Chapter 224: A Series of Unfortunate Misunderstandings

It turned out that sea sirens were truly creatures beyond the grasp of normal logic. Every conversation with them was like a fresh blow to one’s worldview. Take Tyr, for example—Gawain felt that for every three sentences he exchanged with this salty fish, at least one required a sanity check…

“Speak clearly!” Gawain glared at the mermaid bouncing excitedly in front of him. “Our worldviews are totally different, and when you blurt out random stuff like that, we just can’t make heads or tails of it!”

“It’s when the stars align,” Tyr explained, slapping the terrace floor hard with her tail. “The giant squid in the deep sea ‘explodes’ in numbers. No one really knows why, but it seems to draw energy from the celestial movements. Then its flesh and blood grow rapidly on the corpse, and within a few days, we can harvest fuel equivalent to decades’ worth of normal yield. Best part? We can gorge ourselves without limit—no matter how much we eat, the squid grows back fast… hissss…”

As she spoke, Tyr licked her lips, her face glowing with longing and bliss. “Ah, it’s truly a gift from nature…”

Gawain, however, grew more and more horrified the longer he listened. It was one thing for sea sirens to have strange thoughts—he could accept that—but from Tyr’s description, he vaguely realized what this “explosion” of giant squid really meant…

Holy hell, when the stars align, the “god’s corpse” in the deep sea regenerates rapidly… Could this be an attempt at resurrection?

But since these salty fish were still alive and kicking, and the world hadn’t ended, it was clear that some eldritch deep-sea god hadn’t succeeded in coming back to life yet.

Nearby, Hetty also grew curious. Though she lacked Gawain’s knowledge of “the gods are dead” and wasn’t as imaginative as her eccentric ancestors or Rebecca, she still sensed something eerie and terrifying in Tyr’s words. She couldn’t help but ask, “From the way you talk, has this kind of thing happened many times?”

“Let me think…” Tyr tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Ah, about sixteen times. Except the first time—we didn’t understand what was going on and ended up in chaos without a proper feast—every other time we just gorged ourselves for days on end…”

Cold sweat broke out on Gawain’s forehead. He was increasingly convinced his suspicions were right—damn it, the stars had aligned perfectly sixteen times! Sixteen! Some ancient deep-sea god (to Gawain, more like an evil god) had shown signs of revival sixteen times, only to be devoured back to death by a bunch of deep-sea gluttonous fish… devoured back to death…

So what the hell were these sea sirens? What were they made of?!

Lost in this soul-crushing dilemma, a sudden idea flashed through Gawain’s mind: he remembered one of his “collectibles.”

Curious, he looked at the salty fish before him. “Tyr, if I gave you something similar in nature to the giant squid, could you tell what it is?”

“What do you mean?” Tyr blinked. “Are you selling fake meat now?”

Gawain choked on that. “…It’s complicated. How about this—you come with me right now. Actually, never mind when you wake up next time, who knows when that’ll be. Just come with me now. I have a crystal cube here that might be ‘squid meat.’ Take a look.”

Meanwhile, far from the continent, on the endless sea, the Stormborn monitored the stars’ movements, the status of “Ao,” and the energy fluctuations from the deep sea.

The stars were perfectly aligned. Today was also the day when “Ao” exhibited the strongest energy reaction of the year. The power of this ultimate mysterious star would combine with many celestial bodies in the night sky, releasing a special energy that would serve as a key to awaken the Lord of Storms.

The Stormborn priests stood in neat rows on the platform, while their high priest, clad in black robes, stood at the edge nearest the cliff, gazing at the increasingly violent sea as if staring into an endless abyss ready to swallow the world.

Would the “Lord” return?

The high priest didn’t know what he truly felt—whether he hoped for the Lord’s return or feared it—but he knew this conflicted feeling was not unique to him.

Judgment Day would come, and mortals would find their rightful place then—but what was the rightful place of the Stormborn? The Sleepless? The End of All Things?

They embraced the day of destruction, for every dark cult believed it had found a way to survive the apocalypse, even to ascend and become eternal, godlike beings when the gods devoured the world. Yet they were still mortal, uncertain if their path was the right one. It was this fear and doubt that drove them into fanaticism and certainty—only on the eve of that fated day would a few awaken and begin to question their path.

If the gods return, can mortals truly survive?

The Stormborn began their ritual on the platform, calling upon the sea’s power to protect them. When the pope’s command came, they would live forever with the ocean.

