Chapter 1590: The Final Gathering

That small cluster of flickering lights shattered within the blazing inferno of the star’s eternal fire. The resulting chain reaction unleashed a storm on the surface of “Ao” that raged for exactly 7.6 seconds. A massive surge of magical energy churned the star’s high-energy particle jets, sending colossal streams of flame erupting from the plasma sea. In that brief, dazzling moment, the star’s outward energy radiation fluctuated by less than two percent—then gradually, everything settled back into calm.

The star burned on, as always.

At a critical observation point near “Ao,” only two tracking units controlled by Omega remained. These battered vessels struggled to hold their positions, their thermal shields riddled with countless fine cracks and peeling scars. Half of their sensors had been completely incinerated by the star’s brilliance, yet the remaining instruments still fixed their gaze on the star’s surface, watching the direction where that fiery jet had vanished.

Until the very last moment, Omega tried to send signals to that streak of flame, but it never responded.

Now, with their mission complete, Omega’s background threads quietly flowed through their control systems. He knew he should recall the two ships. Despite their severe damage, they still had just enough power to limp back to base. Even if repairs were impossible, their materials held some salvage value. Yet for some reason, he never issued the recall order. After long contemplation, he instead commanded the ships to reverse their engine nozzles and plunge straight into the fiery sea on “Ao’s” surface.

As he watched the two units rapidly descend toward the star, their shields burning away, their structures tearing and vaporizing bit by bit, Omega felt a brief confusion. His server arrays hummed as old experiential data surfaced, only to be dismissed moments later. He pondered the meaning of his actions, why that falling streak of light stirred unexpected ripples in his consciousness. After an unknown span of time, he finally found the answer in some ancient records from his creators back home: this act was called a “funeral procession.”

Omega sensed he had learned something useful again—though he still didn’t fully grasp the significance of this “new knowledge,” he solemnly imprinted it into his mental database.

Meanwhile, on the planet Loren, within the Ogure tribe’s borders, the deep hum echoing across the Ancestral Plains was slowly fading into silence.

The immense magical energy drawn from the planet’s core was gradually subsiding, and the load on the excitation focal point was dropping from its peak. Myrmyna sat quietly in the Observer’s chamber, feeling the engineering behemoth relax its mechanisms, finally exhaling a soft breath of relief.

After so long here, she had fully adapted to merging her senses with the magical tide observation apparatus. As her mind extended along the ley lines across the plains, the vast steel structure covering the entire expanse felt like an extension of her own body. When the massive sensor array began scanning the starry sky, she even felt as if her perception was being projected deep into the cosmos. This incredible “sympathy” had once made her uneasy, but now she found herself quietly intoxicated by it.

Information from various channels flooded into the Observer’s chamber. Once the magical tide data was accurately uploaded, the subsequent effects began to unfold:

First, at the homeworld’s barrier control center on the Talash Plains, massive data simulations and model constructions were underway. The ancient Ophelia Matrix was feeding the magical tide parameters into the barrier’s control system. Though the hardware at the Sky Station was still incomplete, at least on the data level, the Ophelia Matrix was already preparing for the final phase.

Next came feedback from the Empire’s Arcane Technology Department. Scholars had received the magical tide fluctuation parameters. Mortals were about to take a crucial step forward—beginning to understand the world they lived in from the heights of “origin” and “truth.” For the first time, earthly beings could use precise data, not myths, to calculate and measure the stars above. The magical tide was a calamity capable of destroying civilizations, but it was also the universe’s most accurate and pure “ruler.” And now, mortals finally held that ruler in their hands.

At the same time, the Solin Command Center reported that synchronized observations between Noy and Loren had been successfully completed. The Noyans had obtained the latest data on their planet. The faster-than-light communication system between the two worlds was now operating at full power. Vast observational data was being transmitted across the star seas, where each planet’s homeworld barrier and unified mental field devices decoded and merged the alien and native data, forging the final key to activate the barrier…

The data channels buzzed with activity. Calculation centers and control systems everywhere were busily sending and receiving torrents of information. Myrmyna could feel the ripples these data streams stirred in the magical field as they surged through the central magic network tower atop the Sacred Mountain. Yet she herself was growing more relaxed—her critical observation task was complete. From here on, the mountain’s computing centers and servo-brain arrays would handle the rest automatically. Other regions had dedicated personnel managing their own tasks, and judging by the feedback from various channels, those leaders had little time left to focus on her side of things.

