Chapter 1561: The End
A god born from a homeworld’s spirit wields power confined within the bounds of that world and its heavens. The limits of its strength are defined by the imagination of its believers—measurable, predictable, and even if it becomes a calamity, it cannot disrupt the orderly dance of the stars.
But a god born from the starry expanse commands power that can envelop entire galaxies. When mortal imagination reaches the stars, the god’s might can wreak havoc across them. Theoretically, such a deity’s power could grow to the very limits allowed by the fundamental laws of the universe. And if it spirals out of control, even the cosmic order between stars will be utterly overturned.
The Voyager Fleet is not invincible, and the mightiest gods in the hearts of the Loren people are far from the pinnacle of cosmic danger. Throughout their long expedition, they have faced foes so formidable that victory demanded every ounce of their strength.
In a slow, deliberate voice, Lady Night recounted a distant and terrifying tale: “…It was an ancient record, preserved in the early data systems of the fleet—a chaotic, dreadful calamity that even the Voyagers feared deeply. It was a god born from a civilization that had stepped into the starry void but was forged in error. Its madness spread thousands of light-years…
“In the minds of the Loren, the starry sky can corrupt gods; knowledge from the stars can drive deities insane. But what they don’t know is… some gods can corrupt the stars themselves. A god born of the cosmos can turn the universe upside down.
“Flesh and bone piled into planets, their polluted breath howling wildly between these living worlds. Stars twisted into swollen, indifferent giant eyes. Shadows writhed and floated everywhere, tendrils of darkness creeping through space. Great rifts stretched from one end of the galaxy to the other, spewing forth offspring born from the ‘Chaotic Star God’s’ delirious mutterings. Each offspring was a towering, utterly corrupted dreadnought, packed with mortals who had lost all reason, transformed into eternal worshippers. At the heart of an entire star system lay a vast, dark nest, where the mad god watched the stars as if awaiting a grand feast.
“Adventurer, you cannot imagine such a sight—not even I, a so-called ‘god,’ can fully picture it. Even as cold words stored in the Voyager Fleet’s database, these descriptions seem to seep endless icy malice outward—long ago, the Voyagers encountered such a corrupted, twisted hellish galaxy.
“Do you understand? This is the ‘ultimate form’ a god can reach when unbound by the information loops of a homeworld, able to grow without limit into a cosmic disaster. Imagine standing on a writhing, flesh-like land—if you’re still alive and sane—looking up to see every celestial body pulsating and twisting as a malevolent divine organ. You breathe in the tainted miasma exhaled by the mad god. Massive tendrils hang down from space, licking the planet’s surface. You try to end your life, but your flesh has long since become an extension of this god. The entire galaxy… is part of the ‘divine body’…”
“Enough,” came Wilde’s voice from the stone pillar, rare resistance in his tone. “Sounds pretty cold and creepy.”
Lady Night paused. After a few seconds of silence, Wilde couldn’t help but ask, “So what happened next? How did the Voyager Fleet escape that god-corrupted ‘hellish galaxy’?”
“Escape? Why run? The Voyagers did not flee,” Lady Night shook her head. “Gods born between the stars spread outward endlessly. Their growth limit fills the entire universe. They cannot be left unchecked.”
“So…?”
“The Voyagers built fortress star systems at the edge of that polluted galaxy. Then, over thirty millennia, they destroyed every living planet within it, burning all physical structures. They sent fleets into the deep sea, pierced through every contaminated boundary. At great cost, they finally cleansed all remnants of that ‘god on the path to the stars.’ When it was over, nothing remained.”
Wilde was silent for a long time. Having spent centuries with Lady Night, he could barely keep pace with her words, but even so, it was hard to reconcile these mind-shattering truths with the reality he knew. After much thought, he finally broke the silence: “Do you think ‘Gawain’ could undergo such a transformation? Something… beyond…”
“I know the gap is vast,” Lady Night said quietly, “but we cannot let that first step be taken—because once it is, what follows will be unstoppable. The Voyagers left only a warning. And in their long expedition, only one such ‘Chaotic Star God’ has ever been found in the universe. That shows how rare it is. But even if the odds are low, we must guard against it. Besides… even if the transformation never reaches the level of a ‘Chaotic Star God,’ a mortal who becomes a god is no longer the mortal they once were. And I do not want to see that happen.”
