Chapter 148: The Test

As Gawain extracted the strange, seemingly divine flesh from the hybrid magic array within the Shadow Realm, the mutated aberration outside finally lost its nearly endless vitality.

With a heavy strike from Sir Byron, the monster let out a low, guttural howl. It staggered and collapsed, then began to rapidly dissipate like a true aberration—breaking down into swirling clouds of black smoke that scattered into the air.

Gawain and Amber returned from the Shadow Realm, but Gawain now held a peculiar crystal cube in his hand.

Though the exact details were unclear, Byron and Hetty could guess that the two had disrupted the creature’s resurrection mechanism within the Shadow Realm. Hetty immediately approached, her voice urgent: “Ancestor— the monster is finally dead! Did you discover something in the Shadow Realm?”

“I found this,” Gawain said, lifting the crystal cube. Then, glancing at the soldiers guarding the hall, he thought for a moment before speaking gravely, “Byron, Hetty, Amber stay here. The rest of you, stand guard outside the room for now.”

The soldiers, sensing their lord had uncovered something extraordinary in the Shadow Realm, left the hall without hesitation.

Byron’s expression turned serious. He had seen the object in Gawain’s hand earlier and was beginning to piece things together. “My lord… what exactly is that?”

“This thing is emitting energy that’s causing the monsters outside to keep resurrecting,” Gawain explained quietly. “And that monster probably lived here for a thousand years because of its influence, gaining abilities no ordinary aberration possesses.” He then shared his findings from the Shadow Realm with Hetty and Byron. “The situation is exactly as I feared—we’ve stumbled upon something truly extraordinary.”

With a clatter, Hetty’s staff slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.

“Could this… be the flesh of a god?” The usually composed and calm lady was visibly shaken, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and fear as she stared at the crystal cube. “A god… how could that be possible?”

“I know it’s hard to accept,” Gawain said, softening his tone, “and I know you’re a devotee of the goddess of mysteries and magic. The idea that a god has fallen, and that their flesh has ended up in mortal hands, is a huge shock. But remember the creed of mages: ‘The path of exploration is endless, and the divine is within it.’ Mages have never been overly reverent toward gods—even those who worship the goddess of magic.”

“I just can’t believe it,” Hetty said, taking a deep breath and forcing a bitter smile as she picked up her staff. “You know, in my life, there have only been two moments when I was this stunned—the other was when I saw you rise from your coffin.”

“There are legends of ancient divine wars,” Gawain continued, “where some gods were defeated and fell, their remnants crashing into the mortal world. Their power and fragments transformed into various supernatural forces and magical creatures. The victorious gods became the current pantheon of deities. Perhaps not all divine remnants ‘transformed’—the old Gondor Empire might have found a piece of still-living divine flesh and built this secret base to study it.”

This explanation was easier to accept and wasn’t fabricated. In fact, Gawain felt much of it was close to the truth, though he had softened the explanation of the gods’ demise to spare their dignity.

Byron, more pragmatic and less reverent due to his mercenary background, was calmer than Hetty. Seeing the writhing, strange flesh, he felt more tension and surprise than fear. He quickly regained his composure and offered a theory: “Maybe it’s not as dramatic as we think. The ancient times were full of powerful things. Perhaps the Gondor Empire just found the remains of some demigod, with residual ‘divine’ power, and mistook it for a god’s corpse.”

“That’s possible too,” Gawain admitted.

He scanned the hall, piecing together the research projects once conducted here.

“The Age of Sparks, the Gondor Empire—that was a time when humanity was proud and arrogant. The Deep Blue Well’s energy was limitless, and human mages’ affinity for its magic made them the most destructive spellcasters in the world. Invincible. When you have all the power and resources you want, the only thing left to pursue is immortality—like the gods of legend,” Gawain said, glancing at the inscription on the wall: ‘Humanity shall endure forever.’ The use of the word ‘defy’ in relation to the gods showed the researchers knew how audacious their work was. They dared to push the boundaries of death itself, flirting with disaster.”

