Chapter 768: Doubt
The shimmering lights receded like a tide, leaving the grand, gilded circular hall empty of the archbishops who had just vanished into thin air.
Daniel, having finished attending the High Archbishop Council meeting, rose from his seat and gave a slight bow to Selina Gerfen, who remained standing in place. “Then, I’ll go check on the stability of the pan-consciousness barrier, Archbishop Selina.”
“Thank you for your hard work, Archbishop Daniel,” Selina nodded gently. “Your security team is crucial to us right now.”
With a flash of light, Daniel departed the hall. The vast chamber was left quiet, occupied only by Selina Gerfen and a swirling cluster of starlight hovering above the round table—a mass of deep purple hues interspersed with silver-white specks, its outline constantly shifting and pulsating.
After a long silence, a deep, drawn-out sigh emerged from the starlight cluster. “Selina, today’s situation reminds me of seven hundred years ago.”
“The situation is indeed dire, Your Holiness,” Selina replied softly. “Perhaps even worse than seven centuries past.”
“The Druids have failed. The deep-sea folk have lost themselves in the abyss. The path we’ve held onto now seems to be reaching a dead end,” Pope Megor III’s voice came quietly. “We may ultimately have to abandon the entire psychic network, sacrificing hundreds or thousands of our own… But more than these losses, what pains me most is that our seven centuries of effort seem to have been…”
“Your Holiness, it’s too soon to say that,” Selina interrupted. “We haven’t yet reached the point of no return. The entity in Sandbox One… at least for now, it remains securely confined.”
“But it’s already consciously trying to escape. It knows the boundaries of its cage. Next, it will stop at nothing to break through. If it escapes Sandbox One, it will enter the psychic network. And through the network, it can reach our brethren living in the real world, and rule over reality itself. At that point, I fear we will truly have to call it ‘It’—or worse.”
Selina fell silent, her mind drifting back to the events in Phantom Town, to the “extra person” who had nearly returned to the Dream City with the exploration team.
Though Phantom Town was merely an overflow projection, not the true form of Sandbox One, the contamination was spreading. The things within the projection trying to enter the psychic network were themselves attempts by the entity inside Sandbox One to break free.
She clenched her fist tightly, memories flooding back of the darkest, most desperate days seven centuries ago.
The divine contamination had stolen thousands of minds. The most steadfast priests and believers had fallen into madness overnight. The “Lord” they once revered had become an indescribable monster. The church was fractured, and brethren were lost to frenzy and decay…
Those who remained sane paid unimaginable prices to restore order. The survivors spent centuries slowly regaining their strength, driven by a faint, almost self-delusional hope. These survivors, teetering on the edge of sanity and madness, obsessively crafted their plans and stubbornly persevered to this day.
Yet, in just two or three years, all paths were severed. Seven centuries of persistence and that fragile hope were ultimately revealed as nothing more than mortal arrogance.
All their efforts had only paved the way for the gods.
But… is the very act of “struggling to survive” truly just a delusion?
Selina lifted her gaze to the slowly writhing starlight cluster and said calmly, “Perhaps we took the wrong path, but that doesn’t mean a right path doesn’t exist. After all, we only ever tried three.”
Megor III’s voice returned. “What you say reminds me of the last message Franken sent me before merging with the False God’s body.”
“The Grant Chancellor, you mean…” Selina blinked. “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘There are many paths. I’ll try one. If it’s wrong, don’t give up.’” His voice was calm, but Selina detected a trace of melancholy. “In hindsight, he probably sensed that all three of our paths were fraught with hidden dangers. But by then, it was too late to warn us, and we had no other directions left to try.”
“The Druids tried to create a ‘controlled god’ with humanity, we tried to sever the chains deep within the soul, the sea folk sought elemental ascension, merging with the remnants of the Storm Lord…” Selina recounted each path. “Looking back, we were perhaps too arrogant when we first chose these three.”
Megor III was silent for a long moment before speaking. “Regardless, since severing the chains was the path we chose and opened, we must face everything it entails—including preparing to bury this path. That is… the responsibility of the pioneers.”
“Yes, as you say.”
“Rest now. I need to think carefully about the future of the order.”
Selina bowed her head. In her perception, Megor III’s consciousness gradually drifted away.
She remained in that posture for a long time. Minutes later, her voice echoed softly through the empty council chamber: “…The pioneers, huh…”
After the meeting, Hetty didn’t speak with anyone. She returned alone to her office in the government hall.
The entire third floor was quiet. On this day off, most non-urgent matters were postponed until next week. Even the Grant Chancellor’s office was unusually still.
The warm air system hummed softly, gentle currents flowing from vents in the corners. The magical crystal lamps on the ceiling were lit, their bright glow dispelling the dusk outside. Through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, the streetlights across the plaza flickered on. Citizens, having enjoyed their day of rest, were returning home or gathering in taverns, cafés, and game rooms under the lamplight.
