Chapter 1118: Chapter 1117: Peripheral Threat

Belsetia stared at the god before her, gazing at the sacred figure who, until three thousand years ago, sheltered the silver elves in vast forests and fertile valleys, revered by the druids as the supreme existence. She never thought she would stand here one day, facing him calmly, meeting his gaze—as a Druid Priestess who had abandoned her faith, she had come closer to the God of Nature than any devout priest ever could.

At this distance, she could see far more than those pious believers, even more than those ancient priests who had lived for over three thousand years.

This was indeed ironic: not believing him, yet seeing him; not devout, yet understanding him.

This suddenly reminded her of many years ago when her father abdicated and handed over the Sovereignty Chair’s authority and the title of the Druids’ High Priest to her, saying:

"You are the first Empire leader not blinded by faith, and perhaps your eyes can see farther than any of us."

"I understand," Belsetia bowed her head and solemnly spoke to Amon, "I will carry out your wishes—of course, no one will know you still live in the world."

Amon nodded, then after a moment of silence, he looked at Belsetia again, with a hint of expectation in his sacred gaze: "Go and do what you must, Silver Empress."

Belsetia respectfully bent and saluted, then stepped back to stand beside Gawain, who nodded to the two Gods of Yore present: "I will take her back first, then we can chat some other time."

The visitor departed, leaving the courtyard shrouded in dim chaos to return once again to tranquility. The two Gods of Yore appeared to be absorbed in their own thoughts, remaining silent for several minutes, until Emelmia broke the silence first: "I thought you would mention the grandmother of that ’Empress’—she was your last Chief Priestess before you departed three thousand years ago. Isn’t it rare to meet an old friend that you should reminisce about the past?"

"Initially, I did want to know how Costina Morningstar spent her final days, but upon hearing how the silver elves live now, I realized the past is past," Amon spoke in a low voice, "Moreover, even without asking, I can now guess what Costina went through... She was my devout Priestess, one of the mortals closest to me, yet she laid the groundwork for the secularization of the Elven Royal Court, suppressed the activities of the fundamentalists, allowing Belsetia’s father to grow in an environment free from fundamentalist influence... Every decision she made in her later years was painful for a devout priest.

"So there is no need—or rather, I should not inquire about her later years from her descendants—some things need not be mentioned repeatedly."

"Ah, sometimes you seem quite dull, yet at other times you cut straight to the heart of the matter," Emelmia sighed, "But perhaps it’s for the best, for both you and the elves."

While speaking, the Goddess of Magic turned her gaze to the Magic Web Terminal not far away, the projection crystal above the device brightened, and a clear holographic image appeared above the device: "Would you like to watch something? Today, I won’t compete with you."

"Find the ’Voice of the Forest’ channel, I haven’t heard the elves’ singing in a long time."

...

Gawain and Belsetia walked side by side along the corridor in the upper district of the defied Fortress. In this area closer to the surface, the airflow from the ventilation ducts seemed fresh and dry, while the bright, steady light emitting from the magic crystal wall lamps possessed a warm quality, gradually soothing Belsetia’s still turbulent thoughts.

"You seem burdened with worries," Gawain’s voice suddenly came from beside her, interrupting Belsetia’s contemplation, "What are you thinking?"

"I was just thinking about how far you all have come on this path," the Silver Empress stopped walking, her gaze stretching into the distance along the wide, bright corridor—a fusion of wisdom from the ancient Gondor Empire and modern successors crystallized before her. The numerous laboratories and busy staff reminded the elven ruler of how many secrets were in operation within the depths of the facility, "I once thought you merely possessed some secret knowledge about the gods, at most unearthing some ancient relics like the Eternal Stone Slate, and based on that formulated a framework for the ’theocracy Authority Council’... I thought my speculations were bold enough, but everything here has exceeded my expectations.

"The defied Plan, the fortress in the shadow realm, divine relics, even the gods’ bodies, and not just one... No wonder you proposed so many advanced concepts; you have already come this far on this path."

