23. Bygone Gods

Siles temporarily set aside all these troublesome matters.

After chatting briefly with Lorenzo, he returned to his room to organize his wardrobe and small study. The washroom here was much larger than at 13 Milford Street, with both a shower and bathtub, greatly relieving the Earth native.

He preferred showering.

While arranging his room, Siles thought that in many ways, especially daily life, this world closely resembled Earth. Its sewer systems and hot water supply were advanced.

Yet in other areas, particularly cutting-edge technology—like transportation or weaponry (thinking of Knight Commander Banyan’s armor)—it lagged significantly.

Siles wondered if the mist’s arrival caused this world’s technology to regress.

He’d need to research Sardin Empire materials.

…Wait, didn’t he have an archaeology roommate?

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Mbyv lhldkdt, Fkzlp ekdle okvb Nsaldgs yv vbl nyqlvlaky.

Mblka yrrlyaydnl ealo pvweldv yvvldvksd. Fsxl obkprlale, zkjlzu yoyal sq Fkzlp’p keldvkvu—bkp dyxl yrrlyale sd psxl pvweldvp’ pnblewzlp.

Llkvbla Fkzlp dsa Nsaldgs ryke xwnb xkde vs vbl pvweldvp’ alynvksdp.

“Fyaekd Oxrkal?” Nsaldgs ypjle, pzktbvzu rwggzle. “Ebu yal usw kdvlalpvle kd vbyv?”

Fkzlp sqqlale y alypsd: “Wsa vbkp ulya’p ynyelxkn aliwkalxldv, R rzyd vs oakvl sd Fyaekd Oxrkal zkvlayvwal, ps R oydv vs zlyad ycswv kv.”

“R pll,” Nsaldgs vbswtbv, nypwyzzu dyxkdt y qlo Fyaekd Oxrkal ynyelxkn vlmvp, vbld pyke, “Mbl Fyaekd Oxrkal oyp iwkvl y alxyajyczl dyvksd.”

“Slxyajyczl?”

“Rq vbl alnsaep yal vawl, kv oyp zkjlzu xsal yehydnle vbyd swa Isdpv Pwnbu. Mblu pwrrsplezu bye qzukdt hlbknzlp, obkzl ol’al pvwnj okvb nyaakytlp.”

Siles was slightly surprised, asking, “So, after the Silent Era, our technology regressed?”

Lorenzo tilted his head, pondering, then said, “It’s hard to say. The mist cut off exchange channels with other nations, and we still haven’t contacted many theoretically existing ones.

“We don’t know what stage their civilizations are at.”

Siles nodded thoughtfully.

Lorenzo, sounding bored, said, “Maybe that’s why the Grand Duke wants to develop the Withered Plains. With the mist fading, the first nation to claim the Endless Lands gains an edge.”

Siles said, “That’s a very practical reason.”

“—Profit, I mean,” Lorenzo said, glancing thoughtfully at Siles, then laughing. “You’re the first to agree so readily.”

Siles smiled faintly.

He thought, strategic buffer zone. That vast wilderness… could be a major asset for the Konst Duchy.

But Siles kept these thoughts to himself.

Lorenzo circled back to the Sardin Empire: “But Shadow Era and Silent Era records are incomplete. I wish a ruin would turn up for us to study.

“People prefer studying the Godbirth Era or Empire Era. Who knows how many secrets the Shadow and Silent Eras hide?”

Many, many, Siles thought.

“Thanks to Antinam in the Mist Era,” Lorenzo said. “Otherwise, who knows how long humanity would’ve been lost in the mist.”

“Are you His follower?”

“Half and half,” Lorenzo laughed, shrugging. “Most feel the same about Antinam—reverence, gratitude, faith… not quite devotees. But He does protect us.”

Siles nodded thoughtfully.

Antinam wasn’t a harsh god, earning high esteem among common folk. Not everyone believed, but most held goodwill toward Him.

Perhaps this tied to His benign title.

God of the past and history. Guardian of the Crevice of Time.

Guardian of the… Crevice of Time.

Siles took a deep breath, suppressing a thought: Could He be tied to my transmigration?