Watching the comings and goings, and this imperial city bathed in artificial light, safely distanced from darkness, Hetty’s thoughts drifted back to a phrase she’d heard during the meeting—
It was not the gods who created humanity, but humanity who created the gods.
“Is the Magic Goddess the same…?” she murmured to herself.
Her fingers traced the four basic runes of wind, water, fire, and earth in the air. Then she clenched her fist and pressed it to her forehead, softly uttering the revered name of the Magic Goddess, Mylmina.
This was the standard prayer ritual for mages who worshipped the Magic Goddess.
As a somewhat unique deity, Mylmina had no formal church or clergy. Mages, who wielded extraordinary power and lacked reverence for gods, regarded her more as a psychological anchor or a revered “source of knowledge.” But that did not diminish the Magic Goddess’s divinity in this world.
Gods were real. Even mages, who pursued truth and believed knowledge and wisdom could explain all things, accepted this. They believed without question that Mylmina was a true deity.
Yet their feelings toward her were perhaps more “rational,” more “peaceful,” than the fervent faith other believers had for their gods.
Mages were shallow believers in Mylmina, and there were almost no fanatics among them.
Hetty… could be considered one of the more devout among those mages.
Even knowing about the Rebellion Plan, even participating in and promoting many of the ancestors’ “secularization of divine authority” projects, she had never wavered in this.
Because in her mind, none of these things diminished the radiance of the Magic Goddess herself—gods simply existed, eternally and naturally, like stars in the sky. Mortal actions could not change that. Whether “secularization of divine authority” or “divine right monarchy,” these were merely corrections of mortal errors in faith. Even the more extreme “Rebellion Plan” was just mortals trying to break free from divine influence and forge their own path.
It was a mortal matter, unrelated to the gods—this was how most mages thought.
But what she heard in the meeting today shook the very foundation of divinity.
Her prayer to the Magic Goddess yielded the usual result. Hetty felt a mysterious, inexplicable power stirring in some distant dimension, but heard no divine message, no sign of divine magic.
Mylmina was the only god who almost never sent oracles, never displayed miracles or divine magic. If it weren’t for the faintest feedback from prayers, mages might doubt her existence altogether.
“Goddess… you should be able to hear me, right?” Hetty whispered to herself in the brief calm after prayer. “Maybe you don’t have time to answer every voice, but you should be able to hear…
“Are you truly a creation of mortal collective thought… a presence like the stars, or just a shared illusion of us mortals…”
The Magic Goddess gave no response. Only that indescribable sense of transcendence, holiness, and serenity lingered in Hetty’s heart. But soon, the calm born of prayer feedback vanished.
A knock sounded at the door behind her. “Hetty, hope I’m not disturbing you?”
Startled, Hetty turned to see Gawain standing in the doorway. She hurriedly saluted. “Ancestor—did you need something?”
“Nothing much. I saw your door was open and the light on, so I came to check,” Gawain entered her office and glanced casually at her. “Looks like you were praying?”
“I…” Hetty opened her mouth, hesitated, then nodded softly. “I was praying to the Magic Goddess Mylmina.”
“Ah, I remember you’re a follower of Mylmina,” Gawain said without surprise. “You seem troubled?”
“Sorry to worry you,” Hetty lowered her head. “I’m actually okay.”
“Too bad I’m not a follower of any god, so it’s hard for me to truly empathize,” Gawain said, gently patting her shoulder. “But I know it’s never easy when beliefs you’ve held for decades suddenly get challenged.”
Hetty looked at Gawain and suddenly mustered courage to ask, “In your time, were there many people like you who didn’t believe in any god?”
“…More than you’d think,” Gawain said slowly after a pause. “But not believing in gods doesn’t mean having no faith at all.”
Hetty tilted her head, thoughtful and a little moved. “You always say such philosophical things.”
“Sometimes it’s just the wisdom of those who came before,” Gawain smiled and shook his head, then looked into Hetty’s eyes. “Can you find your own way out?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good to hear. But if you ever run into difficulties or feel stuck in confusion, you can always come to me—we’re family.”
Hetty looked at Gawain and suddenly smiled. “Of course, ancestor.”
“Today’s a day off, so head home early,” Gawain replied with a nod, glancing once more at the sky outside. He smiled warmly. “It’s the last day of the year—no need to work overtime at the administrative office. I’ll grant you an extra day off tomorrow. Take a proper rest. I’ll handle things on this end.”
This time, Hetty’s smile was especially heartfelt. “Yes, ancestor!”
The two left the room. In the vast office, the glow of the magic crystal lamps quietly faded. Darkness crept in, while the dim light from street lamps and the plaza outside filtered through the windows, casting faint, shadowy outlines over the furnishings.
In the stillness, tiny flickers of light suddenly appeared.
At the spot where Hetty had once traced four basic runes and prayed to the goddess of magic, a translucent radiance abruptly gathered. It held for a few seconds before silently shattering into countless sparkling fragments, like fireflies drifting through the room. Gradually, these specks of light were absorbed by the various printers, arcane network units, and terminals scattered around, leaving no trace behind.
(End of chapter)