Chapter 1553: Mermina’s “Plan”

Rebecca had many “students.”

Though she often gave off an impression of being somewhat flighty, scatterbrained, and stubborn—so much so that even Gawain frequently called his troublesome descendant nicknames like “Iron Head” and “Silly Fawn”—there was no denying that in her field, Rebecca was unmatched.

As one of the key pioneers of magical engineering, she served as the head of the Empire’s Arcane Technology Department and was a mentor and advisor to numerous technical teams. Outstanding young researchers looked up to her as a role model, and venerable scholars were impressed by her astonishing intellect and natural talent in rune logic, mathematics, and mechanics. In daily life, she was indeed a goofy, hard-headed girl who often laughed and joked, but she was also the “Empire’s Supreme Technical Mentor” who had personally trained the first generation of experts in the age of magical engineering—an undeniable fact.

By now, Rebecca’s exceptional students were scattered across many vital branches of the Empire. About half contributed to the development of modern military technology, while the other half focused on popularizing technology, exploring cutting-edge innovations, and conducting theoretical research. Among them, some had even become assistants or disciples of another “Supreme Technical Mentor,” Jenny. In a sense, Rebecca—still only in her twenties—was already a shining example of a master with countless disciples.

Yet even so, the “students” she faced today were the most unusual of all.

At the edge of the Rebellious Courtyard, where the golden oak’s radiant light met the dark wilderness and the garden nursery, the vast “Ragnarok Assembly Grounds” were once again filled with towering, sacred figures. These great beings, having traveled from their respective divine realms, sat quietly in their usual seats, arranged just as they had been at the last gathering. At the center of their collective gaze stood a newly constructed platform bathed in soft light.

The platform was forged from steel, equipped with high-powered projection systems along its edges. Large banners hung on either side, inscribed in the common Lorentian tongue with two bold slogans: “Exchange the Twilight of the Gods for the Dawn of the Mortal World—All for the Survival of Civilization” and “Strive to Learn and Improve Yourself; Change Your Fate Through Knowledge.” Standing atop this platform was a small figure, staring somewhat dazedly at the enormous silhouettes before her.

That figure was Rebecca. She had come here on a special mission—her family’s elder had sent her to give the gods a crash course. The two main topics: how bombs are made, and how the gods lost their power…

At the last assembly, Gawain and the gods had agreed on the “Ragnarok Plan,” which involved using mortal weapons to assist the gods’ human halves. But simply delivering those weapons to the divine realms wasn’t enough. The gods’ human halves needed to understand how to use and safely store these weapons. In this respect, they were no different from ordinary mortals who had never encountered modern arms. But who could teach the gods this lesson? That was a big problem.

The instructor had to be absolutely trustworthy to prevent leaks. They had to understand modern weaponry, especially the basics of explosives. They needed extensive experience in the field, particularly in handling accidents. Most importantly, they had to possess nerves of steel—able to stand calmly before these magnificent beings and teach without a single mistake under immense pressure.

Gawain had thought it over all night, and the image of Rebecca’s iron head came to mind—this girl perfectly fit all the criteria. So she was sent here.

But even someone as tough as Rebecca found herself a bit stunned when facing the gods. Not out of fear or nervousness, but because these towering figures—some as large as houses—were so unlike the “students” she was used to. Still, this minor difficulty was easily overcome.

“I won’t bother with a long introduction,” Rebecca said after a moment, having adjusted to the unique “perspective” of standing on the platform before the gods. She scanned the assembly with a cheerful smile. “You’ve probably already heard from my ancestor and Mr. Amon. Just call me Rebecca. I’m here mainly to give you a basic overview of mortal modern weapons and how to store them safely. I’ll keep it simple, and feel free to ask questions anytime.”

The gods nodded respectfully. Though they had been worshiped for millennia, they showed sincere respect toward this small, fragile mortal “teacher.” Flora, the goddess of spring and the closest to the platform, raised her hand—a gesture Rebecca recognized from the thoughts of her followers—and asked, “I have a question. Do we really need to learn how to store these things? Can’t we just pile them around the divine thrones, ready to detonate?”

“Absolutely not!” Rebecca waved her hands emphatically. “Whether it’s shells or bombs, they all have storage lifespans and conditions. Although magical engineering weapons pack a huge punch, their shelf life and storage requirements are strict. Mishandling can cause them to fail—or worse, accidentally explode. And if you stack all those explosives around the thrones, ready to go off at any moment, one wrong move and you might all go up with them…”

As she spoke, Rebecca activated holographic projections around the platform and bent down to pick up a shell from a nearby “teaching box,” holding it up for the gods to see. “Take this, for example. Its fuse is detachable for safety. But if you want to keep the fuse installed…”

Rebecca’s explanation echoed through the assembly grounds. The gods listened intently, a surreal and almost absurd scene. At the edge of the gathering, Amon watched with a faint smile—though his deer-like face rarely betrayed emotion, the goddess of magic, Mermina, who was observing remotely from the “Observer’s Chamber” deep within the Ancestor Peak, could tell at a glance that he was smiling.

“You’re in a good mood,” Mermina teased over the magical network terminal beside Amon. Behind her was the lavish, almost ostentatious golden throne, making the magic sovereign’s presence seem a bit out of place—but compared to the scene at the assembly, that was trivial. “Is it because you’re the only one not having to listen to the lecture, so you’re secretly enjoying watching the others take it seriously?”

Amon smiled calmly and looked toward the platform where Rebecca stood among the gods. “Yeah.”

