Chapter 1411: After the Sentinels Departed
Honestly, even someone as well-traveled and experienced as Gawain, or as mentally tough as Rebecca, couldn’t help but have moments of utter bafflement whenever they talked with the sea sirens about their “way of life.” Thoughts like, “What did you just say? What the hell did you just say?” would often pop up. The behaviors of these deep-sea saltwater lunatics constantly defied the expectations of normal humans—and even the abnormal ones found them unpredictable.
Listening to Tyr’s casual tone as she spoke, Gawain was stunned for a couple of seconds before snapping back to reality. After a long sigh, he muttered, “…Is this really something carbon-based lifeforms could come up with…?”
Before Tyr could respond, he took the initiative to steer the conversation: “Never mind, you’re not carbon-based anyway. You’re basically… well, let’s not get into that. Since communications have been restored, Antavian must already know the outcome of this war, right?”
“Yes, I’ve already sent the news,” Tyr said solemnly (she never once thought she’d said anything unserious). “Her Majesty, the Deep Sea Sovereign Petia, asked me to convey her congratulations to the Alliance on their ultimate victory, as well as her respect and gratitude to the brave frontline soldiers. The camaraderie forged in battle will forever remain in the hearts of the deep-sea people.”
Gawain wasn’t used to Tyr speaking in such formal diplomatic language—she usually slept like a log—but he understood this reflected the deep respect of the Sovereign herself. His expression grew serious. “Please also convey my respects to Her Majesty Petia. In fact, it’s the Alliance that should be expressing gratitude—the expeditionary forces from Antavian played a crucial role in this victory.”
“We fought for our queen and the peace of the deep sea as well,” Tyr smiled, her tail tip relaxing and swaying beside her. “If those lunatics had really succeeded, it wouldn’t just be the surface world that suffered.”
She paused, then added, “Also, there’s something else I need to tell you. It’s good news.”
Gawain raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What kind of good news?”
“Because of the bonds forged in this war, the deepened understanding between the surface and the deep-sea realms, and the reality that we all share the same planet—the Sea Siren Kingdom has decided to establish closer, more formal relations with the various surface races,” Tyr said, scratching her chin. “That’s Her Majesty’s exact words. To put it plainly… the sea sirens are now very interested in your ‘Alliance.’ If there are no issues with arrangements, we hope to attend the postwar conference soon to be held on the Talash Plains.”
Gawain’s eyes widened. For a moment, he was stunned. The impact of this news hit him even harder than when he’d heard that General Vanessa’s expeditionary force had been wiped out by a single cannon blast, only to be posthumously awarded a collective creativity prize and asked to perform again at the year-end arts festival. He had often wondered under what circumstances this powerful, mysterious “extraterrestrial” civilization, sealed away in the deep ocean, would truly become an ally of the mortal realms. He never imagined the day would come so suddenly!
But his shock lasted only a moment before he recovered and smiled warmly from the bottom of his heart. “Of course, that’s absolutely fine. Like I said long ago, the Alliance always keeps a place for friendly friends—especially since you sent an expeditionary force during the war. You definitely have a seat at the postwar conference on the Talash Plains.”
He chuckled and continued, “The sea sirens have always been a mysterious group to the surface races, but beyond that mystery, you’ve earned a reputation as friendly and… reliable. Please tell Her Majesty Petia that the Alliance nations will always welcome envoys from the deep sea at the Talash Plains conference.”
Tyr felt like Gawain had hesitated slightly on a certain word just now, but she had no proof…
Rebecca, standing nearby, suddenly remembered something and casually asked, “By the way, when will your envoys arrive? The Talash conference is coming up soon, and it’s not easy to swim all the way from the deep sea… Are you still using that elemental teleportation gate from before?”
Before Tyr could answer, she curled her tail tip and pointed at herself with a serious expression. “I am the envoy. I’m telling you now—I’ll be leaving soon. Lady Hetty said she’d arrange a dragonrider aircraft to take me to Talash.”
