Chapter 797: Unstable Mental State

After disconnecting from the psychic network, Gawain felt a twinge of regret.

He had secretly lingered in the conference hall earlier, hoping to eavesdrop on what the Sleepless Ones would discuss next. But things didn’t go as planned—

The Sleepless Ones abruptly announced the meeting was adjourned, then one by one, they logged off.

Still, looking back, Gawain could understand why. Such a momentous matter required everyone to take a step back and reflect before making any decisions. Besides, as an “extradimensional wanderer” who had just startled everyone in the meeting, even the resilient archbishops of the Sleepless Ones would likely feel some psychological unease continuing the discussion in the same space. Calling a temporary recess to calm nerves, regroup, and check the venue’s security (though that last part might be more symbolic than effective) was perfectly normal.

Gawain also suspected that the mental storm unleashed by Archbishop Magnum had taken a heavy toll—at least a third of the archbishops who left were probably nursing injuries. Archbishop Yuri, for one, definitely needed rest; his mental state had looked shaky throughout the latter half of the meeting.

The brief dizziness faded quickly. Gawain exhaled a breath of stale air, and the familiar ceiling and room furnishings came into focus.

It was late at night.

A serene darkness blanketed the room, with faint starlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Nearby, the brass lampstand, the desk, and the wooden lattice on the wall all bathed in the soft glow, hazy and peaceful in the dimness.

Only the faint sound of breathing came from a corner.

Shadowy power gathered there, swallowing the starlight into a still, black mass. Gawain glanced over and could barely make out Amber, half-reclined in the armchair, sleeping soundly under layers of shadow’s protection.

“Claimed to be the Night’s Chosen…” Gawain muttered softly. “Sometimes I really wonder if that ‘Chosen’ title means anything… What part of her aura feels divine?”

His quiet murmur startled Amber’s “sixth sense.” The darkness in the corner instantly dissipated, revealing the petite figure in the empty chair. Her amber eyes met his in the dark.

“Oh! You’re awake? I thought you’d sleep through the whole night!”

“Ended earlier than I expected,” Gawain nodded. “What time is it now…? Never mind, you probably don’t know either. You’re sleeping more soundly than I am.”

“Just past midnight—I’m pretty sensitive to time,” Amber said casually as she got up and switched on the magic crystal lamp. Soft, bright light spilled from several small wall lamps, quickly dispelling the gloom and breaking the quiet starlight.

“How’s it over there?”

Gawain thought for a moment, then smiled wryly. “A lot happened. It’ll take a while to explain.”

Amber waved a hand and headed for the door. “Then take your time—I’ll send the night attendant to fetch some food. You haven’t eaten dinner yet. Honestly, I’m hungry too… Phew, slept half a day straight. Exhausting.”

Gawain: “…”

The night attendant soon brought a light supper. Gawain recounted his experiences in the psychic network to Amber.

Of course, he downplayed some of his more mischievous moves—not because he worried about his image in Amber’s eyes (she didn’t have many illusions about anyone’s image anyway), but because he knew Amber well. If he mentioned those antics, she’d be instantly distracted, and it would take at least half an hour to steer the conversation back on track.

Amber was silent for several seconds after hearing Gawain’s story.

“Those Sleepless Ones… really stirred up a hornet’s nest,” the half-elf exclaimed, eyes wide. “They actually let that thing seep out from Sandbox One? That’s…”

She sighed, unable to hide her frustration. “If you’d intervened earlier, maybe things wouldn’t have gotten this bad. You always come up with weird, creative solutions. But now, it’s too late to say that.”

Her words carried blind trust in Gawain. Though she had no concrete proof, she already believed that if he had stepped in sooner, the crisis in Sandbox One could have been averted. Gawain didn’t correct her, just shook his head.

“On the other hand, it’s precisely because things escalated this far that the Sleepless Ones had no choice but to seek my help. They had to resort to this near self-sacrificial plan, which gave me the chance to bring them under my wing.”

Amber’s expression shifted to suspicion. She gave Gawain a strange look.

“Wait… Are you saying you deliberately waited for things to get worse? Let the situation become hopeless just to create an opportunity to absorb the Sleepless Ones?”

The more she thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. She knew Gawain too well. Despite his title as “Lord of Knights,” his real strength lay in scheming—shaping situations, seizing the moment, and turning the tide. He had used similar tactics to undermine Luan City from within and to orchestrate the transition of the Ansu Kingdom to the Cecil Empire. If he wanted to… toppling a Sleepless Ones cult would be child’s play.

But she quickly shook her head, dismissing the thought before Gawain could respond.

“No, that doesn’t fit your principles. Too many innocent lives at risk, and the danger would be uncontrollable.”

Gawain looked at Amber for a long moment, then smiled.

“This situation is worth exploiting, but I didn’t push it forward,” he said. “In the end, courting disaster is a dark cult’s tradition—you can’t stop it.”

Thinking of the three great dark cults, Amber felt a pang of regret.

“Come to think of it, it’s a shame. Their intentions were good, but their path was wrong. Seven hundred years of effort, only to end up like this…”

Gawain shook his head slightly.

“But their efforts weren’t meaningless. At least they tried a path and accumulated valuable technical knowledge. From a technological standpoint, their achievements won’t be lost.”

After a few seconds of silence, Amber broke it.

“What’s your plan for Sandbox One?”

