Chapter 780: “Deletion”

The conversation between Daniel and the others sparked a series of uncontrollable thoughts in Gawain’s mind.

Ever since learning about the concept of the “Upper Narrator” and its associated beliefs within Sandbox One, he had been pondering the true nature of the gods in this world, as well as how various divine concepts came into being. Two questions occupied his thoughts most:

First, how did the gods of this world come into existence? Second, what role does the “Code of Conduct” — the system of rules surrounding these gods — play within the entire belief structure?

In this world, many faiths and their corresponding gods trace their origins back to the “Eternal Tablets.” From Gawain’s analysis, these tablets serve merely as a kind of “guiding medium” for ordinary mortals. They originated from that ancient godslaying fleet, and for reasons still unclear, they carry the lingering aura of the gods that fleet destroyed. Unlike Gawain, who could read the battle reports etched into those ancient metals, ordinary people could only sense faint remnants of divine power. Since divine power often equates to divine knowledge, the first mortals who encountered the Eternal Tablets indirectly gained access to the gods’ knowledge.

This divine knowledge exerts an irresistible, corrosive influence on mortal minds, gradually assimilating them.

On this foundation, the many religions of the world were sparked and slowly developed. This process is clearly different from the “Upper Narrator” faith that emerged entirely from nothing in Sandbox One.

Gawain remained puzzled. In the real history of this world, the current cycle of mortal civilization arose after encountering fragments of ancient divine remnants. Mortals then interpreted these fragments, forming beliefs and worship practices, which in turn shaped the religious systems unique to this era. They received feedback from the gods during this process. But what exactly is the status of those ancient gods? What state do they occupy?

Perhaps one could boldly speculate: these gods are revived through the faith of each new civilization cycle. Because every civilization differs drastically in customs, history, and even dominant races, these resurrected gods have long since become entities distinct from the original ancient deities. Yet, because the Eternal Tablets carry foundational information, these “revived gods” remain intricately linked to the “primeval gods” of old.

Do the gods themselves know this? Do they care?

Leaving fragments of their information in the Eternal Tablets might have been a deliberate self-preservation tactic at the brink of their extinction—a flawed kind of “resurrection,” a last-ditch measure.

If this speculation holds, then what exactly is the “Code of Conduct” that occupies such a central place in faith toward the gods?

The Code of Conduct can be seen as the “doctrines” or “rules” of various religions, a set of regulations governing the daily words and deeds of believers. In a world where gods truly exist, these rules are not mere behavioral constraints; they determine the acquisition of divine power, the efficacy of prayers, and are closely tied to “divine punishment.” Every mortal who worships a particular god must carefully observe these numerous codes to maintain their connection with the deity. From this perspective, the Code of Conduct seems like a constraint imposed by gods upon humans.

But if the gods truly arise from faith, or are resurrected through it, then is the Code of Conduct really just a “one-way constraint” from gods to humans?

The Sleeper Squad began exploring the phantom town. Led by Archbishops Selina and Daniel, the ten-person team first investigated the silent square. Gawain quietly followed behind, his mind swirling with thoughts.

Within the “Upper Narrator” faith, there exists a rule: “On the day the bell tolls, no one may linger on the streets, or they will face ‘deletion.’” This is a classic example of a “code.” According to clues revealed by Archbishop Yuri, this rule likely originated from the early “periodic reset” operations of Sandbox One.

A simple technical procedure, in the closed environment of Sandbox One, evolved into a religious code. The residents of the sandbox had long forgotten the original reason for this rule—or perhaps never knew it—but since it became part of the “doctrine,” they obeyed it devoutly.

Even though Sandbox One no longer resets every ten days…

Two Sleeper priests wearing owl masks finished exploring the nearby alleys and returned to Daniel, bowing respectfully. “No findings, Your Grace. This place now appears to be an ordinary, deserted town.”

Daniel nodded. Archbishop Yuri beside him added, “The houses nearby are the same—everything has returned to ‘normal.’ And this time, there was no bell tolling, nor any sudden lights turning on.”

“‘Normal’…” muttered the tall, red-haired Archbishop Magnum. “The more ‘normal’ a place seems, the more unsettling it usually is.”

Yuri frowned slightly, speaking as if to himself, “I have a feeling this town possesses its own consciousness. Last time, it tried to influence us, to break through the blockade, but it failed. So this time, it’s chosen to close itself off, to seal away its deeper ‘truth,’ revealing nothing to us…”

“You mean the town is ‘alive’?” Magnum raised an eyebrow, suddenly intrigued. “What if I throw a psychic storm at it? Would it jump up?”

Yuri glanced at the hot-tempered archbishop. “You can try.”

Magnum hesitated, then shrugged. “…Sounds boring.”

Listening to the Sleeper’s conversation, Gawain wandered to the center of the square.

This had once been the site of a small chapel, but now the church was gone, leaving only a patch of worn, uneven stone pavement and a few puddles.

