately adjusted the monitoring plan, strengthening the synchronous recording of geomagnetism, extremely low-frequency atmospheric sound waves, and micro-tremors on the rock surface (possibly triggered by geological activities or tidal forces from extremely long distances), and focused on analyzing the correlation between this data and the spatial distribution of the petroglyph patterns.

Taylor’s field recording was full of another kind of charm.

She recorded the sharp wind blowing over the rocks, the deep surging of the fjord water, and the lonely cries of seagulls in the distance.

Eric demonstrated for her the low, long notes played on a replica ancient Norse instrument, the ”antler horn”; the sound was thick and desolate, as if it could awaken the ghosts of the past.

Taylor also tried using a special microphone close to the petroglyph surface to listen to the ”breathing of the stones themselves” — that was the almost inaudible sound of micro-thermal expansion and contraction caused by the temperature difference between day and night, but after amplification, it actually carried a slow and Eternity-like rhythm.

On the evening of the second day, a sudden, not-so-intense aurora quietly appeared in the northern sky.

The green and purple curtains of light swayed slowly, reflecting on the ink-black surface of the fjord, the scene dreamlike.

The team immediately entered a high state of work.

Alex stood in the center of the petroglyph group, turned off the active emission functions of all auxiliary equipment, and relied solely on Information Texture Discrimination to fully perceive the changes in environmental energy.

He could clearly ”feel” that, with the appearance and strengthening of the aurora, the disturbance in the high-altitude ionosphere brought a weak ”drizzle” of electromagnetic energy covering specific frequency bands, sprinkling down onto the earth.

At the same time, the fjord’s water seemed to produce some kind of deep, long-period pressure feedback to this disturbance, triggering imperceptible, extremely low-frequency tremors in the seabed rock layers.

And the petroglyph group, especially those stones where the sun wheel patterns were located, seemed to have their weak ”energy guidance” characteristics activated.

They did not generate a powerful energy field, but seemed to turn into some extremely tiny ”points of light” or ”vortices” in the darkness, slightly ”outlining” or ”highlighting” those scattered, weak, anomalous energy fluctuations in the environment.

In Alex’s perceptual field of vision, on the originally homogeneous and cold energy background of this area, several extremely thin, intermittent, and non-natural ”sharp” and ”periodic” energy ”filaments” emerged, which faintly corresponded to the positions of several key petroglyphs, like ghostly strings, briefly ”plucked” in the resonance between the aurora and the earth’s veins.

Almost at the same time, multiple high-sensitivity vibration sensors placed around the petroglyphs recorded a set of unexplainable micro-tremor signals lasting about three seconds, with extremely complex frequencies and abnormal attenuation; their source did not seem to be a single rock, but the shallow strata beneath several key petroglyphs, forming a vague ”network” distribution.

The environmental microphones also captured a segment of extremely weak air vibration sound, similar to the high-frequency trembling of a metal sheet, which basically coincided with the time and location of the ”sharp energy filaments” perceived by Alex.

”Recorded it!” Valentina’s voice suppressed excitement in the communication channel.

”Multi-sensor synchronized anomaly signals, highly correlated with the peak period of auroral activity!

The signal characteristics do not match known geological or meteorological phenomena!”

Eric looked at the changing aurora in the sky, then at the busy figures of the team and the quiet equipment, and muttered, ”So... the legend is true.

It’s not the stones singing, it’s the stones ’pointing the way’, pointing to those things... that we usually can’t see or hear.”

Taylor recorded the petroglyph group under the aurora and the silhouettes of the team at work with her camera.

For her, this was not just a scientific discovery, but a magnificent ritual taking place at the edge of the world, concerning nature, history, and the limits of human perception.

On the third day, the team conducted a detailed analysis and data solidification of the captured anomaly signals.

The path of the ”energy filaments” perceived by Alex and the micro-tremor ”network” distribution detected by the instruments had a high spatial correlation.

Combining the legends provided by Eric and Alex’s perceptual inference about the ”energy guidance” characteristics of the petroglyph patterns, a hypothesis gradually took shape: this Viking petroglyph site might have been chosen intentionally or unintentionally by ancient ancestors as an ”observatory” or ”interaction interface,” used to perceive or mark weak, ”unnatural” energy fluctuations that might appear periodically in the environment from deep within the earth or near-Earth space under specific celestial phenomena (such as the aurora).

Those petroglyph patterns might not be random decorations, but an extremely primitive attempt at symbolization to try to understand or ”tame” these invisible forces.

Although no direct ”source” was found, the discovery of a clear ”interaction interface” and ”environmental trigger mechanism” was undoubtedly the second crucial puzzle piece.

It indicated that human contact with these ”anomalies” in history might not have been accidental encounters, but rather a primitive and continuous tradition of ”interaction” based on site selection and observation of natural cycles.

Before leaving, Alex and Taylor stood in front of the largest petroglyph.

Alex pressed his palm lightly over the center of a sun wheel pattern, perceiving the weak but real traces of ”guidance” that might have accumulated there over countless auroral nights.

”They heard, or felt something,” Taylor said softly, ”and then used their strength to carve marks on the stones, trying to tell those who came later.”

”Maybe not just to tell,” Alex withdrew his hand, ”but also to remember, to try in their own way to establish a thread of connection with those forces that could not be understood, even if it was just marking down the location and time of its appearance.”

Carrying the chill of the fjord, the lingering aftertaste of the aurora, the guidance of the petroglyphs, and new conjectures about the ”interaction” between ancient humans and the unknown, the team set off again.

The last stop was that Asian plateau with thin air and heavy faith.

Could the three puzzle pieces, beside the final temple ruins, find the clues for the final assembly, or even glimpse the vague outline that the ”puzzle” itself might depict?