Chapter 819: Considering the Future

As the morning sun rose, a story spanning one thousand five hundred and twenty-three years came to an end. At its conclusion, no deity descended into the mortal world; fragile and insignificant humanity once again survived the catastrophe—many lives continued their journeys beyond this moment.

Semler gripped his battle staff tightly, standing motionless in the center of the great hall. Around him, countless priests and knights held their breath, faces etched with exhaustion. Reports from the surface had just reached the archbishop, but the bizarre phenomena—like a blur between dream and reality—left him unable to confirm the final outcome. Like everyone else, he waited in tense uncertainty.

In that brief moment when the dawn’s glow bathed all of Orlandale, the priests seemed to have waited a century.

Then, faint pinpricks of starlight appeared in everyone’s vision, shimmering above the hall.

A weary, aged voice echoed in Semler’s mind: “It’s over… brothers and sisters, we are safe.”

It was the voice of Meigore III.

After a brief silence, delayed cheers suddenly erupted throughout the hall!

“We did it! We stopped a god!”
“The Outer Wanderer and Archbishop Selina succeeded!”
“We’re alive! We’re alive!”

Amid the tidal wave of cheers, Wendy, tending to the wounded, slowly straightened. The corruption that had plagued her spirit was fading; she felt her soul finally free. She lifted her head and caught Yuri’s gaze not far away.

“We made it…” Wendy’s lips curved into a genuine smile.

Yuri’s expression was complex. He took a slow breath and muttered as if to himself, “…We didn’t destroy this world after all.”

A streak of light suddenly appeared in the center of the hall. As it gathered, a lantern materialized in everyone’s sight, followed by the figure of a woman holding it.

“Archbishop Selina,” Semler immediately stepped forward, “you have saved the entire church once again…”

The halo around Selina gradually faded. Of course, here she was only a projection reflected in the consciousness of those present. Facing Archbishop Semler, the Lantern Saint gently shook her head. “This time, it wasn’t me who saved the church.”

“Ah, the Outer Wanderer…?” Semler suddenly realized. “Where is He now?”

“The Outer Wanderer has temporarily withdrawn. After all, He only projected Himself into our mental network. He will contact us again soon,” Selina said softly, her gaze sweeping across the hall—the cheering priests, the exhausted yet exhilarated knights, the survivors among the attendants. Finally, she lowered her eyes. “Thanks to your efforts in the real world, we achieved this final victory.”

Semler looked at Selina curiously. Her expression was complicated, not as lighthearted or triumphant as the others’. This puzzled him deeply. “Archbishop Selina, you seem… troubled?”

Selina thought of the figure chasing starlight beneath the night sky, and the hardest question she had ever answered in her life. She was silent for a long moment before shaking her head. “I’m fine. Just… a little confused.”

“Confused?”

“Archbishop Semler, what do you think is the greatest instinct of a civilization?”

“Instinct?” Semler pondered the strange question. After a moment, he answered uncertainly, “To survive? To continue itself?”

“And beyond survival?” Selina asked again. “Beyond simply staying alive…”

“I… don’t know,” Semler shook his head. “To me, just continuing to exist in this world is already difficult enough.”

“True,” Selina paused for a second, then smiled with sudden clarity. “Besides, that’s not really your area of expertise.”

From Selina’s reaction, Semler guessed that the “Saint” must have endured something in her struggle against the higher narrators, which caused this rare moment of melancholy. But now was not the time to pry. Amid the surrounding atmosphere of celebration, he had already calmed himself and spoke: “Archbishop Selina, now that the ‘Divine Descent’ threat has been quelled, should we begin considering the church’s future?”

“Of course,” Selina nodded, regaining composure. “Though the situation is uplifting, our time for celebration will be short.

“I’ve also seen reports from the surface. The influence of the higher narrators has already spread into the real world. There are too many witnesses to the disturbances at the Throat of Orlandale. This news will soon reach Rosetta’s ears—our headquarters is no longer safe.

“According to the contingency plan drafted by His Holiness the Pope, we must immediately begin relocating headquarters. Everyone must leave, abandon this palace, take all research materials and supplies we can carry, and destroy what we cannot take on site. The central pillars, elemental shells, and upper dome must be demolished—no clues can be left behind.

“All outposts within the empire must also be relocated. In the chaos, informants and traitors will soon emerge. If necessary, we must be prepared to abandon all outposts.

“All brethren will enter dormancy, ceasing all church activities and awaiting unified orders. According to the plan, we will relocate in batches toward Cecil—this task can be entrusted to Yuri.”

Selina spoke point by point. Semler listened gravely, nodding slightly before saying in a low voice, “It has come to this… Seven hundred years of effort undone in an instant.”

“Better than total annihilation,” Selina shook her head. “Besides, we still have seven centuries’ worth of accumulated knowledge and a new power willing to accept us. It’s not a complete reset.”

“What about the mental network?” Semler asked.

