Chapter 666: The Beginning of the Rebellion Plan

Gawain had always been deeply fascinated by the ancient Gondor Empire’s massive “Rebellion Plan.” In a way, the word “massive” no longer seemed sufficient to describe it—it was, in fact, something truly monumental.

This was humanity’s bold, conscious effort to survive by opposing the gods, after confirming their existence and the fact that supernatural powers ruled the world. A millennium later, in the modern era, human civilization had declined, and other races seemed mired in stagnation. Gawain saw too much rigidity, backwardness, ignorance, and decay in this age. Yet, even in this darkness and chaos, the faintest spark of the Rebellion Plan still flickered. Even if it was just a tiny ember, it proved one thing to Gawain:

Deep down, humanity carries the instinct to resist and survive.

But the more he probed, the more doubts surfaced. The entire colossal plan seemed centered on “defying the gods.” Although its ultimate goal appeared to be resisting the demonic tides, was it really just about surviving those tides?

The Gondor Empire had taken such a resolute stance against the gods. Even after the demonic tides ended and new kingdoms arose, rebels like Ophelia continued the old empire’s research. Yet their focus seemed to have shifted entirely to analyzing the gods themselves. Fighting the demonic tides almost felt like a byproduct of this broader agenda.

Even setting aside these doubts, the mere existence of Ophelia—a living rebel—made Gawain eager to pry ancient secrets from her. After all… gossip was one of humanity’s nature, and even a satellite spirit couldn’t resist.

“The Rebellion Plan… I thought you’d wait until the situation was fully stable before discussing it with me,” Ophelia smiled faintly. “This topic isn’t something you can explain in a few words.”

“Just casual talk, to satisfy my curiosity,” Gawain said. “You don’t have to answer everything. If there are secrets you must keep, we can save them for when we’ve built more trust. It’s just idle chatter.”

Ophelia sat in the high-backed chair beside Gawain’s desk, tilting her head slightly, her cheek bathed in a faint holy light. “Don’t worry. I’m happy to share what I can. Rebels never refuse comrades. Aside from necessary secrecy for the public, our cause isn’t something to hide.”

Gawain nodded. “Good. I already know the Rebellion Plan is divided into many project groups. The ‘Divine Sin’ project Kamail leads is just one of them. I’m curious—how many projects are there in total? And which part do you oversee?”

Ophelia paused thoughtfully. “How many projects exactly… I’m afraid I can’t tell you. Not because I want to keep secrets, but… because the gods might hear.”

Gawain frowned. “The gods might hear?”

“I’m not sure you can grasp such abstract knowledge. I’ll tell you exactly what I know: some projects… the rebels have gone too far, venturing into the chaotic realm between the mortal world and the divine. There, if you know the gods, the gods know you. We’ve taken safety measures to mislead their gaze, diverting their attention while we research. But if these projects are mentioned at the wrong time—especially by a rebel—the deception could be shattered immediately…”

“So the gods possess some conceptual nature, where merely mentioning certain knowledge in specific domains draws their attention?”

“You have excellent understanding,” Ophelia glanced at Gawain with mild surprise. “That’s a sincere compliment.”

“After facing death once, I’ve come into contact with some hidden knowledge,” Gawain said casually. “So if the gods have this trait, how do you study projects you can’t even mention?”

“Even that can’t be spoken of,” Ophelia shook her head helplessly—Gawain had never seen that expression on her face before. “The safety measures set long ago have now failed. I can’t discuss anything related to those projects in the real world. In a sense, these secret projects are stuck at the boundary of the divine realm. Sorry, I haven’t found a way to break through yet.”

“That’s alright. We can’t force everything,” Gawain exhaled. “Then tell me about the projects you’re responsible for—just the ones you can talk about.”

“My main task is studying the nature of the gods and their many laws, trying to find their weaknesses,” Ophelia nodded. “Besides that, I manage several rebel bases, including the Rebellion Fortress you know.”

“Several bases…” Gawain’s eyes widened in surprise. “There are many bases like the Rebellion Fortress?”

“Such a dangerous plan can’t have all projects in one place,” Ophelia said calmly. “The Rebellion Fortress you know is just one of many. But as far as I know, it’s the largest and earliest built. It connects to the fallen site of the giant stag Amorn. Our initial project started there, which is why it earned the name ‘Rebellion.’”

Gawain couldn’t help but ask, “What about the other rebel bases?”

Ophelia’s next words dashed all his hopes: “In the Gondor wastelands.”

“…Alright,” Gawain sighed. “That’s a target we can’t tackle for now.”

Ophelia looked at him. “Anything else you want to know about the Rebellion Plan?”

Gawain thought for a moment, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk. “Is the goal of the Rebellion Plan just to resist the demonic tides? To survive the tides, you have to defy the gods? Or put another way… why must humans oppose the gods to survive? Is it because only by stealing the gods’ power can humans resist the tides? Or is it because the gods themselves caused the tides?”

This was a question Gawain had been pondering recently: what was the original cause and motivation behind the rebels’ opposition to the gods?

As a former atheist with the mindset of his previous life, when he first learned of the Rebellion Plan, he didn’t see anything wrong with it. To him, mortals trying to break free from the gods’ chains was “innately right”: seeking freedom, overthrowing tyrants, fighting divine oppression—that was just how it was.