Mermina was momentarily stunned. Her mouth twitched before she said, “You admit that so easily? Aren’t you worried the younger gods will hear and think less of you? After all, you’re the oldest god this season…”

“No problem. I’m far away,” Amon replied seriously. “Besides, they’re all paying attention. When it’s a lesson about their own survival, who has time to care what an old retired god is muttering on the sidelines?”

Mermina’s mouth twitched again before she casually asked, “By the way, I heard you have three more daughters?”

“You mean the Fertility Sisters?” Amon’s eyelid twitched, and his tone turned odd. “Where did you hear that? How did it become ‘three daughters’? That’s just their wild speculation. They just stepped down from their divine posts and are overly excited. And that Flora doesn’t seem very bright…”

Before he could finish, Mermina interrupted, “Just admit it. Isn’t having three more daughters a good thing? In our line of work, everyone’s naturally solitary. Having a few family members—even if only conceptually—is comforting. Once I’m done here, I’ll bring gifts for the three of them. Didn’t Gawain mention registering the gods as residents after the ‘Final Order’ is established? We can get them official records then…”

Amon felt the conversation veering into strange territory and quickly stopped her before it got weirder. “Stop, stop. That’s too far-fetched. And if you’re going to dream up stuff like that, you should at least discuss it with those three first… Let’s not talk about that. How are things on your end?”

“How could they be? Everything’s progressing as planned… There are no ordinary ‘residents’ left on the Holy Mountain. The Alliance Engineering Corps has taken over completely. The Holy Helm City at the foot of the mountain has nearly doubled in size. Temporary camps and production facilities stretch all the way to the forest edge. I can see towers rising on the plains, and the sensor array rings are beginning to take shape. It’s an astonishing structure… words can hardly describe it. And…”

“And what?” Amon asked curiously.

“Old Deer, have you ever really looked at the starry sky? Not just a glance, but truly gazed up at it, lost in it…”

“I have,” Amon recalled, nodding. “Back when I crashed into the space station. That was before I severed ties with the Thought Tide. I almost went mad staring at it—though I figured I was doomed anyway, so I just kept looking. It left a deep impression.”

Mermina seemed a bit exasperated by his answer but replied after a moment, “Right, I almost forgot about that feat of yours… What’s the most memorable thing you saw in the stars? Do you still remember?”

Without much thought, Amon said, “The afterburners of heavy missiles and attack craft. In a flash, ‘bam,’ they hit me in the face, and I ended up with seventeen penetrations…”

Mermina: “Can you not have a normal conversation?!”

“I’m joking,” Amon laughed. “I just haven’t heard you sound so sentimental lately, so I couldn’t resist interrupting. Okay, what about the stars? Why the sudden nostalgia?”

“My emotions can’t keep up,” Mermina’s tone was tinged with frustration but calmed after a few seconds. “Actually, it’s nothing much. You know those sensor arrays we’re building around me? They’re meant to point at the sky, to collect ‘disturbance parameters’ around stars. Yesterday, a set of sensor components arrived at the foot of the Holy Mountain. During testing, I quietly ‘looked up’.”

“…And then?” Amon asked, intrigued. “Now that you’ve left your divine post and are no longer influenced by the Thought Tide, you shouldn’t be affected by observing the stars—whether indirectly or, like I did, by going into space yourself.”

“Of course I knew what I was doing—that’s exactly why I dared to do it,” Myrmeena said with a smile. “I just wanted to say… it’s truly beautiful.”

Amon paused, surprised. “…That’s all you wanted to say?”

“Yes, that’s all,” Myrmeena replied softly. “I still remember the days when I was trapped in the Divine Realm, the ruins swirling like a great river around it, the fragments of ancient gods, and the shadows left behind by civilizations swallowed by divine calamities. I spent endless days watching their tragic remains, listening to the ceaseless wails echoing through the shards of history. In those tormenting scenes, I witnessed the repeated downfall of ancient civilizations, and in that endless cycle of destruction, I saw their futile attempts to reach for the stars.

“So I’ve always been curious—what is it about ‘reaching for the stars’ that holds such allure? Why did those ancient civilizations keep throwing themselves at it, even when some of them realized the dangers and still launched their ships without hesitation? I’ve wondered if it’s truly worth it.”

“And now?” Amon asked quietly. “You’ve glimpsed the depths of the starry sky, seen its grandeur and beauty—so do you think it’s worth it?”

“…From a mortal’s perspective, I still can’t say for sure. Mortals are so complicated; not every individual ultimately embraces the decision to ‘leave the cradle.’ Many spend their entire lives content with humble, steady survival. On the other hand, ‘reaching for the stars’ is complicated too. Sometimes it’s not just a choice, but a desperate chance for survival. When that time comes, debating whether it’s worth it becomes meaningless,” Myrmeena said, gently shaking her head. “But at least after gazing up yesterday, I confirmed one thing: I want to see for myself.”

This time, Amon was stunned even longer—half a minute passed before he slowly responded, “You want to see for yourself?! You mean…”

“Didn’t the Noyans send their gods off into the stars?” Myrmeena smiled. “A god can leave this land beneath their feet—once the shackles of thought are severed. I’m planning an incredible journey. Gawain said he’ll one day build a ‘ship’ capable of voyaging through the starry sea, like the pioneers of old. If that day ever comes, I want to set sail with them.”

Amon struggled for a moment before finally saying, “That… is truly astonishing.”

“I told you, it’s an astonishing journey—but then again, building a starship isn’t easy, and first we have to survive this magical storm,” Myrmeena laughed. “So it’ll be a long time from now—at least after you’ve registered those three daughters of yours.”

Amon: “Could you please stop bringing up ‘the three daughters’?!”

(End of chapter)