With some free time on her hands, what should she do?

After a brief hesitation, Myrmyna activated the magic network terminal beside the throne. The anti-divinity barrier powered up automatically. After a few seconds of flickering standby, a clear, stable holographic image appeared—a somewhat goofy-looking deer’s head (from Myrmyna’s perspective) filled the center of the screen.

“Myrmyna? Are you done over there? Everything went smoothly?”

“Done, everything went smoothly,” Myrmyna exhaled. She wanted to explain her workflow and the current situation, but just as she opened her mouth, she swallowed the words back. “…Anyway, it was a success. The magical tide defense plan will proceed as scheduled.”

Amorn on the other end seemed momentarily taken aback, then spoke thoughtfully: “…Did you just leave out a lot of details? I feel a bit insulted.”

“Just your imagination,” Myrmyna replied casually. “Besides, if I explained the magical tide observation and homeworld barrier processes in detail, would you even understand?”

“Then you definitely left it out! How do you know I wouldn’t get it?” Amorn’s eyes widened, but then he shook his head and changed tone. “Of course, I’m not really interested in all that… So, since you’re done, can you come back early? You don’t need to keep watching the observation devices now that you have the correct magical tide parameters, right?”

“I’d like to rest now,” Myrmyna considered, shaking her head with some regret. “But nothing’s settled yet. Until the magical tide truly passes, we can’t rule out surprises. To be safe, the observation devices here shouldn’t shut down—I have to keep watch until this world is truly safe.”

Amorn nodded on the screen. “Oh…”

“What about you?” Myrmyna suddenly sensed something odd in the atmosphere. Though she couldn’t pinpoint it, she instinctively changed the subject. “What are you up to? It sounds like there’s some commotion around you.”

Deep within the Rebellious Courtyard, beneath a golden oak tree radiating endless light, Amorn looked up from the magic network terminal. He glanced toward the nearby gathering ground, his tone turning serious and solemn.

“Today is the last lesson, and their final gathering here.”

Perhaps by some cosmic coincidence, as the light from Noy collided with “Ao,” as the two planets finally obtained the key to resist the magical tide through synchronized observation, here in this shadowy realm’s courtyard, the gods of Loren were holding their last assembly.

The golden oak’s gentle glow illuminated the courtyard’s edges, while powerful magic crystal lamps lit the vast barren wilderness beyond. In this grand meeting place—once used to plot the twilight of the gods—tall, imposing figures gathered once more. On a raised platform surrounded by these towering presences, Rebecca’s figure seemed especially small.

Yet this tiny silhouette was the focus of every god’s gaze, the very center of the assembly.

“Honestly, I don’t have much left to teach you today,” Rebecca said as she sat down on the platform. After so much time together, she had long grown accustomed to the peculiarities of this “classroom,” to the immense pressure of speaking face-to-face with gods. She knew these intimidating “giants” were actually kind and friendly, trusting her like a friend. So she spoke casually before them. “I’ve taught you all the useful knowledge and practical skills you might need. You’ve completed all the written and hands-on tests—setting charges, storing explosives, detonating, self-protection… that’s about it.”

As she spoke, she slowly scanned the crowd. She saw the Blood God Danmo sitting on a huge stone, watching her. Though his stern, intimidating appearance suggested otherwise, he was actually gentle and approachable. The Dance and Wind Goddess Naifali and the Curse Goddess Hizna sat together—two deities so different in office and temperament they shouldn’t have been friends, yet somehow they were. The Three Sisters of Abundance smiled from nearby. The Gods of Winter and Forest stood on the other side, quietly conversing with the Gods of Wine and Fire…

They were called “the gods,” but Rebecca had long since forgotten their radiant titles. Here, she taught these great beings mortal knowledge, just as she did with her assistants in the lab or students at the Imperial Academy. The relationship between mortals and gods had been turned upside down—teacher and student—but to those involved, it all felt perfectly natural.

And now, this brief teacher-student bond was coming to an end.

“Today is your last gathering here,” Rebecca said. “As of yesterday’s Midsummer Festival, all the explosives stored by the gods’ realm have reached the expected yield. According to our prior agreement, sacrificial activities will continue until the magical tide officially arrives and the homeworld barrier activates. This extra stockpile of explosives will maximize the success rate of the Twilight of the Gods plan.

