Chapter 1544: The Conspiracy (In a Loud Voice)

The gods emerged from the dark chaos, stepping toward the doomsday fortress where mortals dared to defy divine authority. The scene was nothing short of breathtaking.

But seeing their true forms was even more shocking than witnessing their arrival.

Though Gawain had braced himself somewhat after glimpsing the state of the Three Goddesses of Abundance earlier, nothing could have prepared him for what lay before his eyes now. One after another, these powerful beings—shaped by the projections of mortal thoughts—stumbled out of the darkness. Their appearances were wildly varied, and the closer they came, the more they resembled a ragtag group of survivors fleeing a disaster zone. He noticed that these towering figures—some giant, some beast-like—occasionally leaned on one another for support, all the while cautiously sizing up their fellow travelers.

Until today, they had never gathered like this. Bound by the shackles of their own divine realms, the gods had been isolated, unable to spy on or communicate with one another. Even after the Lady of Night severed their human forms from their divinity, they had no time to visit or confer. This “summoning” Gawain had orchestrated was unprecedented in this era of civilization—a true “Day of the Gods’ Assembly.” These great beings, long trapped on their thrones, regarded their fellow gods with a mixture of curiosity and caution, yet also a faint sense of camaraderie born from shared hardship.

From the edge of Amon’s courtyard, Gawain watched it all unfold like a surreal, astonishing play. Behind him, Amber muttered quietly, “Look at them, even helping each other out. That beating from the Lady of Night really did bring the gods together…”

Gawain wasn’t sure how to respond, but one thing was clear: the scene before them was so refreshingly unusual that Amber seemed to have forgotten how terrified she’d been just moments ago.

In that instant, the towering figures crossed the vast wilderness beyond the barren plains. Amon’s courtyard shone like the only light under the night sky in this shadow realm. The golden oak’s warm glow was like a comforting campfire, drawing the gods’ gazes. They saw the gathering place marked by the light beneath the tree—and, of course, the Three Goddesses of Abundance who had arrived early, along with Amon himself, the ancient master of nature who had “fallen” three thousand years ago.

The gods quickened their pace, arriving one by one at the meeting place. The older and more powerful the deity, the larger and more majestic their form shaped by mortal thought. Yet even the mightiest paled in comparison to Amon, who had never compressed himself—after all, he was the eldest god of this era. The gathering space, prepared in advance, was spacious enough for these giants and beasts.

Gawain observed as these awe-inspiring beings sought places to settle, most acting with extreme caution and vigilance. An elderly man in a red robe with a stern face—Danmo, the Blood God—kept scanning the surroundings, seemingly searching for the Lady of Night. Baofal, the God of Commerce, noticed the mortal-made devices operating in the nursery beneath the golden oak, his expression a mix of curiosity and contemplation. Nafali, the Goddess of Song, Dance, and Wind, a beautiful young woman wearing a dance skirt, hesitated briefly before cautiously approaching the nearest of the Three Goddesses of Abundance. She asked carefully, “Excuse me… is this where we’re gathering? When does the battle begin?”

Nafali’s head was wrapped in bandages, but they did little to stem the bleeding wounds inflicted by the Lady of Night. As she spoke, fresh blood trickled down her forehead.

Watching this, Gawain couldn’t help but think: thank goodness all this is top secret. If this scene got out, what chaos would it cause? Even if these “divine humanities” bore no residual divinity or mental contamination, just a snapshot of their current state would trigger a global sanity check. Seriously, the Lady of Night didn’t hold back—half the wounds were right on the head!

While Gawain was musing, the Three Goddesses of Abundance, who had arrived early, began “hosting” the gathering’s victims… or rather, participants. As the first arrivals and relatively senior gods, they had the authority to do so. Gaia, the most mature and composed, stepped forward first. Standing in the center of the gathering, she immediately drew all eyes. Then, with open arms and a gentle voice, she said, “First, welcome everyone here. Though we have never met before, I believe none of us need introductions.”

She paused briefly before continuing, “Second, please allow me to apologize. The Lady of Night is not here, nor is there any so-called ‘follow-up treatment.’ It was our sisters’ idea to summon you all here, and we used deception… but it was for the safety of each of you present, and for the future of the world.”

Her final words unsurprisingly stirred a ripple of unrest. The towering figures exchanged wary glances and whispered among themselves. Nafali was the first to look toward the eldest in her sight—the natural sovereign, Amon.

“Lord Amon, may I ask what exactly is going on here?”

“Don’t ask me,” Amon interrupted, shaking his head with a shrug. “I’m just here to provide the venue. The one in charge is someone else.”

“In charge?” Nafali’s eyes widened in surprise. Behind her, the murmurs grew louder.

The unexpected turn left the assembled gods momentarily stunned. Amon’s words revealed a deeper truth: behind this astonishing gathering was a “mastermind” who was not the Lady of Night. Whether it was the Three Goddesses of Abundance who plotted the ruse or the natural god who provided the venue, both were merely cooperating with this mastermind’s plan.

This realization unsettled them, and they instinctively began speculating about the mastermind’s identity—someone whose scheming surpassed even the Lady of Night. Could it be the Initiator?

Amid the growing commotion, Danmo’s aged, deep voice suddenly rang out: “But we’ve sensed the Lady of Night’s presence faintly since earlier…”

“Ahem,” Gawain finally cleared his throat, stepping out from the shadows beside Amon. “Please, everyone, calm down. The ‘mastermind’ you’re looking for is me. And the Lady of Night’s presence you sensed just now came from here.”

As he spoke, he reached behind and pulled out Amber, who had been trying to slip away. The unassuming little woman instantly drew every eye in the gathering. Danmo stared in disbelief at this dwarf who looked like the Lady of Night and radiated her aura, yet lacked any trace of ancient godly majesty—and immediately recognized her mortal nature.

