Chapter 149: Containment

Although it was decided that the “Divine Sample” couldn’t be returned to the Shadow Realm, the question of where exactly to store it remained a major problem. It was absolutely out of the question to keep it within the territory—this thing was nothing like ordinary artifacts, and certainly not some harmless iron lump like Nicholas’s egg. The very presence of divine cellular tissue was lethal to mortals; even a brief close look could drive a person mad or kill them outright. So it had to be kept far away from people, yet still remain completely under their control.

After much thought, the ancient ruins in the mountains seemed to be the best place for containment.

Gawain pulled out the map Byron had drawn and quickly found a spot that met his criteria: on the middle level of the ruins, in the grand corridor near the southwest corner, there was a large empty chamber. It had once been a laboratory, making it sturdy and easy to guard.

More importantly, this room was quite a distance from the circular hall.

Though it was unclear whether anything in that hall could still resonate with the divine flesh, keeping the two apart would at least provide some peace of mind.

Pointing at the map, Gawain gave his orders: “Store the sample in this room, wrapped in opaque cloth or sealed inside a box. From now on, under no circumstances—unless I am present—should the sample be exposed to ordinary eyes, not even a sliver. Hetty, the magical door to that room is broken; reset its mechanism and make sure no one can open it casually. That room is now a ‘forbidden zone.’ No one is allowed in without my permission.”

Byron and Hetty nodded in agreement. Byron then asked, “My lord, should we post guards outside the room?”

Gawain nodded. “Assign two guards, with two more teams rotating shifts. The room must be watched twenty-four hours a day. Choose the most trustworthy soldiers to prevent any reckless curiosity.”

“Yes, sir.”

After giving these instructions, Gawain exhaled deeply, but his mind was far from at ease.

He began to understand the feelings of Viscount Andrew back then—unearthing a treasure only to find it was a hot potato.

A sample of divine flesh could unleash unimaginable storms in this world. The power, knowledge, and wealth it could bring were incalculable, but so were the dangers. Gawain had never been one to seek risks in his previous life. Had it been up to his old self, he would have thrown this thing as far away as possible, maybe even sold it to some gullible cult. But now, his personality had changed somewhat.

He simply couldn’t suppress his curiosity about the “Divine,” especially now that he sensed a connection between himself and these gods. That curiosity was impossible to contain.

The divine tissue was being suppressed by him, and those gods might have died at the hands of a powerful civilization with a fleet. He had crossed over and might be inhabiting a satellite—perhaps even one left behind by that civilization. His ability to suppress the divine flesh was likely linked to his identity as a “satellite spirit.” Meanwhile, the Eternal Tablet recorded the truth of the gods’ demise and had shown peculiar traits while connecting with him. The crystal embedded in its fragments might also be a relic of that advanced civilization…

Why the Eternal Tablet, supposedly a “Godslayer’s artifact,” instead carried divine knowledge and inspired religion among mortals on this planet was still a mystery to Gawain.

He felt faintly that he was already caught up in all this, unable to escape. More than that, he was no longer just caught in the whirlpool—he was part of it.

“What happened here today must remain secret,” Gawain said quietly, looking at Sir Byron. “Byron, you and your men will continue exploring these ruins, but if you find any place with a similar style, seal it immediately and wait for my confirmation. This is to prevent accidental contact with anything divine.”

Byron bowed deeply. “Understood, my lord.”

“Ancestor, these original manuscripts…” Hetty pointed to the ancient parchments collected on a nearby table—pages filled with the mad ramblings of some deranged person. “Should we take them back or…?”

Gawain glanced at the manuscripts, then at the blood-red skeleton rapidly decomposing on the ground nearby. He had a rough idea where those manuscripts came from—most likely left behind by that creature.

During the human experiments conducted here by the Gondor Empire, many failed test subjects were created. When they withdrew, most were destroyed, but some were sealed in containers instead of being burned—probably for research purposes. Clearly, those researchers never returned.

