Chapter 1516: The Preservation Plan

After Rosetta finally departed, the vast field of pure white flowers was left with only one figure—Gawain. He stood quietly by the round table, letting the gentle breeze brush past him, watching the nameless white blossoms at his feet sway softly in the wind. As his thoughts ebbed and flowed, a figure gradually materialized above the nearby sea of flowers.

It was Bertilla, dressed in a flowing green gown.

As the architect and overseer of this encrypted network space, Bertilla had silently observed every meeting Gawain held here in the flower field. Yet she rarely appeared in person, only occasionally showing up after a meeting ended—just like now.

“Your mind is heavy,” Bertilla said, her form restored to the human shape she once had before, as she strolled to the seat opposite Gawain and met his gaze across the table. “Are you thinking about your ‘final measure’?”

“You know what my ‘final measure’ is,” Gawain replied, looking at her steadily. “Before the Battle of Talash, I told you about the ‘backup plan.’”

“Yes,” Bertilla nodded gently. “At that time, I was transferring most of my consciousness into a derivative body near the Talash plains. You shared some of your ‘little secrets’ with me so that I would know how to respond and protect myself if things went south. You planned to jettison part of the Pathfinder space infrastructure from orbit, triggering a devastating impact and energy detonation on the surface—powerful enough to kill even a prime Dragon God. That’s your ultimate weapon against the divine calamity.”

She frowned slightly. “It’s a costly plan. If the final rebellion truly occurs, the divine disaster could sweep across the entire continent of Loren. Your ‘heavenly punishment’ would fall upon everyone.”

Gawain nodded silently. Everything was exactly as she said.

Even if the Mind Unification Field triggered the final rebellion in its last stage, causing the gods to lose control en masse, he still had one last option to try to stop the catastrophe: the Pathfinder legacy hanging in space.

Just like the “final plan” he used to deter the Dragon Gods and handle the Sentinel crisis, decommissioning satellites and space stations and sending them crashing to the earth was his trump card against the gods.

But unlike before, this time the cost would be staggering.

Because once the final rebellion was triggered, all the gods on this planet would go rogue. They would appear across the entire continent, over every mortal kingdom. Gawain’s bombing list would no longer be the isolated continent of Talronde or the sparsely inhabited ruins of Gondor—it would be the entire mortal world.

In essence, this was using one disaster to stop another. Even in the best case, he could only guarantee that some mortals would survive the orbital bombardment. If things got worse, and the gods’ appearances were too scattered…

“This is the worst possible ‘trump card,’ but sometimes the situation leaves no room for optimism,” Gawain said slowly, his voice low. “We can only do everything we can to prepare, to prevent that day from coming. And if it does come, we must minimize the damage and preserve the spark of life.”

He looked at Bertilla quietly. She sensed something in his gaze, and her expression grew solemn. “What do you need me to do?”

“Two things. First, I want you to continue growing underground in the Saint Spirit Plains and the thickest, most geologically stable layers of the Gondor wasteland. The deeper the roots, the better. Then, expand ten to fifteen ‘caverns’ in those areas,” Gawain explained, locking eyes with her. “We’ll set up a batch of neural network access points in these underground caverns. Your root system is the best medium for the neural network—it should be enough to connect all these ‘underground cities’ to the main network.”

“You want to move part of the neural network nodes underground,” Bertilla immediately understood his intent. “So even if you activate the ‘final plan,’ the neural network won’t collapse from the bombardment.”

Gawain nodded gently. “With your current rooting ability, the thickest rock layers can withstand the impact and energy penetration from falling satellites. Moving some nodes deep underground will ensure the safety of the homeworld’s shield. The Mind Unification Field depends on the non-directional thought currents as its ‘projection source,’ and those currents rely on living nodes in the neural network. If those living nodes are all killed by orbital bombardment, the homeworld shield will vanish. On the other hand, the people relocated to these underground cities can become the ‘spark’—both computational nodes in the neural network and the hope for rebuilding after the bombardment.”

“I understand. I’ll start rooting immediately,” Bertilla said solemnly, then her curiosity peeked through. “And the second thing?”

“…Survival,” Gawain finally said after a few seconds of silence. “No matter what, survival.”

Bertilla’s eyes widened slightly. At first, she didn’t grasp the full weight of his words, but soon she heard his next command—or rather, his charge.

“You are an ‘Adult’ unaffected by the divine calamity. Even if the ‘final plan’ fails and the gods run wild, they won’t target you deliberately,” Gawain said gravely, more serious than ever. “At the same time, your life form is extremely special. Your true body is a plant, and your consciousness can be distributed across hundreds of synthetic brains. These synthetic brains can be externally shut down and restarted. When powered off, they cease to be observers.”

Bertilla’s expression shifted. She finally understood what Gawain was entrusting her with.

“We will do everything possible to survive, but we must also prepare for the worst. If all is lost, we should at least leave something behind in this world,” Gawain said slowly, his voice low. “I believe other nations have their own ‘preservation plans’ too, ready for the worst-case scenario when all else fails. And you, Bertilla, you are Cecil’s preservation plan.”

“Bertilla, remember this order—if we fail to stop the final divine calamity, or if the homeworld shield plan collapses, you must immediately sever all connections to the neural network nodes. Cut yourself off from mortal thought currents. Transfer your consciousness into the synthetic brains and enter hibernation. Before sleeping, give the Great Sorlin Tree the command to survive at all costs.”