“This…”

Then the tall, red-robed elder also recognized Gawain’s identity. It wasn’t that the gods were slow to perceive or think; Amon’s aura had completely masked Gawain and Amber’s presence, the Lady of Night’s psychological pressure had scrambled their minds, and the string of surprises had left them distracted. Now, as they regained composure, Danmo was the first to identify Gawain. His expression turned serious, his voice dropping low: “I remember you. You’re the mortal who ‘came back from the dead,’ who led mortals to establish the Divine Authority Council, and who repeatedly restructured my doctrines over the years, weakening the church’s power.”

Gawain felt the weight of countless powerful gazes converging on him, yet he met Danmo’s eyes calmly and smiled before the god of contracts, oaths, and judgment. “So what?”

“Thank you,” Danmo said solemnly, nodding.

As the Blood God’s words fell, it was as if a switch had been flipped. The extraordinary beings’ attention focused entirely on Gawain. Eyes locked on him, and then a roar of discussion erupted:

“Gawain Cecil? The one who founded the Divine Authority Council?”

“He looks younger than the image his followers paint.”

“This gathering was planned by this mortal king?!”

“His Divine Authority Council is truly remarkable—in every sense. My archbishop even woke up at night, crying and praying to me, denouncing the council’s terrible deeds…”

“My high priest also prayed during the great festival, seeking guidance to oppose the council.”

“Oh? And how did you respond?”

“I didn’t respond! I wanted to strike that fool with lightning!”

“Did you?”

“Did I? I’m tied to my throne, remember?”

The gods’ chatter grew louder and more irreverent, eventually bordering on what would be censored in the divine network. Gawain looked on in astonishment as these “gods” began to gossip, complain about work stress, and even mutter curses—just like mortals. Suddenly, he truly understood why they were called “the humanity of gods,” and what kind of repression they endured.

Despite their rich emotions and personalities, they were bound tightly to their thrones, forced to operate like machines. After centuries or millennia of this, they still maintained their sanity and a positive, protective mindset toward the world. This was a willpower beyond mortal comprehension—and a burden beyond mortal imagining.

Now, with this long-standing restraint loosened for the first time, they could gather and discuss things they never dared to before. A cathartic atmosphere began to build. But Gawain had to cut them off before the conversation veered too far.

“Ahem, I understand how you feel, but we have more important matters to discuss,” he coughed softly, his voice quiet but commanding enough to hush the crowd. Though just a “weak mortal” here, his words could not be ignored. “Also, please allow me to introduce two special participants: Rosetta Augustus, ruler of Typhon, and Belsethia Morningstar, ruler of the Silver Empire. They are not here in person but will join us remotely.”

The gods quieted, their attention now fully on the task ahead.

Gawain subtly shifted his body, drawing the gods’ attention to the small machine stationed at the edge of the assembly hall. Only then did the holographic projections of Rosetta and Bercettia catch their notice. After the two earthly sovereigns greeted the gods, the Blood God, Danmor, regarded the figures in the projection thoughtfully.

“Rosetta Augustus… you and Gawain Cecil together brought about the fall of the God of War. Bercettia Morningstar, you and your family have, for thousands of years, suppressed the rise of divine authority within elven society and steadily pushed for the secularization of the gods’ power. Looks like today’s gathering is full of ‘professionals.’”

“After all, we’re here to deal with problems only professionals can solve,” Gawain smiled, taking Danmor’s words as a high compliment. His gaze then swept across the assembly. “I assume you’ve all received the ‘directive’ issued by Lady Night, haven’t you?”

The towering figures exchanged glances. Then, the God of Winter and Forest was the first to lower his eyes. “Yes. We were instructed to end ourselves, and I have accepted Lady Night’s counsel.”

Gawain had a strong impression of this god, clad in hunting gear and wearing a wolf’s head as a helmet. He was the only one leaning on a cane, suggesting he had fiercely—and futilely—resisted Lady Night’s treatment when she intervened. He was also the god who had bluntly expressed a desire to strike down his own bumbling chief priest during earlier discussions. Courageous and straightforward—that was a personality Gawain didn’t dislike, even in a god.

“I’ve gathered you all here precisely to address this issue,” Gawain said plainly. “I have a plan that can destroy your divine halves while preserving your human halves, allowing civilization as a whole to come of age. And this process doesn’t contradict the original intent behind Lady Night’s arrangements.”

A hush fell over the assembly.

Naferi, the Goddess of Song and Wind, broke the silence first. Like a graceful young dancer, she looked at Gawain with surprise. “So you want us… ‘gods’ to survive the coming divine catastrophe? But didn’t you and your Divine Authority Council want to end the Age of Myth? At least, that’s what some of my devout priests have told me…”

“You’re not the first to misunderstand,” Gawain shook his head with a hint of helplessness. “Ending the Age of Myth doesn’t necessarily mean ending the gods. What I’ve always pursued is simply making this world safe and ensuring civilization endures. There’s a lot of room to maneuver in how we achieve that. Of course, I won’t deny that I’ve eliminated some gods—some true, some false—but ultimately, those were situations with no other choice. When choices existed, the Divine Authority Council has always acted gradually, hasn’t it?”

“That… does seem to be the case,” Naferi mused, though her gaze remained skeptical. “But what exactly do you plan to do? Even a powerful ancient god like Lady Night believes the only way to minimize the cost of the divine catastrophe is for us to end ourselves. How do you intend to break that deadlock?”

“Simply put, by blowing that deadlock apart,” Gawain spread his hands, his smile bright and confident. “Right now, I have a perfect plan. For now, I’ll call it the ‘Twilight of the Gods Project’…”

(End of chapter)