Gawain chuckled: "Simply relying on some secret knowledge and ancient relics isn’t enough for me to formulate the framework of the theocracy Authority Council, your previous conjectures were indeed too conservative. But then again, is this truly all that you were thinking about?"

Belsetia fell silent, her mind recalling the most shocking scene she had recently witnessed, those metal remnants pinning the God of Nature firmly to the earth, the shocking sight of the deity’s scar-ridden body—and behind this scene, memories of the War God’s fall, Talronde’s apocalyptic battle. After half a minute of silence, she finally voiced her true thoughts: "... There never was a savior, was there?"

Gawain nodded: "We can only rely on ourselves—both we and our gods can only be each other’s saviors."

Belsetia didn’t speak, she simply turned and continued walking silently. Gawain also refrained from speaking, quietly walking beside the Silver Empress, the two of them continuing silently until they approached the exit of the defied Fortress. Belsetia suddenly spoke: "When can arrangements be made for me to visit the Sorin Giant Tree?"

"Any time—if your schedule is tight, we can go tomorrow. There is now an air route between Cecil Castle and Sorinburg, allowing for travel back and forth in a day."

"Tomorrow then," Belsetia nodded, "It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Beltira, I wonder how much he still remembers of the past. By the way, does she know about your... ’identity’?"

"She knows," Gawain casually replied, "She knew about the ’Wanderers from Outer Realm’ thing very early on. I suppose I am perceived as a ’half-Brother Gawain’ to her—just like I am your ’half-Uncle Gawain’."

Perhaps recalling some past matters, Belsetia couldn’t help but smile slightly, then shook her head, as if speaking to herself: "Seven hundred years have passed, we have ultimately walked the same path, it’s not bad."

...

Near the central area of Cecil Castle, inside the Cathedral of the Holy Light, Veronica ended her long meditation. She slowly opened her eyes, seeing the gentle holy light flowing like water in her view, the flowing holy light gradually gathered around her, forming a layer of steady ’force field’ before settling obediently.

"...The further increase in efficiency suggests the interception and redirection work towards the Holy Light God is proceeding smoothly, with evident effects, and no signs of backlash have been detected. A good phenomenon."

Veronica muttered softly to herself as if speaking in a low voice, and at the same time stood up from the cushion. She glanced at the empty prayer room, heard some sounds coming from the corridor outside, and tidied up her slightly wrinkled nun’s robe, held the platinum scepter, and left the room, entering the corridor leading to the inner area of the church.

Not far off, several craftsmen in work clothes were busy moving some equipment and new furniture into a vacant room. Two technicians in researcher white robes stood at the door of the room, chatting casually with Wright, who was in civilian attire. A young attendant, holding a hammer and nails, was solemnly fixing a new nameplate to the doorframe on one side.

Veronica walked over there, her gaze falling on the newly affixed nameplate by the young attendant. On the deep black wood board were two rows of clear and sharp words: Headquarters of the Church of Holy Light; Theological Library.

In the corner of this nameplate was marked the emblem of the Theocracy Council: an open book with an eye overlooking it, and two crossed daggers between the eye and the book—they symbolize the liberation of the theocracy, the return of knowledge and reason, and the necessary means and determination to sever the chains.

"Veronica," Wright noticed the figure walking over, and the imposing church leader immediately turned his head, revealing a rather powerful smile, "Come and see the new facilities of the church—this is the office of the Theocracy Council in the church, and later we will set up a special project group here to study the earliest versions of the Holy Light classics and summarize all historical materials about the Church of Holy Light. You should be able to help a lot with such matters."

"Great Shepherd, good day," Veronica smiled as she greeted him, standing at the door of the room. She saw that the spacious room inside was already filled with many bookshelves, long tables, chairs, and platforms prepared for the Magic Web terminal, and on a wall at the deepest part of the room hung a large emblem of the Theocracy Council. Her gaze lingered on that logo for a long time before she withdrew her eyes and gave a light nod to Wright beside her, "Of course, I’d be happy to help."

