Chapter 519: Intelligence

To be honest, Gawain didn’t mind that Pittman had once been a member of the Cult of All-Things’ Demise (and also the Sleepless). In fact, he had long suspected that the old man had some connection to those fallen druids—if not, there was no way Pittman was just an ordinary low-level druid.

He knew far too much about high-level divine magic and was intimately familiar with the history of the druidic orders. Although Pittman claimed all this knowledge was part of druidic tradition, Gawain never bought it. Even setting aside the knowledge that exceeded the scope of a low-level druid’s teachings, Pittman’s creation of the “Inversion Array” was a glaring anomaly: it required technology from the ancient Gondor Empire, and the runic formations themselves contained many elements beyond orthodox druidic lore. Such things were nearly impossible for an average druid to access—only those obsessed with extreme techniques, like the Cult of All-Things’ Demise, or senior druids secluded in the Silver Empire’s forests studying ancient forbidden arts, could master them.

Senior druids from the Silver Empire wouldn’t be skulking around human lands to deceive and manipulate people, so Gawain leaned toward the former.

Once that veil was lifted, Pittman visibly relaxed. He held his now lukewarm teacup and sighed, “Honestly, I hesitated for a long time about whether to tell you all this—after all, you seem like a decent lord, but I have to watch my own neck…”

“Now that it’s out in the open, I imagine you feel a lot lighter,” Gawain smiled faintly. “I don’t care what cults you joined back then, as long as you serve me now. Frankly, your experience in two dark cults is actually valuable to me—secrets of the Cult of All-Things’ Demise are hard to come by through normal channels.”

He only mentioned the Cult of All-Things because the Sleepless had an even better insider—Daniel, who had risen to the rank of Nightmare Bishop, was a superior source of intelligence.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Pittman warned. “The Cult of All-Things’ Demise has strict internal controls. Although I was a Withered Priest, which is mid-to-high level, the secrets I had access to were still limited. And I left decades ago, so I can’t say if things inside are still as I knew them.”

Gawain looked Pittman in the eye. “At least you can tell me their general structure, how they operate, and their overall goals.”

Pittman paused, then began recalling, “…Withered Followers are the most basic members of the Cult of All-Things’ Demise. Usually, new recruits start here. They include low-level druids, merchants and minor nobles who donate wealth, and a fair number of ordinary people…

“Above them are the Forest Shepherds. From this level on, the ranks are entirely composed of supernaturals. Forest Shepherds are a key force—they travel the world recruiting new members by any means, spreading the cult’s doctrine, sowing destruction, managing the Withered Followers, or carrying out orders from higher priests…

“Next up are the Withered Priests, promoted from Forest Shepherds. Usually, you need mid-level supernatural power to advance, though there are exceptions. Withered Priests can study ancient tomes and participate in the cult’s forbidden research…

“Above them are the Prelates, equivalent to bishops. Only at this level do members gain access to the cult’s true secrets, understand its full scope, and have the right to communicate with the High Priest…

“The High Priest is the cult’s supreme leader. Lower and mid-level members have only heard of him but have no access. He is said to reside in an ancient underground palace, researching the most forbidden flesh-and-blood arts…

“The Cult of All-Things’ Demise has a very tight organizational structure and strict internal management. Each level has defined operational authority. Lower members have no right to know the whole picture or the full content of orders from above. This prevents leaks and stops defectors from damaging the organization.

“The cult uses brainwashing-like indoctrination on the mid and lower levels, tempting followers with promises of curing incurable diseases, granting power, even immortality. And their secret arts can indeed partially fulfill these promises—curing illnesses, extending life. But from what I know, these superficial skills are not the cult’s true goal. They have a grander plan, though I don’t know all the details. Judging by their research directions, I believe they may be pursuing… some form of evolution.”

Gawain raised an eyebrow. “Evolution?! What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure of the specifics, but I once met a female Priest named ‘Beltira.’ She was obsessed and fanatical about biochemical modification—she even fused her body with a bloodthirsty plant, becoming a half-plant, half-human form. She told me these modifications were part of a ‘Great Evolution.’ From what I know, other Prelates have undergone similar modifications to varying degrees, all preparing for this ‘Great Evolution’…”

Gawain stroked his chin, pondering. Seeking “evolution” through biochemical modification—that did sound like the path mad cultists would take. But was their goal really just “evolution”?

Unfortunately, Pittman’s knowledge ended there—he had only reached the rank of Withered Priest inside the cult, and the secrets he accessed were limited to the concept of the “Great Evolution.”

Gawain asked again, “What do you know about the cooperation between the Cult of All-Things’ Demise and the Sleepless?”

