Was there something wrong with his perception? This was indeed a situation that made Gwen extremely frustrated. However, he still lacked more control groups and ways to explore, so this problem could only be put aside for the time being. Compared to this problem, he was more concerned about something else, something about the gods.
If the fragment of the Eternal Slate was real, were the things recorded in it real as well? If those things were real … Gwen had to pay attention to a rather shocking fact when he thought about it carefully:
The gods were dead.
The messy and broken call records clearly mentioned the names of the gods, and the content of the call itself could be pieced together to form a shocking picture of the War of the Godhunters. According to the records, the gods were at an overwhelming disadvantage in that war. Rather than calling it a war, it would be more accurate to say that the gods were systematically eliminated one by one. The gods of the various major religions that Gwen knew of were all listed in the records.
So, if the gods were dead, then what was it that the tens of millions of mortal believers in the world worshipped every day?
What was it that responded to the prayers of the mortals? What was it that controlled the flow of divine power? What was it that caused all sorts of miracles? What was it that caused the believers to speak in secret and indescribable whispers when they were meditating? What was it that caused the believers to send down 'divine prophecies' one after another?
When those devout priests prayed, they would hear whispers from the Realm of Gods in the depths of their hearts. If the whispers did not come from the gods, then the source of the whispers would make people shudder.
Then, Gwen could not help but think of the 'Fall of White Star' that caused the Druil Sect to split and metamorphose into the Druil School.
Three thousand years ago, even for the Kingdom of Gondor, was an 'ancient event' that was beyond historical accuracy. It was difficult for the short-lived and fickle humans to record such an ancient event clearly. However, the main inheritors of the Druil Sect were the elves, and the long-lived elves could record such an event that spanned thousands of years clearly.
In the historical records of the elves, the 'Fall of White Star' was a 'dark miracle' that only the Druil could observe and perceive. At that time, all the Druil had the same 'illusion'. They saw the sky split into two, the dark starry sky fell to a height that was within reach, and the blazing white star shook violently in the starry sky and fell to the ground. But except for the Druil, no one saw anything fall to the ground.
Therefore, the fall of White Star was regarded as a large-scale collective hallucination. However, because of its scale and the fact that the event itself involved the gods, the scholars did not dare to casually use the word "hallucination" to brush it off. Instead, they interpreted it as a meteor shower that happened at a higher level, parallel to the current time and space. They believed that something had fallen from the divine realm and landed in the crevice between the mortal world and the divine realm, and ordinary people who did not have spiritual talent naturally could not detect it. This was the "fall of White Star."
But no matter what the truth of the Fall of White Star was, Druil's divine magic lost its effect after that event.
At first, Gwen thought that the Fall of White Star was the fall of the natural gods, but now the information in the fragments of the Eternal Slate made him suspicious: the history of the Eternal Slate was much longer than the Fall of White Star!
These pale golden metal plates first appeared in the first pioneering era, which was tens of thousands of years ago. The real formation of the Eternal Slate, or the birth of the Eternal Slate, could only be older than that. That was to say, before the mortals established civilization on this land, the gods recorded in the Eternal Slate had already died!
So, what was the white star that fell from the sky in the collective illusion of the Druil three thousand years ago? Did the natural gods, who were already cold, rise up and die again?
…
While Gwen was deep in thought while facing the fragments of the Eternal Slate, in a forest far away from the Gloom Mountains and Leslie's territory, large clusters of vines suddenly drilled out from the ground, entangling and expanding into a huge cyst. A moment later, the cyst burst, and a staggering figure emerged from within.
The figure was wearing a black robe that was tattered into rags, and his short brown hair was messy on his scalp. He was thin and pale, and his eyes were gloomy. His entire right arm had been blown off, and the terrible wound was now covered by a wriggling mass of flesh and blood, and was undergoing difficult regeneration.
This was the cultist of the Demise Cult who had luckily escaped from Tanzania Town.
The heavy injuries on his body, the exhaustion of his spirit, and the long distance of his escape had made this middle-aged man, who could have been considered an expert, extremely weak. He walked unsteadily in the forest, and as he walked, the shrubs and weeds that brushed past him withered and rotted. It was as if their life force had been sucked out of thin air, and they died in the blink of an eye.
After absorbing the life force of these plants, the middle-aged man's face finally regained some color. He stopped in front of a large rock and looked down at the symbol carved on the rock with a sharp weapon: a cluster of withered and curled thorns.
Seeing the symbol of the Demise Cult, the middle-aged cultist used his remaining left hand to take out a wooden whistle. But before he could blow it, he heard the rustling of leaves around him. A large number of fallen leaves were swept up by the wind and condensed into a hazy figure on the rock. As the leaves dispersed, the figure gradually became clear: a tall woman, with long dark green hair, fair skin, and a pretty face. She wore a robe like a priest, but the robe had all the sacred religious symbols erased. And at the bottom of the robe, what was revealed was not a pair of human feet, but a cluster of terrifying 'limbs' that looked like tree roots.
