Chapter 119: The Druids’ Shifting Faith

Hearing Gawain’s words, Pittman couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Few people understand the history of the Druids so well.”

“That’s not really understanding,” Gawain replied casually. “It’s no secret that Druidic magic evolved from ancient natural divine arts. It’s just that people nowadays have a very narrow scope of knowledge. Back in the time of the Gondor Empire, many Druidic schools were officially recognized by the Empire’s Sanctum of Knowledge.”

“Heh, I forgot for a moment—you’re an ancient from seven centuries ago, so it’s unfair to judge you by modern logic,” the old man chuckled as he began tidying up his alchemy tools. “You’re right, though. Druidic magic all stems from primordial natural divine arts. In fact, the Druids originally formed a purely religious order, much like today’s followers of the Holy Light or the War God. But as time passed, many religions faded or disappeared. Those that barely survived either became heretical cults or, like the Druids, transformed into something else.”

“The Druid factions are numerous: Heart of the Forest, Spirits of Nature, the Wild Sect, the Stone Cavern School, the Elemental Order… I can name five or six major ones off the top of my head, but there are probably dozens more smaller groups,” Gawain said, warming to the topic. “It’s said that the earliest split among the Druids happened three thousand years ago during the ‘Falling of the White Star.’ Before that, the Druids were united under a single faith in a formless ‘Spirit of Nature.’ But after that event, the religion fractured into many sects, each interpreting the divine differently…”

Though Pittman looked like a somewhat unreliable Druid, his magic proved he had received a full Druidic inheritance. So he answered without hesitation, speaking from professional knowledge: “The Spirit of Nature fragmented into many forms. Each sect claims their interpretation is the truest. Some worship the Forest Spirit, others the Spirit of Nature itself, and some even venerate beast spirits or elemental spirits that have been deified. This isn’t a secret. But unlike other religions that splintered and fought, the Druids, despite ideological differences, never truly clashed. Even before the ‘Sacred Covenant’ was established, the various Druid factions coexisted peacefully.”

Gawain’s interest deepened. “I’m not sure why that is. Care to explain?”

“All factions follow one rule: Druids share a common origin. No matter which path they take, Druids remain brothers and sisters,” Pittman said, stroking his beard. “This isn’t just an organizational rule—it’s the Druidic Code. Before receiving the inheritance, you swear a soul-binding oath.”

Gawain stroked his chin, mentally noting this nugget of knowledge. Then he steered the conversation back to magic and divine arts. “So the original natural divine arts of the Druids gradually transformed into the Druidic magic we know today during that period?”

Pittman nodded. “Exactly. It was a slow process after the Falling of the White Star and the sectarian splits.”

“You were just brewing a potion, right? The final step where you blessed it—that’s actually a remnant of the original Druidic divine ritual?”

Pittman gave a half-smile but said nothing.

This was Druidic magic—the most unique form of “magic” in this world. It’s probably the only magic whose origins can be clearly traced, and yet those origins point directly to the gods. Three thousand years ago, the Druids were a unified religious order. But a legendary cataclysm shattered that unity, scattering the Druids into many schools. Their divine arts, once purely ritualistic, astonishingly evolved into magic.

Even today, traces of divine ritual remain in these spells—prayers, sacred symbols—but these “divine” elements have long lost their practical power. They serve more as cultural and spiritual traditions. The more serious Druids strictly follow these ancient, now mostly useless, sacred steps. Less serious ones—like Pittman—just babble nonsense during casting to buy time.

But how did divine arts become magic?

These two forces should be fundamentally different. Divine arts come from the gods, requiring devout prayer and spiritual unity with the deity to “borrow” their power. Magic, on the other hand, arises from the caster’s own strength and understanding of the world. Their origins are completely distinct.

After centuries of evolution, Druidic magic has become a distinct form of magic. Like Pittman preparing runes and chanting spells, it’s all about channeling personal power to invoke “natural miracles.” Standard divine arts don’t involve these steps.

Some scholars have boldly speculated that three thousand years ago, the Druids performed a forbidden ritual to steal divine power, turning what was once only accessible through divine arts into reproducible magic. The so-called Falling of the White Star wasn’t just a meteor shower recorded in history—it was the fall of the natural spirits from their divine realm after losing their authority…

Of course, the Druids deny this theory, but Gawain had to admit—it sounded pretty plausible.

