Chapter 1334: Secret Assistance

After Myrmidia finished speaking, High Lord paused, sinking into deep thought.

He wasn’t just considering the idea she had just proposed. More pressing was a question that might soon confront all the “Former Gods”: these beings who had long since relinquished their divine status, who had fully or partially shed the shackles of faith, yet whose mortal followers still remembered them as “gods of old.” They couldn’t remain forever confined like prisoners in rebellious courtyards or similar places. They deserved the right to move freely in the world. But how should they conduct themselves? To what extent could they engage with the mortal realm? How could their interactions with humans be managed to prevent the reestablishment of faith’s binding chains? These were critical issues demanding careful reflection.

For now, the war between the Wasteland and the civilized world was reaching a fever pitch. As native deities of the continent of Loren, Amon and Myrmidia could play pivotal roles in this conflict—another factor High Lord had to weigh.

“The birth of gods stems from mortals’ imagination and unwavering belief in a void concept. The essence of ideology is rooted in mortal cognition,” Veronica suddenly broke the silence beside him. “Put simply, if you solve the fundamental problem of ‘perception,’ the gods’ activities in the mortal world aren’t inherently problematic. Of course, this assumes the gods have already dealt with spiritual contamination—like Amon, Myrmidia, or Enya—or have protective seals and safeguards in place.”

The former leader of the Rebellion raised her head, meeting Myrmidia’s gaze, which looked down from above.

“As long as the masses neither know nor believe you are gods, as long as they don’t rekindle reverence or faith in you, divine authority won’t return. Conversely, if ignorance resurges, and people abandon rational thought to embrace superstition and blind awe of the unknown, then even if you do nothing, you will inevitably be dragged back to the altar. So the key issue from the start isn’t what you actually do, but what mortals think you do or will do—whether reason can drive out ignorance.”

High Lord nodded slightly at Veronica’s words, then looked at Myrmidia. “The reason we need the Divine Authority Council, large-scale education campaigns, spiritual development, and strict limits on your actions is because many people won’t think rationally on their own. Most of the populace in our era still needs guidance in cognition and thought. Many of the Council’s ‘rules’ serve this very purpose.”

Distinguishing between “ends” and “means” was a consensus shared by High Lord and Veronica.

“I understand what you mean,” Myrmidia said with a faint smile, her tone gentle. “A ‘mortal researcher’ setting up a frontline lab on the edge of the Wasteland won’t be a problem. Amon and I have passed the ‘most dangerous phase.’ Perhaps from now on, we should consider how to operate in the mortal world in ways more akin to mortals themselves… I’ll create an avatar to go to the Wasteland. It won’t cause any trouble.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than footsteps approached. Amon, apparently drawn by the commotion, came over and muttered, “Forget whether it causes trouble or not—first, you need to fix that avatar of yours. You squished it down for ages, and it’s still over three meters tall. It can’t even fit through a doorframe. How can you call yourself mortal?”

Myrmidia’s eyes snapped open at Amon’s blunt critique. “At least I look human! I walk upright, after all!”

“An upright three-and-a-half-meter ‘human’ versus a giant white stag? I think mortals would sooner believe the latter is a natural creature,” Amon shook his head, showing off his still massive form, which had been repeatedly controlled and “compressed.” “At least I can say I’m a sacred forest beast born near the Ancestor’s Peak. You? Good luck explaining that.”

High Lord listened to the retired gods’ banter, dumbfounded. “You two really spend your free time arguing about this stuff?”

“Not every day,” Myrmidia replied thoughtfully. “Mostly because Lady Enya hasn’t appeared much lately, Nariel is busy, and Amon and I have some disagreements in certain areas…”

High Lord awkwardly rubbed his nose, deciding it was best not to press further. Amon casually added, “Honestly, you should just ditch the avatar. It’s not easy to cram that much magic power into one body. Better to make a projection instead. It’s less powerful, sure, but easier to control and you can shape it however you want.”

Amber, who had been quietly listening, finally couldn’t hold back. “I’ve heard you talk for a while now—what’s the real difference between a god’s true form, an avatar, and a projection? Especially the last two—I always thought avatars and projections were the same.”

“For a god, an avatar is the closest form to the true self. It’s a direct extension of our power. To borrow a term from neural networks, it’s like a ‘lower-version copy’ of the original,” Myrmidia patiently explained. “Therefore, avatars have greater power and are more influenced by the true form, often appearing in mythic shapes. Usually, we prefer to use avatars for tasks—it’s as convenient as using our own limbs.”

“Projections are something else entirely,” Amon chimed in. “They’re pure ‘creations’ controlled by us but have no direct link to the true form and aren’t affected by mythic shapes. The advantage is we can make them look however we want. The downside is they carry only a fraction of our power and have significant limitations in transmitting information. Projections can be consciously shaped individuals, unconscious ‘thoughts’ we release, or even uncontrolled dreams from a powerful god that manifest in reality.”

“These projections usually have minimal impact on the real world and don’t cause spiritual contamination. But as I said, their weak connection to the true form makes them hard to control and not very useful for serious work—especially those born from dreams.”

“Of course, that last part is theoretical—I’ve never done anything like that. I’ve always slept well during my years as a god.”

“Who asked about your baby-like sleep?” Myrmidia waved dismissively, then paused thoughtfully. “I’ll still send an avatar. Projections can’t handle delicate research. But yeah, the mythic form issue needs fixing… By the way, are there really no female humans over three and a half meters tall in this world?”

Her words drew several gazes. She quickly waved them off. “Never mind, I don’t think so either…”

A moment later, High Lord and the others returned with Amon to the lush garden beneath the golden oak. Amon slowly bent down among the grass, glancing back toward the “testing grounds.” Myrmidia’s tall figure was still busy among the experimental tables, running a series of tests on a captured aberration. She paid no attention to Amon’s gaze.

