Chapter 1182: The Foundation of Cooperation

Before they realized it, the conversation had veered into some rather strange territory. The experienced Dragon Goddess once again used her wisdom to plunge the gathering beneath the golden oak into a long silence. High King Taliesin rubbed his temples and sighed, then lifted his eyes to look at Enya with a somewhat helpless expression.

“Is it just me… or do you seem a bit proud of this?” he asked.

“This is hardly something to be proud of,” Enya replied solemnly. “I’m merely stating facts—I’ve been through things you can’t even imagine. Or rather… the ‘me’ of the past experienced all that. While past experiences don’t always apply in this new era, when it comes to the laws of nature, my words should still hold some value for you.”

“Everything you said is true,” Mylmina snapped out of her daze and nodded quickly. “It seems we can’t hope for the ‘mutual exclusivity’ between gods to suddenly vanish… Instead of wishing for such fanciful things, we should calmly focus on technical solutions.”

“Let’s take these matters slowly,” Taliesin cleared his throat, steering the conversation back on track. “We’ve gone off on a tangent. Returning to the original topic—the Typhonian plan to open a divine realm… can I assume we’re all in agreement?”

“All doubts have been cleared,” Enya nodded gently. “You may reply to Emperor Typhon on our behalf, and relay everything we discussed today. Then find out if he has a sufficiently thorough and feasible plan. If you sense anything amiss during the process, we’ll be ready to assist.”

“Thank you in advance,” Taliesin said sincerely as he stood, his gaze sweeping over the three former deities. He took a half step back and exhaled heavily. “I suppose I should be going now. We’ve already spent quite a bit of time here today…”

“Leaving so soon?” Amon raised his eyelids, a faint smile flickering in his aged, gentle eyes. “Taliesin, you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. There should be moments of relaxation between these heavy burdens. It won’t affect your ability to be a wise and strong ruler.”

Taliesin said nothing, simply watching Amon. With a slight wave of his hand, the exquisite illusionary cards on the table vanished into thin air, replaced by a square box that looked like it contained something heavy. The former God of Nature smiled faintly.

“Now that there are four of us, how about a round of divine mahjong?”

“No, thank you,” Taliesin stepped back again without hesitation. Just as I thought, he thought. These retired gods, now fully embracing their humanity, had clearly reached a level of boredom few could imagine. Two of them played checkers, three played a card game like ‘Fight the Landlord,’ and four were ready to start a game of mahjong. He shuddered to think what they might do if there were five—and they always slapped the label “Divine” on their leisure activities. The logic behind it would make even the writers of the Shadowplay dramas blush, yet Taliesin had no way to argue.

After all, these three truly could claim the title of “gods.” Enya herself had once been “the gods.” Even if they were just squatting on the ground counting ants, it would be “the gods counting ants.” How could he reason with that?

Seeing no point in arguing, Taliesin simply turned and left. Amon opened his mouth to speak but didn’t get a word out before Taliesin’s figure disappeared into the rustling leaves and gentle breeze beneath the golden oak.

“…He really doesn’t seem interested in joining us,” Amon sighed after a moment, shaking his head with regret as he sat back down. “I thought adding the word ‘divine’ might at least pique his curiosity.”

“The word ‘divine’ won’t attract him in that way,” Mylmina shot Amon a slightly mocking glance. “Besides, he’s not as bored as you and I are—he has plenty on his plate.”

“Fair enough,” Amon said with a resigned smile, glancing at the two ladies beside him. “Well, there are still three of us. We can have a round of divine cards…”

“I won’t waste my time with you,” Mylmina said casually, her figure gradually fading into the air. “I recently found a nice free settlement outside the city. I’m planning to set up a base there. We can talk about cards another time.”

The Goddess of Magic vanished completely. Amon blinked, then turned to Enya, who was already standing.

“Sorry, I have to leave too. There are matters waiting for me in the mortal world. I’ll be quite busy for a while.”

“The mortal world?” Amon blinked. “You still have things to do there? In your current state…”

“I’m incubating an egg.”

With that, the elegant figure bathed in a faint golden glow disappeared beneath the golden oak. For a moment, only Amon remained at the table. The former God of Nature blinked, then after a few seconds, finally understood what Enya meant by “incubating an egg.” He looked around, his face clearly showing disappointment.

“They really all left…”

Muttering to himself, he sat back down and recreated the exquisite cards, slowly shuffling them and changing the illusions on their faces. Meanwhile, his mind drifted back to something Mylmina had casually mentioned earlier—she’d discovered a surveillance loophole in the neural network and had been studying it intensively lately.

“She really is skilled in this area… no wonder she was created by the mortals who excel most at research and exploration,” the former God of Nature murmured, then casually sent a message to Nariel, reporting Mylmina.

…

Aldern, the approach of autumn was gradually pushing back the summer heat that had lingered over the vast plains surrounding the imperial capital. The entire region was entering its relatively dry and comfortable season—before the constellation of Frostfall rose high and the Frost Moon arrived, the sun would continue to shine on this land for a while longer, until the plains were once again shrouded in mist and the damp chill wrapped Aldern in its embrace.

On one of these last sunlit days, a study in the upper levels of the Obsidian Palace had its windows thrown open, letting fresh air and sunlight spill onto the imperial ruler’s desk.

Rosetta Augustus sat in his favorite high-backed chair, head bowed as he reviewed documents just delivered by his attendants. The sunlight streamed in from behind him, casting the black ink on the pages into sharp relief. Within these neatly organized and precise words, he could clearly grasp the pulse of the empire at this moment—just as he had for over twenty years. Everything happening across this vast land was vividly present in his mind.