“At the same time, this assembly ground will be temporarily closed to further reduce the chance of ‘divine halves’ becoming alert. Unless an emergency forces a temporary recall, we will no longer contact each other.”

As soon as Rebecca finished speaking, the assembly hall fell into a sudden hush. The gods gathered here today had long been aware of this arrangement—it was, after all, part of the plan—but as beings imbued with deep emotions and a touch of humanity, they couldn’t help but feel moved in this moment.

After an uncertain stretch of silence, the stillness was finally broken. The Blood God Danmo was the first to rise. He stepped forward to the dais, his expression unusually solemn as he fixed his gaze on the small mortal girl standing there. His voice was low and steady: “I wish to express my gratitude. Though our time together has been brief, by the customs of the mortal world, I should address you as ‘Teacher.’”

“No, no, no! Please don’t be so formal!” Rebecca exclaimed, startled, waving her hands quickly. “I only taught you a few basics—I don’t deserve the title of teacher. And there’s no need to thank me. If anything, you’ve been protecting this world for so many years…”

“Just accept it. You are our ‘Teacher of the Gods,’” Gaia, the Earth Goddess, said with a smile as she approached. “Danmo is stubborn about these things—he’s very particular about etiquette.”

“Well… after this, my ancestors will definitely nag me about it,” Rebecca muttered, scratching her head. Then, after a brief pause, she smiled. “Alright then, I’ll accept the title—but only in name. Normally, you can just call me Rebecca.”

At last, a faint smile appeared on Danmo’s usually stern face. The venerable god nodded gently. “Of course.”

Rebecca smiled back, then once again scanned the gathered divine figures before her. After hesitating several times, she finally couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Um… one more thing…”

She opened her mouth, paused for several seconds, then forced out the words: “You must all come back alive…”

“Since that is the ‘Teacher’s’ request,” Gaia said with a smile, deliberately emphasizing the word “Teacher,” “then of course—we will return alive.”

Rebecca knew it was time to say goodbye.

She took a quiet breath and waved to the towering figures before her. “Alright, that’s it for today. Class is over. You may go back now.”

But as her words fell, the gods around the dais did not move to leave. These beings, revered by mortals as “gods,” seemed to have more to say. They exchanged glances, and after a few seconds, Naferi, the Goddess of Song and Wind, stepped forward. “We have a gift for you.”

Rebecca blinked in surprise. “A… gift?”

“Think of it as a graduation memento. Mortals have those, don’t they?” Naferi said, placing something on the dais beside Rebecca. It was small in her hand—no bigger than a pebble—but Rebecca recognized it as a ceremonial shield, inlaid with gemstones, shells, and decorated with feathers. “This was given to me by my followers long ago. Back then, the priestesses would dance upon their war shields to bless the tribe’s warriors… Over time, that ritual evolved into the ‘Dance of the Wind’ in the western continent. I give it to you now, hoping it will bless you as well.”

“I don’t have much to offer,” said Faul, God of Winter and Forests, stepping forward. He placed a massive ivory tusk on the dais—nearly as tall as Rebecca herself—and it thudded heavily. “I took this from the divine throne. That place is going to be destroyed anyway. Consider it a keepsake.”

Flora, the Goddess of Spring, also approached, laying a wreath of unknown flowers and vines before Rebecca. It still seemed vibrant, as if freshly plucked from the earth. “This was woven by my sisters’ own hands. It might be a bit large for you, but it would make a lovely decoration for your living room…”

Rebecca watched as one gift after another was placed on the dais. Her initial shock gave way to awkwardness, and then she blurted out, “Hey, you don’t have to be so formal… That’s enough, really. My ancestors always said you shouldn’t take things from others without permission. And why does this feel like you’re all preparing for a last stand, like the plan’s about to fail and we’re all going to die? This atmosphere is all wrong!”

At Rebecca’s outburst, Jezna, the Goddess of Curses, who had been standing silently at the edge, hurried forward. “Don’t say that—it’s bad luck. We’re simply giving gifts as a keepsake, not delivering last words…”

Before Jezna could finish, every other god around her spoke in unison: “Shut up!”

(End of chapter)