Chapter 1113: Invitations and Arrangements

It was obvious that Mimirna didn’t buy Amon’s claim of having gone through a “very intense internal struggle”—indeed, even Gawain, who had just arrived, wasn’t convinced.

After all, this “God of Nature” would have sounded a bit more credible if he had at least waited for Gawain to finish speaking before selling them out…

But Gawain had no intention of getting involved in the mundane pastimes of these two retired deities. He merely cleared his throat twice to draw Amon and Mimirna’s attention, then carefully chose his words: “I’m sure you’ve already guessed that these devices here… aren’t solely for connecting to the Leyline Network.”

“Of course,” Mimirna chuckled softly, her tone teasing yet indifferent. “You had me come out the moment you arrived here. How could we not suspect that these arcane devices hide some ‘little secrets’? In fact, I discovered it even before you came… The functions of these devices are quite complex. A single Leyline terminal wouldn’t need such large-scale auxiliary equipment.”

Gawain wasn’t surprised, nor did he seem embarrassed. He just smiled and muttered to himself, “You really can’t fool a goddess who once held the reins of magic…”

“To be honest, we don’t mind,” Amon’s voice came from the side. “This is an experiment, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. And it’s a long-planned project. Even before you requested a Leyline terminal to learn about what’s happening in the world, we were already preparing for this experiment—your request just happened to give us a perfect entry point,” Gawain said, looking Amon straight in the eye. “I apologize, but due to the strict requirements of the experiment, the first phase had to be conducted in secrecy. We withheld some information from you.”

“Just as I suspected… you were trying to avoid interference during the observation,” Mimirna said calmly, her gaze fixed on Gawain. “So now that you’ve come here and revealed everything, does that mean… the ‘first phase’ has been successfully completed?”

Gawain smiled and nodded gently. “Yes, the first phase went smoothly. We confirmed the effectiveness of the ‘Anti-Divinity Barrier’ without any interference, and the test subjects—you two—were not disturbed or influenced in any way. Although this technology is still immature, I believe we have already mastered a certain effective method of thought shielding. It can isolate divine contamination and weaken the connection between gods and mortal minds. Moreover, this ‘barrier’ is controllable.”

His expression was calm, his tone steady, but the flood of information in his words struck Amon and Mimirna deeply, like a silent thunderclap exploding in the dim, vast Shadow Realm. For several seconds, the two former gods remained motionless until Amon finally broke the silence: “So, you’re saying you can safely ‘unshackle’ gods and mortals now?”

“It’s too early to say that,” Gawain shook his head. “The technology we have is still very limited. It can only serve as a ‘shield.’ Have you noticed the crystal devices around you? They’re the conduits for the Anti-Divinity Barrier. They can protect mortals inside the shield or isolate gods outside it. So, if we want to ‘unshackle’ other gods using this, we’d have to bring these devices into their divine realms and have the gods there willingly enter the shielded zone… which we can’t do yet. Another idea is to cover the entire mortal world with these devices… but that’s obviously impossible for now.”

“You’ve at least taken a big step… even bigger than we have,” Mimirna seemed to inhale softly, her tone tinged with admiration. “What’s next? What’s your second step? And what do you need from us?”

Gawain looked at the two former gods before him but didn’t answer Mimirna’s question directly. Instead, he suddenly shifted the topic: “Now that we have the Leyline terminal… you must have been following the major changes in the mortal world recently, right? You should know that the mortal nations have formed a vast ‘Alliance,’ and on top of that framework, I’ve established a Divine Authority Council…”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on it,” Amon’s voice echoed directly in Gawain’s mind. “This one beside me hasn’t been paying as much attention—but she’s somewhat aware.”

“Your addition is unnecessary,” Mimirna’s gaze swept over Amon before settling back on Gawain. “We know about the Divine Authority Council, though our understanding is limited—but we can roughly guess its purpose. You’re ready to tamper with the ‘chains’ binding mortals and gods? That’s no small matter… It seems you even intend to drag the entire world into this vortex.”

“This world has always been in a vortex. I just want to pull it out,” Gawain said calmly. Then he paused, as if weighing his words carefully. After a long moment of contemplation, he finally adopted a solemn expression and broke the silence with utmost seriousness: “Regarding the Divine Authority Council and some of my thoughts…”

For the next several minutes, he laid out the general situation of the Council and his plans without holding back in front of the two former gods.

Because the time had come—the preparations were complete, and this massive war chariot was ready to roll. And it wasn’t just mortals who were firmly bound to this chariot.

“…The Divine Authority Council is a long-term, normalized control mechanism. It’s not only meant to address the current divine-mortal shackles but also to prevent new ones from forming in the future…

“We gained some experience during the reform of the Church of the Holy Light. Now, within Cecil’s borders, these experiences are gradually being extended to other churches, and in the future, I plan to spread them throughout the mortal world…

“…Since the birth and operation of gods are based on the natural laws of this world, by analyzing these laws, we can inevitably find ways to intervene or even control this process—just as ancient humans learned to create fire and craft tools from natural phenomena. The core of the entire plan lies here: by analyzing the principles behind the gods, we seek methods to ‘unshackle’ them. These methods will be promoted worldwide, and at the same time, the process of ‘analysis’ itself will continuously weaken the chains and reduce mortals’ blind devotion to gods. It’s a process of both resistance and cooperation—and compared to fierce godslaying wars, this kind of resistance is obviously gentler and more constructive.”

His explanation was long yet brief. When Gawain finished, Mimirna had already quietly turned off the Leyline terminal nearby without anyone noticing. The Shadow Courtyard fell silent, so quiet that one could almost hear their own heartbeat.

