Chapter 499: The Rules of the Gods

After returning to Cecil City, Gawain immediately sought out Kamail, who was tinkering with a small arcane focus at the Magic Technology Research Institute. He also found Nicholas Orb, who was studying gearboxes at the Mechanical Manufacturing Facility. The three of them—strictly speaking, a satellite spirit, an LED spirit, and an iron orb alien—gathered in the cutting-edge laboratory Rebecca had built to examine the crystal left behind after Flanbelorn’s death.

The crystal still emitted a faint glow. Though it had been sitting there for several days, it remained slightly warm. When held close to the ear, one could vaguely hear faint, indistinct sounds—like a kind of resonance, or perhaps whispers filled with pain.

Kamail lifted the crystal into the air with his psionic hand, carefully observing its shape under the light. Every so often, he flicked a tiny arcane flame at its surface, sensing the energy readings it emitted.

Gawain watched Kamail’s work with curiosity. “Any clues so far?”

“From its form, it’s very similar to the crystalline growths found on early failed Godspawn experiments… though the energy signature is somewhat different, probably due to interference from the Holy Light,” Kamail said, placing the crystal on the resonance table and beginning to scan its microstructure with a crystal resonator. “In any case, I need to study it more closely before drawing conclusions—the collection process was too rough, and the internal magical balance has been severely disrupted.”

Gawain felt a bit awkward. “Yeah, the collection process… might have been a little rough.”

Kamail casually asked, “How was it collected?”

“Blasted off with a grenade launcher…” Gawain cleared his throat. “Well, strictly speaking, that’s all that was left after the blast…”

Kamail froze mid-motion, while Nicholas Orb let out an impressed, “Whoa—”

“It was a special situation. It was a battle, after all. The enemy wasn’t going to just stand there and let us dig crystals out of him,” Gawain waved his hand dismissively, then looked at the iron orb alien. “You had contact with Godspawn back then, right? Does this crystal look like the ones from those test subjects?”

“I was mostly the subject of study, so I didn’t get much detail on the project,” Nicholas Orb replied solemnly, then added, “But if you don’t mind sacrificing part of the sample, I can run a destructive analysis.”

Gawain glanced at the crystal fixed in the resonator’s center—it was slightly smaller than a palm, jagged at the edges, and cracked in places. “How much do you need?”

“Just a tiny piece, about the size of a fingernail.”

Gawain looked to Kamail. “Will cutting the sample affect its stability?”

“You’re asking me that after blowing it up with a grenade launcher?” Kamail retorted.

Gawain: “…Alright, cut a piece off then.”

The crystal wasn’t especially hard, so the lab assistants quickly sliced off a small fragment. The piece was handed to Nicholas Orb, who cautiously touched it with his round body before absorbing it swiftly into himself.

Even Kamail was stunned. “You just… ate it?!”

“Just analyzing the composition—so yeah, technically I ate it,” Nicholas Orb’s insides buzzed. “Back when I was studied, I tried most of the materials I could get my hands on to understand my environment. I even sampled crystal fragments from Godspawn by chance. I can tell the subtle differences in their composition…”

Nicholas Orb spoke as if this was perfectly normal. Gawain could only marvel—this was probably the most hardcore “tasting” experiment he’d ever heard of, spanning his past two lifetimes.

Just as Gawain began to worry whether Nicholas Orb’s habit of eating random things might upset his stomach, the iron orb finally spoke: “This thing… definitely is a product of Godspawn. At least chemically, it’s identical.”

So the crystal left behind by Flanbelorn was indeed a Godspawn growth—had Bishop Luan truly activated the Godspawn genes within himself?

Though Gawain had suspected as much, the solid evidence still surprised him. He quickly composed himself and asked Kamail, “If a descendant of Gondor carries a stabilized genetic factor, is it possible for them to become an uncontrollable Godspawn under the right conditions?”

Kamail’s expression remained unreadable, but his entire body glowed a golden hue as his tone grew serious. “Theoretically, no. While we did fuse the divine cells of the Great Stag Amorn with human cells by rewriting genetic factors, Godspawn loss of control isn’t purely a genetic issue. It’s caused by the outflow and loss of control of divinity itself. The crystals growing from flesh are actually the crystallized ‘divine power’ that humans cannot control. This happened because our early technology couldn’t fully filter out divinity when splicing genes, contaminating the test subjects. Later, we improved filtering techniques to completely remove uncontrollable divine power and created a stable injection, ensuring recipients could survive safely. In other words, any surviving human descendant must have ‘clean’ genetic factors, and without latent divinity in their bodies, a mortal cannot spontaneously generate divine power—even if they carry Amorn’s genes.”