Gawain was once again taken aback. “…That’s possible?”
“I’m surprised too,” Tyr looked innocent. “I thought the queen just wanted me to deliver a message, but then she said she’d already discussed it with the royal advisors and appointed me as the full ambassador of Antavian to Cecil and the Alliance. The reason is that I’ve been here for years and am familiar with the environment. Also, opening the elemental teleportation gate burns a lot of energy, so sending an envoy by plane is cheaper…”
The tone Tyr used sounded like a disgruntled office worker trying to slack off on a business trip, only to be suddenly promoted to regional representative because the boss didn’t want to pay two salaries. Gawain immediately sympathized deeply with Tyr’s predicament—and fought hard not to laugh out loud.
“You really are a race that knows how to… wing it,” he said, trying to hide the corner of his mouth twitching with a sigh. “But that’s good. You’ve been here all these years, acting as a liaison between Cecil and Antavian. Now you’re just officially the ambassador and Alliance delegate. We’re familiar with each other professionally and personally. Alright, we’ll wait for you here. Have a safe trip.”
After their farewells, the Dawn of the Mortal World cut off communications with the imperial capital. The broad deck fell silent once more. Rebecca gazed out at the distant sea of clouds, thoughtful.
“I never expected the sea sirens to take this opportunity to establish formal diplomatic relations with the surface realms… Auntie told me last time that with their slow and sluggish nature, this would take years. Looks like you were right—the bonds forged on the battlefield are the most trustworthy.”
“No,” Gawain shook his head with a smile. “For relations between nations, ‘bonds forged on the battlefield’ alone aren’t enough. The reason the sea sirens finally decided to join the Alliance is probably because the Alliance demonstrated its value in this war—technologically, economically, culturally. On a national level, only friends with exchange value become allies. Without that, you’re just forever ‘friends.’
“The sea sirens are an extremely advanced civilization. Even though they’re currently in trouble and face many survival challenges, technologically they remain the most advanced civilization on this planet—far beyond even the dragons of Talrond. To them, the former nations of Loren were basically like primitive tribes just emerging from ignorance. It’s harsh to say, but a ‘primitive’ alliance built by primitives might get help or be treated as friends, but there’s no real need to ‘join’ it.”
Rebecca wasn’t used to thinking in these terms but tried to keep up. “So… the Alliance isn’t ‘primitive’ to the sea sirens anymore?”
“I think we’ve at least moved beyond the ‘primitive tribe’ stage,” Gawain shrugged. “Even now, the surface nations can’t compare to that deep-sea civilization, but we’ve proven our development potential and long-term cooperation value. And the sea sirens… as an immortal race, they understand ‘long-term value’ very well.”
Rebecca pondered this. Gawain’s voice continued softly, “…As for me, I’m curious how the sea sirens joining will affect the Theocracy Council…”
Deep within the Shadow Courtyard, beneath a massive golden oak, Amon—who had been resting with his eyes closed—suddenly opened them and shivered all over.
“What’s wrong, old stag?” came the voice of the goddess of magic, Mylmina, from nearby. “Did that little spider kick you offline again for playing cards too long?”
“I wasn’t playing cards. I was resting—still recovering from losing half a month’s blood,” Amon looked up at Mylmina. “Just now, I suddenly felt… tense, like something thrilling and dangerous was about to happen. Strange—I’ve never felt this way before.”
Mylmina, who had been indifferent, suddenly grew serious as she stared at the giant stag lying beneath the golden oak. “Tense? A sudden feeling? Do you sense something coming?”
The “intuition” of the powerful is rarely just intuition. Amon, once a god of nature, even though he had lost his divinity, still had a keen “prevision” about matters concerning himself. Mylmina immediately became solemn, but before Amon could answer, she herself shivered.
“What’s wrong?” Amon asked, surprised. “I’m shivering, and now you’re shivering too?”
