Chapter 932: The Joint Plan
As the month of Frostmoon entered its final ten days, Aldernan was graced with a rare stretch of clear skies. When the morning mist finally lifted, sunlight—long absent from the imperial capital—poured into the city. Even the deep, shadowed corridors of the Royal Mage Association, usually lit only by magical lamps, were suddenly bathed in natural light. Sunbeams filtered through the ancient crystal windows, casting slanted shafts of light that danced across the walls and ceilings, illuminating the portraits lining the hallways—faces long gone, once bearers of the association’s glory, now etched in sharp contrasts of light and shadow.
Yet, those who hurried past these glowing beams seemed too preoccupied to appreciate the warmth.
Mages in their varied robes moved briskly through the corridors. These brilliant figures, whose status in human society was almost untouchable, now wore worried expressions. The ones who once loved idle chatter had no time for it now; the usually optimistic were tense and grim. Though the association’s daily work continued, and its operations kept running, it was clear that their minds were elsewhere.
Daniel, clad in his usual black robe, hunched slightly as he made his way through the crowd. His pace was steady, unchanged from before. As an older mage with a naturally somber demeanor, he had always stood out when entering the association. But today, with nearly everyone else wearing a shadowed expression, he blended seamlessly into the atmosphere.
He glanced up, eyes scanning the worried faces of his “colleagues,” a faint, sardonic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Of course, he knew exactly what was troubling them. He had learned the truth behind it all two days ago—a truth so staggering that even he had shuddered upon first hearing it. But now, he was calm, detached enough to watch the petty anxieties of these busybodies with a cold eye.
A god had “fallen.” The situation was firmly under the Master’s control. The divine remnants of the Magic Goddess were now preserved as experimental specimens within the neural network—he had even visited them last night in his capacity as a researcher. Nothing to worry about.
Daniel passed through the oppressive corridor and entered the association’s Archmage Tower. Without any announcement, he made his way to the study of Windsor Mapple, the association’s president.
The oak door, enchanted with magical mechanisms, creaked softly as it slid open. Daniel stepped inside and saw his former apprentice seated behind a large desk, intently studying some documents. No one else was present—only a rather dim-witted-looking magical automaton dusting the bookshelves.
Sensing his presence, Windsor looked up from her papers and smiled faintly. “Master, you’re here.”
“I don’t like coming here—too many foolish faces around,” Daniel muttered, settling into a chair. “You’d better have a good reason for making me drop my experiments.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t disturb you without cause,” Windsor replied calmly, accustomed to her mentor’s bluntness. “You must have heard about the unrest in the association lately—the Magic Goddess’s condition is abnormal, and it’s unsettling all the mages.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re among the worried. I didn’t think you were the superstitious type.”
“Not really. I remember your teachings well—mages are seekers of truth. We rely on mortal wisdom and inquiry, not the grace of any deity,” Windsor nodded. “But many others have been affected. Though no one has suffered backlash from shaken faith yet, the goddess’s abnormal state has unsettled most, indirectly slowing several research projects…”
Daniel frowned. “I’ve been away from the association for years. You think I came back to babysit their fragile psyches?”
“I know that. But this isn’t just an internal matter anymore. It affects all mages, even those with faint faith in the Magic Goddess. And His Majesty needs capable, respected mages within the empire to step forward—to… calm the storm.”
As she spoke, Windsor handed Daniel the document she’d been reading. It floated gently before him, lifted by magic.
“What’s this?” Daniel asked, curious as he took it.
“Before you read, I must warn you,” Windsor said solemnly. “This is classified intelligence. It may be hard to believe, but it comes directly from His Majesty, who personally guarantees its authenticity. Please prepare yourself.”
A strange feeling stirred in Daniel’s chest, but he kept his expression neutral. “You know I don’t like riddles.”
“Very well,” Windsor took a deep breath, her face unusually serious. “The Magic Goddess… may have fallen.”
Daniel was silent.
Of course. He’d known for two days. Just last night, he’d been studying her ashes with colleagues. And “fallen” wasn’t quite accurate—it was more like a state of suspended animation…
“You’re serious?” Daniel raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his face after a brief, reasonable shock. “Though I taught you not to worship gods blindly, this isn’t a topic to joke about.”
“I expected as much,” Windsor maintained her grave tone. “But this is true. I don’t know how to verify a god’s death, but His Majesty clearly has a way.”
Daniel stared at her for a few seconds, then looked down at the document.
It contained a draft announcement of the Magic Goddess’s fall, along with a plan—both of which were familiar to him.
“We will announce this simultaneously with the Cecile Empire,” Windsor said solemnly. “His Majesty has already reached an agreement with our neighbor. For this, we need a group of highly respected mages and scholars with influence across all social strata to carry it out. Your prestige in magical technology is unquestioned.”
“There will also be a grand ceremony afterward,” she added.
“This ceremony will settle everything,” Daniel interrupted. “The Magic Goddess’s fall will no longer be chaos, but a conclusion.”
