Chapter 1173: Mimirna’s Speculation

Mimirna’s attitude toward this matter seemed almost too casual, almost indifferent. Of course, this was related to her former status as a goddess—her “perspective” was different. She didn’t think it was worth making a fuss over the religious leanings of certain groups of mortals, especially when those mortals had never established any connection with her.

To a deity, mortals living in such an “isolated zone” were practically invisible, not even worth paying attention to. But for High Lord Gawain, it was far from that simple.

“This isn’t just ‘a little strange,’” Gawain said, his mouth twitching slightly as he spoke with unusual seriousness. “Isn’t it said that all mages in the world are either believers or casual followers of the Magic Goddess? Although belief in the Magic Goddess is the loosest and most general of all faiths, it’s precisely because of this loose, broad form of faith that most mages generally believe in her…”

He was reciting what he thought was common knowledge, but Mimirna shook her head.

“That’s your mortal perspective. I’ve never said that.”

Gawain frowned. “Isn’t that how it really is?”

“At least, it’s not like that in Violet,” Mimirna said seriously. “And even on the continent of Loren, not all mages worship me. ‘Casual follower’ is a vague concept because it hardly forms a real connection of faith. So judging it becomes very subjective and general. Sometimes a mage might not believe in any god at all, but when faced with an unsolvable magical problem, they’ll habitually curse, ‘Not even the Magic Goddess would glance at this nonsense.’ People might then label them as casual followers… You can see how unreliable such judgments are.”

Gawain rubbed his temples, trying to organize his thoughts. “Alright, alright, let’s not debate that. Let’s talk about Violet… You say that so many mages in the Violet Kingdom don’t believe in you… That’s really surprising.”

“It’s perfectly normal,” Mimirna said, shrugging in a very human way. “Mages themselves are mysterious, and the Violet Kingdom is the most secretive and closed-off of all mortal nations. Almost no one knows what’s really going on inside Violet. People just instinctively assume that a kingdom of mages must be under the Magic Goddess’s rule… But the truth? They haven’t prayed to me for centuries. And besides themselves, only I know this fact.”

Gawain blinked, then asked, unable to hold back, “But why? A nation made up of mages, yet it’s like the Magic Goddess’s faith has completely vanished there…”

“How would I know?” Mimirna shook her head. “Things have been this way since I became conscious. Since I have no followers there, I have no way to know what’s happening inside. And because the Violet Kingdom has been isolated from the Loren continent since ancient times, my faith can’t spread across the strait. Besides, the Magic Goddess’s faith is inherently loose. The mages who do believe in me aren’t like priests of other faiths who are eager to proselytize and build churches. They’d rather spend their time solving a couple more complex problems than figuring out how to spread their faith… I’m even lazier about paying attention to those things.”

Gawain was momentarily at a loss for words. Faced with such a nonchalant goddess, he could only twitch the corner of his mouth, inwardly admiring her laid-back attitude.

Truly, she was the kind of character who could watch her own funeral and then carve a “Thank you” on the table afterward.

Gathering himself, Gawain had no choice but to accept this unexpected fact. The series of questions he had prepared now seemed pointless. He reorganized his thoughts and asked, “You just said you have no way to know what’s happening inside Violet? You can’t see what’s going on there—is that what you mean?”

“No followers, no eyes and ears. That’s how we gods operate,” Mimirna finally grew serious and patiently explained. “We learn about the world through our followers—at least those with some degree of devotion—through their senses. But conversely, we can only know what our followers can see and hear.

“Do you know what the human world looks like from a god’s perspective? Imagine this: when I was still on the divine throne, the world I saw was a sea of darkness dotted with countless flickering points of light. Each flickering light was a devoted follower. Around each light was a small illuminated area—that was the range of their senses. A god’s vision is made up of these countless points of light and their surrounding ‘bright zones,’ pieced together to form a world we can perceive.

“When I look toward the Violet Kingdom… all I see is pitch black. Not a single flicker of light, no ‘vision’ at all.”

“Pitch black…” Gawain muttered under his breath, picturing the scene Mimirna described. It wasn’t hard to imagine. He furrowed his brow and then turned his gaze to Amon. “What about you? Can you see what’s happening in the Violet Kingdom?”

He asked casually, really. Amon’s influence was limited to the southern part of the continent, and natural faiths were rare in the north. The Violet Kingdom was extremely closed off, and no one had ever heard of any nature-related faith inside it. But Gawain still held onto a hope—the ancient Silver Elven tradition of “wandering.”

Adult Silver Elves often followed tradition and traveled across the “world.” Powerful high-level rangers even dared to explore elemental realms. Maybe, just maybe, some ancient elven wanderer had set foot in the Violet Kingdom. If so, that might be a window for Amon’s gaze…

But Amon’s answer quickly dashed Gawain’s hopes. The nature god lowered his eyelids, his deep, pleasant voice tinged with regret: “Sorry, my gaze has never crossed that strait. It’s pitch black to me as well.”

Gawain nodded, curling his fingers to support his chin as he fell into thought. Suddenly, a flash of insight struck him. “Wait, Lady Mimirna, I remember that six hundred years ago, the Violet Kingdom started a new tradition. They select exceptionally gifted ‘apprentices’ from the Loren continent to go to the City of a Thousand Towers. Most of these apprentices are already capable Loren spellcasters. Among these spellcasters, isn’t there anyone who could serve as your ‘eyes’?”

