Chapter 1280: “A Friend’s Old Residence”

The terrifying transformation that suddenly unfolded across the fertile land caught everyone’s eyes. Even Melita, who had undergone the “Coming of Age” ritual, felt her breath hitch in that instant—fear and pressure inevitably rising from deep within. The mental shock of witnessing some kind of “truth” seemed poised to test the sanity of every onlooker. Yet, in the very next moment, that dreadful scene within the “Divine Realm” vanished like a mirage.

The earth, once littered with blades, mud, and withered branches, returned to lush, vibrant soil. The courtyard once again echoed with laughter and joy. Pure white spirits tended to the blessed visitors, and the three holy goddesses presided over the joyous feast just as before.

All the blood, bones, and mutated limbs felt like a grotesque nightmare—gone in the blink of an eye. But the explorers standing on the ship’s deck, having witnessed it all, couldn’t shake the lingering horror from their minds. Amber had even forgotten to breathe since moments ago, only now gasping for air. Kamail reacted swiftly, raising his voice to warn everyone: “Beware of divine corruption! Check your mental contamination defenses!”

They had just faced the Divine Realm directly, exposed to a source of divinity so potent that mere sight could cause fatal contamination. This kind of pollution was far stronger than the remnants of dead gods or fragments torn from the Divine Realm. Although everyone carried the highest-grade protective gear that mortal civilization could produce, such defenses could still be breached by intense divine contamination!

Amber quickly glanced down at the deep-sea talisman hanging at her waist, then at the arcane terminal strapped to her arm. Both remained inert, showing no sign of activation.

“…No reaction?” Victoria also noticed with surprise that her protective device hadn’t triggered. She swiftly traced several silver-white runes in the air, which circled her forehead, scanning for changes in the caster’s mind. The results were even more unexpected. “…No signs of contamination. What we saw was merely an ordinary ‘shock’…”

Confusion spread among the explorers. At that moment, Gawain finally broke the silence: “It’s the ship’s protective system that shielded us. The Wayfarers’ technology—they understand how to handle divine power better.”

Everyone looked up toward the shield overhead—the extra luminous barrier that had just appeared was now fading away, as if confirming the external contamination threat had passed. The ship’s targeted defense system began to shut down automatically.

But Gawain knew only part of the targeted system was closing. The ship’s standard defenses would remain active indefinitely to ensure safe navigation through the deep sea.

Amber finally exhaled, blinking with a sense of having narrowly escaped disaster. She patted her chest subtly, whispering, “The Wayfarers’ gear really is reliable… And no wonder—it’s designed to cruise between Divine Realms, complete with specialized protection. Wait… does that mean the Wayfarers themselves can be affected by mental contamination?”

“They might not be directly affected,” Melita answered, also relieved. As a high-ranking dragon educated under the Talrond system, she knew more about the Wayfarers than anyone else here. “But over half the members of their fleets are ordinary mortals like us. These mortals aren’t just protected passengers; they actively participate in the fleet’s military operations based on their abilities. Many of the ‘lower-tier facilities’ in the Wayfarers’ legacy are designed specifically for these ordinary mortals.”

Daniel’s attention remained fixed on the “Fertile Divine Realm” floating upside down above them. His sunken eyes were cautious, as if facing a great enemy. Even though the courtyard and fertile land had returned to their beautiful, sacred state, he still asked, “What exactly did we see just now? The ‘truth’ of the Divine Realm? The madness of the Three Goddesses of Fertility? After the War God, are we next to face these three?”

Daniel’s words instantly tensed everyone. The brutal, terrifying scenes from the Winter Fortress battlefield were still etched deeply in their memories. The strange and dreadful vision they had just witnessed felt like a blood-red omen, inevitably evoking thoughts of deranged gods and impending divine calamities. Even the usually carefree Amber tightened her expression, speaking with unusual gravity: “That shouldn’t be… According to the Divine Council’s estimates, the most stable gods right now are supposed to be the Three Goddesses of Fertility, the Fire God, and the Water God. They’ve suffered relatively minor shocks through the ages…”

“…Relax. What we saw was only a fragment of their ‘divine aspect,’” Gawain suddenly broke the silence. He lifted his head from his thoughts, recalling knowledge once shared by the Dragon God. “As long as mortal civilization advances, the gods’ divine aspects will accumulate ‘corruption’ continuously. Unless the chains are broken, this corruption is inevitable. The difference lies only in the ‘dosage.’ What we saw was the corrupted part of the Three Goddesses of Fertility… but overall, this hasn’t yet broken their ‘balance.’ At least, the Fertile Divine Realm we see most of the time remains in a positive state…”

Hearing Gawain’s explanation, Amber visibly relaxed. But Daniel, needing to maintain his composure, remained expressionless and asked, “Are you sure this information is reliable?”

“The oldest dragon deity spoke to me in detail about this,” Gawain replied, glancing at Daniel. “She witnessed the entire process—from the birth of gods, through corruption, to madness. There’s no more trustworthy source in the world.”

Daniel nodded. “Then I have no doubts.”

Suddenly, a faint vibration passed beneath their feet. The ancient ship, endlessly cruising between Divine Realms, seemed to have completed its observation of the Fertile Divine Realm and was now beginning to descend deeper into the dark chaos. The bright, fertile land outside the shield slowly receded from their view.

Gawain lifted his gaze again, focusing on the Fertile Divine Realm—the courtyard at its center, and the three towering, beautiful goddesses. At this moment, they had once more resumed their perfect, sacred forms.

They were being corrupted. Behind their divine realm lay a truth so terrible it could drive mortals mad… Though he had long known this, it was only today that Gawain had witnessed this cruel reality firsthand. It strengthened his conviction that the “Divine Council” plan he was promoting in the mortal world was both right and necessary. If the nations of Loren didn’t act soon… that horrifying scene in the Divine Realm would no longer be a fleeting illusion.