This was the Master’s plan, set two days ago. At that time, it seemed limited to the Cecile Empire.
But now, it appeared the Master had persuaded the rulers of Typhon to join in—an excellent development, since Typhon boasted the largest mage community in the world. If the plan succeeded there, this “final verdict” would have far greater impact.
Windsor didn’t know what her mentor was thinking—nor could she have known he’d known most of this for days. Still, she wasn’t surprised by his words. A sharp-eyed, experienced elder could see the significance behind this. If he couldn’t understand why two empires’ rulers would go to such lengths, that would be the real problem.
She looked at him expectantly. “So… what is your decision?”
“Of course, I’m willing,” Daniel smiled faintly, returning the papers. “I’m happy to serve His Majesty—and this matter actually seems meaningful.”
“Typhon responded quite positively to our signal, including the joint announcement of the Magic Goddess’s fall and the accompanying farewell ceremony,” Gawain said with a smile, glancing at Amber. “I thought Rosetta would take longer to consider—after all, this is intelligence from his ‘rival,’ and it involves a dangerous deity.”
“The War God’s Church in Typhon is already pessimistic. Rosetta definitely doesn’t want a second crisis sparked by the Magic Goddess’s situation. Your plan is the most effective way to calm things down. Accepting your invitation only benefits him,” Amber replied casually. “As for why he responded so quickly… that’s surprising. But I think he has his own sources to verify our information.”
A cold autumn breeze swept along the garden paths, sunlight warming Amber’s face. Her amber eyes sparkled brightly.
It was early morning, a rare quiet moment. Gawain strolled through the garden as usual, Amber jogging lightly beside him.
She seemed to have accepted this routine—first giving up trying to keep pace on foot, then abandoning complaints about his walking speed. Running was easy for her; her short legs moved swiftly.
“The Augustus family has been entangled with the ‘Curse of the Gods’ for two centuries. Rosetta, like me, understands the true nature of gods. When it comes to divine matters, his cooperation with us should be sincere,” Gawain nodded. “According to the plan, we’ll establish a temporary coordination office to ensure the memorial ceremony proceeds smoothly and maximize its influence. Everyone will clearly understand what happened. Then, through each country’s commercial networks, merchants will spread the news throughout the human world—and even to other races’ realms.
“This will be the first time in history humans hold a funeral for a god. If we can make this unbelievable event seem ‘normal,’ future divine crises will be easier for the public to accept, reducing social upheaval.
“Of course, before that, we must officially announce the Magic Goddess’s fall. The ‘funeral’ can wait, but the news cannot. It’s been two or three days already. Mages are growing restless, and unrest breeds rumors. If the public takes rumors as truth before the official announcement, the impact will be less effective.”
“Don’t worry, it’s already underway—we’ve gathered the most reputable mages for a high-profile investigation team. Everyone’s waiting for their findings,” Amber said. “They’ll have a ‘conclusion’ in two days, which we’ll announce alongside Typhon.”
She couldn’t help but sigh in wonder. “It’s incredible… we’re actually doing this together with Typhon.”
“In the face of divine calamities, everyone is equal. The God of War has already fallen, and the Goddess of Magic may have sensed the danger and chosen to flee at this very moment. That ‘countdown’ is probably about to reach zero… It seems this generation is inevitably caught up in this crisis, and more gods are likely to fall in the future,” Gawain shook his head. “When dealing with disasters that transcend nations and races, joint action is the best approach. This cooperation between Typhon and Cecil is the first of its kind, but it won’t be the last… It will probably serve as a model going forward.”
“Are you thinking of establishing some kind of permanent joint organization?” Amber guessed almost instantly, blinking in surprise. “An international agency specifically for handling divine affairs?”
Gawain glanced at her with mild surprise. “…Your mind’s getting sharper by the day.”
“Of course…”
Gawain was long accustomed to Amber’s proud, cheeky attitude—she was the type to push her luck at every turn. Ignoring her was usually the best way to handle it. So he withdrew his gaze and kept walking forward. But after just a few steps, he suddenly stopped.
Amber, jogging just behind him, bumped her head against his arm.
“Ouch…” the half-elf exclaimed. “Why’d you stop all of a sudden… huh? Is that someone you know?”
A graceful figure in a pale purple chiffon dress had appeared ahead without anyone noticing, offering Gawain a faint smile.
“Good morning,” Melita Pernia, the unexpected visitor, bowed slightly. “I hope my sudden visit isn’t an inconvenience.”
“No inconvenience, but it’s unusual for you to come find me on your own,” Gawain said, appraising her with a quick glance. This time, the agent wasn’t wearing her veil, and her complexion looked fully restored—there was no sign of the severe injuries she’d suffered last time. He couldn’t help but marvel at how resilient dragons were. “What brings you here?”
Melita took a small, steady breath and said solemnly, “I’m here to invite you once again.”
(End of chapter)