He stopped beside one puddle, casually scanning the reflection.

The water mirrored a seemingly normal scene: the empty square, extinguished street lamps, dark, hollow houses, and his own calm, composed face.

Mirrors in dream worlds often carry special significance, so Gawain was curious about what the reflection might reveal. He stared for several seconds but saw no strange phenomena—no eerie blinking, no extra figures lurking in the reflection.

He shook his head with a smile, thinking he was overanalyzing things, influenced by the supernatural novels he’d read in a past life.

But just as he was about to look away, the reflection suddenly changed—

In the mirrored town, street lamps flickered on, and warm, soft lights appeared inside the dark houses!

Gawain was momentarily stunned. Almost simultaneously, as the lights came on in the reflection, a melodious bell tolled through the phantom town, as if from the horizon.

The sudden bell made him instinctively look around. Daniel and the others nearby reacted the same way—clearly, Gawain wasn’t the only one who heard it.

“It’s the bell…” Selina frowned, the light from her lantern growing slightly brighter. “Still no idea where it’s coming from…”

“But we just said there was no bell,” Yuri said with a self-mocking tone, tinged with confusion. “And this time, only the bell sounds—no lights turning on, unlike last time.”

Indeed, in the silent, empty town, only the eerie, lingering bell rang out. The street lamps and house doors remained dark.

Yet Gawain’s gaze swept over the puddle in the square, and he clearly saw the reflected town’s lights turning on one by one, rapidly spreading toward their side!

Suddenly, he seemed to understand the malicious consciousness hidden within the town was attempting something—but before he could warn anyone, Archbishop Yuri, who had just been speaking, vanished into thin air right before his eyes.

Next to disappear were the owl-masked high priests, seemingly caught off guard. Then Daniel and Archbishop Magnum, who had just begun to react and were preparing to cast protective spells. Finally, Selina, who raised her lantern as if to dispel the darkness and expose the hidden consciousness.

In the blink of an eye, everyone vanished before Gawain, as if “deleted.”

They were deleted for violating the code: “No lingering on the streets on the day the bell tolls,” a sacred rule devoutly upheld by the “Upper Narrator” sect’s divine law!

Gawain stood quietly in the center of the square, watching the still-empty phantom town, his expression calm.

But inside, he felt a flicker of unease.

He seemed unaffected—but could he be sure he hadn’t been “deleted” as well?

After all, he didn’t understand the true nature of this “deletion,” nor could he find an external observer to confirm his current state.

Still, this slight anxiety didn’t stop Gawain from acting. He quickly steadied his mind, consciously lowering his connection strength to the psychic network, confirming he could still sever the link and return to the real world at any moment.

This suggested the town’s strange power hadn’t affected him; his mind remained free to move within the network.

Next, he tried to sense Daniel’s mental frequency, attempting to establish contact through a secret “hidden port.”

Daniel had vanished along with the other priests, but Gawain didn’t believe this eerie town could simply erase so many powerful supernaturals. After all, it was just a projection of Sandbox One. Even if it possessed strange powers, they should be limited.

When they secretly modified the psychic network long ago, Gawain and Daniel had considered emergencies where the main network ports might be blocked or sealed. To prepare, they embedded numerous secret ports and unmonitored “dark lines” deep within the network for emergency communication.

Back then, Gawain had imagined these contingencies as the Sleeper Pope and High Archbishop Council detecting the “Extradimensional Wanderer” invasion and shutting down the network. He never expected these secret links to be used in a situation like this.

Concentrating, Gawain gathered his spirit and quickly established a hidden psychic connection. Soon, he sensed a familiar fluctuation deep within his mind and heard Daniel’s voice echoing in his head: “My lord, how are things on your side?”

Gawain breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m unaffected,” he said calmly after regaining composure. “Where are you now?”

Daniel’s response showed no surprise at Gawain’s immunity, as if this was expected of an Extradimensional Wanderer. Then he reported his surroundings: “My lord, I don’t know where this is. It’s dark all around me. I can only see vague, swirling mists that seem to block my senses and seal my mind.”

Gawain frowned slightly. From Daniel’s description, he couldn’t determine what state his companion was truly in.

But there was one thing he could be sure of—he didn’t seem to be affected by the strange power of this phantom town.

Daniel was currently trapped in a dim, hazy environment, surrounded by a fog that blocked all perception. Yet from Gawain’s perspective, the phantom town appeared perfectly normal, and his own mind could perceive everything clearly. He could leave at any time. The two situations were clearly different.

Why was he immune?

Was it because Sandbox One couldn’t detect the soul of an “extradimensional wanderer” like him? Or was it because, when connecting to the psychic network, he hadn’t used the standard port for the Sleeper, but instead exploited a “vulnerability port”?

Gawain gave it a brief thought, but now wasn’t the time to get hung up on this mystery. He had to set those questions aside for the moment and focus on finding a way to help Daniel escape.

(End of chapter)