Chapter 468: A Changed Environment
"Can the wizards guide this void energy back into the void?"
One of the scholars involved in the investigation within Skyborne City addressed the others. The reason they had failed to detect this colossal void anomaly earlier was simple: they had been standing within it. The surrounding environment had shown no gradual transition.
They had known that the Utopia had somehow fused the local void to the material world, but they had tacitly assumed that this abnormal environment existed only because of the Utopia's presence.
But despite the fact that the Utopia had fully descended into the void, the anomalous region still lingered in the material world. Clearly, it was no temporary phenomenon.
"No," came the response from Skyborne City. "Wizards can only redirect overflowing void energy back into the void. They cannot do the reverse: force the material world into the void. However, according to the wizards' current observations, this anomalous zone is, without doubt... stable.
"The environment here has been permanently altered. The unusually high concentration of void energy will persist. The material world does not reject it because the two realms have fused, to some extent."
Skyborne City's message was that the wizards had no means of eliminating the anomaly. In truth, by its very nature, the region had become the new "normal."
"The anomaly is not unidirectional," the message continued. "Wizards investigating the shallow depths of the void have confirmed that the void energy density there, normally far denser than anything in the material world, has diminished to match the concentration found here."
More reports arrived in rapid succession. Naturally, the analysis would not fall to a single scholar alone. These findings,evidence of the Utopia's handiwork, were distributed across every academy of Skyborne City and throughout the Alliance. Their task was to deduce the motives behind the Utopia's actions.
"It's not just the material world they've altered. They've reshaped the Void itself. This bidirectional transformation... even our wizards cannot achieve such a thing. Aside from divine power, the only precedent would be the Morningstar, wouldn't it?"
"But be it divine power or the Morningstar, both are forces that reshape entire worlds. The Utopia would never create a wedge hammered between the material realm and the void for no reason.
"In the absence of solid information, we may as well make the bold assumption that Utopia's purpose is precisely to transform the environment in this manner, to create such a ‘node.' As for its function... that is what we must now uncover, and quickly."
The information was absorbed, debated, summarized, and returned as a preliminary assessment of the Utopia's motives.
The node's peculiar nature—and its unparalleled capacity for large-scale void experimentation—was now the central issue that the Alliance needed to tackle. Scholars across Skyborne City and every allied nation plunged headlong into the study of the void, driven by an urgency they had never felt before.
"The only good news comes from the Church of Nightfall. Their goddess, the Lady of the Night, can provide us with some advance warning when the Utopia emerges. It won't be much, but it's far better than none."
The scholars exchanged glances. Of all the intelligence they had, only this counted as "good." Everything else was either bad news or too uncertain to classify.
"We can't simply sit and wait for Utopia to strike us from gods-know-where. We must take the initiative to address this problem. We still possess methods to counter sudden void incursions into the material realm. We must extend those defenses across the continent.
"And during their final descent into the Void, the Utopia unleashed a massive psychic attack. Mental wards were useless for reasons unknown. Only the intervention of the followers of the God of Light allowed our wizards to withstand it.
"We need to gather firsthand accounts from those who endured that attack. Without countermeasures, this will become a dire threat."
"Understood. There are simply too many crises demanding attention at once. This is... troublesome."
"It can't be helped. Ideally, the enemy would never appear again. But if they do, we must destroy them at any cost. We're not yet at the point where all hope is gone."
"True enough."
Meanwhile, wa white-haired youth strolled through the streets of the theocracy of the God of Light.
"Remarkably prosperous," he mused. "Better than most kingdoms of this era. The protection of that god, I suppose. After all, once upon a time, he did plunge into the depths of the Void to slay dozens of evil gods thanks to the sheer volume of prayers calling out to him."
He let his gaze wander lazily along the streets, casually shifting the features of his face. He had no fear of being recognized.
He seemed to have no particular purpose. He was merely wandering and observing the daily life of those within. From time to time he bought a few fruits from a stall with a handful of copper coins, chewing them absently as he walked.
Superficially, the theocracy differed little from any other kingdom. The people lived simple, ordinary lives, save for the added prayers and hymns offered to the God of Light throughout the day.
Even in this holy land, there were many nonbelievers and even heretics who worshipped other gods. But this caused no conflict. Neither group faced discrimination. "Coerce no one into belief," and "Depend not excessively on the divine," were part of the canon of the Church of Light.
The study of alchemy and the void went unhindered; academies and institutes flourished without censorship. The Church of Light did not stifle such pursuits. In truth, the theocracy owed its prosperity to the Church's overwhelming power—and to the enlightened laws it set forth as the kingdom's ruling body.
If there was any minor inconvenience, it lay in how strictly the Church punished petty crimes. Petty theft and the like, overlooked in many kingdoms, were treated with utmost severity here. The wardens were all faithful servants of the God of Light; in a land filled with such devoted believers, slipping past their watchful eyes was all but impossible.
Thus, at times, the atmosphere of the theocracy could feel a touch... "stifling." The people were always mindful of their conduct. But given the astonishingly low crime rate that came as a result, it hardly counted as a complaint at all.
The white-haired youth finished the fruit in his hand and flicked the pit neatly into a nearby trash bin. As he drew his hand back, his fingers brushed at empty air, moving lightly as though plucking invisible threads. In truth, he was touching something: his senses had already slipped into the void, feeling for filaments of faith, a power he had possessed but since lost.
"Hm. As expected of his theocracy... There are so many wills bound to him. No wonder he has grown so strong."
Nodding to himself, he followed the countless threads extending from the hearts of the kingdom's people and saw the presence they interacted with, a vast and mighty being: a colossal sphere of radiant light, shining with brilliance yet gentle to the eyes, sending its glow across all creation.
"So different from before... You've changed your form completely, no longer appearing in the likeness of man. For beings like you, such a form certainly means giving up much—but it grants far greater stability."
His murmured words carried a trace of wistfulness. The glowing sphere before him bore scarcely any resemblance to the God of Light he had once known.
"To shield souls from being crushed and swept away by the tide of consciousness, only a still greater tide will suffice. Are we truly doomed to stand opposed in the end? Perhaps. Our paths diverged from the very beginning."
Mental energy pulsed softly. In the void, the white-haired youth turned over an object between his fingers, idly playing with it. A smile graced his lips as he shook his head mildly.
"Sir, do you need any assistance?"
A paladin clad in heavy armor passed by and noticed the youth leaning against the crystal-lit lamppost, head bowed in faint melancholy. As a warden of the realm, he stepped forward to inquire whether the stranger required help.
"No, nothing of the sort," the youth replied. "I came only to visit an old friend. Things have changed, and the sentiment caught me off guard for a moment, that's all. Thank you for your concern. To live in a kingdom like this... I imagine that's quite a blessing."
The youth smiled brightly, explaining that his sighs sprang merely from nostalgia and that the knight needn't worry. Then he spoke briefly of the theocracy's virtues, especially in comparison to other realms.
"I'm glad to hear you're all right," the knight answered. His tone brimmed with natural pride. He was content with his life and hopeful for the future. "And yes, it truly is a blessing. This kingdom is something we've built together. I can see the path ahead for us, and I believe we can make it better still. Praise be to the God of Light."
"Praise be to the God of Light," the youth echoed, performing the gesture of reverence with practiced, flawless ease.