But the longer he lived in this world, the more he sensed a disconnect in the locals’ worldview:

What exactly is the relationship between gods and mortals? The gods do control the source of divine magic, the faith of mortals, and may have created “spiritual seals” to ensure loyalty. But beyond that, have they really interfered in mortal affairs?

The church acts as the gods’ steward—one of the rules of the mortal world. In other words, the clergy, made up of mortals, are the real exploiters and oppressors, even interpreters of divine authority. After Light took over the Holy Light Church, this was confirmed: divine oracles exist, but the gods rarely issue them. Apart from divine magic, the gods are essentially detached from this world. The ones who act are the clergy.

Of course, Gawain himself still harbored deep wariness and even hostility toward the gods, shaped by his personal experiences and worldview.

But what about others? The natives born in this world? The ancient rebels?

The rebels must have had a more compelling reason to oppose the gods. According to Ophelia’s information, the Rebellion Plan fights the gods on many fronts—not just stealing their power, but studying their essence, locating them, finding their weaknesses, and ultimately… they wouldn’t hesitate to kill the gods.

If it were only about surviving the demonic tides, they wouldn’t need to go that far. There had to be a deeper reason, such as…

The gods themselves posed an “absolute threat” to mortal existence.

On this point, Kamail, a senior researcher and project leader, couldn’t provide answers. But Ophelia Norton, a former royal of the old empire and a senior manager of the Rebellion Plan, surely knew something.

Gawain’s question seemed to hit the mark. A trace of solemnity appeared on Ophelia’s face. After a long pause, she spoke softly:

“As long as the gods exist, humanity will one day be destroyed.”

Gawain frowned. “…So it really is the gods who caused the demonic tides?”

“Quite the opposite. The gods never caused the tides. According to our research, in the ancient lost civilizations—are you familiar with those?”

Gawain nodded. “I’ve encountered dragons and know some things about the ancient civilizations. Looks like you know about them too.”

“Good, that makes communication easier. Our research shows that the ancient civilizations also faced the demonic tides. Some survived the disaster, but not all by their own strength…”

“You mean…” Gawain stopped tapping the desk, his expression grave. “The gods intervened?”

“More than just intervened—the darker the world, the brighter the light. The harsher the disaster, the more the gods spared no effort to protect mortals. There’s evidence that in ancient times, some gods even manifested physically to help mortals resist the tides. Though not every attempt saved a civilization, the gods did try.”

Gawain considered this. “…Is this information reliable?”

“We can’t be certain about ancient events, but we have multiple clues—from accounts of ancient races and artifacts unearthed in the continent’s central regions,” Ophelia said steadily. “The demonic tides weren’t caused by the gods. On the contrary, the gods appeared to help mortals resist them. As a pioneer, you should know many clergy served as key forces on the front lines during the age of exploration. Their divine magic comes from their faith in the gods, doesn’t it?”

Gawain couldn’t help but speculate conspiratorially: “What if the gods did cause the tides, then used divine miracles to increase their followers?”

“To increase their followers by wiping out over seventy percent of the population? After the tides, all churches lost most of their believers, and many faiths vanished entirely. Some civilizations were utterly destroyed by the tides in ancient times. From this, I don’t think your theory holds.”

“Alright, that’s probably too conspiratorial,” Gawain admitted. “Then if not that, why do you oppose the gods?”

Ophelia took a deep breath and said solemnly, “More than one civilization survived the tides in ancient times—but where are those survivors now?”

In the brief silence, a concept Melita Pernia once mentioned flashed through Gawain’s mind—

The Black Trap.

“Did the gods ultimately destroy those survivors?”

Ophelia nodded slowly. “I’m afraid so.”

Gawain was stunned, then spread his hands with a strange expression: “…Are the gods schizophrenic?”

“We didn’t know the cause—and at first, we found no clues or evidence to support the idea of the ‘gods’ apocalypse.’ All we uncovered were records showing how the gods protected humanity during the magical cataclysm, and the grim fact that every civilization that survived the cataclysm eventually perished.

“At the beginning, we had no idea what destroyed those survivors. That changed during an attempt to adjust the mana flow of the Deep Blue Well. We accidentally opened a faulty rift—a gateway to the ‘Divine Realm’s border.’ Through that twisted, radiant tear, we caught our first glimpse of the gods’ domain, a faint and fleeting shadow of their world…

“At that time, the Gondor royal family assembled a secret expedition team, made up of the most powerful priests and scholars. Their mission was simple: to peer through the rift, pay respects to the gods if possible, and thank them for their protection of the mortal world. They had no intention of crossing into the divine realm or committing any offense.

“But the moment they crossed the boundary, everything spiraled out of control. The rift unleashed an overwhelming chaos and maddening malice. The heavenly brilliance instantly twisted into a nightmare beyond imagination. Beneath the shining veil lay warped ‘knowledge’ that shattered minds and ‘truths’ no human intellect could comprehend. The entire team was wiped out almost instantly—only two legendary warriors, driven half mad, barely clung to life and returned to our world. Before they died, they left behind just two words:

‘They want to destroy us.’

‘This is a countdown.’

Ophelia paused, her gaze fixed quietly on Gawain. After a long silence, she finally whispered:

‘Those two words marked the beginning of the Defiance Project.’

(End of chapter)