The wounds left by war were not easy to heal. Even with the dual lifelines of the Continent-wide shipping routes and the new international trade, the empire’s vitality lost in the Battle of Winterhold would take time to recover. But after a whole winter and the efforts of the first half of this year, the domestic situation had stabilized completely. Various sectors showed clear signs of revival, and as long as this stability held, the pace of recovery would only accelerate, eventually bringing a new peak.

The Battle of Winterhold had been brutal, its toll undeniably heavy. Yet in the long run, it had served as a kind of beneficial “bloodletting.” The empire’s decayed flesh had been cut away cleanly, dissenting voices silenced, the hidden dangers left by two decades of reform uprooted. The entrenched upper class was being reshuffled and reorganized, large gaps appeared in the market, and postwar reconstruction created massive employment opportunities. Once the worst pains passed, the empire would enter a season of plenty.

Of course, the cost was high, and new risks would take root beneath the surface of prosperity. But with the price already paid, it was a ruler’s duty to extract as much benefit as possible from it.

What comforted Rosetta was that Aldern still had many “smart people.” His greatest fear—that young noble investors would lose confidence and core industrial investment would shrink—had not come to pass, ensuring the capital’s economic revival was on solid footing.

Footsteps echoed outside the corridor, pulling Rosetta’s attention from the documents. He looked toward the study’s door just as it was pushed open.

Diana, the black-haired head maid, stood in the doorway. Her expressionless eyes reflected the sunlight streaming in.

“We’ve received a reply from Cecil,” she said.

“So soon?” Rosetta was surprised. “I thought it would take several meetings of varying scale to finalize such an important matter… What did they say?”

Diana lowered her head slightly. “High King Taliesin Cecil will speak with you directly via remote transmission. The time is set for half an hour from now.”

Rosetta paused, then rose immediately from his desk. “Prepare the transmission room, Miss Windsor. I’ll be there right away.”

Before the appointed time, Rosetta arrived at the “Transmission Room” inside the Obsidian Palace. This newly established facility was located on the edge of the magical district. Its foundational runes were part of the Royal Transmission Tower system, which was directly linked to the recently upgraded chain of transmission towers in the northwest. Through a series of direct connections and signal conversions, this network bridged communication with the Cecilian people, enabling real-time two-way transmission between the two networks.

This was unimaginable in the old days: two imperial capitals separated by vast distances could now converse as if face-to-face. Negotiations and consultations that could affect the entire continent could be conducted instantly, and the risks caused by poor communication were minimized.

The system was costly, especially since cross-national communication networks were just beginning to take shape. The integration of neural networks, transmission tower chains, and sentinel data links was still in its infancy. Building such a line spanning nearly half the continent was a tremendous challenge. But for two nations recently ravaged by the God of War’s calamity, the cost was negligible.

Rosetta stepped into the oval-shaped room, sparsely decorated except for a large magical array etched onto the central round table. High-quality crystals and mana-conducting materials shimmered on the platform. The complex array was already active, receiving signals from afar and restoring them into rapidly clarifying sound and images.

Finally, the holographic projection stabilized, and Taliesin Cecil’s face appeared before Rosetta.

“Good day, Emperor Rosetta. It’s been some time since we last met.”

“Good day, High King Taliesin Cecil—it’s good to see you well. You’re right, it has been a while.”

The two imperial rulers exchanged brief pleasantries but didn’t linger on the usual formalities. High King quickly got to the point. “We’ve received the documents from the Obsidian Palace. After careful analysis and simulations by the experts of the Theocratic Council here in Cecile, we believe this bold plan is feasible—but we’ll need more detailed technical data and a comprehensive project outline before making a final decision.”

“You reached that conclusion faster than I expected,” Rosetta said sincerely.

“That’s because I have the most reliable experts and the most experienced… advisors,” High King smiled, pausing noticeably on the word “advisors.” “Their recommendations were swift and sound.”

Rosetta fell silent for a moment, then seemed to piece something together. His expression shifted slightly, and his tone grew serious. “I think I know who you mean by ‘advisors.’ If it’s… their advice, then I understand why you came to a decision so quickly.”

High King nodded but didn’t elaborate on the advisors. Instead, he asked directly, “I want to know Typhon’s specific plans for this ‘collaboration.’ Your scholars have already made progress on opening the God-King’s Gate. What do you need from us next?”

Rosetta didn’t beat around the bush—after all, this was a direct channel between two heads of state. “A high-purity, high-intensity source of arcane energy, with extremely precise controllability.”

High King’s gaze grew serious as he slowly nodded. Rosetta’s request was exactly one of the scenarios he had anticipated before initiating the communication.

According to the rough technical data from Typhon, opening the God of War’s Gate requires three critical conditions: first, the fragments left behind by the God of War, which serve as the “beacon” to open the gate; second, the specific technical parameters for constructing the gate itself, which Typhon’s scholars have already developed using knowledge fragments stolen from the Eye of God by the Augustus family; and third… a source of arcane energy powerful enough to open and sustain the gate.

Typhon possessed the first two conditions, but the third was in Cecile’s hands—that was the foundation of their “collaboration.”

“We know about Cecile’s ongoing ‘Arcane Essence Exploration Experiment,’ and that you’ve created the highest purity, highest intensity arcane energy source humanity has ever produced. Frankly… Typhon can’t replicate that,” Rosetta said candidly. “We need your energy technology, and you need our portal technology.”

(End of chapter)