Chapter 1027: The Community

Beneath an endlessly vast and lofty blue sky, a shallow expanse of water stretched out like a mirror, reaching as far as the eye could see. In this unbelievably immense world, anyone standing here would inevitably feel a growing sense of insignificance.

Rosetta couldn’t help but glance around once more before lowering his gaze. With a hint of emotion, he said, “The Eversleepers once described the power of the ‘Outsiders’… Some mentioned that the chosen ones are granted the right to meet an Outsider directly in a special space, but no one has ever truly seen this place—could this be what they were talking about?”

“More or less,” Gawain smiled. “But those cultists misunderstood me in many ways. They tend to exaggerate my… danger. And since they sided with Typhon, they naturally wouldn’t use flattering words to describe me, their so-called ‘enemy.’”

Rosetta studied Gawain intently. Despite being trapped in this strange space, seemingly without any control, Gawain remained remarkably calm—there was no hint of helplessness. “I’m curious—whether you’re Gawain Cecil or an Outsider, what exactly are you in this world? A human, or some kind of wandering godlike being?”

Gawain spread his hands. “We just fought side by side to defeat a god. I thought that meant we had at least a basic level of trust.”

Rosetta’s expression didn’t change; he simply kept looking at Gawain.

“Alright, then. You can think of me as a traveler, a human much like yourselves, just with some unusual experiences and abilities,” Gawain sighed, his tone more casual. “That way of understanding me helps build a friendly, trusting relationship. Don’t get hung up on the term ‘Outsider’—most of the time, it’s just a scare tactic against those dark cultists.”

Rosetta frowned, his usually somber face deep in thought. After a few seconds, he broke the silence. “So, you brought me to this ‘place’ to talk about something?”

“Just to make contact,” Gawain said seriously. “You know, ever since this ‘war’ broke out, communication between Typhon and Cecil has been nearly frozen. That’s dangerous. Now that the biggest threat is gone, I think we need to meet soon. It’ll help prevent any… chaos from erupting between our two nations in this tense atmosphere. After all, our armies are currently standing together on a chaotic, war-torn land.”

Gawain’s tone was friendly, almost casual, but Rosetta sensed the deeper meaning beneath his calm words. He looked Gawain in the eye and said slowly, “The fire’s burning hot enough already. Neither of us wants it to keep spreading.”

“Looks like we agree on the big picture,” Gawain met Rosetta’s gaze. “That gives us a foundation to return to the negotiating table. How to slowly put out this fire—that’s something we’ll have time to discuss later.”

Rosetta’s face remained impassive, but inside he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. One of the worst outcomes he’d feared after the war wouldn’t come to pass. It might not be cheap, but it was better than a conflict spreading all the way to Aldern. Relaxing slightly, he glanced at Gawain again and spoke bluntly, “Honestly, I thought you wouldn’t stop. For Cecil, this is a rare opportunity. Typhon is so weak right now—Aldern is practically within your grasp.”

Rosetta’s frankness surprised Gawain. He raised an eyebrow and looked at the Typhon ruler. “Then guess why I’m not doing that.”

Rosetta was silent for a moment before replying gravely, “You can’t swallow all of Typhon. This vast, densely populated land would only drag postwar Cecil into a quagmire. I can’t think of any other good reason.”

Gawain looked at him deeply, forced to admit Rosetta was at least half right.

He had considered letting the fire burn, even using the opportunity to push into Aldern and merge the two human empires. It was an enticing, even thrilling prospect—but reality wasn’t that simple.

As Rosetta said, Cecil couldn’t absorb all of Typhon, not even a third. Typhon wasn’t a backward southern borderland or a blank slate like post-civil war Ansu. It wasn’t a place like Victoria or Bertram, where entire noble systems willingly pledged allegiance. It was a modern empire entering an industrial boom, with a clear and strict bureaucracy, an increasingly enlightened populace, nearly a hundred million people, stable governance, an independent culture, and countless officials and citizens loyal to the Augustus royal family… This was a completely different concept from Ansu.

None of this had changed much, even after the war.

On the other hand, Gawain knew Cecil’s own situation well: beneath the surface of advanced technology and international trade, it was still a country just emerging from civil war, with many regions struggling to rebuild. The wounds from the previous civil war and divine calamity were only just healing. Government offices across the nation were barely staffed to capacity. Purges of old nobles and war profiteers were ongoing. The last food crisis had just been averted, and the current grain reserves wouldn’t even last through this autumn’s war efforts.

If they truly fought, Cecil’s legions might reach Aldern—but it would be a quagmire dragging Cecil down with it. Typhon wouldn’t collapse like the southern or Holy Spirit Plain nobles once did. Small-scale conflicts would likely drag on for years, even into the next decade. No new order could be established. The massive influx of population would overwhelm Cecil’s administration. Prolonged deficits would drain the fragile reserves, leading to supply shortages and worsening social unrest spiraling out of control.

