Chapter 1210: Liberation
Witnessing it all from such close range was an indescribable shock—like a great hill slowly rising from a prone position, or the earth itself swelling before their eyes. Both Gawain and Belsethia stared wide-eyed in stunned silence, momentarily speechless. They instinctively took a couple of steps back, hoping to get a clearer view. But as the colossal stag lifted its head, its upper body rose to a height so immense that even looking up, its shoulders and neck were barely visible.
As the giant stag stood, the ancient alloy remnants that had pierced its body and pinned it to the ground emitted a grating, teeth-gnashing screech. The metals and crystals—once supreme suppressors of divine power—lost their special properties in that moment. The residual energy within them seemed neutralized, canceled out by some invisible force. The shimmering light that danced across their surfaces quickly dimmed. They began to crack and fall away, gradually being forced out from Amorn’s wounds, piece by piece. The sounds of flesh writhing against metal filled the air, while tiny fragments of light drifted down like dust.
No one could imagine the agony this must have caused. Throughout the entire ordeal, Amorn maintained a solemn, awe-inspiring silence. Only when he was fully upright, and the massive metal shards had clattered to the ground like boulders tumbling down a mountain, did he finally release a low, heavy sigh—one laden with countless emotions too complex to name.
It was a sigh of humanity.
His wounds began to heal—rapidly, at a pace never seen before—right before Gawain and Belsethia’s eyes. Only then did Gawain finally come back to himself from the astonishing sight. He seemed to have pieced something together, then nodded gently. “Congratulations. You’re finally free.”
“Yes… free…” Amorn lowered his head, his voice deep and melodious, though it was unclear who exactly he meant by “free.” Just then, a storm of arcane light and wind surged from the distant depths of the dark chaos. Beside Amorn, the figure of the goddess of magic, Mirmyna, took shape. Towering like a clock tower, she looked up at the much taller god of nature and quietly observed him for a long moment before breaking into a faint smile. “Oh, a medical miracle.”
“Your jokes are as hard to laugh at as ever,” Amorn muttered softly. His body began to shrink rapidly in the glow, as if shedding the last of his restraints had granted him greater self-control. His once enormous form, grown unwieldy over countless years, quickly diminished—from the size of a hill to that of a castle, then down to a grand hall. At this size, he was still immense to mortals, requiring them to look up, but no longer so exaggerated. Mirmyna no longer had to crane her neck to meet his gaze.
After this transformation, Amorn exhaled quietly and turned to Mirmyna. “Be honest with me—did you know all along that I could break free? I suddenly remember you gave me some strange looks a few times…”
“So what if I did?” Mirmyna smiled lightly, her eyes narrowing beneath a veil of mist. “It’s not up to me to decide, nor you. Even if you had the ‘conditions’ to break free, you still wouldn’t have stood up. You should understand—what bound you wasn’t just these physical chains, nor merely your ‘divine nature’ problem. In the end, you were just too much like a god.”
Amorn stood silently on the shattered earth. For a long time, neither Gawain nor Belsethia spoke, leaving the quiet to this ancient god who had finally freed himself from his past shackles. After an unknown stretch of time, a sigh drifted down from above, followed by a reflective murmur: “I should have known all along.”
Only then did Gawain speak again. “What are your plans now?”
Amorn paused, as if pondering, then shook his head with a wry smile. “Plans? What plans could I have? Though I’m free of these bonds, it’s best I don’t show myself in the mortal world just yet. Belsethia will need a long time to clean up the mess left by those cultists. For now… I’ll stay here. It’s the best way to avoid causing trouble for others.”
“That makes sense,” Gawain nodded gently. “Though your final ‘anchor’ has been lifted, dealing with this historical legacy won’t be as quick as the fading of your divinity. The tech department will also need time to assess your condition. So for a while, you’ll have to bear staying here. But don’t worry—it won’t be long. Compared to your past three thousand years, this will be brief.”
“That’s no hardship,” Amorn said calmly, lightly shifting his body. “Compared to those three millennia, I’m already in a much better state.”
Gawain and Belsethia exchanged a glance and nodded. Gawain then said to Amorn, “We won’t disturb you any longer. Rest well. The Divine Authority Council’s work can be paused for now.”
Amorn said nothing, only nodding softly. Mirmyna waved them off, as if shooing guests away.
Gawain and the Silver Queen departed, leaving the vast Rebellious Courtyard silent once more. Amid the endless dark chaos, the now much smaller Amorn stood among scattered ruins. Mirmyna watched the motionless “god of nature” and finally couldn’t help but mutter, “You’re just going to stand there like that? Then you’re no different from before—just a different pose, but still rooted in place.”
“I don’t know what to do,” the former god of nature said quietly after a pause. “I never imagined I’d be freed like this, nor that this day would come so soon… Mirmyna, can you give me some advice?”
“Advice? Honestly, I’d rather sit down and finish a few shows I never got to watch, or find Lady Enya in the neural network for a game of chess. But given the medical miracle you’ve undergone, I suppose I should offer something healthier,” Mirmyna said, spreading her hands. “Want to take a walk with me? I can show you the depths of the Shadow Realm. You’ve probably been curious about the ‘borderlands’ for a long time, haven’t you?”
“I… I’m not sure if leaving here is a good idea,” Amorn hesitated. “It’s been so long…”
“Then all the more reason to get up and move,” Mirmyna said without hesitation, reaching out to grasp the holy, light-forged antlers atop Amorn’s head. “Come on. Don’t let the children’s last wishes be in vain. Remember their final words? They’re with you. Think of it as taking them along—if that makes you feel better.”
