Chapter 1440: Some Deeds Go Unnoticed
Veronica’s voice echoed across the vast, magnificent Holy Light Plaza, yet the crystal remained silent, offering no response.
It simply continued its quiet, precise operation at the heart of this endless, desolate divine realm—like a machine, unchanging and unfaltering, just as it had for the past seven centuries.
Veronica stared intently at the amorphous crystal before her. In the long silence, no one could tell what thoughts crossed her mind. Finally, she slowly lifted her gaze to the rivers of light flowing across the sky above the divine realm.
Compared to several years ago, those rivers of light had changed dramatically. Many tributaries had vanished, and the remaining streams had shifted their courses. The faith energy that once pointed directly to the God of the Holy Light, tightly bound by divine laws, was gradually detaching from the realm’s operation. Though still faintly reflected within the God’s domain, this “reflection” was now as ephemeral and fragile as a mirage.
Yet, some faint streams of light still converged above the massive, formless crystal, resonating subtly with it. No matter how slight the fluctuations in those streams, the crystal would respond.
“So that’s where the dissonance I’ve felt all along comes from…” Veronica murmured softly. The platinum staff burned in her palm, but this purely spiritual “burn” felt almost nonexistent to her. “An automatic response mechanism…”
She gazed long and hard at the enormous amorphous crystal before finally withdrawing her eyes. The former leader of the rebels sighed quietly and took a small step back. “In any case… thank you for your protection, once.”
A portal of light opened not far behind her—a passage for the spirit to return to the mortal world. Veronica turned and walked toward it. Just as she was about to step through, a faint, clear chime suddenly rang in her ears. Startled, she looked back at the crystal, but it remained as silent and still as ever. The bell-like sound echoed across the plaza, as if it were a centuries-old echo stored within this space.
Evening.
Gawain, strolling along the banks of the Whitewater River, blinked in surprise as Veronica hurried toward him. “You’re certain it was the God of the Holy Light who detonated the Deep Blue Well seven hundred years ago?”
“Yes,” Veronica replied, platinum staff in hand, walking slowly beside him. “I found a ‘mark’ left by the God of the Holy Light just before the explosion in the storage system I mentioned last time. Rest assured, my judgment on this is infallible. Over the years, I’ve connected with the God through simulated divine nodes—I understand ‘Him’ better than any devout believer.”
“The one who understands a god best is the one who defied them,” Gawain said softly. “So the God of the Holy Light’s current state… as you said, is now just an automatic response system?”
“Exactly. That explains many of my doubts and also a recent anomaly the Divine Authority Council has been discussing. Our reforms of the Holy Light Church were the earliest, fastest, and most effective. By this stage, even if the God hadn’t fully departed the divine seat, ‘He’ should have gained some degree of freedom. Yet we never received any ‘intent’ from Him. The council always attributed this to the God’s cautious human nature, but now it seems… the truth is far different.”
“The God of the Holy Light no longer has a human aspect. Even the divine part has become a machine. That’s the price of detonating the Deep Blue Well…” Gawain said quietly, gazing at the Whitewater River where the golden-red sunlight slanted across the surface. The light fractured and rippled with the waves—less brilliant, but more desolate. “We never imagined such a thing could happen. But then again, even with the God in this state, our reforms of the faith haven’t been easy. So many clerics remain trapped by mental seals, and cases of faith betrayal triggering the God’s backlash still occur…”
“That precisely proves the ‘mechanical’ nature of divine law in operation,” Veronica nodded. “It shows that everything a god does within their domain isn’t driven by their own will. So even though the God of the Holy Light’s human side has vanished, the divine part left behind continues to operate day after day, century after century. Faith is still rewarded, prayers still answered, and even vague, mechanical ‘oracles’ descend. The believers remain completely unaware of their god’s transformation.”
“It’s chilling, and somehow… tragic,” Gawain sighed softly. “Free will means nothing. After death, all that remains are ashes that stand for the sum of one’s existence. The gods… the gods on their thrones…”
He stopped walking and, after a moment’s thought, asked, “What happens if this state continues? Could a God of the Holy Light running purely on divine mechanics evolve into some kind of… threat?”
