Chapter 766: The Deadlock

Gawain slowly opened his eyes, but this time, Amber’s familiar face wasn’t hovering nearby.

Instead, a faint snoring sound came from beside him.

Following the sound downward, he saw the half-elf girl with pointed ears lying face-down on the desk, her head resting on her hands, fast asleep.

This one was much quieter when asleep.

Gawain couldn’t help but smile. As soon as he shifted his body, Amber suddenly jolted awake, eyes wide as she stared at him. “Hey! Finally back, huh?”

Gawain opened his mouth to speak, but Amber immediately launched into a loud, rapid-fire monologue: “Hey, I’m not slacking off, okay? I was just taking a quick nap. You can’t dock my pay for that! My senses are sharp—I’m alert even when I’m asleep…”

Gawain: “…I haven’t even said anything yet.”

As expected, her peace and quiet only lasted while she was asleep—whenever her eyes were open, Amber’s noise level could easily drown out two thousand ducks.

“I’m just getting ahead of you, so you don’t say anything,” Amber said, wiping drool from the corner of her mouth as she muttered and gave Gawain a once-over, frowning slightly. “But seriously, you were gone a long time this time—what happened to your hair?”

“I went with Daniel to investigate some things,” Gawain nodded, his mind already replaying the experience of delving deep into the mental network. The more he thought about it, the more he frowned, a wave of unease washing over him.

This exploration had yielded an overwhelming amount of intelligence—so much that it left him stunned.

“Looks like you brought back quite a haul,” Amber observed keenly, noticing the subtle change in his expression. “And some of it’s pretty troublesome?”

Gawain nodded slightly. “The situation’s complicated. We need to hold a meeting. Tentatively, I’ll call Kamail, Hetty, Leight, Veronica, and… Pittman. And you, of course.”

Amber silently took note of the names, then immediately noticed most of them were connected to a certain field.

She raised an eyebrow, her ears twitching slightly. “Something to do with the gods or the Rebellion Project?”

“Yeah,” Gawain replied simply. After a moment’s thought, he added, “Also, check the recent records from the magical monitoring towers across the southern territories—especially any abnormal spellcasting signals related to dream-based divine magic. And monitor all kinds of psychic transmissions. Plus, look into the investigations and arrests of Sleeper cultists.”

“The Sleepers… you’ve pretty much wiped them out in the south, haven’t you?” Amber looked puzzled. “There are monitoring towers everywhere, and the local security squads basically drag any low- or mid-level cultists straight to the precinct as soon as they step outside. You’ve got your ‘special methods’ too. The higher-ups are either exiled or under surveillance to gather intel—so why suddenly a large-scale sweep again?”

“Because we might have missed a key target,” Gawain said gravely. “A soul entity—a Sleeper archbishop—is hiding somewhere in the southern territories.”

As he spoke, the shocking words he’d read earlier flashed through his mind:

Selina Gervin, Archbishop (Deceased), Female, Soul Entity.

Current Location: Ansu/Correction/Cecil Empire—Southern Territories!!

“This target is no ordinary one. A normal security operation would almost certainly alert her. Your intelligence agency’s covert methods are more suitable,” Gawain took a deep breath and looked Amber in the eye. “I’m not sure you’ll find her, but you have to try. Her name is Selina Gervin…”

…

Somewhere within the Typhon Empire, deep underground in an ancient facility, footsteps echoed through the dim corridor, breaking the silence.

A middle-aged man in a white robe, exuding a refined and scholarly air, wearing a monocle, walked down the stone-paved hallway lined with carved reliefs on both walls. Behind him followed several Sleeper priests clad in dark robes, their faces hidden behind owl masks.

This man was none other than “Archbishop Yuri” in the real world.

Compared to his youthful image in the mental network, Yuri’s real-world appearance was largely unchanged in demeanor and attire, though he was now middle-aged, with streaks of white in his hair.

“Sigh… I was just about to rest,” Archbishop Yuri grumbled as they walked. “Selina, have you forgotten that people in the real world need sleep?”

Suddenly, flickering light shimmered in the air, and Selina Gervin appeared beside Yuri. The female archbishop, dressed in a white gown, spoke calmly: “You’ve had enough sleep. Given the current situation, too much rest is a waste.”

Yuri glanced at her and sighed helplessly again.

He knew Selina wasn’t actually in this corridor or even in this facility.

She wasn’t even in this world anymore.

Centuries ago, this former saint of the church had sacrificed herself. During the chain reaction that shattered the faith of thousands, she gave her life to protect the minds and souls of the faithful. Her body was torn apart by divine power, and her soul fragmented.

It was Pope Megor III himself who gathered Selina’s shattered soul and preserved it in a kind of “container” located within the dream realm.

To this day, her soul drifts between these containers, while her consciousness roams the mental network.

