Chapter 1498: The Motherworld Barrier

Small-scale hydroponic farms and water recycling systems were obviously insufficient to sustain the daily operations of a massive doomsday shelter. Yet, the experiments the Cecilians conducted within the God of War’s divine realm proved at least one thing: given over a year of careful preparation, mortals could produce a certain amount of food and drinking water inside the divine realm. This would significantly ease the supply burden on the shelter, allowing a “divine realm refuge” of limited scale to accommodate more residents.

With that in mind, although the two dragonborn proposals couldn’t match the scale of the elves’ “Gondor Refuge” plan (also known as the Relocation Plan), implementing both simultaneously would still meet the global demand for refuge. Moreover, whether it was the Talrond Great Shield or the unique nature of the divine realm itself, both offered reliability far beyond the aging, partially damaged Sentinel Towers.

If, as Heragor described, the two shelters could be successfully activated, it would at least provide a “backup” — not as redundantly secure as the Typhon Empire’s “Shelter City Clusters,” but enough to prevent the collapse of civilization if one shelter were breached.

From Gawain’s perspective, the dragons’ concept could be seen as a “hybrid upgrade” of the Typhon and Silver Empire plans. It combined the reliability and redundancy of the shelter city clusters with the vast scale of the Gondor Refuge, while addressing the biggest flaws of both. It was, by far, the closest thing to a perfect plan Gawain had heard so far.

The only problem with Heragor’s plan was the great uncertainty in its implementation. Beyond theoretical support, no one knew if the Unified Mind Field could truly interface with the Talrond Great Shield and replace the gods’ original role. The Sentinel Towers, though outdated, had proven compatibility with neural networks, backed by actual data. On the other hand, no one could be sure if using the divine realm as a refuge was truly safe and reliable. After all, mortals knew very little about “gods,” and the dragonborn’s “divine realm refuge” plan was based mostly on old data and theoretical extrapolation.

Still, Gawain knew this was the best plan they could present in such a short time.

Under the crushing pressure of survival, mortal wisdom and will to live had been ignited. Behind these grand plans stood not only the leaders around the round table but countless scholars who had exhausted themselves calculating every resource, technology, and precious moment left to them. They bore the ticking clock of the approaching magical tide, striving within limited time and resources to forge a refuge that could preserve civilization.

They faced countless agonizing choices—whether to sacrifice most of the population to guarantee the absolute safety of a fortunate few, or to risk the shelter being breached in order to protect everyone, or to gamble on unproven, uncertain technology, hoping everything would go according to theory and achieve the ideal outcome of saving all.

No matter the choice, it transcended personal desires, even beyond the gains and losses of nations or clans. And as for the final outcome of these choices… at least Gawain was certain that even if they chose wrongly today, future historians would likely never debate the rights or wrongs of this moment.

Now, all eyes around the round table turned to Gawain.

Though the leaders here were the most powerful rulers of the Alliance’s greatest nations, and the scholars among them the finest minds of mortals, in this vast sea of pure white flowers, beside this small round table, they all silently acknowledged Gawain as the “core” of the matter—because he was the convener, the architect of the world’s current order.

“We want to hear the Cecilian plan,” Belsethia said, locking eyes with Gawain. “Surely you have your own proposal.”

Gawain paused for two seconds, then looked up with eyes as resolute as steel. “You might find this surprising—the Cecilian plan is still the ‘Motherworld Barrier.’”

The room fell silent instantly. The leaders exchanged glances, and the scholars behind them were stunned. No one had expected that after all these plans had been proposed and debated, Gawain’s final proposal would circle back to the beginning. Rosetta Augustus was the first to speak.

“The Motherworld Barrier is something impossible to achieve with current technology… Are you saying Cecilia has found a way to solve this problem?”

“With the current technology and resources of the Alliance, building a Motherworld Barrier from scratch in a year and a half is indeed impossible,” Gawain said, scanning the room, “but perhaps we don’t need to start from zero. We actually have a ‘half-finished’ Motherworld Barrier—has everyone forgotten?”

“A half-finished Motherworld Barrier?” Rosetta blinked, then quickly caught on. “You mean… the plan the Sentinels and the End of All Things cult tried to execute back then…”

“Yes. The Sentinels’ plan to ‘tame’ the planet using runestone technology,” Gawain nodded gently. “By modifying and diverting the planet’s deep blue ley lines, using runestones as control nodes, they aimed to build a force field capable of enveloping the entire globe. Essentially, this was a Motherworld Barrier—one even more advanced and powerful than the technical specifications proposed by the Noyans in their blueprints.”

“Wait, but isn’t that a doomsday weapon?” Grant Astromancer Verania seemed momentarily confused. “If the deep blue ley lines were triggered to erupt, wouldn’t the whole planet be engulfed in a deadly energy storm?”

Gawain raised his hand to stop her, his expression grave. “Madam, that’s the misconception. Strictly speaking, it was the Sentinels who intended to use the Motherworld Barrier as a doomsday weapon—not that the Barrier itself is inherently one. This misunderstanding is common. In fact, this was discussed even before the war ended—whether the runestones the Sentinels deployed were merely environmental modification devices within the Voyager technology system…”

Verania looked thoughtful. Belsethia, however, immediately understood—she had discussed this with Gawain before and had been following the runestones the Sentinels left in the deep blue ley lines.

“You mean it’s been confirmed that the control system the Sentinels built into the deep blue ley lines can be rendered harmless, and that we can control it?”

