Chapter 1038: The Power of Symbols and Rituals?

The Battle of Winterfell—the human act of slaying a god—had repercussions that perhaps ran far deeper than anyone had initially imagined.

Gawain’s eyes were fixed intently on the shattered remnants of the War God displayed on the nearby platform. Under the sterile glow of the laboratory lights, the divine fragments shimmered with a steely gray hue. To the untrained eye, it was nothing more than a twisted, broken piece of metal. Yet, an unmistakable, almost living aura still clung to it—an echo of the god’s former presence.

What appeared to be mere “armor shards” was, in truth, the very structural essence of the War God’s body.

Gods were entities utterly unlike any material beings known to humanity. Depending on the nature of the divine consciousness that birthed them, their forms varied wildly. The nature god Amon was a sacred stag of flesh and blood; the goddess of magic manifested as a shimmering lady woven from arcane energy and mist; the War God took the form of armor forged from steel and unknown substances; and according to Veronica’s descriptions, the god of the Holy Light appeared as a massive crystal with ever-shifting reflective surfaces, constantly altering its optical properties. These bizarre forms were reflections of how early mortals imagined their gods, and these “depictions” became the source of the gods’ power, inseparably fused with their mythic images. Even after death, this power lingered in their remains, sometimes for thousands of years.

Take, for example, the flesh sample of Amon sealed away in the Rebellion Fortress. After three millennia of slow decay, it was still dangerously contaminated with spiritual pollution when unearthed.

But these fragments of the War God? They were now completely “harmless.” Testers could handle them without any protective gear and suffer no ill effects.

Lost in thought, Gawain spoke slowly, “Aside from the changes we’ve observed here, have there been any other developments?”

“Yes,” Veronica nodded. “Another research team confirmed that after the War God’s fall, the original divine war magic changed. Prayers no longer receive responses, but the residual runes tied to those divine arts still function—and can now be freely manipulated and studied by ordinary people. Some previously forbidden actions that once caused divine magic to spiral out of control or backfire are no longer dangerous. We’ve also received reports from the Ogure tribes: scattered War God cults there have experienced similar phenomena. This confirms that the change is global, just as we initially predicted.”

“Right… divine magic unlocked, divine punishments nullified, prayers unanswered… these were all expected,” Gawain mused, “but the fact that the godly remnants no longer poison mortals—that’s something we never anticipated. So this is what it truly means to break free from the gods’ shackles…”

His thoughts drifted to the other two gods who had also “fallen.” Almost to himself, he said, “Amon, the nature god, and Mylmina, the goddess of magic, have also ‘fallen.’ At least, their divine seats have vanished. Yet some of their relics still carry strong spiritual contamination. What do you think is behind that?”

“Perhaps it lies in the ‘symbolic process,’” Veronica replied immediately, clearly having pondered this before Gawain’s arrival. “The War God was slain by mortals’ own hands, but the magic and nature gods withdrew on their own. During their departure, their followers maintained unbroken faith. That’s probably the key difference.”

As her words settled, Kamail added from the side, “On the Winterfell battlefield, the soldiers not only defeated a mad god—they also overcame the innate mortal reverence for the divine. That seems to be a crucial factor. Of course, most of the combatants were mages or magic soldiers who didn’t worship the War God to begin with, but perhaps it’s their identity as mortals, rather than their specific beliefs, that matters most.”

“Are you suggesting that an element of ‘counter-faith’ is necessary?” Gawain furrowed his brow deeply. Kamail’s insight touched on a direction he had vaguely sensed but never fully explored. “If that’s true, it might explain why what happened to the nature and magic gods differs so drastically from the War God’s fate. When those two left their divine seats, mortals’ thoughts and actions played no part—there was no counter-faith, no overcoming of reverence.”

Amber, who had been listening wide-eyed, suddenly gasped. Though much of the technical discussion had flown over her head, this last part clicked. “Wait—are you saying we need to… kill Amon and Mylmina again? That can’t be right. They left their seats voluntarily, and Mylmina even hid somewhere no one can find…”

“Of course not,” Gawain waved his hand dismissively. “They’ve already left their divine seats, and the bonds that once tied mortals to them have vanished. The powers of natural magic and arcane rituals are no longer constrained by divinity. That’s exactly what we wanted. As for the lingering contamination in their relics or remains—that’s a secondary concern. At worst, it’s like handling toxic materials carefully. We can’t justify taking action against them for that.”

Veronica nodded in agreement. “Exactly. We’re only using the changes in spiritual contamination from divine remnants to infer the relationship between mortal faith and spiritual pollution. This pollution isn’t tied to the gods’ sanity. Amon and Mylmina won’t become ‘mad gods’ because of it. There’s no need to worry.”

“Moreover,” Kamail added thoughtfully, “the contamination from Amon’s and Mylmina’s divine ‘artifacts’ is fading, just much more slowly than with the War God’s fragments. The pollution in Amon’s flesh sample has decreased by over half compared to a thousand years ago, with the decline accelerating recently. Mylmina left no fragments, but Narithil once stripped many ‘ashes’ from her, and their contamination is also weakening. Overall, this pollution clearly dissipates on its own—it just takes longer.”

“Even without a ‘counter-faith’ process, as the divine seats of the nature and magic gods vanish and their religions wane, the spiritual pollution they cause mortals will gradually fade…” Gawain stroked his chin, his thoughts sharpening. “So, at its core, this is a process of faith decline. And the Battle of Winterfell was the most intense, extreme form of that decline.”