In Typhon’s domain, the secret sanctum of the Sleepless gathered. The nightmare bishops, after the seventeenth failed “deep dive” that cost them some lower nodes, remained intact. Under the guidance of the Sleepless pope, they assembled in the “Connection Hall,” establishing a powerful psychic network, awaiting the Stormborn’s reports on the stars and gods, while preparing to activate the “Eternal Dream” ahead of time.

In the northern continent, deep underground in the End of All Things’ lair, Beltira stood among the elders, overlooking the writhing flesh in the subterranean rift. The high elders floated above the mass, channeling immense energy into the “False God’s Body.”

The time was not yet ripe—every fallen druid knew this. They hadn’t gathered enough biomass. The planned Ansu-Typhon war before winter was stalled by Duke Pedinan’s sudden change of allegiance. Blood and flesh collection in Ansu had repeatedly failed. But now, time was running out.

Whether Judgment Day had truly arrived or not, all dark cults had to ignite their ultimate plans early. Radical, yes—but a necessary caution.

At some point that day, “Ao’s” activity peaked for the year, and the stars’ power entered the world.

At that moment, tides surged, and the endless sea roared as if boiling.

The Stormborn initiated their ritual amid the tsunami, indescribable power linking them to the ocean;

The Sleepless activated all psychic nodes, the unfinished “Eternal Dream” beginning to connect all believers’ minds into one world;

The End of All Things prematurely awakened the “False God’s Body,” the massive flesh construct stirring;

Beneath the deep sea, the Storm God, fallen for countless millennia, twitched His form—and that twitch was the signal to start the feast.

The sea sirens raised their knives and forks—some wielded pincers and tails.

No one knew of these cataclysmic events beyond human society. The only tenuous connection was a mermaid named Tyr, deep in a mountain range on the southern border of the Ansu Kingdom in northern Loren.

She caught sight of the precious treasure Gawain had carefully preserved.

The mermaid let out a joyful cry: “Ooh! This is definitely delicious!”

Gawain grabbed her tail just in time before she could bite a hole in the crystal cube, pulling her back as he lunged forward to protect the precious divine tissue sample.

“Hey, don’t hide it! You called me over for a snack, didn’t you?” Tyr pouted, slapping the ground with her tail, then lunged to snatch the cube from Gawain. “Give it to me, let me taste it…”

Gawain dodged her attacks, shouting, “Stop, stop! I called you over to check if this thing is ‘giant squid,’ not to eat it!”

“If I can’t eat it, why’d you even show it to me?” Tyr nearly went mad, unable to grab the “delicious treat.” “I missed out on so many years of feasts! I thought you were making it up to me!”

But Gawain’s resolve was stronger than Tyr expected. No matter how much she jumped and scrambled, he wasn’t about to let this one and only divine sample become her midnight snack. Eventually, Tyr tired herself out and quieted down.

“I’m telling you, this isn’t the giant squid we usually dig up,” she said. “But it sure feels a lot like it.”

“This isn’t giant squid?” Gawain raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! No sea siren would mistake giant squid!” Tyr put her hands on her hips. Somehow, she balanced perfectly on her curved tail—something she couldn’t do standing on two legs. “To me, this snack must have come from some creature similar to the giant squid… Hey, where did you get this? Is there a lot of it? Tell me! I won’t eat your processed piece—I can hunt for myself…”

Gawain: “…Are you deep-sea sirens even scarier than the deep-sea evil gods? Are you some kind of deep-sea trickster gods?!”

“Too bad, this is the only sample I have,” Gawain said, shaking his head after staring at Tyr dumbfounded long enough to make her tail tense up. “And I don’t even know where to find more. This sample was passed down among us ‘land people’ for a thousand years.”

Tyr, who knew the average human lifespan, was shocked. “Huh? You’ve been passing around a snack for a thousand years? You guys really don’t waste food, but you don’t have to be that stingy…”

She then rambled on about how land people lived in hardship, how even a small cookie could be a family heirloom, her thoughts scattered and nonsensical.

Watching Tyr, Gawain broke out in a cold sweat. He had no idea how to explain that divine flesh wasn’t something to eat here—he felt this was a matter of gods and mortals, survival and extinction, race and fate. But Tyr would probably just think it was a recipe issue…

For the first time since crossing over, Gawain felt like he was losing his sanity…

(End of chapter)