“So you were eavesdropping after all?”
“…I just have a keen sense for magic, you know, things in the arcane realm… Anyway, enough of that. Holding your antlers feels weird. Maybe I should find a rope…”
“Shut up. And let go.”
“Alright, alright. You’re in charge today…”
At the gates of the Rebellious Fortress in the Dark Mountain Military Zone, Belsethia once again breathed in the fresh air of the outside world. She lifted her head to gaze at the night sky, where countless stars shimmered cold and distant.
Do those stars shelter the souls who have passed on, watching over those still living?
Ancient sages once told people so. But now, Belsethia knew the starlight was just starlight. The departed souls were truly gone—there is no eternal heaven. All things must end, even gods.
Perhaps the old Order of the End of All Things saw this clearly, adopting this cold truth as their name—either to warn the world or to remind themselves.
She turned and saw Gawain standing beside her, just as tall as she remembered. Though his inner self was no longer exactly the human pioneer she once knew, in many ways the soul within this body still bore strong resemblance to the explorer from seven centuries ago. Many of her questions could always be answered by this “Wanderer Beyond the Realms.”
“I still don’t quite understand why Master Azmor and the other sages accepted death so calmly,” the Silver Queen said softly. “Though I said they could no longer return to the mortal world, they could have chosen to remain in the Shadow Realm, to stay close to their gods. For devout believers like them, that should have been the highest honor and blessing…”
“They longed for more than just Amorn,” Gawain shook his head gently. “They mourned the era when the god of nature reigned—the age bathed in divine grace, when faith was steadfast, and all things followed the ‘right path.’ Even knowing that era was gone, they held on for three millennia. And now, that era has truly ended in their hearts.
“From the start, those priests never sought survival. They only wanted to honor their three thousand years of perseverance. They were searching for a home, a place they should have gone long ago but delayed out of hesitation and fear. To Azmor and the others, they weren’t dying—they were finally coming to a stop.”
Belsethia looked at Gawain steadily, surprised. “You never met Azmor or the sages, yet you seem to understand everything so clearly?”
Gawain met her gaze calmly, smiling faintly. “Maybe because I’ve seen a lot.”
He paused, a hint of emotion crossing his face. “And to be honest, if it weren’t for Azmor and the sages’ choice, Amorn wouldn’t have broken free from those bonds. I noticed long ago that the legacy of the Voyagers strongly suppresses ‘divine’ power. For those without divinity, it’s just advanced, durable material. Amorn’s divinity has been fading daily, especially since I led large-scale ‘de-deification’ projects. His divine power has been diminishing faster and faster. Yet after all this time, the Voyager legacy’s seals and bindings on him haven’t weakened at all.
“The only explanation is that Amorn himself bound himself in place. As a being born from the ‘Thought Currents,’ his own mind exerted an overwhelmingly strong influence over himself.”
“A god can be bound by their own ‘thoughts’… and such a binding can be tangible?” Belsethia’s face showed disbelief. “Then if a god believes they are unbound, wouldn’t that mean…”
“Unfortunately, we can’t verify this, and based on the information we have, something this good just isn’t likely to happen,” Gawain said with a regretful shake of his head. “This world almost never grants us exactly what we wish for.”
“…That’s true,” the other agreed.
The two rulers of the empire exchanged a knowing smile, gently teasing this world that was far from kind yet still gave birth to all things. Just then, a familiar presence suddenly gathered in the nearby air, interrupting the conversation between Gawain and Belsethia.
Gawain turned toward the source and saw the small figure of Amber leap out from a rift in the Shadow Realm. He couldn’t help but grin and tease, “Well, well—burning the midnight oil again?”
“Do you think I want to?” Amber planted her feet firmly on the ground and immediately crossed her arms, complaining with righteous indignation. “Who told you to come wandering around here at night?”
“Alright, alright, I know you’re a night owl who likes to roam around when there’s nothing to do,” Gawain waved a hand dismissively and casually asked, “What’s going on? You came all this way in person?”
Amber pouted. “Actually, I just came by to deliver a message. Got some news from our inside source—”
She paused, glancing several times toward the Silver Empress. Gawain gave Belsethia a slight nod and stepped over to Amber’s side. Belsethia, understanding the unspoken cue, moved aside to stand with her elven guards.
“News from the Northern Territories,” Amber whispered beside Gawain. “High Chancellor Victoria wants to personally go to Talrond—she’s asking for your opinion.”
“Victoria? Going to Talrond herself? That’s her decision?” Gawain’s face showed surprise. This didn’t sound like the usual calm, aloof ‘Ice Duchess’ at all. But soon, the surprise faded, replaced by a brief moment of thought before he slowly nodded. “Makes sense…”
“So that’s your answer?” Amber blinked. “No need to be more explicit?”
“More explicit?” Gawain glanced at the half-elf. “Fine, then—I support it. Provided she arranges her duties properly and presents a complete, reliable plan with contingencies.”
“Got it! I’ll send the reply right away!” Amber waved her hand, and before the words had even left her mouth, she vanished from Gawain’s sight.
Only then did Belsethia quietly return to Gawain’s side. The Silver Empress looked toward the spot where Amber had disappeared and, after a long pause, spoke with some surprise, “Your relationship with this ‘Minister of Intelligence’ is closer than I imagined… The way you interact isn’t like superior and subordinate, nor like ordinary ruler and subject. It’s more like… close friends.”
“Is it?” Gawain raised an eyebrow in surprise and gave a casual reply, though inwardly he couldn’t help but think:
How should I put it? After all, it’s more like suspect and stolen goods…
(End of chapter)