Chapter 1559: Like a God

Under the veil of night, a chill seeped deep into Gawain’s soul.

The Lady of Night’s amber eyes gazed down from the sky, piercing through the mist and clouds. Those eyes were like the cold light of dusk—devoid of warmth or emotion. Under such a pure, unflinching stare, Gawain instantly grasped the deeper meaning behind her words.

He remained silent for a moment, but the Lady clearly knew that this “mortal” before her fully understood the warning she was giving. After a brief pause, she spoke slowly:

“You have countless great achievements—some born of your own wisdom and vision, some of luck and the tides of fate, and many more the result of ordinary people who share your ideals and have worked tirelessly alongside you. Yet, most common folk cannot discern these nuances. To them, the great Emperor Gawain Cecil is the brightest light of this age. Though countless logs fuel this fire, it is only that radiant flame which illuminates the world.

“And this will become a grave problem.

“Gawain, your arrival and actions have accelerated the world’s progress by leaps and bounds. You have compressed what might have taken generations into a single lifetime. Your deeds have surpassed many people’s imagination. Having lived in this world for so long, you must understand—when mortals face something beyond their comprehension, what consequences might follow.”

Gawain listened quietly to the Lady’s words. Only after she finished did he speak in a low voice: “The Theocratic Council will do everything in its power to prevent such a scenario. The widespread enlightenment of the populace and the popularization of new ideas will also help dispel the possibility you speak of.”

“Ah, the Theocratic Council, and the literacy campaigns you lead…” The Lady of Night said slowly. “Indeed, when I awoke from my uncontrollable slumber and saw these developments in the mortal realm, I was startled. I admit these are effective measures—especially the dissemination of knowledge and the systematic study of the mechanisms behind divinity. These efforts address the root of the ‘divine calamity’ problem. But… Gawain, you must understand this takes time.

“You need at least a generation or two for literacy and enlightenment to truly ‘sink’ into the lowest strata of society—reaching the most ignorant, isolated villages. Only then can the shadow of divine calamity be truly controlled. But what about before that?

“There is a gap of decades—especially after you lead this world through the magical tide crisis. Your personal achievements will peak; the entire world will survive under your leadership and protection. At that point, how much energy will you have to monitor every fool in every village? How much time to guide ordinary people to view you, their ‘savior,’ with calm reason?”

Gawain’s brow furrowed deeply. He had considered this terrifying possibility before and had tried various ways to avoid it. Yet now, the Lady’s tone made him realize that this shadow had not truly been dispelled.

Her voice continued: “Hero worship… it is a dangerous threshold between reason and blind faith. Step back, and the people see a great leader; step forward, and they see a god-sent savior. I know you have worked hard to prevent your deification—nationwide, even worldwide literacy campaigns, bans on any form of personal idol worship, especially of you. You even tacitly allowed some… less flattering ‘publications’ about yourself, because they make you seem more human, less a symbol of iron leadership. These efforts are not useless, but… not enough.

“Because you can only forbid or promote things on the surface. You cannot precisely control every mind in the world. Even if, under your guidance, the public maintains a rational, clear-headed view of you, what about in private? In remote villages beyond your reach? Deep in their hearts? There will always be those who see you as godlike, who regard you as the embodiment of a savior. Even if not now, soon enough.

“The human heart is uncontrollable. And the terrifying part is that this uncontrollable heart always transforms into some tangible calamity. The process is slow but unstoppable—and it begins silently.”

Gawain’s expression grew graver than ever before. His face was as still as water, his voice low and steady: “Has this happened before?”

“Yes, it has,” the Lady replied calmly. “A great leader was once seen as the incarnation of a god. His denials and efforts to stop idolization were largely ineffective. Tragically, though he succeeded in suppressing his deification during his lifetime, within ten years of his death, worldwide mourning and gratitude resurrected him as a ‘god’… Due to the vast contradiction between humanity and divinity, this sorrowful new god soon descended into madness. I witnessed his downfall with my own eyes.”

Gawain rubbed his chin, lost in thought. The shadow looming before him was a heavy burden.

Idol worship, personal deification—these were the last things he wanted. Yet the Lady’s words were irrefutable. He could banish such worship on the surface, but he could not stop ordinary people—especially the still majority, the less enlightened and more blind—from harboring superstitious fantasies about a great man. And it was this phenomenon, rooted in the human heart, that posed the greatest danger in the world.

Of course, he also knew this personal deification and idol worship would not last forever. One day, people would awaken, become rational, and future generations would learn to view a great historical figure correctly. But the problem was… before that day came, his divinity might already have been fully realized!

He sat in silence for a long time, not fruitlessly searching for an immediate solution—because this was not something he could improvise on the spot. More importantly, he understood that since the Lady chose this moment to bring the matter to light, she must already have a plan. His long contemplation was simply to organize his thoughts, sift through the information, and steady his mind to face the ancient god’s “proposal.”

Finally, his tangled thoughts settled, his mind clearer than ever. He looked up, meeting the gaze hidden in the mist: “So what’s your suggestion? You’ve said all this—surely it’s not just to scare me?”

Behind the hazy fog, the Lady’s face seemed to curve into a faint smile. “I do have a plan—but it requires your cooperation and your willingness to make sacrifices.”

“Cooperation and sacrifice?” Gawain frowned. “Specifically? What do I have to do?”

