Chapter 1578: Accumulating Yield
Beneath the faintly glowing dome of the Fertile Garden, the eternal feast continued as it had for countless centuries. Hollow, spirit-like guests gathered around the long banquet table, endlessly raising their cups and feasting. These empty vessels—soulless holy spirits—showed no sign of thought or awareness. Yet, surrounding them now was a scene unlike any before.
Piled neatly around the banquet table were countless explosive devices, stacked like mountains of munitions.
Weapons forged by mortal hands filled the entire Fertile Garden. Explosives lined every path, every clearing, even every available spot on the banquet table itself was covered with bundles of grenades. These cold, iron-gray killing tools transformed the garden into a vast armory, their stark presence clashing grotesquely with the otherwise sacred surroundings.
More unsettling than the explosives, however, were the hollow holy spirits still maintaining the “feast” around the table—and the three divine avatars seated at the far end. These empty shells showed no reaction whatsoever to the sudden intrusion of these “foreign objects” in the divine realm. Even with shells pressed against their faces, they calmly raised their cups, laughed, and celebrated. Their faintly glowing forms moved through the ammunition stacks as if nothing was amiss. The three solemn, sacred divine avatars sat unmoved on their “thrones,” now surrounded and almost engulfed by explosives and chained detonators—a scene so bizarre it sent chills down the spine.
Amid this eerie, almost macabre “banquet,” only three figures retained their sanity and busied themselves with purpose.
The Spring Goddess Flora approached from the riverbank. Her upper body was wrapped in multiple belts laden with various explosive devices. On either side of her deer-like lower half hung two massive ammo boxes filled with crystallized bombs capable of leveling entire buildings in an instant. Numerous explosives floated behind her, suspended by invisible forces, drifting toward designated blast points around the banquet table.
Watching the bombs settle into place, Flora nodded with satisfaction. Then she turned toward the far end of the table, where a divine avatar bearing her exact likeness sat quietly amid blooming flowers, its vacant, sacred gaze fixed on some distant, unreachable point. Despite the identical appearance, the cold, hollow aura emanating from this avatar made Flora shudder. She frowned slightly, then carefully placed a fresh batch of explosives at the edge of the flower bed.
After stacking them, she stepped back two paces to scrutinize the arrangement, then moved forward to adjust the placement meticulously. It seemed she was trying to form a heart shape with the bombs, but eventually gave up.
Shaking her head, she glanced at the other two figures nearby—Gaia and Eve’s divine avatars, also seated among flowers and explosives, utterly indifferent to the activity unfolding just feet away.
Flora quickly glanced over and noticed her two elder sisters were busy planting bombs at the opposite end of the banquet table. A mischievous smile crept onto her face. She tiptoed over to Gaia and Eve’s avatars and, stealthily, slipped a few grenades beneath their forms…
But just as she was halfway through, Gaia turned around and caught her in the act. The eldest sister’s eyes snapped wide open. “Flora! What do you think you’re doing?”
Flora panicked, pulling out the half-hidden grenades, then feigned inspecting the shells while replying with feigned innocence, “Just setting up around the divine thrones. Didn’t you say we had to get all these bombs in place today?”
“Don’t do unnecessary things,” Gaia stepped forward briskly, her gaze sharp enough to see through her sister’s intentions. “Follow the layout Rebecca gave us. That’s the only way to ensure the explosives release their power efficiently. It’s not about piling them up as densely as possible. Didn’t you pay attention in class?”
“I did, I did…” Flora nodded rapidly. “I even scored higher than you and Eve on the exam.”
“Good grades on paper don’t mean much. The Curse Goddess also aced the written test, but nearly blew the Blood God away during the practical,” Gaia frowned at her youngest sister. Then she sighed and turned to look at the cold, hollow divine avatars, her voice tinged with melancholy. “Also, a reminder: although these avatars theoretically won’t act unless threatened, and won’t react to your touch, you still need to be cautious. You’re dealing with the most dangerous forces in existence. By the way, have you been planning these pranks for a while now?”
“Okay, okay…” Flora nodded instinctively, then suddenly shook her head vehemently. “No, no! I just wanted to test something…”
Gaia ignored her increasingly “humanized” little sister’s protests. Her gaze remained fixed on her own divine avatar, locking eyes with those lifeless, cold orbs for a long moment. Only when an involuntary feeling of deep aversion forced her to look away did she sigh softly. “It’s… indescribable. What we’re trying to destroy should have been part of ourselves. But now, looking at ‘them,’ all I feel is strange disgust and dread. To think we’ve been bound to such an unpleasant thing for so long—it’s unbelievable.”
Footsteps approached, and Eve joined them by the flower-and-explosive-laden “throne.” Hearing Gaia’s lament, she frowned. “If it weren’t for Lady Night severing us from our divinity, we wouldn’t even realize how rotten and taut these chains have become. Thinking back, it’s truly frightening.”
Gaia nodded, her gaze falling to the base of her divine avatar. Beneath the vibrant flowers lay black-red thorns and rotting vines, their stench barely masked. Twisted, mutated flesh seeped faintly from the soil, tiny flesh buds crawling along the vines, blooming into deceptive flowers at their tips. At first glance, it seemed beautiful—but a closer look sent shivers down the spine. This horrifying corruption had been spreading in the divine realm for many years.
Every detail of decay reflected a mortal world development that had slipped beyond divine control. For the Fertile Triad, it might be improvements in farming systems, studies of seasonal cycles, clearer understanding of spring rains and winds, or discoveries of new edible plants and brewing methods not recorded in sacred texts.
Each time mortals drew strength from progress, accumulating knowledge and wisdom unknown to the divine scriptures, the corruption in the divine realm spread further. The once radiant gods edged closer to madness and ruin.