At this moment, the Selina before Yuri and the Selina seen by the priests behind him were merely projections in their minds—so vivid that even a high-level transcendent like Yuri could barely discern their illusory nature. Her voice, scent, the play of light and color—all felt utterly real.

But if someone completely immune to psychic magic stood there, they would see only Yuri and the masked priests in the corridor—no female archbishop at all.

“You’re right. There really is no time to rest now,” Yuri shook his head, his gaze darkening with worry. “This crisis is unprecedented. If the truth is as we suspect… then we’ve made a nearly irreparable mistake.”

At the corridor’s end stood a massive door adorned with countless runes, inlaid with crystals and arcane metals. As Yuri and his group approached, it slid open silently to reveal a brightly lit, spacious hall.

The rectangular chamber was lined with perfectly aligned square pillars, each covered in glowing runes and wrapped in countless cables that resembled both vines and strands of flesh. One end of these cables disappeared into the ceiling, while the other spread out around the pillars, connecting to rows of large, orderly seats.

The seats were arranged around the pillars, forming separate zones. About half of these zones were “full,” occupied by Sleeper cultists in black robes, their collars adorned with star-shaped pendants. Some leaned back, seemingly asleep, while others remained awake. The neural cables and runes behind their seats pulsed faintly.

In the other half, the cables had been detached and extended to a corner of the hall, where dozens of Sleeper cultists lay in beds, deep in comas.

Several attendants in gray or brown robes moved among the sleeping, tending to those who could not awaken due to contamination.

Yuri frowned at the sight and walked toward the bed area.

A tall, thin, disheveled blond priest approached, bowing respectfully. “Archbishop Selina, Archbishop Yuri.”

He then turned to Selina Gervin. “Archbishop, as you instructed, we’ve increased the frequency of mental soothing treatments. The condition of those individuals has stabilized.”

This was a mid-level priest with little standing in the church. Many at this level didn’t even know that Archbishop Selina was dead—they always saw her appear at the church’s stronghold, sometimes even conversing with her. Thanks to the all-encompassing sensory projections, Selina appeared as a living person to them.

Selina nodded and walked forward slowly, casually saying, “Be very careful with those neural cables. The operators’ consciousnesses are shattered, their fragmented minds trapped deep within Sandbox One. If the connections fail… they won’t come back.”

The disheveled blond lowered his head. “Rest assured, we’re paying special attention to that.”

Yuri’s gaze swept over the sleepers.

Their faces were calm, breathing steady, as if lost in a long dream from which they could not awaken. Artificial neural cables extended from the backs of their heads, connecting to the pillars in the hall. The runes on the cables shimmered with a faint glow.

Most Sleepers could connect directly to the network through dream magic, but that method wasn’t very efficient. So in this “control hall,” the operators relied on physical neural cables to link to each other and the network.

These cables were technology from the End of All Things cult. Over a decade ago, they were immature, but recent improvements had greatly reduced their side effects.

When Sandbox One went out of control and contamination erupted from within, the operators directly connected to it were hit hardest. The fragile human brain’s defenses were almost useless against such an assault. The contamination quickly overwhelmed their minds and used them as a springboard to infiltrate the mental network.

Now, the contaminated ports of these operators were blocked, and the overflow from Sandbox One no longer used them as a bridge. But the contamination had already spread to the brain-servant arrays and several virtual connection points. Even without these operators as a bridge, the link between Sandbox One and the mental network could no longer be severed.

Meanwhile, the operators themselves remained tightly bound by Sandbox One, their consciousnesses sinking deeper into its depths, unable to awaken.

After a long silence, Yuri said, “If we could enter their dreams, maybe we could observe what’s happening inside Sandbox One directly.”

“But we’d most likely face the deepest contamination and end up like them,” Selina Gervin shook her head. “The human mind is ill-equipped to withstand such a massive information assault. Even transcendent-level individuals are, at their core, still ‘mortals.’”

She emphasized the word “mortals,” causing Yuri to furrow his brow deeply.

“Archbishop Selena, do you really think what appeared in Sandbox One is… real?”

“It’s too soon to say,” Selena replied, lifting her gaze. “At the very least, we need to report this to His Holiness the Pope first.” She then looked toward the far end of the hall.

Though she lacked eyes of her own to open in the real world, here she could ‘see’ everything through the senses of the many worshippers gathered around.

In that direction, along the far wall of the hall, rows of neatly arranged windows lined up. Through the crystal-clear glass, another hall was visible on the opposite side.

Inside that hall stood densely packed square pillars, each surrounded by rectangular platforms.

Countless unconscious “brain servants” lay on those platforms, their neural networks connected to the hall’s central nerve cords, while their bodies were sustained by various biomass conduits delivering nutrients and managing metabolic cycles.

“We originally intended to create a beautiful dream…” Selena Gelfen sighed softly. “But in the end, it’s turning into a nightmare.”

(End of chapter)