Until today, the Divine Authority Council knew of only two types of gods besides those still on their thrones: those utterly dead, and those like some senior advisors whose divinity had faded but humanity remained. The case of the God of the Holy Light—humanity gone, divinity remaining—was unprecedented. No one knew what a god turned into an “automatic answering machine” would become if left on the throne long-term. Gawain couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
Veronica lowered her head, pondering seriously. After a moment, she shook her head slowly. “I don’t think there’s cause for concern… Based on my observations and the current state of our reforms, the divine part ‘He’ left behind should gradually fade away. The doctrines of the New Holy Light Church completely avoid the ‘sensitive elements’ that cause divine instability, and they redirect the faith of mortals elsewhere. Divinity itself is a mechanized force—if its laws are met, it won’t react beyond that. So over time, that divinity, and even the entire Holy Light realm, should slowly disappear… just like the fading divinity in Lady Tower and Mr. Deer.”
“The only difference is that Lady Tower and Mr. Deer still have remnants after their divinity fades, but after the God of the Holy Light’s divinity fades, nothing will remain.”
Gawain looked at Veronica quietly for a moment, then suddenly said, “You must have complicated feelings about this.”
“For many years, the rebels saw gods as enemies. That belief was etched into my very first memories. But with the establishment of the Divine Authority Council, that belief had to be revised—gods aren’t the enemy; uncontrolled gods are. We support and threaten each other, like two miserable souls chained together. As for now… I merely happened to awaken the last wish of Ophelia Norton at her deathbed. It stirred some feelings in me.”
She shook her head gently and changed the subject. “Do you plan to take action? The God of the Holy Light’s human side has fallen… do you think we should prepare a ‘funeral’ for Him? Like when the Goddess of Magic ‘fell’…”
Gawain thought for a moment, then shook his head and said gravely, “No. Let Him depart quietly. Our reforms of the Holy Light Church have been very successful. This gradual change is proceeding smoothly. There’s no need to complicate things with a ‘funeral’—that might even provoke unpredictable shifts in public sentiment.”
“I understand,” Veronica nodded softly. “I’ll update the God of the Holy Light’s records and upload them to the Divine Authority Council’s database, with the highest access level.”
Gawain said nothing, only nodded slightly. In his view, the blazing sun was slowly sinking toward the horizon upstream of the Whitewater River. The spectacular corona dipped like glowing mountains into the water. The last light of day was fading, and along the riverbanks, street lamps began to light one by one. The bright glow of magic crystals replaced the setting sun, dispelling the deepening dusk.
“At least for a generation, the fact that ‘the God of the Holy Light sacrificed Himself to detonate the Deep Blue Well and hold back the magical tide’ must never be made public,” he said quietly. “Just as Amorn’s aid to the Allied Forces on the southern front was kept strictly secret, some deeds… we keep in our hearts. But to the public, these things must be forgotten for now.”
Veronica gripped her platinum staff a little tighter, then bowed her head slightly. “Until the future you envision arrives—until the world is ready to accept the truth with reason, not fanaticism or worship.”
“Yes. Until they’re ready…”
As every corner of the Loren Continent gradually entered the postwar reconstruction period, and the Alliance’s member states finally had the capacity to focus on rebuilding their economies at home and abroad, some in the Alliance’s upper echelons turned their gaze away from Loren altogether, toward mysterious, uncharted realms untouched by mortals.
These “uncharted mysterious realms” included not only distant alien worlds four light-years away but also ancient legacies long hidden beneath mortal eyes.
In the southwestern seas of Loren, far from land, a sudden storm towered like a colossal wall between sea and sky.
Chaotic magical currents raged through the turbulent layers and the ocean’s surface. The violent energy unleashed extreme weather—howling winds, waves billions of tons high, and endless lightning forming a shimmering curtain that swept back and forth between hurricane, downpour, and the sea’s towering spray. This was the dreaded “chaotic turbulence,” the most terrifying storm on the high seas—enough to strike fear into sailors and even steel-clad naval officers alike.