The era of defiance has ended, the leader of the defied from the ancient Gondor era sighed softly in her heart.

Seven hundred years ago, hidden underground, she did not witness the fall of the Gondor Empire’s flag. Seven hundred years later, wandering the human world, she still did not see the official end of the defied plan, but standing here, watching the emblem of the Theocracy Council being hung before her eyes, she couldn’t help but think of this phrase—the era of defiance has ended.

Yet she did not feel regret for this in her heart, because this was not an end of annihilation—a new flag has risen, and a new group of brave ones is seeking a brighter future.

The newly born Theocracy Council will take the heritage of the defied plan and, standing on the foundation of their predecessors, have already traveled further and seen wider. If the defied plan of the Gondor era was a hasty, hysterical resistance by a group suddenly facing the dark truth in despair, then the current Theocracy Council is a career undertaken after inheriting the heritage and deliberating thoroughly.

It will be more rational and rigorous, receiving more extensive assistance—and more likely to succeed.

The only regret Veronica feels is that too many people could not live to see this day, including the defiers of the past and those copies of Ophelia consumed in iteration after iteration or upload/download.

Wright’s voice at this moment sounded from the side, snapping Veronica out of her brief distraction: "By the way, do you still have to attend the bishop’s meeting in the church today?"

"I have to meet with His Majesty today," Veronica shook her head, "Sorry, you’ll have to go by yourself."

"Oh, no problem, I’ll go myself," Wright laughed, the seemingly rough yet sincere smile made people relax (though occasionally it brought a different kind of tension to those unfamiliar), "You’ve seemed a bit preoccupied lately—I’ll handle things at the church, you focus on your own affairs."

Veronica immediately frowned subconsciously: had her emotions leaked to the point of being noticed by others already? It seems the personality model still needs adjusting...

...

After sending Queen Belsetia back to Autumn Palace, Gawain returned to his study. When he pushed open the door and entered the room, he saw a figure already standing inside, as if waiting for him for quite some time: Veronica, holding a platinum scepter, clad in a nun’s robe.

Few have the qualification to enter his study without notice, and this leader of the defied from the Gondor era was one of them.

"Veronica?" Gawain looked somewhat surprised at the saintly, ever-gently smiling "Saint Princess," "Do you need something from me?"

"Your Majesty," Veronica turned to Gawain, her usually light-hearted demeanor now carrying a rare solemnity, "I would like to talk to you about the Gondor wasteland."

Gawain, who was heading towards the chair behind his desk, suddenly stopped in his tracks when he heard this. He detected an unusual undertone in her words: "Gondor wasteland? Why bring this up all of a sudden?"

"I suspect that a force is stirring deep within the Gondor wasteland—and they pose a significant threat to the outside world."

Gawain’s expression grew serious: "A force? What kind of force?"

"Do you remember the information mentioned in the Oblivion Association dossiers retrieved from the Sorin Underground Palace?" Veronica looked into Gawain’s eyes, "That stated there are two factions of the Oblivion Association active in the world. One part executes the ’body of the fake god’ plan in the human world outside the great walls, while the other is hidden in the Gondor wasteland, engaging in intelligence-gathering, data assistance, and other seemingly marginal activities..."

"Of course, I know," Gawain nodded immediately. In fact, even without mentioning the dossiers from the Sorin Underground Palace, he also knew some remnants of the Oblivion Association were hidden in the wasteland. He had even personally dealt with this force and learned quite a bit from Beltira about them. "From what I understand... this portion of the cultists hiding in the wasteland operates very secretly, such that even the outside members of the Oblivion Association aren’t sure what these ’comrades’ are specifically doing. The Empire has also attempted some measures, but due to the pollution zone’s blockade in the wasteland, even though we know of their existence, there’s temporarily nothing we can do."

"Perhaps you should think of a way." Veronica said earnestly.

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