After a dozen simulations by the Consul Council, the neural network, and Nariel, the conclusion was nearly unanimous: Typhon couldn’t be fully occupied or assimilated. Cecil would eventually withdraw from the quagmire. The only outcomes would be years of economic stagnation or regression, generations of hatred, and the collapse of the High Consul’s authority.

If the war had been delayed a few more years, maybe things would be different—but reality offers no “ifs.”

That was only half the reason Gawain chose to stop the fire from spreading.

“Have you ever thought that even if I can’t swallow all of Typhon, I have many other options?” He looked Rosetta in the eye. “I could carve your empire apart, install puppet regimes in Aldern, blockade and fracture Typhon’s economy. That’s far easier than occupying a country.”

He didn’t elaborate, only throwing out broad concepts. As Rosetta pondered seriously, Beltira, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up, “So many options? I never thought of that…”

Rosetta glanced at her, his expression strange. “You are, after all, one of the Augustus family’s ancestors…”

Beltira’s face was grave, her tone resigned, as if she’d seen it all. “That was a long time ago.”

Rosetta forced himself to shift his gaze back to Gawain. “You mentioned these things not to threaten or warn—those would be too shallow for you.”

“Exactly. I just want to make one thing clear: the future could get very bad, but none of us want that,” Gawain nodded. “From Cecil’s perspective, those methods could bring great benefits. But the cost would be a loss for all humanity. Only long-lasting hostility and suspicion would remain between Cecil and Typhon. Generations would live in distrust and prejudice. The damage might never be repaired. The progress of mortals as a whole would slow, because one of the most promising nations would have its wings clipped. And others… might live in fear.”

“There’s one more important point,” Rosetta interrupted, “The order you’ve long promoted—the community of mortal destiny—will collapse because of Cecil’s real-world actions.”

Gawain paused, then slowly smiled—not a polite smile, but one of genuine pleasure.

“Exactly. If I did that, no one in the world would believe in the idea that ‘mortal fates are one’ anymore,” he said with a laugh. “What about you? Do you believe in my vision?”

“…It seems you truly want to build such an order,” Rosetta said solemnly after a moment. “An order that sees all humanity as one.”

“First, it’s not just all humanity, but all mortals—including every race on the continent of Loren, and even the intelligent beings beyond,” Gawain corrected seriously. “Second, it’s not that I want to build this order—it’s a natural fact, a law of this world.”

As he spoke, a gentle breeze stirred the vast water and sky, rippling the surface. Beneath the shimmering expanse, images suddenly appeared—

A battlefield viewed from above, the war-ravaged Winterfort line. A shocking scar of molten lava and black crystal-like scorched earth stretched from the plains to Winterfort’s peak. Smoke rose everywhere across the land. Beyond that, cities and villages, quiet winter forests, and snow-covered fields…

The view pulled back, further and further, until the details of any nation vanished. It stopped at a vantage point shrouded in clouds, overlooking an endless land.

Rosetta stood, instinctively looking down at the land reflected in the water beneath his feet. He felt the view should be even broader—but it stopped there, barely showing half of Gondor’s wasteland.

“This is the land we live on,” Gawain’s voice came from beside him, pulling Rosetta from his thoughts. “When you look down from the sky, all the cities and villages disappear. Borders between nations become meaningless. Of course, we still need the concepts of nations and individuals, but on that foundation, all of us… are simply inhabitants of this land.”

“We all share one world, facing together its blessings and its trials. We stand before the gods, and before the demon tides that could return at any moment, along with threats we have yet to even comprehend. If I had said this before today, it might have sounded like empty words—but today… the shockwave from the War God’s collapse has just swept over the rooftops of Winterburg.

“And you need to understand: the War God is not the only one we face.

“There are many gods—many who once sheltered us, and who still watch over us now. They span the entire world, influencing not just human realms, but elves, dwarves, fae, orcs…

“Today, we managed to defeat one god, but you saw the cost with your own eyes. How many kingdoms in this world can stand as firm as Typhon and Cecil did? That much, I’m sure you understand.

“That’s why I say all mortals share a common fate when confronting gods and demon tides—these ‘world crises’ are not my choice. They are dictated by the world itself, part of the natural order of things.”

Gawain paused. The gentle breeze stirring this space gradually died down, and the images reflected beneath the water’s surface faded away, leaving only an endless expanse of blue. Rosetta finally exhaled softly, glancing at Gawain. “Knowing you’re an ‘Outsider from Beyond,’ I find my feelings growing stranger still… You care about this world even more than its own inhabitants do.”

“That’s why I said, for now, don’t dwell on the ‘Outsider’ part—I’m not here just because it’s interesting,” Gawain said with a wry smile, shaking his head. “Besides, what I just said wasn’t meant to convince you of anything, nor to show off how much I ‘care’ about this world. Like I said at the start, this is simply a ‘contact’—a private conversation we need to have, away from negotiation tables and formal talks. Just a quiet exchange, not meant for the public eye. I’m sharing my own thoughts with you. How much you understand, or want to understand… that’s up to you.”

(End of chapter)