“…Without the support of this facility, the mental network’s operation will be greatly affected. But fortunately, its foundation is built on our brains. As long as enough priests survive, it can maintain minimal function,” Selina, clearly having considered this, answered immediately. “Once relocation begins, the network will maintain basic mode. The Dream City will no longer open until we establish a new headquarters in Cecil. His Holiness the Pope has been greatly drained maintaining the sandbox; he will spend most of his time recovering. Network affairs will be overseen by me and Archbishop Daniel—mostly me. Archbishop Daniel is currently in Alden, and for security reasons, will only provide technical support.”

“Understood,” Semler nodded. “As long as the mental network remains, coordination will be much easier.”

Selina then looked toward the other side of the hall, toward the computing node chamber where the brain servants were housed. Her gaze rested on the observation windows and the open gate.

Semler noticed her look and, before she spoke, said with a hint of emotion, “Archbishop Magnan… rest assured, we will bring him along.”

Selina shook her head softly. “No. We will bring everyone.”

“Everyone…?” Semler was momentarily stunned, then frowned. “You mean all the brain servants? That would… no, it would definitely require more manpower and resources, and slow down the relocation…”

“I know. But I’ve calculated everything we need. Time is limited, but if we do our best, we still have enough margin to transfer all brain servants to backup safe points,” Selina met Semler’s eyes. This was perhaps the most uncharacteristically emotional moment she had shown in centuries, but she would not let sentiment cloud the bigger picture. Every decision she made now was carefully considered. “We’ll relocate in batches—to South Orlandale, Juniper County, Enchihawk County, and the Tarenkins region. The Cecil Railway Investment Company will help arrange trains or secret carriages. Relevant lines will be cleared soon. Everything will be arranged.”

“…But that can only move part of them,” Semler frowned deeply. “The problem is, brain servants aren’t only here. There are nodes in more remote outposts, beyond the Cecil-controlled railways, maintaining other sandboxes. Transferring immobile brain servants is far more difficult than moving normal personnel.”

“Transfer as many as we can,” Selina said. “For those we can’t move, we’ll maintain them in place as best as possible.”

“Maintain in place? What’s the point?” Semler frowned again. “The mental network itself doesn’t need brain servants—they’re only used to maintain the sandbox systems. Now that Project Zero has ended and will never be restarted, these brain servants…”

He looked at Selina in confusion, but saw only deep, calm eyes that revealed nothing of her thoughts or feelings.

Selina closed her eyes, as if pondering.

This was a form of atonement—a redemption for the wrong path taken; a self-liberation, the first step for the Sleeper Sect to return to the right way; and a meaningful remedy. Cecil had acquired the biochemical technology of the End of All Things cult, and not all brain servants there were beyond cure…

But at this moment, she had a more important reason—one that would convince everyone.

“This is a ticket,” she opened her eyes and looked at Archbishop Semler. “A ticket for Cecil, for the Outer Wanderer, to accept us. Cecil has its own order and rules. If we want to return to the light, we must start embracing those rules now. Archbishop Semler, make sure everyone understands—every brain servant that survives means some of us will spend less time serving in mines and factories in the future.”

She added, “Also, remind everyone not to be complacent. Don’t think you can avoid being recruited and transformed by the Outer Wanderer. Remember, this time He only projected His consciousness into the sandbox and devoured the higher narrator who had become a god. Long before that, He had already infiltrated and controlled the entire mental network.”

A solemn feeling rose in Semler’s heart. His expression grew serious as he slowly nodded. “I understand.”

Selina finally exhaled, then suddenly wore a slightly strange expression. “Now… let’s discuss Archbishop Magnan’s matter.”

At the mention of that name, not only Semler but also Wendy and Yuri, who had just arrived nearby, lowered their gazes, their faces clouded with complex emotions.

“Archbishop Magnan made a noble sacrifice this time,” Wendy said gravely. “Perhaps we should canonize him as a saint…”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Selina raised her right hand, holding the Dream Lantern. “What I mean is—”

The Dream Lantern radiated gentle, layered light. Suddenly, from within that glow came a familiar, loud voice: “Hey, hey? Hello? Can anyone hear me? What the hell is this place? Can anyone hear me?

“Hey! I’m trapped! This doesn’t look like Sandbox One at all! Can someone tell me what’s going on outside? Anyone? Hello?”

Selina raised her hand and swept it over the lantern, releasing the soul contained within. The shimmering light suddenly contracted before everyone’s eyes, coalescing into a human figure. Standing in the hall was Magnum—short, with fiery red hair—his entire form semi-transparent, eyes wide as he looked around in confusion.

An immediate hush fell over the room.

“I gathered his fragments at the ‘Boundary,’ just as His Holiness the Pope once gathered mine,” Selina’s voice broke the brief silence and awkwardness. “But it seems this has caused him some trouble.”

Hearing Selina’s voice beside him, Magnum glanced around the familiar hall, scratching his head in bewilderment. “What’s going on…? I clearly remember that I already—”

Before he could finish, he saw Yuri Charvin standing right in front of him.

Embarrassment quickly washed over his confused expression. His mouth twitched, forcing a hesitant smile as he awkwardly greeted, “Ah, Archbishop Yuri… looks like… we succeeded?”

Yuri stared at Magnum for several seconds in silence, then slowly, deliberately raised his right hand—

And extended his middle finger.

(End of chapter)