Chapter 925: The Nonpartisan Current of Thought

Gawain never expected that the initial problem with the War God’s faith system would ultimately trace back to the “economic war” between Cecil and Typhon. And from there, many things spiraled far beyond his predictions—

He hadn’t anticipated that different gods would possess distinct “leanings,” nor that one could predict a deity’s tendencies by analyzing the currents of thought surrounding them. He hadn’t foreseen how certain shifts in human society would so directly impact the influence of their corresponding gods, nor that some gods with “weaker endurance” would react so strongly…

In that moment, he even began to doubt whether his development plans had been too ambitious, or if he had ventured into realms best left untouched.

But another voice in his mind offered a sober judgment: mortals’ desire to pursue a better life is by no means a sin. He had long known that gods would gradually descend into madness as mortal civilizations advanced; now, that influence was finally manifesting before his eyes.

Looking back carefully at everything Cecil had endured on his rise, Gawain realized those development plans had been inevitable—without them, Cecil would have been wiped out before his ascent. The Southern Border would have suffered catastrophic losses when the grand wall first cracked, the feeble Ansu Kingdom would have been powerless to repair the breaches along the Gondor Wasteland’s edge, civil war and the ensuing divine calamities would have utterly destroyed Ansu, and Typhon’s war of annexation would have followed…

By then, human slaughter might have been even more efficient than a divine disaster.

Still, he shook his head and sighed, “I never imagined our unconscious actions would drive the War God to madness…”

The next moment, Amon’s voice echoed gently in his mind, accompanied by a soft chuckle: “Ah… While all this is indeed connected to you mortals, you may be overestimating the impact your actions over these few years have had on a god.

“The War God’s rapid decline is likely a recent development, but he wasn’t driven mad solely by the kind of ‘warfare’ you mentioned—at best, you pushed him slightly off the cliff’s edge, accelerating a process that was already underway. From what I understand… or rather, I suspect, the War God’s madness has been overtaking his reason for a very long time.”

Gawain’s expression shifted instantly. He sensed that this ancient god held some insider knowledge and pressed, “Why do you say that?”

“As I said, the War God’s nature makes him one of the gods most prone to madness. And you mortals… you mortals are incredibly adept at change, especially at shifting your own boundaries in times of war. Since you first began throwing stones at each other, the ‘pacts’ you made before the War God have outnumbered those witnessed by any other deity. Yet the number of agreements you’ve broken—through all manner of excuses, or sometimes without even bothering to find one—is countless…”

Amon spoke slowly, like a detached observer judging the drama unfolding on the mortal stage. His tone held no contempt, but no leniency either—

“Merchants must maintain a veneer of honesty before profit, but kings and lords will find every possible way to break their oaths. Yes, they called upon the War God to witness those contracts, but long before they prayed, they had already devised suitable ways to break them, making everything appear fair and reasonable—even fooling and moving themselves in the process…

“So mortals are almost ‘schizophrenic’ when it comes to war—and the War God is schizophrenic too. Even if he wasn’t at first, he would quickly slip into that abyss.”

Gawain exchanged a glance with Veronica. In her eyes, he saw a complex mixture of emotions.

“As a mortal myself, I have little defense,” Veronica said softly. “The mortal race… is indeed full of contradictions and flaws.”

“Yes. So mortal civilization is full of contradictions and flaws, and the gods mortals worship are full of contradictions and flaws. It’s a closed loop. All of us—mortals and gods alike—are trapped within it,” Amon said calmly. “But I can still see glimmers of hope—at any time, in any circumstance, there are ‘people’ trying to break this cycle. Sometimes mortals, sometimes gods. That means we have not resigned ourselves to this fate.”

Gawain regarded Amon thoughtfully. At that moment, he suddenly realized this “god of nature” was more human than the last time they met. An inexplicable thought surfaced: the growth of humanity.

Perhaps, after three thousand years of suspended animation and recent “changes,” this ancient god’s long wait was finally bearing fruit. He was shedding the last shackles of divinity, and humanity was beginning to grow within him—not the humanity bestowed by countless mortal currents of thought, but a true, personal “humanity” belonging to Amon himself…

Had Amon noticed this change?

Gawain’s mind swirled with speculation, but he said nothing, only shaking his head slightly. “Let’s return to the Goddess of Magic… Amon, do you know where she is now?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t help with that,” Amon replied. “The Shadow Realm is far more complex than you imagine. It lacks conventional continuous space; just a little deeper, it becomes chaotic and disordered. Every mind that ventures into its depths takes a different path. So, except for the Goddess of Magic herself, no one knows where she has gone, nor can anyone track her.”

“The Shadow Realm has such properties?” Gawain said, surprised, then frowned. “So we can give up on finding the Goddess of Magic…”

“Why are you so fixated on finding her?” Amon countered. “Has her flight caused great harm to you or your kingdom? Or do you hope to gain something from a god who has abandoned her divine seat?”

The ancient god paused, then chuckled softly. “Ah, it seems you’ve been involved with many things related to gods, even possessing relics and remains… Could it be that you have a collecting hobby in this area?”

“No… of course not,” Gawain said awkwardly. He had already witnessed Amon’s occasional sense of humor, but he still wasn’t quite used to it. “It’s just that when a god does something so significant right under your nose, it’s hard not to care.”