Bound by chains, the Fertile Triad’s will and cognition were suppressed and overshadowed by their divine avatars. Though Gaia and her sisters knew they were shackled, they had never seen the realm’s changes clearly—until Lady Night’s decisive “surgery” freed their minds from divine bondage. Only then did they truly witness the terrifying transformations they had accumulated.
“This is disgusting,” Eve glanced at the true scene beneath the flowers, then quickly looked away. “And scary. Lady Night said when she intervened, we were the gods closest to madness. I didn’t realize it then, but now, with my mind clearer, I recall many chilling details.”
“The older the deity, the sooner the madness,” Gaia said, shaking her head. “Ancient gods were born in the early, primitive stages of civilization. Our operation depended on humanity’s crude understanding and reverence for nature. Those ancient information systems are long outdated, especially now that mortal development has accelerated—particularly in agriculture. It’s no longer the world we once knew.” She paused, then added, “I checked the corruption recently and estimate the accelerated incubation began within the last five to ten years.”
Eve thought for a moment, then nodded. “The Typhon people discovered how to acidify fuel stones to mass-produce ‘Fertile Dust.’ Synthetic fertilizers from factories began replacing harvest rituals as the main guarantee of crop yields…”
“Yes. Acidifying fuel stones—that predates even Cecil’s alchemical potions. Countless mortals who once struggled to survive suddenly had enough to eat. But because they bypassed ‘divine grace’ in the process, the divine realm bred this madness and corruption…” Gaia’s voice dropped low, then grew resolute as she lifted her gaze to her divine avatar. “So, it’s time to put an end to this.”
Flora listened to her sisters’ conversation, then glanced back at the banquet table, lost in thought. Suddenly, a flicker of worry crossed her face. “We’re discussing this right next to our divine avatars. Isn’t that dangerous?”
Eve turned to the flower-covered thrones, her tone calm. “Our minds are severed. They can’t hear ‘themselves.’”
Flora exhaled in relief, then looked at the mountains of explosives filling the garden, her expression tinged with anticipation. “By the way… when will these things finally be used? Are we close to reaching the required yield?”
“That has to wait,” Gaia said coolly, glancing at Flora. “According to plan, the detonation only starts at the final moment—on the day the homeworld’s barrier activates. The gods’ ‘preparations’ progress at different rates; some reach the required yield earlier than others. If any god acts prematurely, the massive energy fluctuations in their divine realm could spill over into neighboring domains, triggering unpredictable consequences. Even if the divine realms remain isolated, sudden ‘disappearances’ of some gods would cause chain reactions among mortal believers, stirring unrest that spreads to other gods’ followers… Once the divine avatars become alert, the trouble will be immense.”
Eve nodded alongside her. “Exactly. Mortals are different from us—they visit each other all the time. What’s more, many mortals worship multiple gods at once. They pray sincerely to whichever deity they feel connected to. That makes things especially complicated. So, to avoid any unexpected reactions, we have to act simultaneously at the very end… not giving any divine aspect even a moment to respond.”
“And before that…” Flora added softly, “our job is to prepare. Keep preparing, right up until the last second, to maximize our chances of success.”
Flora gave a slight nod, then glanced back at her divine aspect with a strange expression. “Even though I know they won’t react, it still feels weird to be ‘loudly conspiring’ right here in front of them…”
“I feel the same way,” Gaia chuckled. “Alright, break time’s almost over. We’ve got a lot to do. The Divine Authority Council is already preparing for the next large-scale sacrificial ceremony. We need to clear out the stacking area outside the garden before the new ‘cargo’ arrives in the divine realm.”
“Right, right, back to work—I’ll go move that box of fuses by the river,” Flora said, waving her hand as she turned toward the stream running through the garden. “You two better get your act together before you open the sacrificial portal next time. No more bricks or shoes, okay? Honestly, you’re less reliable than me on this.”
Gaia raised an eyebrow, but Eve quickly stepped forward and grabbed her sister’s arm. “No, no, no, dear sister, dear sister…”
At the same time, inside Cecil City, within the grand and ornate Cathedral of the God of Commerce, Archbishop Boris—his figure slightly stout—stood before the statue of Baofar, the God of Commerce. A radiant, perfectly practiced smile adorned his face as he received a special “guest.”
The visitor was a towering high priest clad in heavy armor, his face completely hidden behind a silver-white full-face helmet. Sacred prayers and oaths were engraved on his helmet and breastplate, while faintly glowing scripture ribbons, fastened by rivets near his pauldrons, bore the insignia of the Divine Authority Council.
This was a high-ranking Inquisitorial Knight from the Divine Authority Council, the emperor’s will incarnate, wielding supreme authority to arbitrate among the churches.
Normally, the presence of such a formidable knight in the cathedral district would unsettle ordinary clergy. But today, this imposing knight brought uplifting news.
“…In summary, to commemorate the founding day of the Alliance, to honor the souls fallen in the Wasteland War, and to pray for the world’s blessing, His Majesty the Emperor has granted permission for all registered orthodox churches within the empire to hold sacred ceremonies on the 112th Anniversary of the Council Meeting. This includes sacrificial rites and a series of celebratory events compliant with imperial laws and regulations. For detailed guidelines, please refer to the ‘Council’s Directive’ I just handed you. Archbishop Boris, do you have any questions?”
Archbishop Boris beamed, clearly in high spirits. “None at all—our deepest thanks to His Majesty and the Council for their support. We will strictly adhere to the ‘Directive,’ conducting lawful sacrifices and civilized prayers…”
As the plump archbishop spoke, he raised his hand to trace the emblem of the God of Commerce over his chest, a symbol resembling a balanced scale. “May the glory of our Lord shine upon the land, and may all actions comply with the empire’s laws and regulations in this domain…”
(End of chapter)