Chapter 286: Where Do They Come From?

As one of the chief architects behind the old “Rebellion” project, Kamail was intimately familiar with the “Divine Aberrations” it had produced. He had overseen the creation of both the first generation and the final mutated forms of these beings. So when Tyr handed him a purified fragment of a mutated creature’s remains, Kamail quickly recognized unsettling traits within it.

A few simple tests and some irrefutable data confirmed his growing unease.

“Although I don’t have access to more advanced equipment to sequence the genetic material in this fragment,” Kamail said gravely, “the mutation patterns alone are enough to conclude that this aberration is a mutated offshoot of the ‘Divine Aberrations.’ The magical tide’s power has overwhelmed the gene expression of the Divine Aberrations… Our original plan had a terrifying flaw. We underestimated the extent to which biomass would mutate under the magical tide’s influence. The Divine Aberration genetic factors couldn’t withstand mutations of this magnitude, causing carriers to transform into… monsters before they could even adapt to the magical tide environment.”

Kamail tried to steady his emotions, but Gawain could still sense the profound sorrow weighing on the ancient mage’s heart. He could imagine it—Kamail and his colleagues had sacrificed everything for this cause, paying a price beyond what humanity could bear. Yet the outcome was worse than failure: their efforts didn’t save the people they intended to protect but instead turned them into monsters. Even putting himself in Kamail’s shoes, Gawain doubted he could remain so composed in the face of such a blow.

Still, he pressed on with his question: “Do you know what happened to the Divine Aberrations after they were sent back to the heart of the Empire?”

“My role was limited to research and development,” Kamail replied slowly. “I’m not privy to the later ‘application’ stages. But while I don’t know the details, I can hazard a guess. You mentioned there was no news of the magical tide outside the Empire, right? That suggests everything happened in secret. After the Divine Aberrations were returned to the capital, the royal family likely used methods like mass immunization over three centuries to gradually introduce the Divine Aberration genetic factors into the entire population, making it a stable hereditary trait. Because our goal was to save everyone, every citizen of Gondor had to become a carrier. That would explain the endless mutated creatures that suddenly appeared overnight when the magical tide arrived.”

Gawain believed Kamail’s theory was probably the truth.

Genetic modification isn’t something done overnight. Kamail and his peers could use powerful magic to transform themselves directly into carriers, but for the millions of ordinary Gondorians, such drastic alteration was impractical—and too conspicuous. So the royal family must have taken a covert, gradual approach: transferring mutated material into the parents, so their offspring would be born as natural carriers.

Transforming an entire empire’s population would take more than a single generation. But there was a three-century gap between the completion of the Rebellion project and the actual outbreak of the magical tide—ample time for Gondor’s technology to carry out such an immense plan.

“Now that you mention it… I think I’ve recalled something,” Gawain said, stroking his chin as he sifted through his memories. “At the end of the Age of Sparks, the Empire suddenly introduced several new mass immunization and newborn screening programs. The official explanation was to combat the worsening elemental assimilation syndrome and to select for magical aptitude from infancy. If I’m right, that was the application phase of the Rebellion project.”

Kamail’s voice was heavy: “In the end, it doomed everyone…”

“No,” Gawain said, his expression turning serious as he looked at Kamail. “If my theory is correct, your plan actually succeeded—just not completely. Kamail, you’ve forgotten—today’s four great human kingdoms were all founded by Gondorian survivors.”

At that moment, a light seemed to dawn in Kamail’s eyes.

The ancient mage’s voice trembled slightly with excitement: “You mean…?”

“Many believe the Pioneer Legions from seven centuries ago—or rather, the Gondorian refugees—escaped the first magical tide and found safety before the second wave hit. But in truth, we endured both the first and second waves fully,” Gawain recalled. “When we regrouped, the natural environment was already mutating. Countless animals, plants, even lifeless soil and stone were changing before our eyes. High-energy chaotic mana clouds swirled overhead, and magical surges raged day and night. No one escaped the first wave—we ran straight through it.”

Kamail’s eyes flickered: “No one mutated?”

“Many died—of disease or elemental poisoning—but no one mutated,” Gawain said firmly. “And here’s a crucial clue: our breakout group wasn’t just humans. Elves, dwarves, halflings, and other races trapped inside Gondor were mixed in. Their mortality rate was several times higher than humans’. Except for mid- and high-level elites, most low-level and ordinary members of those races perished within months.”

“So… the ‘antibodies’ worked,” Kamail murmured.

“But why did everyone in the Empire’s heartland become aberrations?” Gawain asked.

“Perhaps because of the Deep Blue Well,” Garmel speculated. “It exploded a year before the magical tide, destroying two of the four main reactors and releasing massive mana into the Empire’s center. That unstable energy acted like volatile fuel. When the chaotic mana surged, the Deep Blue Well’s energy catalyzed the reaction… The Divine Aberration genes may have enhanced human resistance to the magical tide, but their effect was clearly limited.”