“Over a thousand years ago, the first Gondor pioneers who accidentally entered the Divine Realm must have seen exactly what we just saw,” Kamail’s deep voice came from beside him. “They had no protection like ours, no experience like ours. They faced the terrifying truth head-on… but by directly contacting this contamination, they gained crucial ‘knowledge’—the earliest warning.”

Gawain said nothing, silently watching the Fertile Divine Realm fade into the distance. Then, one of the three goddesses presiding over the “Eternal Feast” suddenly lifted her head and glanced toward the “Iron Land.”

Her eyes, filled with divine calm and detachment, seemed to pierce the vast spatial divide. Even as the ship drifted farther away, those eyes remained vividly clear in Gawain’s mind.

But in the next moment, those eyes naturally shifted elsewhere. The goddess seemed completely unaware of the massive ship outside her realm. Her fleeting glance had merely coincidentally fallen in Gawain’s direction.

Gawain felt his heart skip a beat. He instinctively wanted to do something but quickly realized that between him and that goddess lay not only the chaotic void of the deep sea but also the chains binding the Three Goddesses of Fertility. He could neither verify nor inquire, nor confirm whether the wreath-crowned goddess had truly seen him.

The ship continued its “descent,” passing beyond the ruinous rings orbiting the Divine Realm’s edge. The boundless dark chaos surged back, shrouding the outside of the shield once more.

Amber finally noticed the change in Gawain’s expression and nervously approached. “Hey, what’s wrong? You looked a little scary for a moment there…”

Gawain remained silent for a long time before breaking the quiet as if speaking to himself: “This ship beneath our feet should be invisible to the gods still trapped in their divine seats, right?”

“‘The Tower’ lady said so,” Kamail replied immediately. “She said the ship has some kind of ‘concealment’ effect, like ‘psychological invisibility.’ It can interfere with thought currents, preventing gods born from those currents from detecting the ship’s presence.”

Apparently, no one else had noticed the goddess’s brief glance toward them. Confirming this, Gawain sighed softly. “…So the Three Goddesses in that Divine Realm couldn’t have seen us.”

“Of course not,” Kamail nodded. “If they had, they wouldn’t have reacted so calmly.”

Gawain hummed in agreement and said no more. He turned and continued walking toward the distance, with Kamail leading the way and the others following closely behind.

Meanwhile, the ancient ship beneath their feet sailed onward through the dark chaos toward some unknown “next destination.”

But this time, everyone was more alert, even adopting a wary, battle-ready stance as they watched the dark silhouettes flickering beyond the shield. They already anticipated what might appear next on their journey. After all, since this ship cruised between Divine Realms, it couldn’t be visiting only the War God’s and Fertile Divine Realms.

This was a voyage allowing direct observation of every Divine Realm—albeit from a limited vantage point. Even the former rebels and current Divine Council technicians could hardly have imagined such a thing.

Their “next stop” didn’t keep Gawain and the others waiting long. Before they reached the passage where the explorers’ magical automaton hid, new faint lights and “scenery” appeared in the dark space outside the ship’s shield.

And what emerged before them this time took everyone by surprise.

Amidst the vast darkness, a patch of starry sky suddenly appeared—at least from a distance, those twinkling points of light were indistinguishable from the starry heavens that Gawain and the others remembered. But as their ship drew closer, they realized that the “stars” flickering beyond the shield were actually glowing runes.

Thousands upon thousands of luminous runes floated in the boundless void, faintly forming an irregular “bubble” shell that mimicked the movement of a constellation. At the very center of this starry expanse, suspended silently in the emptiness, stood a towering spire.

The tower was magnificent and mysterious, its surface covered with runes and flowing faint light. Both its base and its peak were shrouded in darkness, symbolizing the enigmatic foundation and the unknown summit.

This was yet another divine realm. But its master had long since vanished, leaving behind only this hollow starry sky, slowly and irreversibly fading away in the deep sea of nothingness.

“If Milmina were here, this would be interesting,” Amber muttered suddenly. “We’ve found her home…”

“But she probably wouldn’t want to see this place again,” Gawain said, shaking his head with a complicated expression. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed countless ancient ruins and twisted, horrifying fragments of gods drifting in the darkness outside the divine realm. From the depths of chaos, an enormous, terrifying shadow slowly floated forward—it was a massive, torn face.

The face was ghastly and grotesque, pale and contorted, with four eyes wide open in eternal unrest and cracked, dried flesh. It was as large as a castle—whether it had always been that huge or had mutated over countless ages, no one could say.

Even without any psychic corruption, just looking at that dreadful visage was enough to make the faint-hearted faint. The face drifted to the edge of the “starry bubble” and began to slam repeatedly against the divine realm’s barrier. The four eyes embedded in the face simultaneously turned toward the tower, fixating on the now-empty “temple.” The owner of this face was long dead, and no spark of reason remained in those eyes. Yet, some lingering thought-force from a bygone civilization seemed to animate this terrifying transformation.

The face kept pounding the boundary of the divine realm, blow after blow, until an invisible force from the nearby ring of ruins pushed it away. With hollow eyes, it slowly drifted off into the void.

“…I suddenly understand completely how the ‘Lady of the Tower’ must have felt living here back then…” Kamail finally broke the silence, his voice low and haunted as the oppressive terror from that face faded.

“I understand too,” Gawain replied gravely. His gaze fell on a massive floating stone drifting slowly through the deserted divine realm. The stone rolled gently, faintly glowing with intricate patterns. As it neared the ship, the patterned side turned toward them.

The markings were a bold, defiant message left behind by the realm’s former master before abandoning this forsaken place—

“Fuck this shit, I’m done!”

(End of chapter)