Chapter 866: The Immortal Project

A gentle, cool breeze brushed across his face.

How long had it been since he last breathed so freely? How long since he’d lain down so comfortably? How long since he’d felt so peaceful, so at ease—every ache and fatigue vanished, every lingering illness seemingly healed.

In his memory, such a feeling hadn’t come to him in decades.

“This child is blessed to be one with the land, carrying the grace of the Harvest Goddess…”

Suddenly, a voice, buried deep within his memories, broke through the haze, pulling his scattered thoughts back into focus. The blurred line between dream and reality vanished in an instant. The breeze on his face grew tangible, carrying faint scents of grass and earth. Norris’s eyes snapped open.

Before him stretched an endless green plain, swaying gently in the breeze. Waves of grass rippled like a sea, and in the distance stood strange mountains, as if pieced together from colorful blocks. Between the clouds above, grand formulas and runic arrays shimmered in the sky. A soft, radiant sun slowly traced its path overhead. And here he was, lying in this unfamiliar world.

Norris awoke in this strange place, bewildered by everything around him.

Faint memories drifted through his mind—shadows of figures moving before his eyes, whispers from Margarita and Bertilla by his bedside, the final sigh of his life slipping away. Confusion welled up inside him as he rose from the grass, standing unsteadily.

To his surprise, his body felt more agile than it had in years—an unfamiliar lightness coursing through him.

Nearby, a small earthen mound beckoned. From its summit, he might see more. Norris walked easily to the top and gazed out across the gently rolling hills—and there, across the undulations, signs of civilization appeared.

A sprawling, beautiful city lay quietly on the plain, encircled by rivers and lakes that sparkled like jewels.

A voice suddenly spoke beside him: “Beautiful, isn’t it? They built it based on memories.”

Startled, Norris turned to see a young girl standing there—someone he’d never met before. She wore a simple white dress, her long hair as white as snow trailing to the ground. She looked out toward the distant city, a pure, joyful smile lighting her face.

Noticing his gaze, the girl turned to him and smiled brightly. “Hello, I’m Narithiel.”

Then she pointed behind Norris. “And that’s Duvalet!”

Norris spun around, confused, to find an elderly man standing there—dressed in a plain robe, his face kind and smiling gently as he nodded at him.

“I…” Norris opened his mouth but found no words. He looked around, bewildered. Finally, he shook his head. “Is this the divine realm? The Harvest Goddess’s domain?”

“This isn’t a divine realm, but it’s a very good place,” Narithiel said with a smile. “We only brought you here. Someone else will explain everything.”

“Someone else?” Norris frowned.

Narithiel nodded. “He’s already here.”

Before he could respond, both Narithiel and Duvalet vanished without a sound. Rubbing his eyes, Norris looked up—and there, standing before him, was a familiar, broad-shouldered figure, smiling warmly.

“Your Majesty!” Norris exclaimed in surprise. “How did you—”

“I came to see you,” Gawain smiled and nodded. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t arrive in time in the real world.”

“The real world?” Norris blinked, looking around. “Do you know where this is? I woke up here…”

“This is a mental space formed by the Empire’s data network,” Gawain explained with a smile. “Norris, it seems you haven’t had time to pay attention to this kind of thing.”

Norris frowned. “I think I’ve heard of it… but why am I here?”

“In short, you died in the real world a few hours ago,” Gawain said calmly, locking eyes with the old man. “But I took the liberty of letting you ‘live’ on in another form.”

…

Gawain didn’t take long to explain everything. After hearing what had happened to him, Norris fell silent.

Watching the Agriculture Minister fall into thought, Gawain spoke again after a brief pause. “I heard from Bertilla that she privately suggested you use a life-exchange spell to draw vitality from volunteers, but you refused.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. That’s a line I cannot cross,” Norris said firmly. “Some things can never be used as currency, even the lives of volunteers. The temptation is too great. Once ‘life for life’ exchanges are allowed—even tacitly accepted—they will be abused. People will be forced into becoming ‘volunteers’ or ‘death row inmates’…”

Having risen from the lower rungs of society himself, Norris had seen too many such injustices: missionaries fabricating charges against commoners to seize their land and homes ‘legally,’ wealthy merchants extorted by church and crown, pressured to ‘voluntarily’ donate wealth time and again. If money could be so easily exploited, how much more dangerous would it be to treat life itself as a commodity?

He was certain that Gawain, the architect of the Cecil Order, understood these dangers even better.

“Your judgment is sound,” Gawain said. “Bertilla made a mistake, and I’m glad you didn’t fall for it.”

“But you still preserved my soul, letting me ‘live’ here in this mental space,” Norris looked around and said, “I want to know—do you intend to do this only for me, or will this technology be applied more broadly?”

