Chapter 1515: Never Ceasing

Deep within the neural network, inside a specially encrypted space, the endless sea of pure white flowers shimmered once more, revealing the figures of High King Gawain and several imperial leaders.

“I have to say, this meeting feels rather rushed,” Rosetta said bluntly as he entered the chamber, his gaze fixed squarely on Gawain. “Is there an emergency?”

“You could put it that way,” Gawain nodded, his eyes sweeping over the Silver Queen seated beside him and the two dragon lords, Barlogar and Heragor, across the table. “I know all of you are busy rulers with countless daily affairs. It’s not easy to get you here on such short notice, so I’ll be brief. Regarding the anti-Mawstorm strategies we discussed before, I may have some bad news.”

“Bad enough to put you on edge like this? That’s rare,” Heragor said, locking eyes with Gawain. “What happened? Did the technical data from the Noyans reveal a critical flaw?”

“The Noyan data is sound,” Gawain replied, spreading his hands on the table. “The problem lies with us. While we don’t have definitive proof yet, there’s a strong possibility that the ‘Unified Mind Field’—our defense against the Mawstorm—could trigger the Final Rebellion.”

A heavy silence fell around the round table. Even Rosetta, who had long mastered the art of masking his emotions, was momentarily stunned. Beside Gawain, Belsethia, the Silver Queen, abruptly rose, her face pale with shock. “The Unified Mind Field could trigger the Final Rebellion? How is that possible?”

Gawain opened his mouth to explain but suddenly noticed the two dragon lords flickering like unstable connections, as if their neural links were faltering. He held his tongue, waiting patiently for a few seconds until Heragor and Barlogar reestablished their presence. Both looked a bit embarrassed. Barlogar was the first to break the silence. “Apologies, the connection dropped for a moment.”

“Sometimes intense mental fluctuations cause the immersion pods to enter protective offline mode,” Gawain explained tactfully. “No need to worry. We understand the Final Rebellion carries a special, sensitive meaning for the dragonkind.”

“We’ll keep our emotions in check,” Heragor nodded gently. As he spoke, his previously unstable form solidified and steadied. “Now, please tell us—what exactly is the problem?”

Gawain proceeded to share the warning he had received from the Lady of Night and the chain of deductions he had made, holding nothing back. As he spoke, the expressions around the table grew graver, each leader sinking into deep thought. Yet when he finished, no one spoke for a long while.

The unusual silence stretched on for several minutes before Belsethia finally broke it. “So, the prerequisite for using the Unified Mind Field is that the participants must have completed their Rite of Passage. Otherwise, the gods risk being corrupted by the knowledge from the Mawstorm and spiraling out of control. The Noyans never told us this because they had already completed the process themselves—and assumed we had too.”

“It’s still unclear what form Noyan civilization truly takes,” Gawain said, shaking his head. “They are a ‘successor civilization’ that rose from the legacy of the ‘Forerunner race.’ Perhaps their relationship with the gods has always been different from ours. But that’s not the point. The key issue is that over ninety percent of the Alliance’s members face this problem. So far, only races like the dragons, who have completed their Rite of Passage, and special species like the merfolk can safely use the Unified Mind Field.”

“But that ‘safety’ is meaningless,” Heragor immediately shook his head. Though relieved his people wouldn’t face the Final Rebellion again, the dragon lord’s expression remained tense. “We may avoid divine catastrophe, but the Mawstorm still threatens us. The dragon population is too diminished to meet the node requirements of the Unified Mind Field. Relying solely on ourselves, we cannot survive the Mawstorm.”

As Heragor said, even the dragons—despite having completed their Rite of Passage—were severely weakened by past wars. Their numbers had dwindled to the point where, even networked together, they couldn’t sustain the Unified Mind Field. Without solving the ‘coming of age’ problem for other races, they had no hope of standing alone.

“…In the end, it’s a matter of time,” Barlogar sighed heavily, the oppressive atmosphere weighing on everyone. “If we had another ten years, given the current state of the Theocracy Council, the Alliance could eventually solve the divine catastrophe. Or if Talrond had more time to hatch dragon eggs and raise hatchlings, we could meet the node requirements and perhaps the dragons alone could maintain the shield, protecting the other immature races.”

“But we don’t have those ten years, Barlogar,” Heragor said, glancing at his old friend. “We must act, accepting reality as it is.”

Turning his gaze to Gawain, the golden dragon lord asked, “What’s your take? Now that this hidden danger is confirmed, what is the Cecile faction’s plan?”

Heragor knew Gawain well enough, despite their relatively short acquaintance. The ancient dragon leader could read a person’s character like an eagle spots prey. Gawain was the kind who always faced challenges head-on, who sought solutions no matter how dire the crisis—even if it meant forging a new path where none existed. That was the hallmark of a true pioneer.

“My view is simple,” Gawain said plainly. “Even if the divine catastrophe is a threat, we must build the shield. We may have to face gods gone mad, but until that day is truly unavoidable, we must maintain the greatest possible initiative. To put it bluntly: the shield may never activate, but it must exist.”

The leaders exchanged glances, some lost in thought. But this silence didn’t last long. Belsethia was the first to speak again. “I agree.”

“That’s our stance as well,” Heragor nodded. “We haven’t found a way to prevent the divine catastrophe yet, but the Mawstorm won’t wait for mortals to figure it out. For now, building the shield is our only option.”

Gawain looked toward the silent Rosetta Augustus. The ever-stoic Typhon monarch merely nodded slightly and said calmly, “If it comes to that, we’ll have to fight the gods again.”

