Chapter 136: The Girl

Was his perception faulty? This question gnawed at Gawain’s nerves like nothing else. Yet, lacking any solid comparisons or avenues for further investigation, he had no choice but to set it aside for the time being. More pressing than this unresolved doubt was the matter of the gods.

The fragments of the Eternal Stone Tablet were real. But were the things inscribed on them true as well? If they were… then Gawain had to confront a chilling conclusion:

The gods were dead.

The fragmented, chaotic call logs explicitly mentioned the names of the gods. Piecing together the conversations revealed a shocking tale of a divine war—a war in which the gods were overwhelmingly outmatched. It wasn’t so much a battle as a systematic extermination. And the gods worshipped by the major contemporary sects were all listed among the fallen.

So, if the gods were dead, what exactly were the millions of mortal believers worshipping every day in this world?

What was answering their prayers? What was controlling the flow of divine power? What was performing miracles? What was whispering secret, indescribable words during their meditations—and through those whispers, delivering one “divine oracle” after another?

When devout priests prayed with all their hearts, they heard murmurs from the divine realm deep within their souls. But if those whispers weren’t from the gods, then their source was something far more terrifying.

Gawain’s thoughts then drifted to the “White Star’s Fall” incident—the event that had split the Druid sect and led to its degeneration into the Druidic School.

It had happened three thousand years ago, a time so distant that even the once-mighty Gondor Empire regarded it as a “prehistoric event” beyond precise historical record. Humans, with their short and volatile lifespans, struggled to keep clear records of such ancient occurrences. But the Druids’ main inheritors were elves—long-lived beings who could preserve records spanning millennia with clarity.

According to elven historical texts, the “White Star’s Fall” was a “dark miracle” perceived only by the Druids. They all shared a unified vision: the sky split in two, a dark starry expanse descended to an almost tangible height, and a blazing white star trembled violently before plummeting to the earth. Yet, no ordinary person saw anything fall.

Thus, the White Star’s Fall was dismissed as a massive collective hallucination. But because of its scale and its divine implications, scholars hesitated to simply call it a hallucination. Instead, they theorized it was a meteor shower occurring on a higher plane, parallel to the current space-time—a fall from the divine realm into the gap between the mortal world and the gods. Ordinary people, lacking spiritual sensitivity, naturally couldn’t perceive it. This was the accepted explanation for the White Star’s Fall.

Whatever the truth, Druidic magic ceased to function after that event.

At first, Gawain thought the White Star’s Fall marked the demise of the natural gods. But now, the information from the Eternal Stone Tablet fragments made him doubt that: the history recorded on the Eternal Stone Tablet was far older than the White Star’s Fall.

These pale golden metal plates first appeared during the First Age of Exploration—tens of thousands of years ago. The Eternal Stone Tablet itself must have been formed even earlier. In other words, before mortals built civilizations on this land, the gods recorded on the tablet were already extinct.

So what was the white star that fell from the sky in the Druids’ collective vision three thousand years ago? Had the long-dead natural gods somehow risen again, only to perish once more?

…

While Gawain pondered over the fragments of the Eternal Stone Tablet, far from the Dark Mountains and the Leslie territory, a forest stirred. Thick clusters of vines burst from the earth, twisting and swelling into a massive pod. Moments later, the pod ruptured, and a staggering figure emerged.

Clad in a tattered black robe shredded into strips, with messy brown hair plastered to a pale, gaunt face, his eyes dark and brooding—his entire right arm had been blown off at the shoulder, the gruesome wound now covered by writhing flesh as it painfully regenerated.

This was the cultist from the End of All Things sect who had barely escaped from Tansang Town.

Severely wounded, mentally drained, and exhausted from a long flight, the once formidable middle-aged man was now weak and unsteady. As he stumbled through the woods, the bushes and weeds he brushed past withered and rotted instantly, as if their life force was being sucked away.

Absorbing the vitality of the plants, the man’s face regained a faint flush. He stopped before a large stone and looked down at a symbol carved into it: a withered, curling thorn.

Seeing the mark of the End of All Things sect, the cultist—known as Bard—fished a wooden whistle from his pocket with his remaining left hand. But before he could blow it, the leaves around him rustled violently. A whirlwind of fallen leaves swirled around the stone, coalescing into a hazy figure. As the leaves settled, the figure became clear: a tall woman with dark green hair, pale flawless skin, and a striking face. She wore a robe resembling that of a high priestess, but all sacred religious symbols had been erased. At the hem of her robe, instead of human feet, sprouted a terrifying mass of root-like limbs.

