Chapter 1102: The Divine Authority Council

Within this double-locked cage, both gods and humans alike are victims of the merciless laws of nature. This was not only Gawain’s conclusion but also the consensus reached by all those involved in the Rebellion Project who had come to understand the full truth. Even former high-ranking rebels like Kamail and Veronica/Ophelia had come to accept Gawain’s perspective.

For the representatives present, the most striking realization wasn’t the nature of the matter itself, but the fact that the once supreme gods had become “victims” of something. This profound upheaval in their worldview left their expressions complex and conflicted. Their lifelong conditioning made them instinctively reject such a notion as absurd, yet the irrefutable facts before them forced reluctant acceptance.

“Alright, so the gods are victims… I doubt anyone ever considered such a theory before, but if it’s true, then we must acknowledge it,” said Paladin Huishanyan, the plenipotentiary ambassador from Forgehold, rising from his seat. His voice was deep and resonant, like boulders rolling through a cavern. “But what can we mortals do? If even the gods cannot escape this paradoxical cycle…”

“The gods are saving themselves, so naturally, we must save ourselves as well,” Gawain replied calmly. “We face a path with no alternatives. Before the laws of nature, there is no surrender or detour. These cold laws care nothing for mortal wishes—either we solve this problem, or everyone dies. Even the gods who shelter this world will perish.

“This isn’t unprecedented. The records of the dragons prove it—civilizations that failed to survive during their development were as fleeting as grass in the wind, one after another.

“So we must save ourselves. Fundamentally, this is a joint effort between mortals and gods. Although, due to certain factors, we cannot communicate directly with the gods or coordinate actions with them, since we have grasped some of the underlying laws, this ‘self-rescue’ is theoretically possible.”

“Joint self-rescue between mortals and gods…” Melita Penita, standing beneath the banner of Talrond, instinctively lifted her head. She looked at Gawain, who spoke with solemn authority, repeating his conclusion under her breath. In her long memory, this was the boldest—and perhaps most arrogant—statement she had ever heard from a mortal. Yet this audacious claim struck her like lightning. For some reason, she suddenly recalled the last time she was summoned by the Dragon God, the gentle gaze that god had cast upon her. She felt she understood something, though the feeling soon slipped away like water flowing through her heart.

“Joint self-rescue…” Rosetta Augustus murmured softly, his brow furrowing briefly before relaxing into a faint smile. He tapped the stone table before him, speaking quietly to himself with evident pleasure. “Only you would dare say something like that…”

“How exactly do we save ourselves?” The leader of the Northern City-States Alliance broke the silence. The tall man fixed his gaze on Gawain. “Have you already devised a concrete plan?”

“The connection between gods and mortals is based on ‘thought currents,’ a subtle influence formed over a long time. We cannot sever it abruptly, nor can we rely on a few powerful nations to perform ‘local cuts.’ The safest and most feasible approach is to launch a controlled ‘thought liberation’ movement worldwide—comprehensive, orderly, and cautious loosening,” Gawain nodded in response. “Based on this, I propose establishing a specialized organization: the Divine Authority Council.

“The Divine Authority Council can be seen as the spiritual successor to the Rebellion Project from the Gondor era, though its operational methods and approaches have been adapted to modern circumstances. Its fundamental goal is to eliminate the latent threat of ‘divine disasters.’ Initially, it will consist of several departments: the Institute of Theology, the Divine Arbitration Court, the Divine Authority Planning Bureau, and the Divine Disaster Response Agency…

“The Institute of Theology will serve as the primary technical department, overseeing various god-analysis laboratories, theological knowledge repositories, and divine material archives. Its responsibility is to analyze all knowledge related to the gods—their origins, mechanisms, decline, and loss of control—and to establish a comprehensive system of tools understandable, accessible, and applicable to mortals, both theoretically and technically.

“The Divine Arbitration Court will liaise with specific religious institutions, ensuring the order of various sects and the thorough implementation of plans devised by the Planning Bureau. It will adjudicate orthodox versus heretical behaviors and determine the legitimacy of gods. Depending on each country’s situation, these courts may operate secretly, but they must function effectively.

“The Divine Authority Planning Bureau will formulate a series of plans to ‘adjust’ thought currents and divine authority. Its members are those present here, with additional seats reserved for future religious leaders from various sects—this is a point I must emphasize. We are not here to oppose or eliminate any legitimate, beneficial churches, nor the gods they worship. This is a joint rescue effort, and those willing to cooperate are our natural allies. We must win the active support of all sects and make them aware of the gravity of the situation.

“Of course, if some refuse to support us, we will find ways to persuade them—this concerns the survival of all mortals. Unfortunately, some matters are non-negotiable.

“The Divine Disaster Response Agency is a critical ‘disaster management unit.’ They will directly apply cutting-edge technology from the Institute of Theology to combat gods showing signs of losing control or already out of control. This is the second point I want to stress: although gods, like us, are ‘victims,’ this only applies before they lose control. Once a god goes rogue, their actions are no longer governed by conscious will—they become unconscious natural disasters, like tsunamis or earthquakes. We must resolutely eliminate such threats, just as Augustus and I did on the Winterburg battlefield, and as the dragons do in Talrond.”

