Chapter 1408: The Autopsy

When a god dies, there’s always the matter of cleaning up afterward.

Though in the thousands of years of this civilization’s history, such “aftermath” situations had never before occurred, as the Cecilians liked to say: society evolves, times change, and inevitably, unprecedented events must happen in every era. From the multinational funerals held after the “passing” of the Goddess of Magic, to the global media campaigns following the fall of the God of War, and then the international shifts after the Dragon God’s demise—experts specializing in divine affairs have spent the past two years either organizing funerals for gods or en route to them. Gods can die, and this is gradually becoming common knowledge among mortals.

This might well be the most significant achievement of the Divine Authority Council to date.

Of course, the “death” of the God of the Reversed Tide was different from the previous cases. The gods involved before—except for the God of War—had all returned to the world in some form. Though they experienced “death,” strictly speaking, it was only their divine essence that perished. But the Reversed Tide… well, it seems that one truly died.

The quarantine zone had been established, ensuring no unauthorized personnel would disturb the area. With her mythic presence here, Myrmina could afford to relax somewhat. She carefully examined the remains of the Reversed Tide, then began tracing intricate, layered arcane runes in the surrounding air, muttering to herself: “Now the Council’s work is much easier. The task of tidying up after a god’s death can be handed over to ‘senior advisors’ like us. Back when mortals tried to handle it themselves, the whole affair was a massive ordeal…”

Amon, inspecting the land stained by the Reversed Tide’s blood, casually remarked, “That’s right. The first time they handled a god’s aftermath, it was your funeral. Even I didn’t dare open my eyes then…”

“Honestly, I didn’t think much of it at the time. But looking back, I do have a few regrets about that funeral. The ash-scattering ceremony could have been more solemn…” Myrmina’s thoughts drifted off. “I heard Filmworks is planning some documentaries about fallen gods. I’m thinking of reaching out to them—maybe join in the excitement somehow…”

“Excitement? You want to join in as a corpse?” Amon glanced at the unusually talkative “Goddess of Magic” today. “You’re unusually chatty… Has the Reversed Tide’s death stirred something in you?”

“Not exactly,” Myrmina shook her head. “It’s just… look at it. It died like this—a god created in confusion, born at the very moment its civilization perished. It was born aimlessly, wandered aimlessly, and finally died here in the same haze. Do you think it ever had a shred of awareness? Did it ever contemplate itself or the world? Did it get a chance to look upon its people, or was it… from beginning to end, just a chaotic… shell?”

“You’re overthinking it,” Amon fell silent for a few seconds, shaking his head slightly. “This world has operated this way for countless ages. Not every intelligent species leaves behind a long history. Countless ‘gods’ like the Reversed Tide have been born and died in mortal thoughts, many once wise and powerful gods ultimately succumbing to their own dooms. The feeling of melancholy… it never ends.”

“Maybe. But perhaps that’s just my human nature,” Myrmina chuckled softly, then looked down at the spot Amon had just examined. “Old Deer, what did you find there?”

“The blood has completely lost its vitality, and the contamination of the land has ceased entirely. I find this… unusual.”

“The vitality faded too quickly, you mean?”

“Exactly,” Amon said gravely. “After all, this is ‘godly blood.’ Even if the Reversed Tide truly died, it was only recently. The blood left behind shouldn’t ‘dry up’ so fast. The energy and ‘special properties’ inside should degrade slowly over time. To put it bluntly, even if I died right here, my blood would still be usable as super-magical material centuries later…”

“So… something must have rapidly consumed or neutralized the power within the Reversed Tide’s remains,” Myrmina said with grave seriousness. “I’ve observed the same ‘drying up’ phenomenon. Judging by the residual traces, this process was ongoing as the Reversed Tide fell. The erosion marks scattered throughout this canyon prove it. And only shortly before we arrived did the neutralization process finally end.”

“Could it be the Lady of Night’s influence?” Amon mused. “Her dominion over the night can, to some extent, erase or conceal other gods’ powers…”

“I’m not sure. The Lady of Night’s power is the most mysterious among the gods. The true authority of the Shadow Realm vanished deep within the Abyss long ago when she disappeared. Even Lady Enya isn’t certain what the Lady of Night truly is. But…” Myrmina frowned, “I doubt she’s that powerful. Even if her power can erase alien divine forces, it wouldn’t be to this extent. Otherwise, what was she doing all those years ago?”

“Perhaps when she killed the Reversed Tide, she used some costly trump card. Or maybe she wielded something beyond her usual power,” Amon speculated. “After all, she’s an ancient god who went into hiding during the Age of the Starfarers. It’s quite possible she took some unknown ‘treasures’ with her when she fled…”

Myrmina nodded, seeming to agree. But just as she was about to say more, two familiar presences suddenly approached from the canyon’s entrance. The two former gods looked up to see two swift figures darting through the night—Gawain and Amber.

Few could come and go freely in this fully sealed zone.

After returning from the Deep Blue Well Fortress, Gawain had heard that the two senior advisors had arrived on site. After a brief handover of the aftermath arrangements, he had brought Amber directly to this “Godfall Site.” At first glance, he immediately spotted the spectacular “Reversed Tide Remains” not far off, shrouded in countless arcane rune arrays.

Though dead, the terrifying remains of this mad, frenzied god still sent chills down one’s spine. Seeing the twisted, overgrown flesh and limbs piled like chaotic graffiti, even without any lingering mental corruption, Gawain thought anyone seeing this for the first time might suffer a forced sanity check. Sealing this place off completely was definitely the right call.