He wouldn’t mention this theory to Pittman, though. Instead, he casually asked, “Why do you think only the Druids succeeded in turning divine arts into magic? Why can’t priests of other faiths do the same?”

The old man’s face twitched. “You ask me, I ask who? You don’t even know my true skill level. I barely manage to master my own craft, let alone study others’…”

“Then how come you can brew, cook, divinate, read stars, and even babysit?”

“That’s different…” Pittman muttered.

Gawain dropped the subject and muttered to himself, “I heard some followers of the Holy Light once tried to transform their divine arts. They studied the mages’ abilities and tried to channel the Holy Light through spellcasting—but they were consumed by the runaway light, reduced to ashes.”

Pittman snorted with a forced smile. “Ha, that’s a story the Holy Light Church spreads to warn those who disrespect the god and try to cheat the system.”

“Priests of the Holy Light get consumed if they use magic to channel miracles, but Druid priests can use magic to channel natural miracles without issue,” Gawain said, looking at the alchemy tools and rune-engraved workbench, shaking his head. “What do you think is the biggest difference?”

“Because our god has a big heart,” Pittman said seriously, making a religious gesture over his chest. “The Holy Light god is petty.”

He acted solemn, but Gawain was sure the old man had no real respect for the nature spirits.

Though Druidic powers are often called “half divine arts, half magic,” the “divine arts” here only mean they have a sacred ritual. Anyone who knows the truth understands the Druids lost the ability to perform true divine arts long ago. Without divine support, faith becomes purely spiritual. The nature spirits and various souls the Druids worship are, frankly, self-delusions. So is Pittman just fooling himself?

If he were, he wouldn’t even be able to recite the prayers!

Gawain concluded that Pittman was an oddity among his profession and didn’t believe in his piety. He kept watching him with a half-smile until Pittman couldn’t hold it anymore and shrugged. “Well, I do have another explanation…”

Gawain smiled. “I’m curious to hear your take as a Druid.”

“It’s not that humans stole the gods’ power,” Pittman said simply, “but that the gods cut off power that originally belonged to humans.”

That statement alone could terrify many in this era.

Of course, Pittman only dared say this far from the church’s center, and where the lord himself was a nonbeliever.

Seeing Gawain’s thoughtful nod, Pittman exhaled calmly. “You should know, except for the Druidic magic that evolved from divine arts, all other divine arts are ‘tightly sealed.’ Only priests of the corresponding faith can perform divine rituals, strictly following doctrine. If any condition isn’t met, even the simplest Holy Light spell can’t be cast—and forcing it can cause the runaway and consumption we mentioned earlier. Why is that?

“Three thousand years ago, Druids were priests using natural divine arts similar to those of the Holy Light or War God. Back then, Druidic divine arts were like other priests’—strictly regulated, with any deviation causing divine punishment. But after the legendary Falling of the White Star, no one could perform divine arts anymore. Even prayers went unanswered. Instead, they began using magic to invoke the ‘natural miracles’ that should have vanished. Why do you think that happened?”

Gawain said nothing, but an answer slowly formed in his mind:

Because the administrator went offline…

With that thought flashing through his mind, Gawain’s gaze toward Pittman shifted.

Pittman shrank his neck uneasily.

“Your insights don’t sound like those of a low-level Druid, a half-baked antique appraiser, a lousy rogue, or a fake hermit,” Gawain said calmly. “Even scholars obsessed with religious and magical history probably couldn’t say these things.”

Pittman was startled, then grimaced. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. Speaking out only brings trouble…”

“I never said I’d do anything to you,” Gawain shifted tone. “Everyone has secrets—you have yours, I have mine, even Amber does. It’s no big deal.”

“Why bring Amber into this all of a sudden?” Pittman pouted, feeling a bit relieved. “But I disagree with you about those scholars. The Druids’ history isn’t a secret. Neither are the divine arts or magic. Ordinary people might know little due to their status, but those at the top of every faith, with access to all records and sharp minds—don’t you think they’ve figured out the same things I have?

“The smartest among them know the truth but just don’t say it.

“After all, they can’t reach the gods…”

(End of chapter)