Chapter 913: Matters Concerning the Divine

The moment they heard “some connection to the gods,” Kamail and Veronica immediately tensed up, their anxiety rising to about seventy or eighty percent.

Over the past year or so, Cecil had already faced more than enough situations involving “some connection to the gods.”

Seeing that he had successfully stirred the atmosphere, Gawain didn’t bother to keep them in suspense any longer. He got straight to the point: “Daniel just sent a report. There have been several cases recently in Typhon where war god priests have died under mysterious circumstances inside churches. He hasn’t been able to get all the details yet, but the death toll has definitely exceeded five—and all within the last two weeks.”

“Mysterious deaths among priests?” Hetty frowned first upon hearing this. “If it’s just priests dying mysteriously… it could be some kind of targeted assassination against the church. In places where religious factions clash fiercely and the local customs are rough, such incidents aren’t unheard of—especially in more remote areas.”

“That possibility is basically ruled out,” Gawain shook his head. “The incidents didn’t happen in just one church, but several—including areas where the war god’s cult dominates. If these were attacks by heretics, the war god’s church would have used the deaths as propaganda to glorify martyrs. But the truth is, none of these deaths have been made public. The scenes were even sealed off. Daniel got this information through special channels.”

The room fell silent as everyone exchanged uneasy glances.

“Typhon’s war god faith is the mainstream religion, and its priests hold high status in society. Over the past century, quite a few war god priests have died, but mostly on battlefields, following their doctrines. Cases of mysterious deaths by assassination or other strange causes that can’t be publicly disclosed are extremely rare—I could only find records of twelve such cases, and those were spread out over two whole centuries,” Amber broke the silence, sharing intelligence from the military agency’s analysis. “One theory we have is that there might be internal strife within Typhon’s war god cult, and these priest deaths could be the result of internal power struggles, which is why they’re kept secret. But…”

“But that theory still lacks solid evidence,” Gawain interrupted. “First, according to our intelligence, the war god church in Typhon has been stable and united in recent years. The current pope, Malm Dunit, is in good health, and the bishopric maintains firm control over all levels of the church. Plus, the domestic situation in Typhon is peaceful—there’s no reason for internal conflict within the war god cult.”

“So that line of thought is hard to support,” Veronica said thoughtfully, her gaze fixed on Gawain. “But just based on the mysterious deaths of the priests, why do you think it might be related to the gods themselves?”

“…Someone has gone mad,” Gawain said quietly.

Veronica’s expression instantly grew serious. Her fingers tightened slightly around the platinum staff, while Kamail’s aura flared up, forcing everyone else to squint against the sudden brightness.

“Several priests who came into contact with the death scenes later descended into madness. Judging by the timing, they must have witnessed the deaths of those priests—or rather, they saw some ‘transformation’ they weren’t meant to see. Although the war god church has tried to suppress the news, rumors have still spread. Supporting this, the war god’s grand cathedral in Aldern held a sudden closed-door meeting and sealed off the outer corridors on an open day…”

“Sealing off the outer corridors on an open day, and after these incidents…” Veronica narrowed her eyes. “That’s definitely unusual.”

“So, I want to hear what experts like you think,” Gawain looked at Veronica and Kamail. “Especially you, Veronica—you should have some understanding of how churches operate in modern society.”

“Judging from the worst-case scenario, these priests died from ‘divine punishment’ or some similar godly power. Their deaths would bear signs of desecration and corruption, causing uncontrollable secondary contamination. That’s why churches everywhere are suppressing the news,” Veronica immediately shared her thoughts. “There are usually only two reasons why priests would suffer ‘divine punishment’ or backlash from godly power: either they deliberately committed acts of rebellion without proper protection, or some powerful force interfered with their faith, causing them to lose divine favor. Priests whose minds are controlled by powerful evil spirits often meet such fates.”