Gawain easily grasped the meaning beneath Kamail’s technical jargon: Godspawn bodies collapse and grow crystals because of uncontrollable divinity inside them. Any surviving Gondor descendant’s body is free of such contamination and cannot produce divine power on their own, no matter the genetic modifications.

Then why was Flanbelorn “contaminated”? Who—or what—had polluted him? Where did this “divinity” come from?

The thought darkened Gawain’s expression.

“We have no way of knowing exactly what happened in the Luan Cathedral’s prayer chamber when the White Knights stormed in,” Kamail analyzed gravely, “but one thing is certain: Flanbelorn was subjected to an unknown divine contamination during that time. His Godspawn genes were activated, and he became a monster fused from collapsing flesh and crystal. Considering he was a fervent believer in the Holy Light God, and what he might have been doing in the prayer chamber, there’s only one plausible answer…”

“The Holy Light God cast a glance toward the southern lands…” Gawain finished for him. “And that glance twisted Flanbelorn into a monster.”

Nicholas Orb muttered, “…Whoa.”

Despite the chilling theory, Gawain was puzzled. “If the Holy Light God really briefly descended on Luan, why would it stand by while the cathedral was breached? How could its power be overcome by a squad of freshly trained White Knights? Even with Light and Amber present… their power couldn’t match a god, right?”

Kamail, who had studied divine power for over a thousand years, pondered before sharing his speculation. “Based on our compiled research on divine laws, gods seem to be highly logical and rule-bound beings.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gods’ power far surpasses mortals, but they rarely intervene directly to help or harm individuals. They strictly follow certain rules, granting power through prayer rituals, blessings, or vague revelations for mortals to interpret. When a mortal blatantly violates specific ritual rules, they may receive divine punishment. Yet, followers of rival gods or even nonbelievers who ignore doctrines don’t necessarily suffer divine wrath. This suggests that direct interference by gods in our world is extremely difficult—even for beings as powerful as them, they must act according to strict laws.”

Listening to Kamail, Gawain couldn’t help but muse, “Sounds like some kind of automated logic machine…”

“To be honest, during the Starfire Era, many theologians entertained that idea,” Kamail’s color shifted back to a calm, intelligent blue as he recalled. “Some radical scholars even proposed that gods are essentially unknown-origin automated systems—like response mechanisms that manage vast divine energy and allocate it based on mortal needs, much like the AI arrays distributing mana around the Deep Blue Reactor Tower.”

Gawain hadn’t expected such radical theories in this world. Considering the advanced civilization of the old Gondor Empire, it wasn’t unimaginable, but he was curious about the fate of scholars daring to study gods’ nature in a world where gods clearly exist. From Kamail’s tone, they didn’t seem to be part of the “Rebellion” project. “What happened to their research?”

“Their funding was cut the next year, so they switched to selling seafood…” Kamail sighed. “I thought they might have been recruited into the Rebellion project…”

Gawain: “???”

Fortunately, Kamail didn’t dwell on the past for long and quickly returned to the main topic. “Such radical research is unimaginable in today’s era, but the proud and fearless Gondorians of the Starfire Era had advanced magic and ample resources, allowing scholars to pursue heretical ideas. Without that foundation, the Rebellion project wouldn’t have been possible. But because I participated in the Rebellion, I can say for certain that gods are not mere ‘automated response machines.’”

Gawain thought for a moment and understood Kamail’s point. “Because you saw the Great Stag Amorn yourself?”

“Exactly. Amorn was a real, living god. Though fallen, our analysis of the remains suggests intelligence—capable of thought and independent action. So we lean toward the idea that gods are highly intelligent beings who nonetheless strictly follow certain ‘rules’—perhaps abiding by these rules is their ‘species trait.’”

Gawain listened quietly, then took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the “Godspawn crystal” on the table.

After a long pause, he broke the silence. “So according to the Holy Light God’s strict ‘rules,’ even a commoner storming the cathedral isn’t truly ‘blasphemy’?”

“That’s our best guess.”

It seemed there was no further progress to be made.

Although Gawain was eager to understand the true nature of the gods—the patterns behind their actions and the limits they faced—the reality was clear: he simply didn’t have enough means to uncover these secrets fully.

The only thing he could be certain of was that the God of the Holy Light might have, at some point, “touched” Flamberg, “touched” the Cathedral of Lyon, yet ultimately chose not to intervene in the events unfolding on this land.

“This line of research will have to be put on hold for now,” Gawain sighed. “I’ll have the Cathedral of Lyon thoroughly investigate any clues and keep a close eye on the ‘divine will.’”

(End of chapter)