Chapter 1101: Defining the Nature

The Silver Queen spoke casually, but high above, Highlord listened intently. A subtle stir arose in his mind—this topic was taking on a strange edge. To have the former god of nature himself speak directly with those devout believers unwilling to forget the past? For the Silver Queen, it might have been a fanciful notion, but for Highlord, it seemed physically possible…

After all, that “deity” was still in his backyard, watching “television.” According to the surveillance team, he spent at least twenty hours a day online…

But then again, what could Amon and those steadfast worshippers possibly say? How could they safely and reliably persuade a group of elves who had clung to their faith for three thousand years to let go of their obsession? Should the nature god perform another death scene on the spot…?

Highlord shook his head gently, brushing away the strange thought that had suddenly surfaced for no apparent reason. He knew it was just a passing fancy. Under no circumstances could he allow Amon to reconnect with mortals outside—even a single word or a fleeting manifestation was absolutely forbidden. The risks were far too great. It could easily reestablish Amon’s divine authority, and the potential consequences were unpredictable.

He could not squander three millennia of progress since the fall of the Silver Star on such a reckless whim.

But… what if there was another way? A different approach…

Lost in thought, Highlord was soon interrupted by the Silver Queen’s curious gaze. “What are you thinking about?”

“…Nothing, just some trivial matters,” Highlord replied, snapping out of his reverie. He glanced at Belsethia, a plan forming in his mind, but he quickly suppressed it. Raising his head, he looked toward a nearby mechanical clock. The hands were nearing the top mark. “Break time is almost over… Let’s return to the meeting.”

Inside the Oathstone Circle, representatives gradually returned to their seats. In truth, most had never left the circle’s perimeter. During the brief thirty-minute recess, they had seized every moment to confer with others, gathering as much information as possible to better grasp the situation. Even those who stepped away were consulting their teams, seeking advice and intelligence support. No one truly relaxed—the meeting was nearing its conclusion, and real rest would have to wait until the circle reopened.

Once all representatives were seated and the staff outside the circle prepared, Belsethia rose. She cast a quiet glance over the assembly before raising her right hand slightly. “According to procedure, the Oathstone Circle is now sealed. Unless a life-threatening emergency occurs, this lockdown will remain until the closed-door meeting concludes.”

As the Silver Queen’s words fell, a low hum rose from the edges of the hall. Suddenly, the towering stone pillars shimmered with layers of magical light. Ancient, intricate runes appeared on their surfaces, unfolding like petals in the air and connecting to form a pale green rune barrier. Glowing energies flowed between the symbols, rapidly expanding.

Within seconds, the barren wasteland and distant townscapes outside the Oathstone Circle vanished, replaced by a vast, boundless forest. The dense woodland stretched endlessly, erasing every trace of the previous landscape.

Outside the circle, teams waiting in the rest area saw no forest. Instead, they watched as the massive ancient ritual site was bathed in light and then vanished into thin air. Some stirred uneasily, but upon seeing the elven officials and the teams from Typhon and Cecil quietly resting nearby, the unrest quickly subsided.

Inside the circle, the Silver Queen ended the “reverse phase” of the ritual and sat down again. Highlord stood. “Let us begin the meeting. After so many days, many of you have likely noticed the topic we have deliberately avoided. Now… it is time to confront our greatest challenge: the gods of our world.”

The hall, quieter due to fewer attendees, stirred slightly. Some shifted in their seats, others’ expressions darkened, some clenched fists and tapped their temples. Yet no one lost composure. As Highlord said, after days of meetings, after witnessing the images from the Typhon-Cecil battlefield and learning of the disaster in Talrond, any intelligent person should have guessed the meeting’s true subject.

“By now, I believe no one doubts the authenticity of the materials we reviewed at the opening,” Highlord paused, then continued, “But those materials are far from complete—

“Years ago, Cecil had already uncovered part of this truth, and Typhon faced the ‘dark side of the gods’ even earlier. Going back to the ancient Gondor era, some prophets and visionaries confronted this grim reality. They were called the ‘Rebels,’ spending their lives seeking ways to defy fate…

“This is what I mean: this crisis did not suddenly appear before mortals. It has accompanied our civilization for thousands, even tens of thousands of years. Many have faced and tried to resist it. It is a ‘hidden current’ beneath our history, unknown to most, yet always flowing.”

“That sounds too vague,” the leader of the Northern City-States stood. “Is there more detailed information to help us grasp the situation quickly?”

“Yes. The materials are in the secret compartments beneath your tables,” Highlord nodded. “We have presented the information as clearly and concisely as possible. If you have questions while reading, feel free to speak up.”

Under the banner of the Augur Tribe, Wenna Whitebloom quickly found the documents Highlord mentioned. To her surprise, it was not the high-quality parchment widely used in previous agendas, but a scroll of slightly shimmering elven vellum. As she unfurled it, several gleaming runes flickered along the edges. She immediately recognized what it was:

A magical covenant. Such covenants cannot be copied, overwritten, or altered in any form once created. They cannot be removed from a designated area and can only be opened once.

Highlord’s voice came from nearby. “To ensure the security of these materials, we had to distribute them as magical covenants. This is not a sign of distrust toward anyone present, but a necessary precaution when dealing with the gods.”