She paused, then added, “But both of these are unlikely—first, the war god church in Typhon is stable with a solid faith foundation. It’s improbable that several priests across different regions would suddenly abandon their gods in such a short time. Second… evil spirits that control priests’ minds fear holy relics and only act in the wilderness. These priests died inside churches.”

Gawain nodded, then suddenly mentioned another detail: “Oh, and according to Daniel’s information, the priests who died were all alone, praying when the incidents happened.”

Veronica’s face shifted slightly. “Alone, praying?”

“That’s right,” Gawain replied solemnly.

“Then… it’s probably the third possibility,” Kamail, who had been silent for a long time, finally spoke in a low voice. “And it’s the one we fear most…”

Veronica gripped her platinum staff tightly, closing her eyes briefly as she spoke the words Kamail hesitated to say: “The war god… is in trouble.”

“It’s too early to jump to conclusions, but we must stay alert,” Gawain’s expression was unusually grave. “Typhon doesn’t need us to warn them. If the Augustus family isn’t foolish, they’ve already noticed something’s wrong. They’ve long suffered divine curses and are vigilant about such matters. The key is, we must prepare.

“Within Cecil’s borders, the war god faith isn’t strong. There are some believers, but no powerful church or priesthood. Plus, the government has already reformed it, making supervision easier. Amber, you’ll be in charge of monitoring the war god priests here—keep an eye on any unusual activity.

“Besides watching the priests, we also need to monitor the believers. Although the reports from Typhon focus on the priests’ mysterious deaths, it’s hard to say if the followers are affected too. Hetty, you’ll handle that.

“Kamail, your and Jenny’s research on the siren runes has been fruitful. The mental defense system has been battle-tested. Now is the time for it to shine. We need more and better mental defense systems—at least enough to supply all our troops. Many soldiers worship the war god, and some are devout. We must prevent any problems on that front…”

After laying out his plans, Gawain fell into thought, considering if he’d missed anything. Just then, the magic network terminal beside his desk lit up, humming and clicking. Suddenly, a figure with long white hair trailing to her ankles materialized in the room.

“Nariel?” Amber looked surprised. “When did you get here?”

Nariel shook her head quickly. “I wasn’t eavesdropping…”

“Oh, I called her here, but she was cloaked. I almost forgot,” Gawain lightly tapped his forehead and looked at the former deity before him. “Nariel, do you have something to say?”

“That rune can be embedded in the neural network,” Nariel nodded seriously. “I remember it was very useful. Back then, it blocked me from entering the real world for quite a while…”

This “former god,” now symbiotic with the network, immediately sparked a bright idea in Gawain’s mind—something he, a satellite spirit from Earth, hadn’t even considered!

Of course, the real reason for his excitement was Kamail’s aura flaring again.

“That’s an excellent idea! The magic network connects all terminals, and the main effect of the mental defense system is those runes. If we can broadcast a specific set of runes across the entire empire, even if it can’t stop a direct divine invasion, we can at least protect the most vulnerable priests and believers from mental contamination,” Kamail said with a hint of excitement—the joy of a researcher discovering a new application for technology. “If the ‘mad god’ really appears, as long as we hold onto our sanity through the first wave, the worst crisis will be over!”

“But this idea only works if the empire’s network is fully connected,” Hetty, who had been silent, spoke up, bringing everyone back to reality. “Right now, the neural network is limited to the southern region. The main hubs in other areas aren’t online yet, and there’s only a single line connecting the regions. That line can’t handle the pressure of broadcasting empire-wide.”

“…Then all we can do is hope what’s happening in Typhon is just an early warning. Hopefully, our full network will be completed soon,” Veronica said softly, lowering her eyelids in a calming tone. “Relax. We’re just preparing for the worst, and we do have many effective measures.”

Amber sighed. “At this point, I’m most worried about the people of Typhon. I admit Rosetta Augustus is talented, but how prepared they really are is unknown… They don’t have the neural network or mental defense tech. If things blow up over there, it might affect us here too…”

“But whether we warn or assist Typhon, we first have to explain where our intelligence comes from…” Hetty shook her head helplessly. “I never thought we’d have to worry about them.”