“Many gods,” Gawain corrected seriously. After a brief pause—giving everyone time to reflect—he steered the conversation back to his original purpose. “Since we’ve reached consensus, it’s time to make the final decision on the anti-Mawstorm plans. After the last meeting, I assume you’ve all consulted your experts and scholars. I want to hear your final choices.”

“Typhon has decided to support the Homeworld Shield Project,” Rosetta was the first to declare, having already reached agreement with Gawain.

Heragor and Barlogar exchanged a glance. The two dragon lords seemed to have settled this beforehand. In unison, they said, “Talrond supports the Homeworld Shield Project as well.”

Gawain nodded, his gaze settling last on Belsethia. The elven queen’s image from seven centuries ago still lingered in his mind—the mischievous spark long gone, replaced by grace and solemnity. Bearing the fate of an ancient empire and a crucial voice in the Alliance, she pondered for a moment before softly saying, “I was still considering the Gondor Refuge plan on my way here, but now… the Silver Empire supports the Homeworld Shield Project.”

She met Gawain’s eyes, a hint of slyness flickering deep within, though it was well concealed.

The Homeworld Shield Project had won final approval. The three great empires and Talrond all backed this grand plan. Gawain was not surprised by the outcome.

Before the shadow of the Unified Mind Field triggering the Final Rebellion was revealed, there had been room for debate among the options. But once the divine catastrophe—a fatal threat—was placed squarely over everyone’s heads, the Homeworld Shield Project became the indisputable best choice. The reason was simple: if the worst came to pass, how could mortals hiding in cramped refuges, barely able to survive, stand against enraged gods?

By contrast, a fully organized mortal army inside the shield would at least have a fighting chance.

“Let’s conclude here,” Gawain exhaled softly. “This may be the most efficient meeting I’ve organized since my return. We’ve reached consensus: the Homeworld Shield Project will be the Alliance’s final plan against the Mawstorm. The details will be shared with all member states, and preparations for personnel, materials, and technology will begin immediately. Furthermore, once faster-than-light communication with the Noyan star is restored, these plans must be synchronized with the Noyans.”

Lorren and Noyan—two civilizations separated by four light-years. Compared to their millennia-long histories, this brief contact hardly established deep trust. Yet, precisely because of the distance, the lack of faster-than-light travel, and the current state of FTL communication, the two civilizations had forged a just-right balance of trust and cooperation.

At least on the matter of the Mawstorm, all technical data would be exchanged fully and effectively.

One by one, the figures around the round table departed. Rosetta Augustus lingered intentionally. The Typhon monarch, who had dealt with gods many times before, stood and looked Gawain in the eye. “If this fight really happens, it won’t be anything like the battle at the Winter Fortress.”

Gawain couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you were taking it lightly just now.”

“Diplomatic niceties are necessary,” Rosetta said, a rare hint of a smile softening his stony face. “Besides, as the saying goes—when the mood’s like this…”

“But there’s no denying we need confidence now,” Gawain smiled. “At least we can’t lose on morale.”

“Yet what we need even more than morale,” Rosetta frowned slightly, “is clarity. I want you to be honest with me—about the Final Rebellion, about the possibility that the gods could be corrupted by the Unified Mind Field. What exactly are your plans?”

“…I must admit, this is one of the few things I’m not confident about,” Gawain met Rosetta’s eagle-like gaze for a long moment, then sighed deeply. “I’m waiting on news from the North. As soon as the Violet Kingdom’s expedition makes progress, I’ll head to the City of a Thousand Towers. If I’m right, since the Lady of Night gave us this warning, she should also have a solution ready. Whatever the cost, I’ll find out.”

“The Kingdom of Violet, huh…” Rosetta nodded thoughtfully. “There’s also an investigative unit from Teyfein operating on Violet Island. If the two teams cross paths, they can offer whatever help they’re able to. But is that all you’ve planned? Facing the ultimate divine calamity that’s very likely to arrive ahead of schedule, your strategy can’t simply be to hope some ancient god has prepared a safe haven for mortals, right? That’s not like you.”

This time, Gawain remained silent for a long while. Rosetta was about to prod him when he finally gave a barely perceptible nod. “If all else fails, I do have one last plan. It can’t stop the magical tide, but it might be able to save civilization on this planet one final time when the gods run amok.”

“…At a great cost?”

“Impossible to estimate.”

“Could it be used to eliminate the out-of-control gods?”

“Yes. At least, it would deal a heavy blow.”

“Let me guess… this is a plan you’ve been holding onto for a long time. Over the past few years, you must have kept it in your hand more than once, though I doubt you ever thought you’d actually have to use it. Considering the situations you’ve faced, who have you considered as potential targets for this plan? The Dragon God? The Crawling Calamity? Or the Inverse Tide and the Sentinels? I’d say those are the main contenders. Maybe… we should add the Winter Fortress battlefield to the list?”

Gawain stared impassively at the rare sight of Rosetta Auguste joking around. The latter just shrugged. “You know how it is—experienced card players get good at reading their opponents. I might not know exactly what you’ve prepared, but I’m sure you’ve been getting ready for something in certain situations.”

“Alright, you got me,” Gawain said with a hint of resignation. “So, what now? Anything else you want to ask?”

“No,” Rosetta replied casually, then actually took a half step back. The black door shimmered into existence behind him. “With these answers, I can finally get a somewhat peaceful night’s sleep.”

This time, Gawain’s expression showed genuine surprise. “You’re not going to ask about the details of my plan?”

“Asking questions that won’t get straight answers is just a waste of time, and I’m always swamped,” Rosetta’s figure began to fade into the dark portal. His voice drifted back to Gawain through the shifting shadows. “But if it really comes down to the final step, I hope you’ll at least let me know—as an ally.”

(End of chapter)