Chapter 676: Gawain’s Path

The celebration was in full swing both inside and outside the castle. After the morning’s formal ceremony concluded, a grand parade of floats would roll through the streets, followed by a variety of traditional festivities in the city square. Nearly every resident of the city had the chance to unwind and revel on this day, and the newly designed ceremonial events promised to elevate everyone’s enthusiasm to a fever pitch.

But before the evening banquet began, the empire’s new ruler no longer needed to attend the remaining festivities.

Gawain sat quietly in his chamber. He hadn’t drawn the curtains or turned on the lights, allowing a dim, tranquil atmosphere to slowly envelop him. From beyond the castle walls, the sounds of celebration drifted faintly to his ears—music, laughter, dancing footsteps, and the crackle of magical fireworks. These distant, ethereal noises only served to highlight the stillness of the room.

Through careful observation and questioning of Melita Pernia, he had finally confirmed that the Black Trap was indeed connected to the gods. Moreover, some of the measures outlined in the Rebellion Plan were genuinely effective in evading the Black Trap.

Of course, Gawain had suspected this before, but only today had his suspicions been validated.

In the dim silence, he curled his fingers and tapped the table rhythmically, one tap after another.

“The dragons are still trapped inside the Black Trap… It’s not that they never encountered it, but that once caught, they’re stuck in this state…” His mind churned with possibilities. “They tried to rebel, and failed? Were they discovered by the gods, or…?

“Too bad I can’t ask them directly. Judging by Melita’s condition, any dragon who knows the truth probably can’t answer these questions… What exactly happened to her when she tried to speak of the Black Trap and the gods?

“Was it divine interference? Or… a manifested psychic seal? If breaking through the Black Trap fails, does the psychic seal become a tangible force?

“If that’s true, then every step of the Rebellion Plan must be handled with extreme caution… Even dragons can’t break free from its bonds. If a human falls into the seal’s grip, there’s no hope of escape.”

His unconscious tapping ceased. Gawain turned his head slightly toward the empty space beside him. “Almost done with those sunflower seeds? Drink some water and stop eating—there’s still the banquet tonight.”

Amber’s figure materialized from the air, clutching the last few seeds, surrounded by a carpet of discarded shells. She looked up at Gawain with wide eyes and a pout. “Can’t you just pretend you don’t notice me sometimes? I’m a stealth operative, you know—I have professional pride!”

“You’re a royal guard who’s managed to eat two pounds of sunflower seeds in an hour inside the empire’s ruler’s chamber, and you’re telling me you have professional pride?” Gawain shot her a sharp look. “Clean up your mess. It’s my first day as emperor—I can’t have the palace archives recording ‘Empire’s new ruler mysteriously devoured two pounds of sunflower seeds after coronation.’ That would be… odd.”

Amber tossed the last shells aside, clapped her hands, and began gathering the shells with her toes, muttering softly, “I kinda regret not listening to you and checking out those things you wrote… What exactly did you hand over to that agent?”

“…Just some knowledge for future generations,” Gawain replied.

Amber fixed him with a steady gaze. “But why were you talking about overthrowing the empire? Even… overthrowing yourself…?”

Gawain pondered, then sighed softly. “Yeah… I never thought I’d end up doing these things either.”

Why had he come this far? And how would he continue tomorrow? He had always been clear about this, but not everything had gone as he expected along the way.

At first, his goal was simple: he just wanted to survive. After tens of millions of years of solitude, finally standing on the earth again in human form was a joy beyond words. He wanted to live—live as a human. But surviving in this world was far harder than he imagined.

To escape the ruins of Old Cecil, he had to carve a bloody path with a handful of scavenged descendants and followers. To find a foothold in this era, he had to, as Gawain Cecil, lead refugees to cultivate new lands. To face the unknown magical storms and threats from neighboring countries, he had to grow his power…

It was a road with no turning back, and Gawain himself never intended to stop.

After all, he wasn’t one to settle for a quiet life. Given this rare chance to live again, he refused to merely scrape by.

But the longer he lived in this world, the more he interacted with flesh-and-blood people, the more he realized he couldn’t escape the weight of this second chance.

Responsibility was innate. Once he chose to inherit Gawain Cecil’s legacy, he was destined to bear the accompanying burdens. And after shaping the fates of so many with his own hands, that responsibility became his own.

He didn’t know exactly when his mindset shifted, but he knew that after all he’d done, a change was inevitable—otherwise, he’d wonder if the “satellite” had completely remade him, if beneath his human exterior he was just a cold, unfeeling machine.

After securing the eastern Holy Spirit Plains and entering Silverkeep, after a long talk with Wallace Morn and reflecting on his journey, Gawain realized his goal was no longer just to survive.