“That’s what I said long ago: in the face of certain disasters, mortals have no borders. Natural calamities don’t care about nationality or race, nor your beliefs or ideals. Before the tide, all mortals are one community,” Gawain glanced at Hetty thoughtfully, then added, “We still have to find a way to warn them… but it’ll have to be more indirect.”

…

A biting cold wind swept across the frequency shield over Talrond, but beneath the chill, the dragon kingdom remained as warm as spring.

At the summit city of Agondor, headquarters of the Talrond Council, inside the medical center, Melita Pernia in her dragon form slowly opened her eyes.

She lay on a circular mechanical platform bathed in bright light from above, making the place as bright as day. Numerous mechanical arms and observation probes busily finished their final tasks around the platform. As the dragon on the platform awoke, the machines completed their work one by one and silently retreated.

A figure in a white dress stepped out from the shadows nearby and walked over to Melita, tilting her head casually. “You’re awake? We’ve already cured that ‘you can blow three hearts with one field mission’ illness of yours…”

“Don’t make sad jokes in front of a heartbroken dragon,” Melita muttered weakly, her voice rumbling. “Ugh—I feel a headache coming on, and I’m freezing all over…”

Noretta shrugged. “Aftereffects of overusing the ‘Tidal Wave’ enhancer. But don’t worry, I’ve injected you with a ‘Gray’ enhancer to ease it. It should kick in within a few minutes.”

“Sigh… Overdosed on enhancers. Treat the enhancer overdose with enhancers, then treat the enhancer overdose caused by the treatment…,” Melita muttered helplessly. “I feel like there’s barely any blood left in my veins—just symbiote oil and enhancers.”

“Pretty much,” Noretta replied. “When you were brought in, your circulatory system was heavily contaminated. One of those three exploded hearts triggered a pressure coupling reaction, releasing a ton of toxic substances. We had to replace all your blood. For safety, when we transfused the new blood, we only gave you a little bit—just enough to stay on the safe side—so your three new hearts wouldn’t get overloaded and fail.”

Melita listened, stunned, then suddenly buried her head on the platform, slumping in defeat. “Maybe I’m better off dead…”

“Quit whining,” Noretta shot her a sharp look. “Do you have any idea how much effort it took to fix all your parts? Just the replacement parts alone cost more than your entire year’s salary!”

Without a doubt, those words hit the blue dragoness harder than any heart explosion. The moment she heard “salary,” Melita felt her newly installed hearts teeter on the edge of bursting again. Her voice trembled as she asked, “I… can I ask… how much are they deducting from my pay for this replacement?”

Noretta raised an eyebrow, glanced at her friend, and deliberately held back for several seconds, as if savoring Melita’s conflicted panic. Just as Melita looked ready to burst out in frustration, Noretta finally said, “Put your heart back in—no out-of-pocket cost. In fact, you’re even getting a small subsidy. Not much, but enough to cover the enhancers you used on this mission, with some left over.”

For a moment, Melita couldn’t believe her ears. “…What?! You’re not kidding? It’s all reimbursed? And there’s extra? Why?”

“The Council’s top brass considers your losses on this mission exceptional,” Noretta explained. “First, it was an act of God. Second, it brought Tal’Rond some unique… benefits.” She smiled wryly. “In short, your conversation with Gawain Cecil gave us something we’ve been waiting for. So the Council decided to give you extra support.

“Also, this subsidy isn’t a one-time thing. If you suffer losses on similar missions in the future, you’ll get full reimbursement plus additional aid.”

Melita felt like she was dreaming. She tried to resist the lure of money, but the next second, she bowed her head in true dragon fashion, a mix of hope and hesitation in her voice. “What’s the subsidy listed as? Where do I check this income?”

Noretta thought for a moment, then said casually, “Since these expenses came after your talk with Gawain Cecil, Speaker Andal added a new category just for you—‘phone expenses.’”

(End of chapter)