Chapter 1085: No Longer Sacred

Hearing Highlord Gawain’s words, Rosetta’s eyes shifted subtly, and his body leaned forward slightly. “So it seems you’ve already reached an accord with Talrond?”

“The Talrond Interim Council is currently the only legitimate governing body of Talrond. Under its jurisdiction, dragons are recognized as lawful citizens. The Alliance nations and the Dragon Kingdom mutually acknowledge this legitimacy. Beyond that, any dragon who disobeys the Council’s authority, violates Alliance agreements, disregards border protocols, or threatens the security of member territories will be considered a citizen of no nation,” Gawain said calmly. “An uncontrolled dragon poses a tremendous threat—not only to us but to Talrond itself.”

“…A terrifying resolution,” Rosetta couldn’t help but say. “For the dragonkind to make such a decision…”

“This is a race we’ve never formally engaged with before. Their mindset, history, and culture differ greatly from ours. In some ways, the gap between us and dragons is even wider than that between humans and elves,” Gawain nodded, sharing his impressions of the dragons. “They surpass other mortal races in discipline, decisiveness, and respect for contracts. Yet, when it comes to adapting to change or learning new things, they may be the opposite. We’ll need time to understand and adjust to these new allies—and they feel the same.”

He paused briefly, then continued with grave seriousness: “This is precisely what we must always consider after forming the Alliance. Our allies span nations, races, even the boundaries of known civilizations. Each grew up in vastly different cultural environments. Now, faced with existential threats to the world, we must unite. But lacking a historically tested process of integration, these differing mindsets will inevitably cause friction and clashes. Such conflicts cannot be resolved by any great power’s brute force alone. Instead, it requires those nations with strong regional influence to take the lead—and those nations must be united in purpose.”

“It seems you’ve given this a great deal of thought,” Rosetta finally nodded after a moment of reflection. “I agree with your perspective—and Typhon is willing to shoulder its share of responsibility in this matter.”

Gawain smiled. “See? Honest, open dialogue really does work.”

He then steered the conversation to a new topic. “Now… since we just touched on the realm of the gods, let’s extend that discussion. We’ve recently ended a war against the gods themselves. As leaders of the victorious coalition, I want to hear your thoughts on that war.”

“My thoughts?” Rosetta gave a faint, complicated smile. “My biggest thought is that one war like this is enough… Such a tremendous cost, such a grueling fight, and yet our victory only amounted to destroying a ‘spiritual illusion’ we ourselves created. Aside from fragments useful only for research, the war god left behind nothing but scorched earth. He won’t be paying any war reparations. The phrase ‘victorious nations’ you just used feels more like a bitter irony.”

“…The dragons’ own experience proves the same point: trying to shatter the chains by directly slaying gods is probably not a wise path. The cost grows heavier as civilization advances, and judging by our current level of development, that cost has become unbearable. So unless we have no other choice, it’s better to take a more cautious route.”

Rosetta raised his eyelids slightly. “The Theocratic Council?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ve heard that name more than once recently, and I’ve speculated about its mechanisms and purpose. I can guess you intend to interfere with how the gods operate, but I hadn’t imagined how exactly you plan to do it,” Rosetta said. “You’ve vaguely mentioned universal literacy, church reform, and intellectual liberation… So I’ve been thinking about what ties these concepts together.”

“The key commonality is ‘desanctification,’” Gawain said, locking eyes with Rosetta. He finally spoke the word aloud, laying it bare before an ally—though he never expected that ally to be Rosetta Augustus. At that moment, even he couldn’t help but marvel at fate’s strange twists. The course of all things is always so unpredictable. “Since we know how gods come into being, by reversing that process slightly, we can understand how they ‘cease’ to exist.”

Desanctification—the moment Rosetta heard the word, he instinctively narrowed his eyes.

He had spent a long time pondering the true core behind Gawain’s grand plan. He had combed through every book Gawain had written, studied every argument, understood every decision Gawain had made over the years, and continuously extracted the underlying principles. Regarding the Theocratic Council, he had nearly glimpsed the entire blueprint—except for one crucial word, one key “lockpick.”

Now, he finally knew what that key was.

“Will it work?” Rosetta asked, his gaze more solemn than ever. “Relying solely on desanctification?”

“Of course not just that alone, but it will be the most influential factor,” Gawain explained. “After analyzing the origins and mechanisms of gods, we’ve confirmed that it’s the ‘ideological currents’ of countless believers that shape and sustain them over time. And the foundation of those currents is ‘attributing everything to the divine.’ Because people firmly believe a certain authority is divine, that authority manifests as a real god. So cutting off that process is the key…”

“Blindness and ignorance give birth to such ‘currents,’” Rosetta took the lead in continuing, “Because people don’t know the truth, and have never heard of any logical method to explain the unknown, they naturally direct their answers toward an existence that requires no explanation…”

“Yes, the key is ‘thinking’—active thinking,” Gawain nodded. “Only when thinking becomes habitual will people, when faced with the unknown, first seek the logic behind it instead of attributing it to some sacred, omnipotent being. And that thinking… must be built on a foundation of widespread education, along with controlling the church’s influence.”