…
Accompanied by Amber, Gawain returned to the Cecil Empire. Soon after, the Homeworld Barrier Project and the Twilight of the Gods Plan entered critical phases.
He witnessed it all, guided it all, using his knowledge and wisdom to chart the most stable path for the entire alliance to reach maturity. He still felt he might have forgotten something crucial, but in the face of the world’s survival, such small lapses no longer mattered.
Now, he could devote all his energy to the more important task of “leading this world against disaster.”
In the fifth year of Cecil, during the Month of Revival, the magical tide observation device was officially completed. Mortals had finally built an eye capable of watching the stars. After over a month of calibration and testing, it successfully detected abnormal ripples around nearby stars, indirectly confirming the magical tide’s location and frequency. All parameters matched or complemented the data provided by the Noyans.
That deep autumn, the Twilight of the Gods Plan entered its final stage. Through continuous large-scale sacrifices and transfers via the Rebellion Court, mortal armies filled the thrones of all the gods. For safety, sacrifices continued until the Homeworld Barrier was fully activated. The stockpile of weapons in the divine realms eventually exceeded twice the design standard…
On the highest terrace of the Cecil Palace, Gawain witnessed the majestic moment the planetary shield powered on. A vast energy field rose from the horizon, gradually forming a barrier that shielded the stars. Then the shield slowly became transparent again, leaving countless shimmering streams flowing between the stars. Below the terrace, thunderous cheers echoed throughout the city.
Gawain witnessed it all, guided it all.
In the sixth year of Cecil, early in the year, the Noyans sent their final communication: the magical tide had reached their planet’s atmosphere, and they were about to activate the Mind Unification Field to combat the disaster. The interference caused by the field severed communication between the two planets, and the Lorens temporarily lost contact with their allies. At that last transmission, Gawain, as Supreme Commander of the Loren Alliance and spokesperson for civilization, expressed his sincerest blessings to their allies—then the Lorens began to await the magical tide’s arrival.
That summer, the magical tide arrived as expected over Loren. On the eve of the Homeworld Barrier’s activation, the final step of the Twilight of the Gods Plan was enacted. The wave of destruction unleashed by mortal arms swept through the divine realms, upheaving the deep sea, and the gods were finally freed…
Gawain witnessed it all, guided it all.
Afterward, the magical tide was safely weathered, and communication between Loren and Noya was restored. After enduring harsh trials, the two civilizations finally embraced precious peace. In this calm, everything returned to normal.
Society, economy, culture, technology… under Gawain’s watchful eye and guidance, everything changed at an astonishing pace. The Lorens explored oceans and skies, measured every inch of land, traversed every corner of their planet, and even launched probes into space. Plans to collaborate with the Noyans to locate the “Observer Ship” that had broken apart near Loren decades ago were also put on the table…
Gawain witnessed it all, guided it all.
Now, he stood before a grand dais.
Built by loyal subjects, it was magnificent and ornate. At the end of a long walkway stood a golden throne overlooking the entire land. He stood at the edge of the steps, looking up at the splendid seat prepared for him alone, lost in quiet thought. Below the dais, the thunderous cheers of the masses rolled like a tidal wave.
In contemplation, Gawain slowly raised his head. His gaze swept over the familiar yet strange city, where everywhere banners celebrated the success of the manned space program. Portraits of Emperor Gawain Cecil hung in the highest, most prominent places, surrounded by blooming flowers and throngs of people.
In the distance, beams of light rose into the sky, piercing clouds and reaching the far horizon. These were the magnificent projections cast by the Homeworld Barrier in the atmosphere. Though the magical tide had ended, the barrier remained the Loren star’s strongest defense. Those streams of light were proof it still operated steadily to this day.