He sighed. “But soon, the empire’s scholars realized the Deep Blue Well was the continent’s only super-class magic source, and its power had transmission limits. The mighty Gondor Empire was simply lucky to be within its range. So the Age of Sparks ended, and all those arrogant dreams faded away.”

Everyone was moved by Gawain’s words. Finally, Hetty broke the silence: “Ancestor, what do you plan to do with this… divine flesh?”

“I was just about to say that,” Gawain said, looking at the crystal cube, then back at Hetty and Byron. “When you look at it, do you feel any… mental discomfort? Fear? Hallucinations?”

“No,” Byron shook his head. “Though I was startled at first, I’m fine now.”

“Is that so…” Gawain frowned. “I want to run a test. It might put some mental strain on you. Are you willing? Amber already tried once—this effect isn’t fatal and is reversible.”

Amber immediately glared. “I didn’t volunteer!”

Hetty and Byron didn’t hesitate and nodded together. “Ancestor, please proceed!”

Gawain carefully placed the crystal cube on the ground and instructed them, “Step back a little.”

Byron and Hetty, puzzled, complied and stood several meters away. Gawain then removed his hand from the cube’s surface and slowly stepped back, asking, “Any discomfort now?”

Both shook their heads. Amber, realizing what was about to happen, bolted away, clearly spooked.

Gawain continued retreating, eyes fixed on the living tissue inside the cube. He repeatedly checked on Byron and Hetty’s condition. When he reached about fifteen meters away, the flesh suddenly stirred!

The once slow-moving tissue became active, the dark blood plasma swirling faster and branching into a complex, web-like three-dimensional structure inside the crystal. At the same moment, Byron and Hetty’s expressions glazed over.

Seeing this, Gawain immediately stepped forward one pace—and just that small step was enough to calm the divine flesh’s agitation.

“What… just happened?!” Hetty snapped out of her brief mental haze, still shaken. She couldn’t recall what she saw during those moments, but the terrifying feeling of losing control, her mind flooded with noise and illusions, lingered. More astonishing was that Gawain could suppress the flesh’s unrest with a single step. “How did you do that?”

“To be honest, I don’t know,” Gawain admitted, equally baffled. “But it seems I can suppress the activity of this tissue. Maybe because I’m a walking contradiction—dead but alive—there’s some strange power within me.”

Hetty looked at him with newfound respect, but also a practical concern: “So what do we do with it? Are you going to carry it around forever?”

Amber, who had just peeked out from her hiding spot, chimed in: “I’m just saying, if you carry around a chunk of god-meat all the time, even when you eat or sleep, people might think you’re a freak…”

Gawain thought about it. If Amber was right, this might be the highest-level necrophilia in history—and with a holy prefix to boot.

He snapped himself back to focus and glared at Amber. “Say less. Nobody’s treating you like a mute.”

He then ran several more tests and roughly understood the “infection pattern” of the divine flesh.

Since it was a fragment of a dead god, its destructive power wasn’t as great as he initially feared. He found that as long as a person didn’t stare directly at the flesh, they wouldn’t be affected. And if they were more than twenty meters away, even direct gazes wouldn’t overwhelm their sanity—they could look away or escape the influence.

This meant there was no need to return the flesh to the Shadow Realm for safekeeping.

Honestly, sending it back to the Shadow Realm seemed safest—no one except Amber could enter there. But Gawain felt uneasy. He suspected the Gondor mages didn’t put the flesh in the Shadow Realm for secure containment. With their magic, they could have created other spatial shields or magical locks—simpler, more controllable, and just as safe.

Back then, entering the Shadow Realm wasn’t as difficult as it is now, so storing it there wasn’t necessarily safer.

Thinking it over, Gawain realized the complex hybrid magic array on the flesh wasn’t just suppressing or binding it—it was using the Shadow Realm’s power to sustain it.

He recalled the array had something like charging runes…

With that in mind, Gawain made up his mind: he would never send this dangerous thing back to the Shadow Realm. What if it escaped control and slowly revived itself in a place no one could monitor?

Countless stories from his past life had warned him: sealing something away where you can’t see it is the first step toward disaster.

(End of chapter)