“I can’t tell you directly right now, but you’ll know soon enough,” the Lady chuckled. “First, let me ask you a question… You know this world has gone through many cycles, with wave after wave of civilizations birthing new gods. Because mortals’ primal reverence for nature is largely the same, these gods keep repeating themselves. Have you ever wondered why, after so many cycles, no new ‘Shadow God’ has ever appeared? Why the domain of shadows has always been ruled by an ‘old relic’ like me?”

Gawain paused, but the answer came quickly—he had studied this long ago: “Because ideological currents are exclusive. They can spawn new gods in blank domains, but cannot overwrite an existing shadow. On this planet, the shadow domain is already occupied by you. Mortal thought cannot displace your presence.”

He stopped himself, suddenly sensing the Lady’s meaning. “You mean, if the ‘position’ is claimed in advance, it can prevent the problem of divine transformation?”

“Close, but it’s not that simple,” the Lady said with a smile. “Our ultimate goal is to prevent the emergence of a… what should we call the god you might become? Ah, ‘God Emperor’ will do. We want to avoid a God Emperor. So even if it’s just to ‘claim the position,’ we can’t create a similar god to occupy it. Instead, we must approach it from another angle—we need to firmly fix you in a ‘non-divine’ position, blocking all ideological currents that point toward the concept of a God Emperor, even turning that space into a ‘vacuum’ in the deep sea.

“In fact, this is why I can continue to hold the shadow domain and remain clear-headed and rational.”

Gawain had been about to mock the sudden appearance of the term “God Emperor,” but the Lady’s last sentence stopped him cold. Then he realized: “You mean… the anchor generator that maintains your existence?”

The Lady’s gaze dropped to Gawain. Behind the mist, she smiled. “From the intelligence I gathered after awakening, the satellite you inhabit is not in good shape. Though you now walk the world in a mortal body, that satellite still maintains most of your cognitive threads. And on the other hand, if—hypothetically—one day your body fails again, you’ll need a more reliable vessel to relocate your soul, won’t you?”

Gawain’s expression twisted oddly. “So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying, since you’ve already taken over many permissions of the Celestial Station…” the Lady said calmly, “have you considered moving in with me? As neighbors.”

Gawain: “…”

He finally confirmed it—despite the Lady’s mysterious and imposing aura, her style was unpredictably whimsical beneath that intimidating exterior. Otherwise, how could her last few words sound so offbeat?

But after the initial shock, Gawain quickly adopted a serious attitude to analyze her suggestion. He realized it was no joke. Behind the seemingly odd remark lay a profoundly serious plan.

He looked up at the sky, his expression grave: “You mean, like the way the Pathfinders did with you, bind me to that ‘anchor generator’ as well?”

“That’s the simplest plan, and precisely because your situation is unique, it’s possible,” the Lady did not deny. “Because you’ve merged with the Pathfinder legacy, I can solve your hidden risks with a relatively simple method—not everyone can be directly bound to the anchor generator. Some special beings require a carefully crafted ‘anchor,’ which takes considerable effort.”

Gawain’s mind stirred. He wanted to ask about these “special beings” and what it meant to “craft a suitable anchor,” but before he could speak, the Lady shifted the topic:

“So, what’s your answer? Neighbor, want to ‘move in’? Don’t worry, the process is just a data migration and reconstruction of mapping relationships. It won’t affect your thoughts or actions—you won’t even notice a change. The only difference is that we’ll have completely eliminated a hidden danger.”

Gawain fell into deep thought.

He was indeed hesitating—but not about the “data migration” itself. Because, as Lady Night had said, his current satellite body—the original vessel—was nearing the end of its service life. Even under minimal load, error messages and warnings from the satellite kept coming in. Though he was now sustaining himself through the “Gawain Cecil” body, once the satellite completely failed, he would inevitably suffer severe consequences. Not to mention, what would happen if this body malfunctioned?

By comparison, the Skyward Station was in a far better state. A semi-permanent spatial megastructure’s lifespan far exceeded that of a small satellite. Even though the station had been dormant for many years, recent reports from the engineering team led by Nicholas had brought back ample evidence showing that the awakening station was in much better condition than Gawain had initially imagined.

Gawain himself had often considered whether it might be possible to transfer his “core” from the satellite to the Skyward Station, rather than controlling it indirectly through a series of energy-draining and cumbersome jumps as he did now. But he had never found a way.

And now, that way was right before him.

Except for one question—was this ancient god’s proposal truly safe and reliable?

He gazed into those amber eyes in the sky, and those same amber eyes looked back at him.

Within them, he saw something deeply familiar.

With a sudden clarity, he slowly nodded. “How do we begin?”

“The moment you nodded, it already began.”

Gawain blinked in surprise. “…Then what did you mean earlier by ‘cooperation and sacrifice’?”

“…You tell me.”

Before he could respond, a violent wave of dizziness crashed over him from all directions!

His senses scrambled, thoughts fragmented, and a chaotic dance of light and shadow overwhelmed him. A flood of data, enough to shatter an ordinary mind, surged through Gawain’s consciousness like a tempestuous sea. In that instant, he forgot his name, his origin, even himself. Weightless, he plummeted endlessly, as if falling from the clouds into an abyss. The terrifying descent stretched on for an unknown length of time.

But eventually, the storm of madness subsided.

He opened his eyes to find himself standing at the edge of a forest. Not far ahead, tents dotted the open plain.

The Dawn of the Mortal World hovered silently in the sky above.

Without warning, a voice suddenly sounded beside him: “Old Zongzi! You finally came out too!”

Startled by the sudden voice, Gawain turned to see Amber standing right next to him, the dark misty shadows behind her gradually dissipating.

(End of chapter)