Gawain slowly laid out his plan, each word carrying the weight of countless sacrifices—from Kamail’s research team, Veronica’s seven centuries of observations, the lessons learned by the End of All Things cult, the Sleeper, and the Stormborn on misguided paths, to the Augustus family’s two centuries of knowledge stolen at the cost of generations of lives, and even reaching back over a thousand years to the original rebels. Across ten centuries of arduous exploration, the scattered fragments of mortal knowledge had finally begun to coalesce, echoing within the Stone Circle of the Oath.

The leader of the Grey Elves from the Ogre Tribe Nation stood up. This petite woman nonchalantly stepped onto her chair. “Regarding the specific actions to control thought currents and intervene in divine operations, do we have a clear plan yet?”

“Yes. Based on current data, guiding the populace in cultural, ideological, and religious activities is feasible,” Gawain nodded. “This includes widespread education to reduce habitual dependence on gods, reinterpretation of theological texts, and diminishing blind faith among the masses…”

As Gawain patiently explained, Rosetta Augustus and Belsethia nearby slowly nodded—they were familiar with the content he was presenting.

“I have another question,” Wenna Whitebloom said, still standing after Gawain finished, her expression serious. “After these measures take effect, after we weaken the connection between the masses and the gods on multiple levels… what impact will this have on the gods? After losing so much faith, will they truly not perish?”

Gawain’s expression grew solemn. He was not surprised by the question—the Ogre Tribe Nation was a deeply traditional land with unique, profoundly influential religious practices. In their rugged mountains, many races worshipped various gods, including the continent’s major deities and their own mountain and wilderness spirits. Their people held a special, deep bond with their gods, unlike anywhere else. So it was natural that this Grey Elf leader harbored doubts about Gawain’s proposed “divine authority reform.”

“They will not perish—that I can guarantee,” Gawain said, looking Wenna Whitebloom in the eye with grave sincerity. “Unless in the early stages when thought currents are not yet formed and spirits are unstable, a normal god who has long been worshipped and can perform miracles will not vanish simply because the faith chain is broken. Once formed, they develop a stable self-sustaining cycle; their power is controlled and no longer dissipates. Even if the faith connection is severed, they will merely stop growing or decline somewhat—that’s far better than descending into madness or exploding in divine-human cataclysm.”

Wenna Whitebloom couldn’t help but ask, “Has this been confirmed?”

Confirmed… what counts as confirmation? Well, the big white stag in the backyard has been online and lively every day lately, looking better than ever. And according to reports from a few days ago, there might even be a goddess sneaking onto the network in the backyard—her funeral was six months ago, yet she’s been competing for the remote with the nature god daily, showing no signs of dying…

But such evidence couldn’t be disclosed now. Though factual, revealing it would undermine the meeting’s seriousness and the credibility of all prior data. Gawain could only think this silently, maintaining a solemn expression. “There is observational evidence, but it cannot be made public at this stage.”

Wenna Whitebloom looked at Gawain for a few seconds, then exhaled softly, relaxing and sitting back down. “I understand. But I hope to see more empirical data in the shared materials later.”

Gawain nodded, scanning the room. “The significance of the Divine Authority Council is no less than that of the Community Alliance we just established. It requires close cooperation among all member states, sharing of knowledge and technology, financial investment from each country, and the creation of a united front akin to a ‘joint vigilance ring.’ Unlike establishing a transcontinental trade route, it’s difficult to gain immediate economic or political benefits—though such benefits will eventually come. But that is not the Council’s fundamental purpose.

“The greatest benefit it brings us is survival itself.

“Decisions won’t be easy. Each of us will have ample opportunity to speak. Who supports, who opposes, who has questions… speak freely. I only ask one thing: under the solemn banners of our nations, let there be no reservations.”

…

In the shadowy, chaotic courtyard of the Rebellion Fortress, the glow from the arcane network terminal intertwined with the faint white radiance emanating from the great stag Amon, casting a dim yet comforting light in the darkness.

Shrouded in a swirling mist of magical energy, Mylmina stared intently at the scenes playing out on the holographic projection of the shadow play. It wasn’t until the music swelled and the credits rolled that she finally muttered under her breath, “Why did that last apprentice have to die… The scriptwriter really has no mercy.”

Amidst the quiet, Amon, who had been resting with his eyes closed nearby, paid her no mind. After a long pause, he suddenly opened his eyes and casually asked, “What do you think they’re talking about now?”

Mylmina blinked, caught off guard. “They? Who? The craftsmen from the last play?”

“…Pull your mind out of the shadow play for a moment. It’s practically rotting in there, my lady,” Amon sighed softly. “I’m talking about that meeting—you’re not curious what they discussed at the end?”

Mylmina turned her head, her eyes glowing faintly with arcane light as they narrowed slightly. After a moment, she let out a soft laugh. “You’ve been away from the material world for three thousand years, and yet you still can’t let go of the children, can you?”

“Elves live a long time. Some of those children might still be alive… but the world has changed into something they can no longer fit into. And after that meeting, the changes will only come faster,” Amon said slowly, his gaze settling on her. “Have you truly let it all go? Even if most of the world is just your shallow followers and casual believers…”

“I don’t care. They killed off the apprentice mage… my little Ravencrest…”

“…Don’t blame the playwright. It’s based on real events. You should have read the synopsis before the show.”

“I know. That’s why I’m even more upset…”

The courtyard fell silent for several seconds, the stillness stretching between them. Finally, Amon’s voice broke the quiet. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask—have you noticed your humanity… ‘awakening’ faster lately? You think almost like a mortal now, your emotions so clear and distinct. It might be a good thing, but… it’s not the pace you originally expected, is it?”

(End of chapter)