“I don’t know why, but I also… felt ‘tense’,” Mylmina’s tone was strange. “Like something thrilling and exciting is about to happen… but oddly, I don’t sense any imminent danger. It doesn’t seem like a truly malicious threat, but… it feels like something is really going to happen.”
The two former deities fell silent simultaneously. After a few seconds, they spoke in unison: “Should we report this to the Council?”
The atmosphere grew awkward. Two seconds later, Mylmina broke the silence with a strange tone: “This feeling is really weird. I never thought I’d get used to this… life. It’s kind of…”
“Nice, isn’t it? ‘Life’—such a luxurious and beautiful concept,” Amon laughed, the tension easing somewhat. “Let’s stay alert these days. Maybe something will happen, but it’s more likely just a false alarm. By the way, where have you been? Why are you only back now? And your aura… it’s very chaotic.”
While Amon rested, Mylmina’s aura had left the courtyard. Now that she had returned, her aura seemed unusual.
“I went to the Deep Realm,” Mylmina hesitated but spoke frankly. “I followed the patrol route of that sentinel ship from before and explored a bit. I got close to several known divine domains—maybe… a little too close.”
Amon’s eyes widened, nearly jumping to his feet. “Are you crazy? ‘A little too close’?! You usually test the limits near other gods’ domains when you’re in the Deep Realm. Aren’t you afraid of provoking those divine domains? Of being instantly struck down by their automatic defenses? You’re not the ‘Goddess of Magic’ at your peak anymore!”
“I’ve come back safely, haven’t I? I know my limits,” Mylmina spread her hands. “My main goal was to confirm the safety situation and to see if the disappearance of the Sentinels has affected the workings of the other divine realms. After all, for many years, the gods’ perception was clouded by the Sentinels’ ‘shrouding system,’ which kept them from truly ‘seeing’ that cruiser. Now that the shroud is gone, maybe… some deity has begun to notice and recall the image of the Sentinel ship hovering above them—and might react to it.”
As she spoke, she settled down beside Amon, leaning her back against the golden oak’s trunk. Her long hair, like a swirl of purple-black mist, drifted in the void. “Mortals can’t do this kind of thing yet. You, an old stag who’s been drained for half a month, get dizzy just from walking too far. Enya hasn’t even hatched, and Narithil and Duvalet are tied up. So naturally, it falls to me.”
“…Well, responsibility is always in our nature, whether mortal or divine,” Amon said, listening to Mylmina, finally lowering his eyelids in resignation. “So, what did you find? Since the Sentinels left, what changes have taken place in the Deep Realm? Any abnormalities in the domains of the other gods?”
“The Sentinels have indeed vanished—though I never found that ‘mother port,’ I did reach the farthest point along the cruiser’s route that mortals had previously charted, and observed there for a long time. That much I can confirm,” Mylmina said slowly. “As for the other gods’ realms… nothing unusual. The Sentinels’ departure doesn’t seem to have affected anything. Much like the sky’s countless years of surveillance over the mortal world, the Sentinel system, limited by the original design of the Voyagers, was just a ‘silent, invisible recorder.’ Whether it’s there or not, the gods’ own workings don’t seem impacted. But…”
“But?”
“I suspect the other gods have indeed noticed and recalled the Sentinels’ existence—they just haven’t shown it,” Mylmina’s expression grew more serious. “Or rather, they can’t show it to me, an alien god.”
“When I passed through the domains of the Three Bountiful Deities, I’m certain at least one of them abruptly cast their gaze beyond the divine borders. They were in the midst of their ‘Endless Harvest Feast,’ following the currents of thought—you know how it is—and that goddess’s action was very out of place. Besides that, when I passed through the domain of the God of Commerce, though I didn’t see Baufal himself, I’m sure a gaze was cast from the ‘Emerald and Golden Castle.’ That gaze first looked at me, then seemed to fixate for a moment on the ‘watchpoint’ where the Sentinel once hovered—I could feel the trail left by that focus moving through the Deep Realm.”
Amon’s eyes slowly widened. “This… is quite interesting.”
(End of chapter)