Though Norris had once been educated and served the church, he was still bound by a commoner’s mindset. But years as Agriculture Minister, witnessing the birth of a nation, had taught him to see further. Behind Gawain’s act of preserving his soul, he sensed a deeper purpose.

“This is a long-term plan,” Gawain said frankly. “I call it the ‘Immortal Project.’

“In short, after acquiring the key technology of the Ever-Sleepers and establishing the Narrator Neural Network, I intend to create a special ‘soul database.’ Outstanding individuals, or those who have made significant contributions, will be preserved as networked minds, given the chance to continue serving the Empire. These people will be called ‘Immortals.’

“You are the first, Norris.

“This is part of my preparation for the changing world ahead—we live in turbulent times. As a nation not yet strong enough, we must prepare as much as possible.”

“Immortals…” Norris repeated the word, a trace of worry creeping into his voice. “But I fear this could disrupt our social order—in a way, gaining immortality in the network is another form of ‘life currency.’ And as you said, Immortals hold special status and influence in life. Couldn’t this be abused as well?”

“Any good thing risks abuse,” Gawain replied calmly, unsurprised by the question. “The difference lies in whether it can be controlled. Compared to Bertilla’s privately wielded life-exchange spell, the Immortal Project, relying on the state system, is easier to regulate. The Administration will establish management protocols to ensure Immortals don’t conflict with real-world social order. Of course, this will take time, and over the long future, these systems will face cycles of breakdown and repair. We must account for that.

“As the first Immortal, Norris, I apologize for not obtaining your consent beforehand. Future Immortals will be voluntary, with clear responsibilities, rights, and duties defined after ‘soul rebirth.’ This is crucial for proper governance.

“Also, to prevent Immortals from disrupting real-world order, I will relieve you of your Agriculture Minister post. A successor will legally replace you in the real world, while you may participate in Administration affairs as an advisor with limited involvement. We’ll run this system for a while to see if it works, and adjust as needed.

“Finally, Immortals living in the Narrator Neural Network will be subject to social order here. You’ve seen this world has cities, and naturally, residents—both ‘short-term residents’ who access the network as users, and ‘long-term residents’ who are Immortals. The Administration will establish governance structures similar to the real world. You’ll find life here isn’t so different.”

Norris listened intently to every word, trying to imagine what such a future might look like. Even with his broadened perspective, he struggled to keep pace with Gawain’s vision. He could only grasp glimpses of a revolutionary, unprecedented future—a world split in two, the real and the mental network running in parallel, countless people living simultaneously in both. Knowledge and ideas exchanged with unprecedented efficiency. Immortals living long-term in the network might even form a new ‘race.’ One of Cecil’s greatest future challenges could be balancing this new group with social order…

Some challenges were worth looking forward to.

As Norris wrestled with these thoughts, Gawain’s mind churned with his own.

The Immortal Project was bold and ambitious.

Outstanding talents would be protected, precious knowledge fully utilized. It could serve as a powerful incentive and morale booster. On the surface, it seemed almost all benefit.

But risks lurked beneath those exciting advantages.

Just as Norris feared, this soul-immortality technology could clash with existing social order, risking abuse and loss of control someday.

Therefore, Gawain had to lead the Administration in drafting countless rules to restrain Immortals, tightly control access, prevent blocking social mobility, protect the fragile fairness of society, and stop it from becoming a vent for unchecked power…

Yet despite the risks, Gawain resolved to launch the project, making it a key ‘reserve force’ for the Cecil Empire.

This world was far from peaceful, and humanity… was not the strongest species here.

Ancient elves with rich traditions, dragons with overwhelming individual power, mysterious, immortal sea creatures… many races were naturally superior to humans, and possessed highly advanced civilizations.

They shared another trait: long lifespans, remarkable endurance.

And now, humanity was about to take its first step toward immortality.

Any individual who reaches adulthood can accumulate the knowledge and skills of several human generations.

Although the current relations between the Cecile Empire and these factions are relatively good, this doesn’t mean Gawain can rest easy. He still remembers how, not long ago, the Dragonborn saw right through the Empire’s investment plans and trade schemes at a glance. In the end, the Dragonborn agreed to join the Cecile Settlement Zone, which on the surface looked like they’d fallen into a monetary siege laid by the Cecile people. But all signs suggest that Duke Baroguer was far from trapped. Since the Dragonborn could intuitively see through the Empire’s investment strategies, they were surely no strangers to humanity’s little tricks with currency. Their casual acceptance of the Settlement Zone only shows one thing—they simply didn’t care.

Behind them might stand the dragons of Talrond, and deep within their mountains could lie ancient superweapons no human force on the continent could ever hope to defeat.

Gawain sincerely hoped to maintain lasting peace with those races, but he knew one thing very clearly: peace requires the capital to back it up.

The Cecile Empire needed to build its own uniquely human “special foundation.”

(End of chapter)