One of the sealed test subjects hadn’t died. Instead, it survived, continuously influenced by the divine flesh within the experimental apparatus, developing special abilities that allowed it to break free from its containment and move freely to some extent.

It had even retained some capacity for thought.

But now, it was nothing more than a pile of decomposing remains.

“Seal it together with this crystal,” Gawain finally decided, pointing to the sealing crystal cube. “This crystal cube is named the ‘Prime Sample,’ catalogued as number one. The manuscripts will be considered derivative artifacts of the Prime Sample. If we find similar strange objects in the ruins in the future, we’ll number and preserve them the same way.”

By the time Gawain finished handling matters in the mountain ruins and returned to his territory, night had already fallen.

Bright magical crystal lamps lit the main roads and key locations.

Thanks to the implementation of the magic network and the trial run of the new “Hive Magic Network” in some critical areas, the territory no longer relied solely on torches and braziers after dark. Factories, research facilities, night schools, and main roads were all illuminated by magic crystals powered continuously by the network, providing stable, long-lasting light. Nighttime lighting was a crucial factor in accelerating the territory’s development.

Without cheap, reliable night lighting, people could only work during the day, and many projects requiring 24-hour operation would be impossible. Night schools and factory assembly lines would suffer. On Earth, the invention of electric lights revolutionized work and life, turning human civilization into a powerful machine running day and night. In this world, high-quality night lighting technology had long existed. Artificially synthesized magic crystals for illumination weren’t prohibitively expensive; the only limiting factor was the backward energy infrastructure.

Without a compatible magic network, traditional magic crystals required continuous mana infusion by mages to stay lit. Having noble mages run between hundreds or thousands of lamps all night was unthinkable for common folk. Thus, only kings’ and lords’ castles were brightly lit at night. For ordinary people who had to budget even for oil lamps, the idea of a “nightlife” was unimaginable.

Thanks to the magic network, the biggest mana cost was reduced to nearly zero. Factories’ surplus mana was enough to light the entire camp.

Bathed in this light, Gawain returned to his tent. He glanced at the tent he’d been living in for months and shook his head with a smile.

It was definitely time to move out of the tent—the brick kiln was running smoothly, and the territory had begun building the first batch of brick houses. Wooden houses were even being phased out. Yet here he was, the lord, still living in a tent. That would surprise many if they knew.

Some guessed it was because the lord cared for his people; others thought it was due to his frugal pioneer nature. In truth, Gawain had long designed the style of his future residence—including storerooms, magical laboratories, armories, kitchens, sewage systems, and so on. The early territory simply couldn’t build such a place yet, and he was too lazy to build a temporary wooden house only to tear it down later. So he’d waited until conditions were right to build it all at once.

As he entered the tent, Gawain saw Betty, his little maid, fast asleep on his desk. She must have been there for quite a while—judging by the drool stains, at least an hour.

Though she was sleeping soundly, Betty was unusually sensitive to his footsteps. As he approached within three meters, she suddenly lifted her head, dazed, and said, “Master, you’re back! I wasn’t sleeping, just resting a bit…”

“Drool,” Gawain chuckled at the slightly dopey girl. “Wipe it off.”

“Oh.”

Curious, Gawain asked, “Why are you waiting here? Did someone come looking for me?”

Betty thought carefully about why she’d fallen asleep at the desk, then suddenly remembered: “Ah, I remember now! Miss Rebecca and Miss Jenny came to see you!”

“Looking for me to do what…” Gawain started, then waved his hand. “Oh, you probably forgot.”

“I won’t forget this time!” Betty said proudly, puffing out her chest. Then happily pulled a small notebook from her maid’s skirt pocket and solemnly flipped it open. “Miss Jenny helped me write it down! They said… they figured out the rune model. Rune model… Master, I don’t know what that means!”

Gawain was both delighted and amused as he leaned over to look. “Let me see… It means ‘Scorching Ray.’ Very good, very good. I’ve been waiting for this news. Go call them here right away!”

(End of chapter)