“But the wise are always a minority,” Rosetta tried to find flaws in the theory. “There’s no perfect state where everyone thinks rationally. You can’t guarantee that education will have ideal effects on every individual—more likely, you’ll get countless half-informed fools and endless tavern philosophers spouting nonsense. Their ‘thinking’ has nothing to do with truth. The gap between real knowledge and their minds might be wider than the endless ocean. Such people…”

Rosetta’s expression grew subtle. He wasn’t just speculating—he truly understood these phenomena. Gawain immediately realized why Rosetta’s descriptions were so accurate—

Because Typhon’s education campaign had actually started years before Cecil’s. Though they had taken some detours and weren’t as successful as Cecil’s efforts, the long-term accumulation had already revealed many “unexpected consequences” of mass education to Rosetta.

Gawain chuckled, lightly tapping the armrest of the nearby sofa. “Tavern scholars, armchair experts, folk sages, paper philosophers—after one drink, they’ll discuss runes with you; after two, mathematics; after three, they’re confident enough to explain the fundamental laws of our world and even dare to question all authority.”

“That’s the most brilliant description I’ve ever heard,” Rosetta first looked surprised, then couldn’t help but smile. “But I must admit, your summary is spot on. Are these people… the ‘thinkers’ you want?”

“Aren’t they?” Gawain suddenly dropped the teasing tone and asked seriously. “Don’t they think?”

Rosetta frowned instinctively. “They…”

“They do think. Though not always accurately. But no matter how many drinks they’ve had, they never try to attribute these questions to some supernatural, omnipotent god—because ‘everything is the all-powerful god’s doing’ is fundamentally opposed to thinking. When they boast and debate in taverns and alleys, they’re exploring what they believe is ‘knowledge,’ not some divine decree. You might find them shallow or ridiculous, but you should see that at least they’re trying to understand the world with their own eyes, not eyes granted by gods.”

“That’s the greatest effect of universal education and intellectual liberation I’m talking about—it can’t turn everyone into a scholar or teach everyone perfect logic, but it can instill a common sense: that everything in the world can be explained logically, and knowledge can change humanity’s understanding of the world. On that basis, they will think. And thinking itself… is the greatest threat to the gods.”

Rosetta’s expression finally grew solemn. Under Gawain’s guidance, he pondered questions he had never considered before—from the perspective of a born noble, a ruler accustomed to looking down on an entire empire.

He slowly began to understand Gawain’s intent and nodded. “I think I’m beginning to grasp it…”

“You don’t fully understand yet,” Gawain leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with Rosetta. “Typhon’s education campaign has been ongoing for years. Though progress is slow, the accumulated base must be considerable. But have you examined the patterns behind that data? Have you investigated the proportions of devout believers, lukewarm believers, and nominal believers among the literate population? Compared church influence in well-educated versus poorly educated regions? Compared the frequency and responsiveness of clergy-to-god communications across different areas? Have you done that research?”

“…No,” Rosetta shook his head after a moment’s thought. “I’ve never considered it from that angle.”

“That’s the problem. Typhon has done a lot, even earlier than Cecil, but many efforts weren’t systematized,” Gawain sighed. “Now that we’re entering the same Alliance, I’m happy to offer some help in this area. Of course, in return, I hope you can open your data—not to me, but to the Theocratic Council. This is crucial for our research into divine mysteries.”

“I think that’s acceptable.” Rosetta agreed without much hesitation—seemingly unaware of just how valuable those unique, decades-accumulated, royal-controlled “large-scale social data” were. It wasn’t due to shallow thinking or oversight, but because no one in this era had yet studied this field.

Gawain nodded, wearing a sincere smile.

Rosetta fell into thought. After a full thirty seconds, he broke the silence.

“So the Theocratic Council’s role isn’t to openly attack any church, nor to spread negative images of any god,” Rosetta said thoughtfully. “The Council itself won’t declare war on any deity.”

“Yes. That will minimize accelerating the ‘countdown’ and ease many member states’ concerns—after all, although royal and divine authority are naturally opposed, rulers must still consider their domestic church powers,” Gawain agreed. “In fact, the Council won’t just avoid declaring war on any god—it will even help some gods with ‘public relations’…”

“Public relations?” Rosetta looked puzzled, clearly not understanding Gawain’s meaning.

“The clergy becoming more secular, doctrines turning more accessible, gods becoming celebrities—ultimately, the entire system of faith transforming into entertainment,” Gawain said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We won’t create any negative images of the gods. On the contrary, we’ll make them shine even brighter in shadow plays, magazines, and novels. And in the process… they’ll gradually lose their mystery, their sanctity.”

Rosetta stared at Gawain, dumbfounded, as if listening to a fairy tale.

Then he took a long breath, his expression more complex and vivid than ever before. “…You are the boldest person I’ve ever met. Bold to the point of being a little frightening.”

When he said “person,” he hesitated for a moment, but didn’t choose another word.

Gawain noticed the barely perceptible pause but only smiled. “Don’t you think this plan is worth trying?”

“If I weren’t an Augustus, I’d probably be scared out of my wits by you,” Rosetta joked lightly, then grew serious. “I’m in.”

Gawain smiled and raised his glass. “To battling the heavens—endless joy.”

Rosetta paused, tasting the slightly odd phrase, then smiled in return and lifted his glass as well. “To battling the heavens—endless joy.”

(End of chapter)