“If that’s true…” Kamail’s tone grew calm, “then maybe it’s some small comfort.”

Gawain couldn’t help but recall the identity verification device they’d found in the mountain ruins—the Rebellion Fortress. It had clearly recognized all humans, including Gawain and Byron, as “safe and stable carriers,” but had sounded an alarm when Amber tried to pass through. At the time, Gawain thought the device was malfunctioning. Now he realized its true purpose.

The device wasn’t broken—it was accurately identifying stable carriers. Every human descended from Gondor was a carrier of the Divine Aberration.

Yet even understanding the aberrations’ origins, Gawain still had many questions about those monsters.

“If aberrations are mutated humans carrying Divine Aberration genes, not so-called ‘chaos creatures’ born from the magical tide, then many of their traits don’t add up,” he said. “For example—when aberrations exceed a certain number, they generate a chaotic mana environment around them. Once this mana field reaches a certain intensity and size, aberrations begin to ‘spontaneously’ appear within it. How do we explain that?”

If aberrations were elemental beings born of chaos, their spontaneous proliferation in the magical tide would make sense. But if they’re mutated humans—normal life forms—how can they suddenly materialize out of thin air like elemental creatures?

Even Kamail couldn’t answer. It was beyond his knowledge. He ventured a bold hypothesis: “Maybe it’s the source of the Divine Aberrations—the power of the gods at work? Although the Divine Aberrations only use the genetic material of the great stag Amorn, stealing its flesh and blood is akin to stealing divine power. The gods’ power is beyond human understanding. Perhaps this power grants aberrations some… non-natural traits.”

“No matter what, the ability to ‘appear from nowhere’ is incredibly hard to explain,” Gawain sighed. “The wasteland is full of unknowns. No one can guess what changes those monsters have undergone.”

After wrapping up the discussion on aberrations, Kamail finally remembered why Gawain had sought him out. Curious, he asked, “My lord, I heard you designed something?”

“A weapons manufacturing plan,” Gawain nodded, picking up the blueprints from the desk and handing them to Kamail. “Energy weapons have clear advantages, but they struggle against anti-magic shields and the like. We still need projectile weapons—ideally both types—so we can maintain the upper hand on complex battlefields.”

Though Kamail appeared easygoing and approachable, he was actually cautious and meticulous, a commander who left no chance for the enemy. Having learned what Gawain was working on, he wasn’t surprised that Gawain insisted on keeping projectile weapons in the arsenal. Kamail himself favored diverse weaponry to meet any challenge. He took the blueprints and quickly grew interested.

“Still a repulsion mechanism… using continuous repulsion structures to form an acceleration track, right? You mentioned this before…” Kamail muttered, studying the detailed notes. “But this time, you’re adding hurricane runes to the projectiles?”

“Not just the projectiles,” Gawain explained, pointing to the blueprints. “The acceleration track itself has special modifications. I borrowed Rebecca’s ‘amplifier’ concept—adding mana field receivers and load balancers at the tail end of the two acceleration rails, then channeling that energy into the repulsion mechanism with an extra set of runes. This causes the repulsion devices to overload during firing, greatly increasing thrust. The enhanced acceleration rails, combined with the projectile’s own auxiliary power, will give it the range and power I need—far beyond what I had before.”

Kamail raised a concern: “Sustained overload? That might cut the magic array’s lifespan by half…”

Gawain had anticipated this question and smiled faintly. “I think many people, even masters like you, fall into a common misconception about industrial magical devices.”

“What misconception?”

“Industrial products aren’t meant to last forever. A finely crafted traditional magic ring can be passed down for generations, lasting hundreds or even thousands of years, becoming a treasured heirloom with legends attached. But industrially manufactured items… from the start, they’re not designed for longevity.

“They’re consumables. As long as their lifespan meets or exceeds practical needs, they’re considered qualified industrial products. Longer lifespans are nice, but just icing on the cake—not essential.”

“If a product can fulfill its intended purpose, it’s considered qualified. If it can be replaced through technological upgrades, then it’s a fine piece of work. But if it lasts through the ages, passed down through generations… then it has truly influenced the course of industry, driving technological progress and innovation.

“Want to know why? It’s simple. Industrial products aren’t just mass-produced—they’re also replaced en masse. As long as the industrial chain remains intact, the pace of replacement will far outstrip that of traditional magic or alchemical devices. New technologies and products will continuously supplant the old, becoming more effective and practical. The idea of a magical ring from centuries ago still holding immense power hundreds of years later simply won’t exist in the new order I’m building. If we ever create something that remains a mainstream product, a pillar of society, for decades or even centuries… then all I can say is—Cecil’s magecraft industry is finished.”

(End of chapter)