Yet, as the storm moved into a certain stretch of ocean, it abruptly stopped.
As if hitting an invisible barrier, the raging waves ceased at a boundary line. All the water was forcibly suppressed by an unseen, powerful force. Even the rampant magical energy in the air vanished instantly. Then, along the storm’s edge, a shimmering rift appeared. From within the rain and wind, a group of massive figures suddenly burst forth, charging into a calm, sunlit sea where only a gentle breeze stirred the surface.
Dozens of massive dragons soared out of the storm—more than half of them were robust, fully winged and limbed “Talonrend pureblood dragons,” while the rest were smaller in build, their bodies fitted with steel-mechanical wings, known as the “Dragonborn.”
These mighty rulers of the skies burst forth and flew straight toward the most striking “ancient wonder” at the center of the calm sea—a towering orbital elevator connecting the planet’s surface to the ringed space station above.
Beneath the dragon flock, the once placid sea suddenly rippled. Then, a huge shadow emerged from the crystal-clear waters, sending up frothy white waves and foam. It was a large submersible vessel with sleek, elegant lines, its silhouette unmistakably inspired by the sea serpent.
This was the battle transport ship of the Deep Sea Kingdom—the mighty Admiral Dinghai Pingbian.
Also known as the Abyssal Ocean Pacifier.
At this moment, inside the upper observation deck of the Admiral Dinghai Pingbian, the deep-sea witch Viola stood before the wide, curved viewing window. With her mid-length blue hair and delicate aquamarine scales adorning her cheeks, Viola had once been one of the technical specialists sent by the Deep Sea Kingdom to assist the Cecil Empire in constructing the Northern Port. Now, with the first phase of the port’s construction complete and new orders issued, she had been dispatched again—this time with a technical team mostly composed of deep-sea witches and deep-water engineers from Antavien—to carry out a special mission here.
To venture into space, ascend the heavens, and repair the ancient creations left behind by the Voyagers.
“…This thing really is almost identical to the tower we saw over on the Southern Continent…” Viola’s face lit up with a mix of excitement and curiosity as she gazed at the distant sea, where the colossal spire pierced the sky like a pillar connecting the heavens and the ocean. Her tail flicked happily against the damp floor, her technician’s enthusiasm slowly igniting. “So it turns out there are two orbital elevators after all…”
“It’s different from the tower on the Southern Continent,” Cassandra, standing beside Viola, said. “This one doesn’t have those dangerous mechanical sentries around it. Both the Dragonborn lady and I went up there ourselves.”
“Hopefully that legendary ‘Sky Station’ will have some surprises for us,” Viola said with a smile tugging at her lips. “The Voyagers left behind some really good stuff.”
Squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through the observation window, Viola watched the towering spire gleam brilliantly against the sky. The sleek bow of the battle transport cut through the calm sea, leaving a white wake as it steadily approached the base of the orbital elevator.
At the same time, the dragons from Talonrend and the Holy Dragon Principality began to lower their altitude. These massive figures arranged themselves into formations as they descended toward the coastal area of the “Iron Island.” The sky echoed with their majestic, overlapping low roars—if one were skilled in dragon speech, they would recognize these as the dragons’ standard “coordination commands” used during group takeoffs and landings. Translated roughly, they went something like this:
“Hey, the red one up front, move a little to the left—you’re blocking my view!”
“Black one! Yeah, you! You’re hogging two landing spots! Don’t you see how narrow it is down here?”
“Clear some space for the transport crew and supplies—there are over a hundred iron soldiers and an engineering commander waiting to land!”
“Front one, ease up! You’re about to crash into the shore!”
“Damn it, my sister just fell into the sea!”
Without their Omega assistance systems, the Talonrend dragons clearly still had a long way to go adapting to a purely natural lifestyle…
(End of chapter)