“A shameful failure, Mr. Bard,” the tall woman with green hair spoke, her voice crackling like dry leaves breaking, “Your confidence was blind.”

“Gawain Cecil truly has been resurrected, and he disrupted my plans,” Bard said respectfully but without fear or submission. “Lady Beltira, his power exceeds expectations—I even suspect he hasn’t lost any combat experience!”

“If he were truly as strong as before, you wouldn’t have had time to take a second breath after seeing him,” Beltira said bluntly. Then, her tone shifted, “But the fact he defeated you so easily means he’s not as weak as I initially thought…”

“How is this possible?” Bard’s voice was full of confusion. “Wasn’t his soul supposed to be annihilated? Even if his body was resurrected, he should be a cripple—or worse, an undead.”

“He came into contact with those ‘Apocalyptic Artifacts’ and even communicated directly with an ancient spirit. No one knows what knowledge or power he gained in the process,” Beltira said coolly, though her eyes betrayed a strange mix of fear and admiration. “So no one knows if his actions now are guided by some ancient directive… In any case, you don’t need to investigate him further.”

“I understand,” Bard nodded, finally lowering his head slightly. “What do we do next? Leave him be?”

“Leave him be, along with the Eternal Stone Tablet fragments,” Beltira said coldly. “The war between Typhon and Ansu is approaching. We have prepared for this day for centuries. We cannot afford any distractions.”

Bard nodded. “Understood.”

Beltira gave a slight nod, then glanced at the writhing flesh on Bard’s right shoulder. “Once your arm has healed, go to Typhon. Join the local congregation on the Quicksand Coast and travel together to the Stormborn’s sea. The High Priest has assigned you as emissaries of the End of All Things sect to assist them.”

“The Stormborn? The followers of the storm gods?” Bard frowned. “They rarely ask for help from outsiders…”

“They’ve stirred up trouble with the sea monsters in the eastern seas,” Beltira said indifferently.

Bard’s eyes sharpened, and he said no more, bowing slightly to acknowledge the order.

The wind whipped up again, swirling with withered leaves that encircled Beltira’s figure. Her body gradually disintegrated into fragments carried upward by the leaf storm. Before her upper body vanished, her gaze fell on the broken sword at Bard’s waist. A slightly distorted voice echoed from the whirlwind:

“Bard Wendel, your attachment to the past will block your path to truth. If you wish to advance further on the path of the Withered Priest, you’d best lay down your sword…”

Beltira’s voice and form disappeared together, leaving only a fading magical residue. Bard stood before the drifting leaves, sneering after a long moment, then turned and slowly walked deeper into the forest.

The residual magic erased the End of All Things mark on the stone. In the end, no trace remained.

…

New Cecil Territory.

Gawain finally decided to seal away the fragments of the Eternal Stone Tablet for the time being and focus on developing his domain.

The secret of the gods was indeed tantalizing. The truth that “the gods are dead” could shake the entire world’s order. But Gawain came to a sober realization: this was not a realm he could access or intervene in right now. And this monumental truth wouldn’t bring him any immediate benefit.

The gods are dead—an earth-shattering revelation, yes, but what good was knowing it? In this world, in this era, without sufficient power, even understanding the laws of the universe was just madness. He couldn’t tell anyone, and speaking of it would only draw unwanted attention and hostility. For the sake of his territory’s stable development, it was better to keep this secret buried deep in his heart.

After securing the tablet fragments, Gawain took out the runic logic materials he had copied from Jenny Perrot and prepared to continue his unfinished studies.

But before he could get fully absorbed, the tent flap was suddenly thrown open—Sir Byron burst in, his face wearing an odd expression.

Nervous, shocked, but mostly awkward and embarrassed.

This old fox of a knight sure had a surprisingly expressive face.

“What’s the rush?” Gawain looked up at the middle-aged knight. “Did Rebecca hit Amber? Or did Hetty hit Rebecca?”

“Neither!” Byron’s face twisted with discomfort and helplessness as he rubbed his hands anxiously. “My lord, I… I’m afraid I can’t adopt that mute child anymore…”

“Can’t adopt?” Gawain stopped flipping through his notes and fixed him with a steady gaze. “You can’t say that lightly. You’re a knight, and I witnessed your decision to adopt that child.”

“But… but that child…” Byron’s expression was too awkward to describe. “She’s a girl!”

“Ha… huh?”

(End of chapter)