“The specifics depend on me personally exploring Sandbox One and encountering the power of the Upper Narrators,” Gawain said slowly. “But for now, we can prepare. Tomorrow, have Tyr come to me—I need her help…”

“Besides that, we’ll have to wait for news from the Sleepless Ones. No matter what plan I devise, it depends on their cooperation. If I’m right, it won’t take long—they’re more desperate than we are.”

…

Archbishop Yuri Charwen rested in his underground palace chamber for a long time before recovering somewhat. He stepped out from the center of a magical array inscribed with mysterious runes designed to stabilize the mind, correct cognition, and filter mental contamination. Nearby stood Selina Gerfen.

“How are you feeling?” the woman holding a lantern asked calmly.

“About seventy or eighty percent recovered. That’s good for a short time,” Yuri smiled wryly. “That Magnum guy… I warned him long ago that etching the mental storm into his subconscious as an emergency spell was absurd. It was bound to cause trouble. Now he’s finally learning his lesson…”

Selina’s tone was even.

“The mental storm hit others, not him.”

Yuri was momentarily speechless, then shook his head helplessly.

“Fair enough. So, Archbishop Selina, are you here to give me a heads-up?”

“Cooperating with the extradimensional wanderer is the only option.”

Yuri was silent for a moment.

“…It’s already decided?”

“Yes.”

“Including agreeing to the wanderer’s conditions?”

“Yes.”

“…Some won’t accept that,” Yuri said after a pause, voice low. “The cult has grown so complex that even among the archbishops, not all are scholars or researchers anymore…”

Selina looked him in the eye and said slowly, “They are followers of the Upper Narrators.”

Yuri’s eyes widened. Selina repeated:

“They are followers of the Upper Narrators.”

After a few seconds of stunned silence and swirling thoughts, the archbishop—born into the Typhon noble family and familiar with many power shifts and upheavals in Alden—suddenly realized something.

“…Some must have been on the list for a long time, right?”

“Earlier than you think.”

Yuri looked at the gentle, seemingly harmless woman before him and couldn’t help but smile.

“Just like the wanderer said… He’s actually given us an opportunity.”

“Yuri, this is internal purification—not for His Holiness the Pope’s personal wishes, nor for anyone else’s position, but for all our futures,” Selina said quietly. “I hope you understand that.”

“I do,” Yuri nodded slowly. “Internal purification… just purification. But is now really the time? We’re facing the threat of the Upper Narrators…”

“If we’re facing a god, the last thing we need is ‘more people.’”

“…I understand.”

Selina nodded.

“Good that you understand.”

After two seconds of silence, Yuri asked, “How is Archbishop Wendy?”

“The mental contamination has been contained, but she remains a devout follower of the Upper Narrators. No one knows when she’ll fully recover. You can visit her, but don’t stay too long.”

With that, Selina’s figure vanished like a dream.

Yuri stood there for a moment, then walked away.

He passed through deep, endless corridors and slopes sealed by layers of wards, arriving at the lowest level of the underground palace—the isolated area housing the psychic choir.

With two assistant priests, he entered Wendy’s private room.

The beautiful but haggard woman sat quietly, leaning against a pillar in the corner, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

Yuri’s arrival caught her attention. The psychic singer turned her head and smiled faintly.

“Good afternoon, Archbishop Yuri.”

“Are you able to think clearly now?”

“Sometimes I can be lucid, sometimes not. And it feels awful,” Wendy said slowly, then noticed Yuri’s expression. “Hmm? Yuri, you don’t look well. What happened?”

“A lot has happened, but it’s not the time to tell you,” Yuri sighed. “Once you’re free from the Upper Narrators’ influence, the new situation might shock you.”

“Oh? You’re interested in the higher-level narrators as well?” Wendy’s eyes suddenly lit up, a smile playing on her lips. “Then, sir, please allow me to take a moment of your time to introduce you to our omniscient and omnipotent master, the one who governs all things in this world…”

Yuri’s mouth twitched slightly. He took a half step back and waved to his assistant, “Say no more. Just give him the injection.”

…

As the brilliant sunlight once again bathed the tightly packed rooftops and wide, orderly streets of Cecil City, the city quickly stirred from its peaceful slumber.

Gawain hadn’t slept enough the night before, but he was still full of energy.

Following the planned schedule, he arrived at the Autumn Palace to meet the envoys from Typhon, and to see Princess Matilda.

The moment he saw Matilda, dressed in black with her dark hair, he immediately noticed something off about her—

She looked tired, her expression slightly dazed. Though her delicate makeup cleverly masked it, faint bloodshot veins showed in her eyes, and subtle dark circles hinted at sleeplessness.

This surprised Gawain.

“Not used to the environment here?” he asked with a hint of elder concern. “You don’t look very well…”

“Sorry you had to see me like this,” Matilda forced a smile, trying to dispel the symbols and numbers swirling in her mind like some kind of mental pollution. “I was reading last night… probably for too long and lost track of time.”

“Enjoying reading is good, but you still have to take care of yourself,” Gawain chuckled. “Will it affect today’s schedule?”

“No need to worry. I’m somewhat of a high-ranking swordswoman. A little rest will be enough. It won’t affect today’s plans,” Matilda replied. “I’ll follow whatever you arrange.”

“That’s good. Then, as planned, I’ll personally take you all on a tour of our Imperial Academy—this is the most important part of preparing for the international student program.

“We’ll start with the Department of Mathematics at the Institute of Arcane Technology—that’s the foundation for many advanced technologies…”

(End of chapter)