Amber blinked, then suddenly said, “From what I know, Rosetta Augustus executed tens of thousands of War God priests that day—she must have already learned about this from the ‘Eye of God.’”

Her expression was complex. Even as an intelligence chief accustomed to dealing with dark matters, she couldn’t help but feel a chill when recalling Rosetta’s ruthless methods.

Gawain, of course, knew what had happened on the Typhon front during the Winterfell battle. Even if he hadn’t known at the time, Amber’s later investigations had uncovered many shocking truths. As one who had witnessed the decisive battle firsthand, he had to admit that Rosetta Augustus’s iron-fisted execution had stunned him. But he also understood that such measures could never become routine. “What Rosetta did can’t be repeated… We still need to find a more reliable, reasonable way to manage this ‘faith decline’ process.”

He glanced thoughtfully at Veronica. “The gradual reforms the Holy Light Church is undertaking might offer valuable insights.”

“But technical knowledge alone won’t suffice,” Veronica said gently. “This requires cooperation on a much larger scale, involving many more people, and reliable data from other churches and gods. There are simply too many deities in this world; the Holy Light faith is only one among many.”

As Veronica spoke calmly, Amber instinctively looked at Gawain. For some reason, a phrase she had glimpsed earlier on his desk—the one she still didn’t fully understand—flashed through her mind:

The Theocratic Council.

Vaguely, she sensed that this “pioneer,” always several steps ahead of others, was already contemplating these very issues.

Gawain, unaware of Amber’s thoughts, shifted focus quickly. “Speaking of your tests—none of the testers participated in the Winterfell battle, right?”

“Of course not. He’s a rear-line technician,” Kamail replied immediately, a hint of puzzlement in his voice. “Why do you ask?”

“The warriors on the Winterfell front lines defeated the deranged War God through direct combat, triggering the largest-scale faith decline. Yet a technician far behind the lines is now immune to the War God’s spiritual pollution. Meanwhile, in the Ogure tribal nation, small War God cults still worship the god, but their priests and followers have also broken free from the mental imprint. They might not even know what happened on the front lines. Don’t you think this reveals something?”

The ventilation system hummed softly as fresh air from the surface drifted through the lab. Gawain’s words hung in the air, and Kamail and Veronica fell into deep thought.

“We have discussed this,” Kamail finally broke the silence. The faint glow around the ancient mage flickered as he pondered. “As you said, the god-slaying battle at Winterfell was a heroic feat, but ultimately only a small fraction of mortals fought. In most parts of the world, most people probably don’t even know the War God has fallen. They still hold an instinctive reverence for the god, never imagining—let alone daring—to believe that mortals could commit such blasphemy as killing a god…

“These people have never confronted their faith, and the power of that faith has never waned in them. Yet, after Winterfell, a technician who never set foot on the battlefield is now ‘immune’ to the War God’s spiritual pollution…”

“Perhaps you’d be interested in certain religious concepts,” Veronica suddenly said. “Specifically, ‘symbols’ and ‘rituals.’”

“Symbols and rituals?” Gawain listened carefully to the saintly princess’s words, a sudden understanding dawning. “You mean the Battle of Winterfell had a ritualistic effect—and that symbolic ritual acts during the struggle against a god can have an enormous impact?”

“Symbols and rituals are fundamental components of religion, and gods are born from the symbols mortals conceive and the rituals they perform repeatedly. So, it stands to reason that ritualistic actions can have a profound effect on these deities,” Veronica said earnestly. “We can even boldly hypothesize—perhaps on some battlefield where mortals resist the gods, if just two or three people manage to successfully defy a god, it could break the entire mortal population free from divine control. It sounds like a fairy tale, but from the perspective of symbols and rituals, it’s entirely plausible…”

Hearing Veronica’s example, Gawain furrowed his brow at first, but soon he grasped the core of her argument. Shaking his head with a sigh, he said, “If that day ever comes, those two or three people’s success would likely depend on the efforts of countless others. After all, the power of the gods far surpasses that of mortals, and our world isn’t yet at a point where a handful of heroes breaking through on a battlefield can save everything.”

Gawain’s reflection stirred something in Kamail as well. The archmage let out a trembling sigh, while Veronica returned to her usual calm and composed demeanor. She glanced at the war god samples on the platform and said, “In any case, we need more testing.”

“Exactly—more testing. No matter how logical our current discussion seems, it still lacks crucial empirical evidence,” Gawain nodded. “We should expand the scope of our tests. First, confirm whether testers from different regions and backgrounds are truly free from the war gods’ spiritual corruption. Then… broaden the range to include other races, gather testers from those groups, and see if they too are unaffected by the war gods’ spiritual taint.”

“Other races?” Kamail asked, surprised. He clearly hadn’t considered that direction before. “You mean like elves or dwarves?”

“Don’t forget, they’re mortals too—and many of them also worship war gods. Although their war god cults are independent from the human ones, they all revere the same deity,” Gawain explained. “What we’re trying to verify now is a very, very important concept… whether mortal souls share a fundamental connection beneath this world, and…”

“And?” Kamail asked, curious.

“And to academically prove one thing: mortals truly are a community bound by fate.”

(End of chapter)