“Let her study there—she loves research,” Amon said.

“Her hypotheses about the truth behind the Wasteland are very significant,” High Lord said gravely. “For centuries, we’ve known little about the strange phenomena in that polluted land. The only clues came from the original expedition’s desperate escape. Since the Great Wall closed, research on the Wasteland has essentially stalled… No one expected the breakthrough to come today.”

“The unified fluctuation hypothesis…” Veronica’s eyelids drooped as she murmured to herself. “It’s a realm we’ve never touched. But if it’s true, then our years of perseverance weren’t in vain…”

High Lord glanced quietly at the “Saint Princess,” then after a moment asked, “What’s the current situation deep in the Wasteland? Can you confirm the movements of those dark priests?”

“They stay out of my sight. The Wasteland of Gondor is vast, and my Iron Legion can only operate near the Deep Blue Well. Those dark priests control most of the Wasteland,” Veronica shook her head. “But I have some indirect intelligence. In recent days, many aberrations and mutated creatures that usually wander the Wasteland have been gathering northward. My underground sensors have detected several high-energy reactions in northeastern Gondor. I suspect their true lair lies in that direction. I’ve increased the number and power of sensors, hoping to pinpoint it soon.”

High Lord’s expression grew serious, his brow furrowing. “They haven’t clashed with your Iron Legion? Nor attacked the Deep Blue Well?”

“No. The aberrations avoid the Deep Blue Well. They seem unwilling to fight the Iron Legion while attacking the civilized world, probably to avoid unnecessary losses,” Veronica nodded gently. “They’ve clearly learned the Legion’s limits over these centuries and know I’m not an ‘active threat.’ But…”

“But?” High Lord raised an eyebrow.

“But I suspect this ‘balance’ won’t last forever,” Veronica said evenly. “No one tolerates a foreign nail stuck in their stronghold. The dark priests are no different. My Legion is a constant threat to them. And I’ve always felt their designs on the Deep Blue Network continue. They won’t ignore the largest node—the Deep Blue Well—forever. Their current restraint means either they don’t yet have the strength or the cost of attacking is too high.”

“Honestly,” Amber couldn’t help but interject, “if they really threw all their forces at you now, could your Iron Legion hold them off?”

“It’s the Iron Legion, Amber,” Veronica corrected seriously, then shook her head. “A year or two ago, I was confident I could defeat any enemy they sent. But now their root network is active, their control over aberrations is mature, and all the monsters in the Wasteland are influenced by those dark priests… It’s hard to say.”

“So, you probably can’t win,” Amber waved her hand. “You’re in real danger. If they suddenly decide to pull out that nail, you’re done for.”

“Not quite,” Veronica began to rebut firmly, then sighed, resigned. “Forget it, I won’t argue with you.”

High Lord stared in disbelief—seeing the usually unflappable Veronica show such helplessness was rare. He had to admit Amber had a knack for provoking people. He shook his head. “At least for now, those cultists won’t attack the Deep Blue Well.”

Amber looked surprised. “How can you be so sure? They have the advantage now. What if they wipe out the Iron Legion in one strike…”

Gawain shrugged. “If they really concentrate their forces to attack the heart of the wasteland, then we and Typhon can combine our armies and launch a major offensive from north to south. That would leave them with nothing.”

“…That’s true,” Amber said thoughtfully.

Gawain didn’t respond to Amber further. Instead, he fell into deep thought. After a moment of silence, he spoke slowly, “The Deep Blue Well is safe for now. The northern and eastern fronts are stable. The western front has many fallen areas, but the situation is starting to improve. The biggest problem right now is the southern battlefield… The real worry isn’t whether the Silver Empire can hold, but how much the Gaoling Kingdom will lose in this brutal fight.”

Amber blinked. “Weren’t you confident about the Silver Elves’ ‘Millennium Legion’ during the last meeting?”

“I do have faith in the Millennium Legion,” Gawain said, shaking his head. “But they’ve lost the Star Temple—their only aerial superiority. Without that, the Millennium Legion, as a purely ground force, will be much less effective on the front lines. The allied forces of the Silver Empire and Gaoling Kingdom might eventually fight off the enemy, but it won’t be easy… And now that the continent is split into two battlefields, north and south, with all nations stretched thin, it’s unlikely they’ll get reinforcements from other regions.”

Amorn lowered his head, unable to hold back a sigh. “If it comes to it, I can go help them fight… Don’t worry, I know my limits.”

“No, you can’t go south again,” Gawain interrupted immediately. “It’s not that I don’t trust your ‘limits.’ The thing is, your situation is different from Myrmina’s. She has almost no devoted followers, but you… as Belsethia said, the Silver Elves have long lifespans and a unique way of thinking shaped by that longevity. Their mindset is far more ‘resilient’ and ‘stubborn’ than other mortal races. Even if you don’t appear before them directly, their subconscious memories and impressions of you will gradually affect your presence in the mortal world.”

Amorn was silent for a moment, then sighed. “I see… alright.”

“You can continue as our ‘messenger,’ occasionally using the Shadow Realm’s connections to relay intelligence between the north and south of the continent,” Gawain said after a moment’s thought. “In these difficult communication conditions, your role is worth more than a thousand troops.”

He spoke with utmost seriousness.

Because the truth was—now that the Sentinel data network had collapsed and the continent was divided into two separate battlefields, the alliance desperately needed a messenger who could travel between north and south without fear of enemy fire.

That was exactly why the Deerborn Device was so essential.

Hearing Gawain’s words, Amorn’s mood seemed to lift slightly. He raised his head a little, and the two pale pink flowers entwined in his antlers swayed gently in the faint light.

“I understand.”

(End of chapter)