The leaders and plenipotentiaries from various nations had no objections. They lowered their heads and began reading. With the aid of rapid-reading spells, vast amounts of information flowed efficiently into their minds. As ancient, terrifying truths and recent research findings were revealed one by one, a solemn, grave atmosphere settled over the Oathstone Circle.

Expressions grew serious; some wiped sweat from their brows.

After an unknown length of time, a red-haired female leader was the first to stand. “Is there still no accurate measurement of the ‘countdown’ mentioned here? Do we have any way to calculate it?”

“Unfortunately, this exceeds our current knowledge,” Highlord shook his head gently. “The gods differ, and observing them causes powerful reverse contamination. Those who have tried to measure the countdown have mutated and died from divine pollution before they could report their findings. This was confirmed by many pioneers who sacrificed themselves during the Gondor era a thousand years ago.

“Of course, our technology has advanced somewhat. Cecil is experimenting with methods to resist divine contamination and has made initial progress. If our protective technology becomes sufficiently advanced, perhaps one day we can directly observe the divine realms or even monitor a god’s state—but when that day will come, no one knows.”

“…Monitoring the divine realms and gods sounds terrifying,” another representative whispered. “But—”

“But we must do it,” Rosetta broke the silence. The Typhon ruler fixed a solemn gaze on the speaker. “Typhon has proven with blood the consequences of gods running amok. This countdown is real, and as long as mortal civilization advances, it will never stop. Even slight increases in average lifespan or population growth change the currents of thought and raise the risk of divine chaos.”

“To halt the countdown, we must halt all development. Considering that knowledge itself accumulates passively among intelligent races, we must consciously reduce population, destroy knowledge, ban technology, and revert to primitive living,” Belsethia suddenly said. Her voice was soft but carried a penetrating resonance throughout the circle. “Who among us is willing to accept such a price?”

The hall fell silent. Representatives exchanged glances; clearly, no one wanted to accept such a dreadful outcome.

Moreover… even if such extreme measures stopped the gods’ mad countdown, the world’s crises would not end. What about the magical tides? The dangerous natural environment? The surrounding threats after national decline? None of those present were fools; no one would choose to cripple themselves just to avoid falling.

The Silver Queen’s proposal was clearly an unacceptable option from the start.

“Then we have reached the most basic consensus,” Highlord broke the silence, his voice steady and firm. “Civilizational progress is necessary for survival. We cannot stagnate, nor can we accept regression. Changes in thought currents caused by this are inevitable. Problems will not vanish on their own; we must find ways to solve them. This is the premise.”

No one objected; it was obvious. After a brief pause, a leader from the southwestern continent stood. “Then, must we regard the gods as our enemies?”

“That is precisely the first task of this meeting—to define the nature of the gods,” Highlord said quietly, glancing at the representative before withdrawing his gaze and composing himself. “For thousands, even tens of thousands of years, faith has been a vital part of life for the peoples of Loren. We must acknowledge its positive role in civilization’s development, a role that continues to this day. Furthermore, none of the Alliance’s member states are truly ‘godless.’ Every nation has its own religious institutions, and religious activities are deeply intertwined with our peoples. We cannot violently or directly sever religion from our societies—that is a fact.

“Given these two premises, are the ‘gods’ truly our enemies?”

“A thousand years ago, the rebels were indeed defined in this way—they believed the gods were truly the enemies of civilization. Even if that’s not the case now, they thought it inevitably would be someday. The pioneers deserve respect, but unfortunately, as our understanding has advanced, we’ve had to question their original views.

“More and more evidence shows that the gods never harbored any subjective malice toward civilization. In fact, influenced by prevailing ideologies, their goodwill toward civilization has been the dominant trend. Furthermore, the so-called ‘countdown’ to divine madness isn’t the result of any party’s will—it’s a consequence of natural laws at work. Sadly, no deity can be held responsible for this law. Lastly, while the gods’ descent into madness does cause catastrophic damage to civilization, before that point, they never initiated any destruction. On the contrary—whenever conditions allow, the gods actively try to suppress this madness; they engage in some form of self-preservation.

“As for this ‘self-preservation,’ we can’t disclose too many details just yet, but I can assure you that the Cecil faction has observed enough evidence to prove that some gods are actively trying to break free from their ‘chains.’”

At this, Gawain deliberately paused before continuing, “Therefore, I believe we should not view the gods as enemies or potential enemies. Like us, they are victims of the natural law known as the ‘ideological chains.’ Even in extreme cases like the Battle of Winterburg where gods were hunted, or if someday a god stands opposed to civilization, we must face these realities with clear understanding and proper judgment.”

Having said this, Gawain finally exhaled softly, as if releasing a weight from his heart.

After so many trials, after gathering so much evidence and countless debates, he had at last defined the relationship between gods and humans within this cold, merciless ‘law’ of the world. For him personally, this was no less significant than the founding of the community alliance itself.

Only by defining the nature of things can one find a clear direction.

As he breathed easier, he noticed the expressions on the faces of the representatives gathered beneath the stone pillars.

Nearly a third of them visibly relaxed. Their faces remained serious, but the tension had eased, and an inexplicable light flickered in their eyes…

Gawain sighed quietly to himself.

In this world, too many people could never truly ‘let go’ of their gods. Even the royal authority, which naturally opposes divine power, only stands against the secular clergy—not the gods who shelter the world.

(End of chapter)”