In this long silence, Gawain stood before the towering giant stag and the bell tower-like lady, motionless for a long time. Watching this, Mimirna suddenly felt as if this moment transcended time and space, as if it were projected onto the long, sinking historical scroll of this world—a chaotic, dim tapestry soaked with blood, fire, bones, and hollow echoes. Countless figures who once thrived in history had fallen into dust, but now, someone had risen from the mortal realm, standing face to face in this courtyard symbolizing ancient mortal defiance. Behind him appeared something different… a season of mortals trying to stand up, and a season of gods trying to break free.

Had such an open, honest dialogue and joint planning between gods and mortals ever happened in the cycles of past civilizations?

“We understand your plan,” Amon was the first to break the silence. “So, what do you want us to do?”

“This is a war chariot, and it carries more than just mortals,” Gawain said calmly. “The Divine Authority Council is an organization formed by mortal nations, but in fact, there are some special… ‘seats’ reserved for gods behind it.”

“You actually intend to pull gods into this ‘Council’ as well…” Mimirna’s tone rose, but rather than surprise, it sounded like an admiring acknowledgment of what she had long expected. “Very well. So, where are our seats?”

Gawain answered immediately: “Every part—I want you to become special advisors to the Divine Authority Council. From the Theological Institute to the Arbitration Court, from the Planning Bureau to the Strategy Office, there will be opportunities for you to contribute. Most importantly, you will participate in the Theological Institute and its affiliated Great Think Tank, working alongside our technicians to complete the most complex research in the entire plan.”

Mimirna suddenly let out a soft laugh. “So the main job is to be studied?”

Gawain met the gaze of this “Goddess of Magic” calmly. It was a joke, but not entirely one. “Yes, to be studied.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.” Mimirna was silent for a moment, then muttered almost to herself. Then she lowered her eyes and looked at the silent Amon. “What about you? Aren’t you going to say something?”

“Being idle all day is indeed quite boring,” Amon said, a holy radiance flowing around him. “‘Advisor’… I’ve never done it before, but I can give it a try.”

“Good. Then the Divine Authority Council now welcomes two special ‘members,’” Gawain finally exhaled softly, a genuine smile spreading across his face as his gaze shifted to the Leyline terminal in standby not far away. “Next, I will arrange for Narithil to lift the network restrictions on this Leyline terminal… It will activate some new functions to prepare for our next steps.”

Mimirna immediately caught on. “You mean… the neural network? Next, you plan to let us contact the outside world?!”

“Indirect contact,” Gawain reminded her. “We will establish a restricted, controllable, and secure network. All connections will be protected by the Anti-Divinity Barrier. All incoming and outgoing data will first be filtered and monitored by Narithil. But in terms of user experience, it won’t be much different—you will truly be able to access the outside world, hear news from beyond, and even send messages out. You can even hide your identities and operate within the Dream City, establishing communications with certain users… though all of this will be under a strict security framework.”

“Ah, I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time,” Mimirna’s tone carried a hint of joy. “The ‘Leyline Network’ you created and the neural network built on it are truly remarkable. I still remember the novelty and excitement it brought me… It’s just a pity that my first experience using the network wasn’t very pleasant, but luckily now I have a chance to make up for it…”

Gawain couldn’t help but glance at Mimirna and reminded her, “But you’ll have to be careful. Narithil is the chief administrator of the entire neural network. Her job isn’t just to expel gods who intrude but also to ban and kick out users who violate the usage agreement…”

Mimirna quickly cooled down from her excitement about the Leyline Network and suddenly remembered to ask, “By the way, you mentioned this name just now—Narithil…”

“The eight-legged one.”

Mimirna immediately fell silent. Amon, meanwhile, finally found a chance to speak: “You mentioned putting another Leyline terminal here…”

“Of course, I remember,” Gawain said with a smile. “The new device will arrive soon.”

The atmosphere in the Rebellion Courtyard gradually softened, becoming warm and pleasant—perhaps one of the rare joyful moments shared by Amon and Mimirna in thousands, maybe even tens of thousands of years. The two former gods, long since stripped of their divine status, discussed neural networks and the workings of the Divine Council, looking ahead to the future. After chiming in briefly, Gawain suddenly cleared his throat softly and glanced toward Amon. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Amon was in an unusually good mood—better than he’d been in three millennia—and responded cheerfully, “What is it?”

“I’ve arranged a meeting for you,” Gawain said. “It’s a key step in getting the Divine Council to function properly.”

“A meeting?” Amon’s tone was skeptical. “With whom? Did you dig up some technician from an ancient ruin or a cult’s forgotten stronghold for the Rebellion Project?”

That remark made Gawain cough twice. He wanted to say it sounded like pulling Veronica or Ophelia wrapped in oilskin out of the sewers of the Gondor Empire—but sadly, no one in this world would get that reference. So he swallowed the comment and forced a serious expression. “It’s the Silver Elven Queen, Belsethia Morningstar.”

The entire Rebellion Courtyard fell silent.

Half a minute later, Amon’s startled voice echoed in Gawain’s mind: “Who did you say?!”

Gawain repeated solemnly, “The Silver Queen, Belsethia Morningstar.”

“I heard you,” Amon said, “but are you serious?” His gaze sharpened, locking onto Gawain. “I can’t reestablish ties with Silver Elven society, especially not with… the Silver Queen. Do you know what she represents? She’s the supreme leader of the Druidic Order, the High Priestess of the Nature God. You want me to—”

“She doesn’t believe in you,” Gawain said quietly.

(End of chapter)