“When the news outlets publish victory photos later, how much mosaic will they have to slap over this?” Amber shuddered at the sight of the Reversed Tide’s gruesome remains. “Better not publish it at all. The whole frame would have to be blacked out…”

“Gods driven mad from the start rarely maintain a normal form. The Reversed Tide was frenzied from birth,” Myrmina’s figure shrank gradually to facilitate conversation with Gawain and Amber, eventually settling around three meters tall, her energy signature dimming accordingly. “But rest assured, aside from the horrific appearance, these remains are completely harmless now. The Council’s containment teams can handle the cleanup safely.”

Gawain nodded lightly, watching Amon’s form also shrink to “communication mode.” He casually asked, “Any new findings?”

Without holding back, Amon and Myrmina relayed the unusual phenomena and their theories in full.

“…The divine blood’s residual power has completely dissipated?” Gawain stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Have you found any trace of the Lady of Night’s power in the remains?”

“Not yet. I just finished setting up rune arrays for detection, but finding even a faint shadow power in such a massive ruin won’t be easy,” Myrmina shook her head. “We should prepare for nothing. If the Lady of Night intends to hide herself, she won’t leave any residual power for others to locate the Shadow Divine Realm.”

Gawain nodded. Meanwhile, Amber, uninterested in the technical talk between Gawain, Myrmina, and Amon, had cautiously approached the mountain-like pile of flesh and bone.

Though the sight was grotesque enough to cause a sanity check, the senior advisors had confirmed no other dangers. Amber’s courage grew—she was always a mix of reckless and timid.

Under the starlight of the night, the Reversed Tide’s power-drained remains loomed like a cliff at the canyon’s end. The rune arrays Myrmina had set up glowed faintly in the air, illuminating the dark flesh and crystalline-like bones. Amber carefully stepped onto a relatively “clean” stone nearby, peering at the remains and instinctively estimating their value.

She knew better than to touch recklessly, but old habits die hard.

Suddenly, a dim gray-white shadow flickered between the Reversed Tide’s flesh, flashing past her eyes.

The shadow appeared swiftly and seemed about to vanish into thin air the next moment. But Amber’s reflexes were faster—she suddenly reached out, as if instinctively trying to grasp something that belonged to her.

In that instant, she slipped into a daze, unaware of what she was doing. Driven purely by instinct, she stretched out her hand, attempting to catch the shadow several meters away. She didn’t know how she closed the distance or how she managed to “capture” it. At that moment, the space between her and the shadow seemed to compress, or perhaps the shadow itself “jumped” into her hand.

A faint chill and a sense of emptiness rose deep within her.

Amber felt as if she had dreamed a long, long time—an eternity that vanished like mist the moment she awoke. She seemed to have been given a mission, but it dissolved with the waking wind. Shivering in the night breeze, she came fully awake. The cold starlight poured down from the sky, casting pale, sharp light on her cheeks.

Each star was cold and pale; beyond the starlight, the sky was a deep, rich black.

It reminded her of the Shadow Realm—but the Shadow Realm had no stars.

The Shadow Realm had no stars.

Suddenly, Amber snapped fully awake. She blinked, realizing she was lying on the ground. A low, gentle “noise” was quickly fading from her mind. She felt like she remembered something, but in truth, she remembered nothing at all—footsteps were rapidly approaching.

Gawain’s face appeared in her field of vision. He reached out a hand. “Are you okay?”

Amber felt perfectly fine, except for a dull ache at the back of her head. She grabbed Gawain’s arm and pushed herself up from the ground, eyes wide with confusion. “What happened…? Why am I lying down?”

“We were about to ask you the same thing,” Gawain said, eyeing her up and down. Behind him, Myrmina and Amorn had just arrived. “You were standing here, staring off into space, then suddenly just collapsed straight down.”

“Me? Spacing out? Collapsing?” Amber rubbed the back of her head hard. The hazy fragments of memory were almost completely gone now. She felt a strange echo, like she’d forgotten something important—but before she could grasp it, even that thought slipped away. She looked at Gawain, puzzled. “How long was I out?”

“Almost no time at all,” Amorn said from beside them. “We came over right after you fell, but you’d already opened your eyes before we got here. Do you feel any pain?”

Amber checked herself and tugged at the corner of her mouth. “…My head hurts back here. I think it’s already swollen.”

No sooner had she spoken than Amorn gently shook his head. A soft white light shimmered over his antlers, and a wave of healing energy washed over her—her headache vanished.

For a moment, Amber even wondered if she could take on Gawain… with just one arm.

But she quickly pushed that false confidence aside. She knew this was just the overflow effect of a divine-level rejuvenation spell reducing the swelling. She shook her head, stretched her limbs, and with a confused expression, glanced back at the wreckage of the Reverse Tide. “So… what exactly happened just now?”

“Looks like you’re even more confused than we are,” Myrmina said, bending down to examine Amber carefully. “Maybe something left behind in the Reverse Tide god’s remains affected you. But it should be very faint—so faint that neither Amorn nor I could sense it. Still, I think you should get some rest… hmm?”

Myrmina suddenly stopped mid-sentence. She looked up at the rune arrays she had set around the Reverse Tide wreckage to scan for shadow energy.

The floating three-dimensional runes began to glow softly, gentle beams of light stretching and taking shape in the air, pointing directly at Amber, who was still standing there, utterly bewildered.

(End of chapter)