"A shameful failure, Mr. Bard," the tall woman with long dark green hair opened her mouth. Her voice sounded as if it was mixed with the noise of dead leaves. "It turns out that your confidence is blind."
"Gwen Cecil has really succeeded in resurrecting, and he had sabotaged my plan." The middle-aged cultist called 'Bard' was respectful but not cowardly. He stood up straight and explained, "Madam Bertilla, his strength is beyond our expectations. I even suspect that he has not lost any combat experience!"
"If he is really as powerful as he was back then, you would not even have the chance to breathe a second time after seeing him." The tall woman called Bertilla said bluntly, but then she quickly changed the topic. "But he could easily defeat you, this means that he is not as weak as I thought …"
"How could this be?" Bard's voice was full of confusion. "Didn't you say that his soul has been annihilated, and even if his body is left and resurrected, he will become a cripple or even a living dead?"
"He has come into contact with those 'Apocalyptic Artifacts,' and even directly communicated with an ancient spirit. No one knows what kind of knowledge and power he has gained in the process," Bertilla said faintly, but there seemed to be a strange emotion in her eyes. It was a mixture of fear and emotion. "So no one knows if his current behavior is due to some ancient guidance … In short, you don't need to delve into his affairs."
"I understand." Bard nodded and finally lowered his head slightly. "So what should we do next? Are we going to leave him alone? "
"Leave him alone, including the fragment of the Eternal Slate," Bertilla said coldly. "The war between Typhon and the Ansu is approaching. We have been preparing for this day for hundreds of years. Nothing can happen."
Bard nodded. "I understand."
Bertilla nodded slightly and then glanced at the wriggling flesh on Bard's right shoulder. "When your arm is healed, go to Typhon, go to the Quicksand Coast and meet with the local believers. Together, you will go to the sea of the Sons of Storm. The hierarch has arranged for you to help them as the emissaries of the All End Society. "
"The Sons of Storm? Those believers of the God of Storm? "Bard frowned." They rarely ask for help from the outside world … "
"They have provoked the sirens in the eastern seas." Bertilla said faintly.
Bard's eyes sharpened. He did not say anything and just slightly lowered his head to show that he had received the order.
Bard Wendell's eyes fell on the broken sword at Bard's waist. "Bard Wendell, your obsession with the past will hinder your path to the truth. If you want to go further on the path of the Priest of Withering, you'd better put down your sword …" Bard Wendell's voice was slightly distorted. "Bard Wendell, your obsession with the past will hinder your path to the truth. If you want to go further on the path of the Priest of Withering, you'd better put down your sword …"
Bertilla's voice and her figure disappeared together. Only the dissipating magic reaction was left. Bard stood in front of the falling leaves. After a long time, he sneered and slowly turned to walk into the depths of the forest.
The remaining magic power erased the All End Society's mark on the boulder. In the end, there was no trace left.
…
New Cecil territory.
Gwen finally decided to temporarily seal the fragments of the Eternal Slate and focus on the construction of the territory.
The secret of the gods was indeed tempting. The truth of "the gods are dead" was probably enough to shake the entire world. However, Gwen still came to his senses. This was not a field that he could touch and intervene in now. And this important truth could not bring him any benefits in a short time.
The truth that the gods were dead was indeed shocking. But that was all it could do. So what if he knew the truth? In this world, in this era, before he had enough power, even if he had mastered the laws of the universe, it was just the ravings of a madman. He could not find anyone to tell this secret. In fact, it would even attract unnecessary attention and hostility. So for the stable development of the territory, he might as well keep this matter in the bottom of his heart.
After keeping the fragments of the Eternal Slate, Gwen took out the rune logic materials he copied from Jenny Perot and prepared to continue the study and research that he had not completed before.
But not long after he entered the state of mind, the tent curtain was opened by someone. Byron Knight rushed in with a strange expression on his face.
There was both nervousness and shock, but more than that, there was helplessness and embarrassment.
Speaking of which, this wily old fox Knight's expression was quite rich.
"Why are you so flustered?" Gwen raised his head and glanced at the middle-aged Knight. "Was Amber beaten by Rebecca? Or was Rebecca beaten by Heti? "
"None of them!" Byron Knight's face was full of awkwardness and helplessness. He rubbed his hands hard. "Sir, I … I'm afraid I can't adopt that mute child …"
"Can't adopt?" Gwen stopped flipping through the materials in his hands and stared at Byron. "You can't simply say that. You are a Knight, and I was your witness when you decided to adopt that child."
"But … but that child …" Byron's face was full of awkwardness. "She's a girl!"
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