“Not full control yet, but progress is steady,” Gawain said openly in this special meeting. “Cecilia has been cooperating with the Deep Blue Well and the Deep Sea Kingdom. We inherited technology left behind after the Sentinels and the End of All Things cult were destroyed. Though not fully public, this is known among the Alliance’s upper echelons. So far, we’ve cracked part of the basic protocols between the runestones and reconnected most of the nodes through several key channels. We’re now working on decoding commands and transferring permissions. Especially on command decoding, I have some unique… advantages.”

He tapped his temple, and the people around the table quickly realized what he meant. By now, at least among them, Gawain’s connection to the Voyager legacy was no secret.

“The Deep Blue Well is handling the decoding and takeover, while the Deep Sea Kingdom continues to locate and reconnect lost nodes in the ley lines, deploying signal relays to strengthen our control,” Gawain continued. “In fact, we don’t need to control every node or take over the entire Sentinel system—after all, we don’t intend to destroy the world permanently like the Sentinels did.

“From what we can tell, controlling about two-thirds of the nodes and a few key system permissions is enough to activate the Motherworld Barrier. This is entirely feasible within a year…”

“But what if there aren’t enough nodes?” Rosetta frowned. “As far as I know, many nodes the Sentinels deployed were destroyed by the sea witches, and some were intercepted by the Allied Forces before deployment. Although your progress in reactivating lost nodes is good, what if in the end the total number of nodes in the ley lines isn’t enough to build the Barrier? By then, we might have no way back.”

“Simple,” Gawain shrugged. “Runestones are so easy to make that even a bunch of cultists managed it. Why can’t we? The sea witches have already scanned and reconstructed the blueprints of all salvaged nodes through multiple comparisons and data restoration. In a way, we should thank the Sentinels—they modified the Voyager blueprints thoroughly so that even tech-limited cultists could help. The nodes’ construction and processing requirements aren’t difficult for our magitech engineers.

“So if the runestone nodes in the ley lines don’t meet the minimum requirements to start the Motherworld Barrier, we’ll just make new nodes to fill the gap. Of course, it’s best if the existing nodes suffice, since manufacturing new ones isn’t cheap.”

“In other words, not only can we use the Sentinels’ ‘legacy’ to activate the Motherworld Barrier, but the technology itself is controllable and replicable from the blueprint level,” Barlogel, who had been quiet until now, suddenly spoke, staring at Gawain. “We can fully understand the structure, analyze the principles, and Cecilia is already doing this, right?”

“Yes,” Gawain nodded. He understood why the dragonborn leader emphasized this. “I don’t like mysterious, uncontrollable things. Many think ancient relics are ‘classy,’ but I prefer things that can be explained by blueprints, produced in factories, studied and discussed in labs. That kind of thing is more reassuring to use.”

“If this really works… then the Motherworld Barrier undeniably has advantages,” Rosetta said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “In terms of reliability, nothing we build could be sturdier than a Motherworld Barrier supported by planetary power systems. Or put another way, if even the Motherworld Barrier can be breached, then the shelter city clusters, the Gondor Barrier, and the Talrond Great Shield are all just paper walls.

“And in terms of scale, the Motherworld Barrier can obviously protect everyone… In fact, aside from maintaining the protective system, everyone on the planet could live without any impact from the magical tide—production wouldn’t have to stop, social structures wouldn’t have to change, there’d be no supply crises, and no worries about disorder inside the shelters…”

“Yes, the principle of ‘maintaining normal production beneath the barrier’ is actually crucial. In a way, keeping production running smoothly is what ensures the homeworld barrier’s resilience,” Gawain nodded slightly. “Because as long as all manufacturing and research continue as usual, even if a crisis hits, we still have a chance to respond. If nodes in the network get damaged, we can just fire up the factories to build replacements. If other parts fail, we can find ways to repair them, organize manpower to study the problem and find solutions—so long as the entire barrier doesn’t collapse instantly, there’s still hope.

“And considering the scale and strength of the homeworld barrier, if something really could bring it down in an instant… well, then I suppose we’d have no regrets about dying.”

Gawain’s words clearly struck a chord with everyone, because he had touched on the painful truth that all “shelters” must face: when disaster truly arrives, do those holed up inside have any control over their own fate?

The smaller and more fragile the shelter, the more it confronts this ‘cave dilemma’—no place left to hide, no escape possible. No matter how capable you are, you can’t act, can’t respond. A cramped shelter is like a shell, but that shell only deepens the occupants’ unease and helplessness when disaster strikes—because inside such a narrow shell, you simply can’t fix your refuge. You can only watch it collapse.

But beneath the homeworld barrier, the allied nations will preserve all social production and research capabilities. Even if disaster strikes, the trapped beast still has a fighting chance—and it’s a full-on fight.

Of course, as Gawain’s final remark hinted, even if the homeworld barrier is built, even if the trapped beast truly retains the chance to fight with everything it’s got, disaster can still happen. There may come a time when all mortal efforts combined cannot turn the tide… but if that day ever comes, at least civilization will have died standing.

“Maybe one day, all our efforts won’t be enough to save our civilization. Maybe even the homeworld barrier won’t hold back the end. Maybe after that day, no tombstone for Loren will remain in the starry sea, and no one will remember this era of civilization ever existed,” Gawain broke the silence around the round table. Standing at his place, hands pressed on the tabletop, he said, “But I hope that when that day comes, we’ll at least have the right to say a simple summary of the path we took: we gave it our all—not that we could have done better.

“So, I choose the homeworld barrier, not any form of shelter. At least this way, we preserve the chance to fight with everything we’ve got.”

(End of chapter)