Chapter 928: A Warning

Kamail’s words caused Gawain to furrow his brow in thought.

He had heard from Tyr some details about the culture and traditions of the sea sirens, so the concept of “Eva” was not unfamiliar to him.

Unlike most land-dwelling races, the sea sirens had no concept of “gods” since ancient times. They neither worshipped any deity nor believed in any absolute, transcendent being as a creator, savior, or guide. In their cultural framework, the closest equivalent to a “god” among land races was “Eva.” Yet, they never regarded Eva as a god. Tyr had spent a long time explaining to Gawain what Eva truly was, because it was a difficult concept for land-dwellers to grasp. After listening, Gawain distilled the key point:

Eva was the collective of all sea sirens. They viewed their entire species as a single entity—like countless cells gathered together, naming this vast, complex cellular aggregate “a person.”

This peculiar worldview was likely tied to their “deep-sea belonging” culture: all things originate from the deep sea, all things return to the deep sea, and all things merge into one within it.

Therefore, sea sirens had no—and would never have—the concept of worshipping gods. The greatest and most extraordinary being in their minds was simply a colossal sea siren.

To Gawain, the sea sirens seemed to be a fascinating species that maintained individual will yet perceived the world collectively, like a swarm.

He frowned slightly and looked at Kamail. “So you’re saying the reason the Deep Sea Song and the Deep Sea Runes can produce mental protection is that they actually tap into the power of ‘Eva’—that Eva is helping us resist divine corruption?”

“Very likely,” Kamail nodded.

Gawain still frowned. “But why is it that the sea sirens’ Eva can resist divine corruption?”

“About that…” Kamail chose his words carefully and spoke slowly. “As I mentioned earlier, to our ‘gods,’ Eva’s essence might be akin to a ‘foreign god.’ You probably remember Miss Tyr saying that she and her people are not native to this planet—they come from a place with an environment completely different from ours.”

“I remember,” Gawain nodded. “And I heard her describe the tool the sea sirens used to arrive here—it sounded like some kind of starship capable of crossing vast interstellar distances, much like the ‘starships’ imagined by the ancient scholars of Gondor. But obviously, that thing was far larger than anything those scholars could have conceived seven hundred years ago.”

Kamail nodded slowly. “Yes, some kind of starship. It seems the sea sirens came from another planet. But after several recent conversations with Miss Tyr, hearing her describe her homeland and the difficulties her people faced surviving here, I’ve come up with a bolder hypothesis.”

Gawain raised an eyebrow. “A bolder hypothesis?”

“The sea sirens underwent an extremely long ‘adaptation period’ on this planet. They even lost their physical forms at one point, existing as elemental forms on the ocean floor for countless years, reassembling themselves before regaining mobility. This goes beyond just ‘different planetary environments.’ Considering that elemental beings are naturally immune to the magical storms’ effects, their problems weren’t some kind of ‘magical storm aftereffect.’ So… I suspect they might come from a place even more ‘distant’ than we imagined—so distant that the fundamental laws of that world differ from ours.”

Gawain’s expression turned serious. “Go on.”

“If it’s truly a matter of differing fundamental laws causing the sea sirens to be ‘out of sync’ with our world, then their Eva must be the same. In their world, there probably is no such thing as ‘divine corruption’ or ‘chains of faith,’ nor ‘mental seals.’ Eva, born under such conditions, might be a ‘god’ who has already broken free of constraints… No, more precisely, a ‘quasi-divine entity.’ Because their Eva doesn’t receive prayers, doesn’t generate faith feedback, and cannot establish any real connection with followers…”

“If this hypothesis holds, then the effects of the Deep Sea Song and Deep Sea Runes make sense: they channel corruption toward a ‘rule anomaly.’ There’s an old Gondorian saying: ‘The floods of the living world cannot wash away the feathers of the underworld,’ because they exist in different dimensions. Similarly, the corruption in our world clearly cannot affect an alien entity.”

“Corruption in our world can’t affect an alien entity…” Gawain thought quickly, growing skeptical. “But one thing puzzles me: the Deep Sea Song and those runes can affect people here—they uplift the spirit. Isn’t that a real, tangible effect?”

“We’re still analyzing that,” Kamail said. “But Miss Jenny has a theory. She thinks the joy and uplift we feel from the Deep Sea Song and runes might not be due to Eva’s mental influence. Instead, it could be a byproduct of ‘establishing a connection.’”

“Establishing a connection?” Gawain looked curiously at Jenny, who rarely spoke.

“The connection between sea sirens,” Jenny answered immediately, then carefully explained her thoughts. “Sea sirens are elemental beings. Though they may come from ‘another world,’ they share a trait with elemental beings here: resonance. Pure elements naturally resonate when close. I confirmed with Miss Tyr that sea sirens can sense the emotions of their kin to some extent, and when communicating through the Deep Sea Song or the ‘Tentacle Twist Dance,’ this emotional resonance becomes even stronger…”

Gawain tried to keep a serious face but couldn’t help blurting out, “What on earth is the Tentacle Twist Dance…”

“That’s exactly what Miss Tyr called it,” Jenny said with a strange expression. “Basically, they turn into a bunch of tentacles and twist around to communicate with each other…”

“Alright, no need for further explanation—I get the gist,” Gawain waved her off. “In short, there’s a basic form of telepathy among sea sirens. It can’t transmit detailed information like a mental network, but it allows them to share emotions. So those runes and songs…”

He glanced at Jenny, who nodded. “Yes, those runes and songs immerse us in the sea sirens’ collective emotions—the uplift and joy we feel don’t come from Eva’s ‘positive mental influence,’ but simply from sensing the sea sirens’ good mood.”