“I know about that tradition too,” Mimirna nodded. “Although I don’t often respond to prayers from the living, I do keep an eye on worldly changes. I’m somewhat aware of what happens outside the Violet Kingdom. Now that you mention it, it is a bit strange… Over six centuries, the number of apprentices selected from Loren by Violet is not small. Yet not a single one believed in me at the time of their selection. Some of them became my followers later, but at the age when they were chosen as apprentices, they had not yet established any faith in the Magic Goddess.”

Mimirna spoke casually, but Gawain listened intently. His gaze suddenly froze, as if a lightning bolt had struck his mind. A clue no one had ever considered surfaced in his thoughts.

Mimirna noticed the change in his expression. “You’ve thought of something?”

“…For six hundred years, countless people have tried to figure out the criteria for selecting apprentices in the Violet Kingdom. They’ve searched for clues in talent, residence, race, age, personality, bloodline, and other possible factors. But no one ever thought the real common denominator might be this…

“The Violet Kingdom—a nation of mages—has a selection criterion that the apprentice must not believe in the Magic Goddess.”

Amon, who had been silently listening, suddenly spoke up: “Isn’t it a bit premature to jump to that conclusion?”

“…True, we can’t say for sure yet,” Gawain said after a pause, nodding gently. “But at least the existing clues point to this: from six hundred years ago until now, every mage apprentice allowed to study in the City of a Thousand Towers shared one thing—they did not believe in the Magic Goddess. In this regard, I think Lady Mimirna’s judgment is absolutely accurate.”

“What could be the reason behind this?” Amon finally seemed intrigued by the topic and asked again. “A nation with a large population, taking such a strict stance to prevent a certain faith from spreading within its borders—that’s something no other country on Loren has ever done. It’s not easy in this world. They must have a reason for doing this, right?”

“And they’ve done it so successfully…” Mimirna added. “‘Not a single flicker of light.’ While I don’t care much about this, the abnormality itself is worth noting. I don’t know the exact population of the Violet Kingdom, but there’s a saying among mortals: where mortals gather, there is fertile ground for faith. Mortals always face hardship, and among those suffering, someone will pray. The Violet Kingdom is full of spellcasters, thousands upon thousands of them over millennia. Have they never encountered a magical problem they couldn’t solve? Surely someone would have cursed and mentioned my name at least once…”

Her voice grew noticeably lower on the last sentence. Gawain glanced at her, and Amon’s voice came from the side: “Be honest—do you really not care?”

Mimirna replied casually, “Do I look like someone who cares?”

“…Whatever you say.”

Gawain paid no mind to the familiar banter between Mimirna and Amon. He was deep in thought.

The Magic Goddess was right—a kingdom this large, dominated by mages, yet not a single member believed in her. That alone was the strangest thing, even more bizarre than the reason behind Violet’s apprentice selection criteria.

The key question was: how did they manage it?

Noticing Gawain’s silence, both Amon and Mimirna stopped talking. After a while, Mimirna suddenly asked, “You mentioned earlier that some of Violet’s actions seemed ‘suspicious’ to you. What exactly do you mean?”

There was no need to hide anything here. Gawain gathered his thoughts and shared what he had just discovered with the former goddess: “It’s a technological black box—comprehensive, long-term, and hard to explain by coincidence. It includes a large amount of traditional domain knowledge…”

After a detailed explanation, Gawain finished speaking. Amon thought for a moment before responding, “This can be considered from the perspective of secrecy and national interest. Honestly, before you mortals developed things like runic logic, this kind of black-box technology transmission was the norm in the world. Those things that could be analyzed and broken down were rare, even looked down upon by mainstream academic circles.”

Gawain nodded. “That’s true. But considering all the anomalies Violet Kingdom is showing now, the ‘black box’ they’ve passed down… it’s hard not to pay attention to it.”

Since listening to Gawain’s account, Mimirna hadn’t spoken a word. She remained silent for a long while, which finally caught Amon’s attention. The god of nature’s gaze swept over to her. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m wondering… what exactly those Violet Mages are trying to achieve,” Mimirna murmured softly, not looking up, as if speaking to herself. “‘Black box magic’—the sealing off of techniques and knowledge—doesn’t actually hinder the inheritance or effectiveness of spells. In fact, to some extent, even with these black boxes, mages can still conduct ‘research’ and ‘personal refinement.’ This is due to the unique nature of magic itself.

“So, the black-box spells the Violet Mages spread outward don’t interfere with the establishment of the Loren magic system or the growth of Loren spellcasters. At least, not entirely. That means the ‘barriers’ they set up aren’t simply for national security or to slow down their rivals—assuming they even see the Loren continent as a competitor.

“They must have some other goal—if they have a goal at all.”

“If you have a thought, just say it,” Amon urged. “There’s no one else here.”

Mimirna ignored him and turned her gaze toward Gawain. “Let me give you a hint. Imagine a magic system where the number of ‘black boxes’ keeps growing, until even the most fundamental theories are all sealed away. Imagine spellcasters wielding power they can’t explain, reciting ancestral incantations like prayers from a sacred text, with no one understanding the mathematical logic or energy principles behind the symbols. Imagine rational analysis and research being completely suppressed, scholars no longer seeking the knowledge behind the techniques, but only worshipping the miraculous effects produced by these sealed spell models. If such a situation persists long-term, what do you think would happen?”

Gawain finally grasped the deeper meaning behind Mimirna’s words. The answer chilled his expression in an instant. “…Magic would become a miracle.”

“That’s just my speculation,” Mimirna said calmly.

(Oh my god!)

(End of chapter)