A voice suddenly came from beside him: “Old Zongzi, what are you thinking about? Today’s a celebration! The whole alliance is waiting for you to get up there and say a few words!”
As on many past occasions, Gawain had not sensed any presence approaching. In a blink, Amber’s figure appeared beside him. He turned to look at the little dwarf’s radiant smile, then smiled himself after a moment. “Why do you look happier than me?”
“Of course I’m happy! I get to stand right next to you!” Amber beamed. “The wisest mortal ruler in history, a leader greater than any god, the savior who shelters all living beings—didn’t you see the latest newspapers? Those titles are everywhere. And I get to bask in your glory—who wouldn’t be happy?”
Gawain listened quietly, but his gaze slowly roamed the surroundings. Amber’s curiosity was piqued by his unusual reaction: “What are you looking for?”
“A door,” Gawain said with a smile.
Amber was stunned. “A door? What door?”
“The way out,” Gawain said seriously, nodding. “I’ve been looking for it for half a century.”
Amber stared at him, puzzled. Gawain just shook his head indifferently, then turned to face the grand dais.
He strode forward with steady steps. Amber watched him in stunned silence from behind, then quickly followed.
At the far end of the dais, before the magnificent throne, Gawain came to a halt. He lowered his gaze to the land below, where countless subjects praised and worshiped him. Then he looked up at the sky, seeing the dome he had crafted with his own hands. Amidst the roaring cheers, he turned back to the throne, which gleamed brilliantly—radiating the mightiest power in the world, the highest authority, the brightest glory, and an almost eternal splendor.
A powerful force began urging him closer to the throne, beckoning him to sit and become the savior in the eyes of his people. Gawain could feel this force clearly—it came from the thunderous acclaim echoing across the square.
But he stood still, quietly, for a long moment before shifting his gaze to a spot below the dais. Amber’s voice broke the silence: “What are you looking for now?”
“A path. And it seems I’ve found it,” Gawain breathed out softly. The immense pressure weighing down on him grew stronger, yet somehow he felt lighter inside. He glanced at Amber with a knowing smile. “So it only appears at the very last step.”
Amber raised an eyebrow.
Gawain paid no mind to her reaction. He turned and leaned forward, peering down beneath the dais.
In the shadow of that radiant throne, amid the roaring masses, in a corner no one noticed—or perhaps deliberately ignored—lay a grave. The tomb was open, its surrounding flowers withered and faded.
The moment Gawain’s eyes met the grave, the crushing weight pressing on him vanished instantly. The cheers from the square blurred and faded into the distance, as if separated by an entire world. Standing before the throne, he stared at the grave, suddenly deep in thought.
“The eternal throne is a god’s privilege, but the grave and death are the mortal’s destiny…”
Amber had silently come to his side. Hearing his murmured words, she spoke softly, “Looks like you were never truly tempted… But are you sure that throne holds no allure for you at all?”
Gawain smiled faintly. “…That thing isn’t worthy of me yet.”
With that, he took a step forward.
He descended straight into the darkness beneath the divine seat.
In an instant, everything in the world dissolved—the grand square, the cheering crowds, the shimmering sky—all shattered into fragments of light and shadow. Amid the swirling fragments, only Amber remained standing quietly.
She blinked, her form growing tall and majestic. She exhaled gently, and the endless light and shadow gathered at the hem of her robes.
The world was reduced to pure chaotic darkness. The Lady of Night lifted her gaze toward the distance. At the edge of the void, she saw a faintly glowing silhouette rapidly breaking apart and fading away. It was a god yet to be born, now being dismantled by the anchor generator into raw data fragments.
The Lady of Night withdrew her gaze and looked toward the direction Gawain had just leapt into. After a long silence, her voice finally echoed through the darkness:
“Old rice dumpling, you really don’t hesitate at all, do you…”
(End of chapter)