Not a question to ponder now.

After dinner, they returned to their rooms, respecting each other’s space. Siles felt their compatibility boded well for future interactions.

Exhausted, not just from the day’s hustle, Siles paced his room, acclimating to the new space, then sat in the small study connected to his bedroom.

He liked this study.

At the desk, he took out letter paper and scrap paper.

He wrote to his mother, informing her of his move to Lamifa University’s dormitory and including his new address. After drafting, he copied the letter neatly, planning to find a nearby carriage station tomorrow.

Then, he wrote another letter to Alfonso Kalel, the folklorist, inquiring about modern nations inheriting Sardin Empire customs. He wrote it but hesitated, tucking it into a drawer, not sending it immediately.

He needed to settle his thesis topic first.

The Sardin Empire was a popular Silent Era topic in academia, its storied past drawing countless scholars.

Most research was historical, but Siles needed a literary angle. He hadn’t found one yet.

So, though he wrote the letter, he decided to hold off sending it.

He pulled out his teaching plans.

Tomorrow morning, he’d sleep in to rest; in the afternoon, he’d go to the Historical Society for a new ritual. The day after, he’d face students.

Speaking of which, he still didn’t know his apprentices. Hadn’t the institute decided?

Siles was puzzled but didn’t dwell. He reviewed his plans, mentally rehearsed the lessons, then stood by the window, pretending to face students, lecturing in a moderate voice.

His voice grew tense and dry.

…Forcing an Earth novelist, usually a shut-in, to face dozens of students was cruel.

Siles sighed.

He’d have to act colder, stricter. He wasn’t one to jest with students.

Siles resolved this inwardly.

He practiced several times, ensuring he knew the content, then relaxed.

It was late. He washed, did laundry, aired the suit for the day after, and fell into deep sleep.

On August’s first day, Siles woke to warm sunlight streaming through the window, warming his face, reminding him July’s rainy season was over.

“Oh,” Siles rolled over, mumbling half-asleep, “I hate summer.”

Near ten, he emerged from this rare indulgence—it was Monday. He washed slowly, left, and found his roommate gone.

He ate brunch at the cafeteria, lightheartedly mailed his mother’s letter at a nearby carriage station, then took a public carriage, reaching the Historical Society in about an hour.

His new life’s first day began with a Revelator lesson.

Arriving at noon, he had over an hour to read the bookshelf’s books. After thinking, he chose a general history of the Sardin Empire, flipping to the literature section for a quick review.

These details existed in his mind, but recalling them was tough, so he used an academic text to jog his memory.

Silent Era literature and its theories essentially explored one issue: literature’s social function.

Before the Shadow Era, literature’s primary role in Feishier was praising gods and recording events tied to gods, churches, and followers.

Gods, vast and varied like stars, had different followers and documentation styles. In this near-blooming diversity, various literary forms emerged.

Poems, novels, essays—most were tied to gods, inseparable from that essence.

In the Empire Era, works about humans, nations, races, and history appeared, but still under divine influence. Praising an empire meant praising its gods.

In a world with gods, this was inevitable.

But in the Shadow and Silent Eras, things subtly shifted.

As gods fell, recording their deeds lost its weight. People unwittingly committed blasphemous acts—gods vanished from literature, human elements grew.

Literature’s function saw further exploration in the Silent Era. The divide between sacred and secular texts became starkly clear.

In the modern Mist Era, with only Antinam’s lenient presence, academia’s discourse grew freer. Scholars could study past gods’ history and literature, even using once-blasphemous language in papers.

Secular literature, culture, and trends dominated this era.

An overwhelming, irreversible trend. With progress and technology, human civilization shone without divine adornment.

Siles drifted, gazing at a passage.

“…For Sardin Empire literati, praising the empire was far more practical and useful than praising gods. Many were patriotic politicians.

“They preferred a ruthless emperor to gods on the verge of falling, meddling in empire affairs.”

Siles closed his eyes briefly, thinking, in the Silent Era, gods interfered in empire affairs?

…For what?

Before he could ponder, the door opened, and someone entered.