Gawain was momentarily stunned, then instinctively pressed his forehead. “So those deep-sea slackers are always that happy…”

“Now we can explain why prolonged exposure to the Deep Sea Runes causes ‘squid fanaticism’ and similar side effects,” Kamail said, spreading his hands. “It’s all due to emotional resonance.”

Gawain nodded slowly, piecing together Kamail and Jenny’s theory. Then he suddenly thought of something else. “If the runes and songs’ resistance to corruption comes from the sea sirens’ ‘out-of-sync’ nature with this world, does that mean if the sea sirens fully adapt and integrate here, that resistance might disappear? Eva has already taken the Storm God’s seat, and the sea sirens are clearly adapting!”

“To be honest, we can’t rule out that possibility,” Kamail said gravely. “Their adaptation might cause them to lose a unique advantage. It’s a bit ironic and contradictory. But I don’t think it will happen quickly or easily.

“First, there’s clear evidence: the sea sirens have taken the Storm God’s seat. Their Eva has effectively become the Storm God, with many naga as followers. Yet neither the ordinary sea sirens nor their Eva show any signs of divine corruption. This shows adaptation and corruption aren’t simply interchangeable.

“Second, even if the sea sirens adapt to our world’s rules, that doesn’t mean they become identical to the planet’s original inhabitants. Adaptation follows environmental changes, and only factors that affect survival drive evolutionary adaptation. Whether Eva experiences divine corruption doesn’t impact the sea sirens’ daily survival. So most likely, the sea sirens will adapt to our environment, but their Eva won’t change—because natural laws can’t affect it.”

Gawain listened and nodded slowly, accepting Kamail’s theory. But his expression remained serious. “Even so, we must be prepared.”

“Yes. Always prepare for the worst,” Kamail said solemnly. “The protection we ‘borrow’ from the sea sirens could fail. Even if it doesn’t, we can’t put all our hopes on them—though they are reliable and friendly allies, as you said, ‘what belongs to others is still others’ after all. Besides, we can’t have only one card to play.”

“That’s why your progress on mental protection systems is so crucial. It gives us more options,” Gawain nodded slightly and spoke slowly. “The more we understand the principles, the better chance we have to develop our own mental protection technology, avoiding the pitfalls of a black-box system… The last point is especially important.”

He sighed softly, worry evident in his tone. “Right now, our mental protection tech is based on the Deep Sea Runes, which ultimately point to an ‘unknown entity.’ If we can’t explain it technically, it might inspire awe of mysterious, unknown powers, potentially sparking a ‘worship movement.’ Though unlikely, we must avoid even that possibility.”

Gawain’s warning clearly struck a chord with Kamail, the former rebel. The light flowing around him briefly stilled. Then the archmage bowed his head, voice resolute. “Yes, we will keep this firmly in mind.”

Gawain nodded, then glanced at the holographic projections floating in the lab and the busy technicians scattered about.

“We need to share this intelligence with our sea siren allies. Though they likely already realize their ‘out-of-sync’ nature with this world and are studying adaptation, we must be fully transparent.”

Kamail and Jenny answered in unison, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Gawain exhaled and looked at Kamail. “Next, let’s talk about… matters related to the gods. I’ve received quite a bit of intelligence from Amon.”

…

Hetty sat in her office, the arcane network terminal silently running beside her. The connected printer was spitting out text from afar.

The Empire’s chief druid, Pittman, sat in a chair not far away.

“There have already been scattered reports from mages to the Supernatural Affairs Department of various regional government offices about the ‘disappearance’ of the Magic Goddess,” Hetty said softly, taking the freshly printed report and glancing at the opening lines before shaking her head slightly. “Although most of these mages are only casual or nominal followers of the Magic Goddess—not particularly devout or fanatical—the fact that the deity has gone ‘missing’ is still unsettling to many.”

“If this uncertainty drags on much longer, their unease will only deepen,” Pittman remarked casually. “Come to think of it, the fact that they’re only uneasy right now is actually the best-case scenario.”

“We’ll be announcing the news soon,” Hetty said, setting the report down. “Following the wishes of our ancestors, we’ll convene a high-profile summit of top-tier mages, then publicly declare that the Magic Goddess has fallen for reasons unknown… After that, we’ll rely on public opinion management and a series of official events to gradually shift everyone’s focus and ensure a smooth transition… But I still worry about the chaos this might cause.”

“There’s bound to be some degree of turmoil and unrest—don’t fool yourself into thinking otherwise,” Pittman waved a hand dismissively. “The Magic Goddess is truly gone. We can’t—and wouldn’t want to—fabricate a new deity out of thin air just to soothe people’s fears. In fact, being upfront might be the fastest and most effective approach. What we need now is speed. People want answers, even if those answers are grim. As long as the official statements and public guidance keep pace, this can all be resolved after a brief but turbulent period.”

The old druid smiled and added, “And don’t underestimate humanity’s ability to adapt and accept… Three thousand years ago, the fall of the White Star caused an even greater shock. Back then, the druids were far more devoted than today’s mages, yet everything still settled down in the end.

“At the end of the day, for the vast majority who aren’t deeply devout, gods are just distant concepts. When a deity departs… life goes on.”

(End of chapter)