“Then control your curiosity—I suggest you stop focusing on this matter for now,” Amon said, his tone turning serious. “You won’t find her, and she won’t contact mortals anytime soon. I know your plan of defiance. Ultimately, rendering a god ‘harmless’ aligns with your goals. So you should let Mylmina properly complete her isolation and self-purification… that’s the safest course.”

“I’ve thought about that… I accept your advice,” Gawain nodded after a moment. “But how long will her isolation and purification take? Could it be, like you, at least three thousand years?”

He knew these gods’ sense of time—basically the same as when he was a satellite spirit. So he wanted to know if this was something to track closely. If the Goddess of Magic planned to sleep for three thousand years like Amon, he could just put the matter aside, maybe carve a message on a sturdy stone or a mithril plate and place it on the mountain, hoping some brave soul or archaeologist thousands of years later would find it and check if she had awakened…

Of course, there was a second plan: he could try to live long and strong, remain in power three thousand years from now, and wait for the Goddess of Magic to emerge from some Shadow Realm fissure, then greet her with, “Lady, guess if the times have changed…”

All this, of course, depended on mortal civilization surviving the magical tides and the Black Traps. Otherwise, it was all fantasy.

“I can’t give you an answer, but I suspect it won’t be long—perhaps not even long by mortal standards,” Amon’s voice interrupted Gawain’s thoughts. “Though she seems to have taken a path similar to mine, her escape was clearly more successful and thorough. The aura I sense from her has almost completely shed divinity. I don’t know how she did it, but she clearly paid a heavy price…”

Hearing Amon’s revelation, Gawain suddenly thought of the Goddess of Magic’s escape route—

She entered the magic network, risking capture by Narathiel, and infiltrated the deeper layers of the neural network. According to Duvalet’s later report, she lingered for some time in the chaotic border region of the neural network. It was precisely because of this lingering that she fell into Narathiel’s web and nearly failed to escape…

As a god determined to break the cycle and who had planned for a long time, she wouldn’t have wasted time on anything useless.

That meant the magic network and the neural network—especially the “unconscious zone” at its edge—were crucial to the Goddess of Magic. Certain properties of these zones were key to her breaking free from her chains!

Veronica, standing nearby, clearly had the same thought as Gawain. She grew thoughtful, and their expressions did not escape Amon’s keen gaze.

“Looks like you have some ideas?” Amon asked, curious. “Care to share?”

Gawain looked at Amon, hesitated briefly, then nodded.

“We created something called the ‘neural network,’” he said. “It consists of numerous active human brain nodes, powered by human thought. At the boundary of this network lies a layer called…”

Before he could finish, Amon’s voice suddenly rang in his mind: “The nonpartisan current of thought?!”

Gawain stared at Amon in surprise, eyes widening slightly.

“I see… I see… A daring and ingenious idea… First, restore oneself to the original state of birth, then wash away those shackles…” Amon seemed deeply stirred, muttering to himself. “Truly worthy of the goddess of magic—so reckless… yet so fortunate…”

The great stag god was so excited that the faint, steady glow on his body suddenly quickened its flow. A slight tremor appeared at his limbs’ ends. This body, still for three thousand years, showed signs of stirring. But the next moment, all tremors ceased: the layers of binding still held him fast.

Gawain was amazed that Amon had instantly grasped the nature of the neural network’s boundary zone, even coining the term “nonpartisan current of thought,” which was far more precise and fitting than the “unconscious zone” the technicians in Cecil’s team had proposed, especially considering its role in the earlier “howling incident.”

Suddenly, many things clicked in his mind, and he instinctively said, “You mean the Goddess of Magic immersed herself in the chaotic currents of mortal thought to wash away her divinity and sever the ‘chains’?”

“That’s likely… very likely,” Amon replied, snapping out of his muttering. “It’s an effective approach…”

Veronica stepped forward, her tone urgent. “Then could this method be applied to other gods…”

“The premise is that it has to work on other gods,” Amon seemed to have calmed down from his earlier excitement, his tone bringing both High and Veronica back to a composed state. “Not every deity can enter the Weave—Myrmidia is the only one born from magic itself. And even if you manage to make this ‘neutral thought current’ practical… it probably won’t have much effect on other gods.”

High nodded thoughtfully at the first part but frowned in confusion at the second. “Why wouldn’t it work?”

“Let me ask you first—how large is this ‘neural network’ you mentioned? How many consciousnesses are supporting its operation?”

High considered for a moment, then answered frankly, “It’s still in its infancy… We’re working hard to expand it, but right now, its peak active nodes number only in the tens of thousands.”

“That’s exactly the point—any god’s mortal following is on a scale far beyond a few tens of thousands of nodes.”

Veronica frowned. “Then why can the goddess of magic?”

Amon’s voice was slow and thoughtful. “I suspect she must have been ‘starving’ for a very long time…”

High was silent.

He thought of Myrmidia’s peculiar nature—the goddess who never answered prayers, never granted miracles, and only responded to her followers’ pleas at the barest minimum.

From what he knew, she had been like that for thousands of years.

He shook his head and muttered to himself, “Well, it seems she really has been ‘starving’ for a long time…”

(End of chapter)