He wanted to live, yes—but countless others depended on him for their survival. At this stage, the entire order of the magical-industrial society depended on him. And conversely, his rise to this position depended on those countless people and things.

It was a vast symbiotic relationship—at least for now.

So Gawain wanted to make a big move. If nothing else, it would mean his life hadn’t been lived in vain, and it would honor all his efforts so far.

As for what else drove him forward on this path… even he couldn’t quite explain.

He shook his head and smiled at Amber. “Maybe it’s because my ambitions are too grand, and what I pursue is too extraordinary.”

“I don’t understand what you’re thinking half the time,” Amber said, scratching her head before quickly brushing off her confusion. “But since it’s you doing it, I guess it makes sense. Anyway, I’m just here watching—you’ll figure out what you want to do.”

Gawain glanced at the half-elf. “You’re pretty open-minded.”

Amber puffed out her chest proudly. “That’s my greatest strength.”

Gawain chuckled and shook his head, then half-jokingly said, “Enough about that. You said last time you wanted to pray to your god and ask for the truth. Did you find out anything?”

He asked casually, not really expecting an answer. After all, contacting a god wasn’t easy—even if she was a chosen one, hearing divine messages required time and luck. At least, that was how other churches worked.

But Amber nodded immediately. “I asked right away! But got no answer.”

“You actually asked?!” Gawain’s eyes widened as he stood up instinctively. “No answer? The Shadow Goddess didn’t reply?”

“No connection. The oracle said, ‘Goddess is off duty, please try again later,’” Amber said seriously. “From my experience, that ‘later’ usually means a month or two at least…”

Gawain stared at her, utterly baffled, but saw no hint of joking on her face.

But… what kind of “oracle” was that? Did the Shadow Cult always get messages like this? That seemed unlikely.

“Is that… a normal response?” Gawain asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Amber thought for a moment and nodded. “Actually, it’s pretty common. Even though I’m close to the goddess, she’s not always available to answer me. Most of the time, it’s this kind of reply.”

Gawain frowned.

Putting aside whether Amber was making it up, if what she said was true, did that mean the Shadow Goddess found it difficult to respond to the world—even to her chosen ones?

His mind racing with guesses, Gawain asked, “Besides that ‘oracle,’ was there anything else?”

Amber answered matter-of-factly, “Oh, yeah. The goddess left me a recipe to study when I got back…”

Gawain blinked. “…Anything else?”

“Nope.”

Gawain rubbed his forehead, feeling an unprecedented headache. Looking at the half-elf’s calm, natural demeanor, he couldn’t help but voice his doubts. “Are you really the Shadow’s chosen? Are you sure those oracles aren’t just hallucinations from taking too much shadow potion?”

Amber’s eyes immediately narrowed, shooting him a look that said, “If I could beat you, I’d take you down with me.” “You can doubt my strength, but not my faith! How many times have I told you…”

“I’m just curious,” Gawain interrupted before she could finish. “As a chosen one, you should have some extraordinary traits. Can you at least perform a shadow domain miracle or show a sign? Can you?”

“I can backflip right into the Shadow Realm. What more do you want?” Amber put her hands on her hips and leaned forward, trying to look intimidating. But to see Gawain’s face, she had to tilt her neck back at least ninety degrees, making the whole pose look comical. “You want me to run into the Shadow Realm, drag out a shadow dweller, and get beaten up in front of you as a miracle?”

“That’s true. Your shadow talent itself is a miracle…” Gawain waved his hand, then looked puzzled. “But why the need to get beaten up?”

Amber stood firm. “Obviously! I can’t beat them!”

“You…”

Gawain’s eyebrows twitched as he stared at the half-elf. After a few seconds of silence, he couldn’t help but laugh.

In that moment, the weight of the Black Trap and divine threats, the heavy responsibility of ruling an empire, the risks of the future and the difficulties of the present—all of it seemed to vanish like smoke.

He laughed uncontrollably for a good thirty seconds, then took a deep breath to calm himself, though a smile still lingered at the corner of his eyes. “Alright, let’s drop this topic for now. Until you can actually contact your goddess, we won’t discuss it.”

Amber frowned. “Even though you say that, I feel like you were mocking me just now…”

“Not at all. I just suddenly felt better,” Gawain said with a smile, shaking his head. He walked to the window and with a casual wave, the curtains drew back.

Outside, bright sunlight bathed Saint Suniel. The castle’s courtyard was bustling with preparations for the evening’s bonfire and magical performances. The ancient city thrummed with life, flags fluttering proudly in the breeze.

No matter what the future holds, today is a beautiful day.

“Let’s go out to the courtyard and get some fresh air.”

(End of chapter)