The endless white flower sea fell utterly still; the breeze had long since ceased. A profound silence enveloped this virtual realm. After a long pause, Bertilla finally broke the quiet.

“You’ve given me a heavy task indeed…” she said, shaking her head gently, as if about to sigh, but instead she asked, “But is it really meaningful? When the whole world is reduced to ruins by the gods’ rampage, when all life is erased by the magical tide, what can a lone Great Sorlin Tree surviving in the wasteland do? Are you asking me to watch over a withered world, all alone, forever?”

“It is meaningful. Of course it is,” Gawain said seriously. “This world will not wither forever. Such destruction has played out countless times before, but new peoples always rise from the wasteland. Do you remember the metaphor I once used? The omnipresent magic is like a catalytic wind, keeping our world in eternal midsummer bloom. Withering is only temporary—we will die, but the next generation will grow under your watch. And then…”

“Then we become their ‘pioneer tribe,’” Bertilla interrupted, finally fully understanding. “You drew inspiration from the Noyans?”

Gawain neither confirmed nor denied. After a moment’s silence, he spoke slowly: “The sirens have lost their immunity to the magical tide. The dragons have broken free from their cradle and chains, paying the price of eternity. The civilization that stagnated for millions of years on this planet has now earned a pass to advance further. And now, we have inherited a legacy from a distant alien civilization—possibly the last trial we will face on this world.

“In the face of this trial, I hope we succeed. But if this generation of civilization fails, at least you can pass on this legacy, preserved through countless ages, to the next generation, and the one after that… Those descendants will have an easier start than we did—perhaps just a little easier. At least they won’t be as desperate as we are now.”

He paused. The breeze in the flower sea began to stir again, and Bertilla’s form seemed somewhat ethereal in the wind. She was mobilizing her vast neural system, searching data across hundreds of synthetic brains connected in the real world and the computing centers linked directly to the Great Sorlin Tree. Moments later, her form solidified, and her expression grew serious.

“No wonder you’ve been pushing the digitization of the Imperial Great Library all this time…”

“We have to consider every possibility,” Gawain smiled. “Even without Lady Night’s warning, without the shadow of the ‘final rebellion,’ we must prepare for failure.”

“That’s just your nature,” Bertilla smiled back.

“Though it’s a bit unfair to you,” Gawain said after a pause. “I never asked for your consent before assigning you this task.”

“But I am the most suitable—perhaps the only one capable of carrying it out, aren’t I?” Bertilla smiled gently. “Not everything in this world can be measured by ‘fairness.’ After all, fairness is just a human concept born of subjectivity. What we face is the cold, hard order of all things, far beyond mortal concerns. Against such an opponent, we can only respond with equally cold, hard reason—and a little courage and luck.”

She blinked suddenly, curious. “Will you tell the other Alliance members about this plan? Like Typhon and Silver…?”

“Yes. And I believe they have similar plans. Like I said, every nation should have its own ‘preservation plan,’ just like the refuge schemes and the homeworld shield plan we devised. Facing death, leaving a last will and actively trying to survive are not contradictory,” Gawain said frankly, not shying away from the somewhat grim word “last will.” “In fact, I’ve even considered whether the Alliance as a whole should devise more secure, legacy-preserving methods. But we can’t spend too much energy on anything beyond the homeworld shield, so these ‘preservation plans’ remain small-scale. That’s enough.”

Beltira gazed long and steady at Gawain’s weathered face. After a moment, she gave a slight nod. “I will never forget the mission you entrusted to me. Though I truly hope I never have to carry out that second task, if the day ever comes… I promise you, I will survive. No matter the cost, I will endure. The Great Tree of Thorin will stand tall on this land until a new era rises, until I have passed everything of this age on to my successors… Only then will I wither away.”

“That’s a relief to hear,” Gawain said with a faint smile. He then took a half step back, his figure gradually fading into the air.

Deep within the Great Tree of Thorin, in a vast hall woven from enormous leaves, sturdy wood, and softly glowing flower strands, a dense cluster of flowering vines rustled suddenly. The vines peeled away, revealing a newly awakened avatar of Beltira rising from within.

Consciousness flowed into this freshly activated body, simulated senses began to stimulate the avatar’s neural nodes. In the suddenly brightened ambient light, Beltira blinked a few times. Footsteps sounded nearby, and when she turned, she saw a petite elf girl standing before her—pale-skinned, with silver runes etched across her cheeks and arms.

“You’re awake?” Belna smiled brightly at the newly roused Beltira. “I just heard a rumbling from the secondary neural cluster chamber. Were you activating something?”

“Belna,” Beltira said, glancing at the elven girl’s goofy grin. Her emotions were tangled, but the avatar’s limited physical form made it hard to express anything more complex. Her voice and expression came out somewhat flat. “Who’s on duty at the computing center right now?”

“Node Scholar Belrot, sir,” Belna’s runes flickered as she answered quickly. “Do you need him?”

“Send him to the canopy reception chamber,” Beltira instructed. At the same time, billions of neural nodes under her command began exchanging signals. The root network, stretching thousands of kilometers underground, started to writhe and multiply. She sensed the massive flow of information converging: cold bedrock, moist soil, endless darkness, and subterranean rivers. Her roots began to consume the earth, crushing boulders, transforming mineral elements into pillars and vaulted ceilings within tunnels and caverns—the colossal Great Tree of Thorin was stirring to life once more. Since the Battle of the Talash Plains, this was the first time she had reactivated those distant roots and tendrils. “I need to discuss some civil engineering matters with him.”

(End of chapter)