“All I know is that the three major cults formed an alliance early on after falling into darkness. The Cult of All-Things provides biochemical modification technology, the Sleepless supply knowledge and… ‘mental assistance,’ and the Children of the Storm… they’re a very special group. They bring secret forbidden knowledge and magical materials from the deep sea that can’t be found on land. Beyond that, they barely interact with the surface world. They seem to be searching for something in the depths, and their relationship with the other two cults isn’t very close. The Cult of All-Things maintains steady contact with the Children of the Storm, but even ‘we’ don’t understand what those ocean lunatics are after. We suspect they’ve been exposed too much to the dark, twisted secrets of the deep sea, and have become specialized in both mind and body. One day, they might transform into sea monsters and fully turn to the ocean’s side.”

“Searching for something, huh…” Gawain mused. “Maybe I should ask Tyr… No, that lazy fish probably wouldn’t think of anything. They only care about their big squid.”

After a moment’s thought, Gawain tapped the table. “Let’s get back to the artificial neural cord issue.”

“The artificial neural cord does have the risks you mentioned, and requires neurosurgery, which is extremely dangerous. At least when I left, there was no hope of a breakthrough,” Pittman nodded. “But if you want to achieve interaction between the human brain and the runic array without relying on Sleepless secrets, a neural cord or similar neural modification is an unavoidable medium. I don’t know exactly where you got this technology, but you must have noticed its function: there must be a biochemical interface between the brain and the machine. Of course, if someone has special mental talents or is skilled in Sleepless arts, that’s another matter…”

“You’re right, a biochemical interface is necessary, but it doesn’t have to be implanted,” Gawain interrupted. “Remember Patty’s circlet?”

Pittman blinked, his wrinkles deepening. “You mean…”

“The Sleepless have advanced further in this field. Patty’s circlet is essentially a non-implant brain-neural interface. It doesn’t require drilling into nerves to connect, yet it establishes a stable link between the brain and the runic array.”

“But the core of that circlet can’t be simplified, and it uses many materials that are impossible to obtain through conventional means…”

“Our technicians haven’t figured it out yet, but someone has made some progress,” Gawain chuckled, pulling a set of documents from his desk and sliding them over to Pittman. “Take a look—you should understand this.”

Pittman took the papers with a puzzled look. He noticed the ink was still fresh, faintly fragrant, and as he scanned the contents, his eyes locked onto the pages.

These were the second batch of brainwave connection technology documents Daniel had just sent to Gawain through the psychic network.

Pittman looked up in astonishment. “This is…”

“A non-implant neural cord, with a clever complementary contact structure to improve fault tolerance, plus an added layer of runes that filter and protect, effectively reducing neural stress and minimizing hallucinations and phantom pain. Most importantly, because it’s non-implant, it can quickly disconnect if the connection fails. Though there may be some aftereffects, at least there’s no risk of brain death.”

“It seems unfinished…”

“Correct. Some key parts can’t be finalized without actual testing,” Gawain nodded. “The designer currently… lacks the conditions for experiments.”

Daniel had just settled in the Typhon capital. To avoid suspicion, he had to keep a low profile. Until his private lab was complete and he gained the trust of the Royal Mage Association, his experimental conditions were limited.

“The designer…” Pittman sensed a deeper meaning in Gawain’s words. He realized he still knew too little about this resurrected pioneer.

Behind this lord, there were unseen people or forces working for him.

“We have the facilities, the lab, the personnel, the materials—all of it,” the old druid lifted his head, his wrinkles smoothing out. “And now we have an expert experienced in both Cult of All-Things and Sleepless technologies—at just double the usual pay.”

“If you can turn these blueprints into reality, I’ll pay you triple.”

“Oh, well then, that makes things easy.”

Pittman left, and Gawain exhaled in relief behind his desk. Then he stood and walked to the large floor-to-ceiling window of his study.

Technology itself is neither good nor bad—it all depends on the people.

From now on, Pittman should be able to contribute more to the domain—a dark cult priest who’s shed his burdens (and joined two cults at that). How much use could his knowledge be?

Gawain looked forward to it.

Through the crystal glass, his gaze fell on the courtyard, where a small snowball fight among the girls was still raging.

Tyr, finally fed up with being pelted, had charged into the fray. Now she had transformed into a sea monster nearly ten meters wide, coiled beside the pool. Dozens of tentacles extended from her body, hurling an endless barrage of snowballs in all directions. The monstrous, indescribable form resembled an abyssal horror from some terrifying myth, wreaking havoc on the world.

Opposite this massive sea monster, Rebecca stood behind Amber’s cover, staff raised high, conjuring a fireball larger than a door…

Gawain: “??”

Wait… wasn’t this supposed to be a cozy, everyday snowball fight among the girls?

Suddenly, the study’s second-floor window was flung open. “You lot, get up here!!”

Rebecca and her friends’ final snowball battle of the winter had come to an end.

(End of chapter)