Other scholars then joined in refining the plan.
"For a peaceful civilization, an intruder would likely seek contact."
"But for a civilization prepared for war, any intruder could be an enemy."
"Therefore, this plan is flawed."
"However, we could modify it: create a dilapidated ship to avoid alarming the Filament civilization, thus facilitating contact."
As soon as this scholar finished, another stood up.
"Haven't you overlooked something?"
"When you see a damaged object in space, what do you do?"
"At least for me, the first option is to observe silently for a while, confirming there's no threat, before investigating. I wouldn't initiate contact immediately."
"The second option is direct destruction—no gains, no losses."
"Attempting communication is a tertiary option. Even then, when encountering an unknown civilization and warship, would we use our language, a universal mathematical model, or a physics model?"
"This is the crux of the matter."
"If it's a weaker target, the Filament civilization wouldn't bother communicating."
These words made the previous scholar slowly nod: "Indeed, I hadn't considered that."
"This plan is only viable once; it loses effectiveness afterward. My proposal is unstable and uncertain—a failure."
"So, what's your proposal?"
This question stumped the scholar, who remained silent, clearly lacking a solution.
"What would entice the Filament civilization to make contact?"
That was the question.
A scholar quickly offered an answer.
"Currently, the Filament civilization's primary interest is anything related to the Federation. The Olive Branch civilization might not be of interest, but a potential ally might be."
This was the most likely scenario.
Mystery and power held no sway over the Filament civilization; they would only perceive these as threats. A potential threat against the Federation was different.
However, this suggestion meant revealing the Federation's weaknesses, a potentially high cost.
The meeting room fell silent again, the scholars racking their brains.
This wasn't an easy decision; numerous factors needed consideration. They aimed for perfection, for a single, successful attempt.
Many computer-simulated plans had failed due to external forces or emotional interference. The proposed solution had undergone numerous optimizations.
While it might seem simple, they had already completed all the preparatory work.
"This isn't ideal; we're compromising too much."
"It might even lead to the loss of another star system; it's the worst-case scenario."
Almost all the scholars shook their heads.
"Bang!"
A scholar suddenly slammed their hand on the table.
"I think this is feasible."
"We can use deception to lure the Filament civilization."
"Consider this: we provide the Filament civilization with a seemingly unbeatable strategy, then devise a counter-strategy. This might lure them into another trap."
His words were met with laughter.
"Regardless of your plan's merit, haven't you strayed from the point?"
"We need to know the Filament civilization's lifeform, not develop battlefield tactics."
Multi-eyed's hundreds of eyes fixed on the assembled scholars.
"Following this discussion's core, shouldn't we send someone to reveal our weaknesses to the Filament civilization? Isn't that absurd?"
One scholar, feeling uncomfortable under Multi-eyed's gaze, found inspiration in that discomfort.
"It's not absurd."
"Biology!"
"Compared to our encounters with other civilizations, the Federation's greatest weakness is biology."
"Therefore, we offer the enemy a method to destroy and eliminate our biological assets; using biological assets, we can spy."
"I have a bold, complex plan, but I believe you'll see its feasibility; it has many advantages."
"The Federation has continuously researched biological weaponry, but we only used them for warships, for Swarm drones."
"But the most terrifying aspect of biology isn't this; its most frightening element is that every civilization begins as organic life. As long as they haven't transcended this, we can exploit it."
"What does life strive for?"
"Superiority."
"We don't need to reveal our weaknesses; we can offer the Filament civilization an opportunity for advancement."
"The Filament civilization is advanced and powerful; I won't deny that. But consider this: in our wars, they relied on numerical superiority, never demonstrating intellectual dominance, as a previous scholar mentioned. I'm sure you've all pondered this."
"From this, I conclude that the Filament civilization's lifeforms are an ordinary, complacent species. Their lifeform lacks inherent superiority."
"Therefore, we can offer them a path to advancement; this path doesn't need to be clear, only worth investigating."
"They will draw conclusions and transform themselves. We won't need to decipher their language or draw inferences; instead, we will shape their lifeform."
The discussion continued late into the night.
All the scholars initially found this laughable.
But then, the scholar revealed the core of the plan.
"We can create a sandbox, using it to influence the Filament civilization's thinking."
"This sandbox will pose no threat to the Filament civilization; it will be a simple structure, devoid of any threatening elements. It will be a sandbox, a game."
"We won't control it or influence it; we will be like gods, observing from afar."
"The Filament civilization will be curious; they will observe our actions."
"And what will we do? A seemingly simple life exploration project. This project will show the Filament civilization how we live. Don't underestimate this; the Filament civilization already understands our lifeforms. This sandbox will transmit only one thing."
"Federation culture. This is our strength—we will fight with culture."
"This sandbox won't simply contain our culture; it will show our pursuit of excellence. We are already perfect, but we pursue even greater perfection. This will be highly attractive to any civilization."
"They will embrace it; this is undeniable. No civilization will reject the opportunity for advancement."
"Like Tilted Station; we can replicate what the pioneers did when facing Tilted Station. Remember, the Olive Branch civilization was far stronger than the Filament civilization, yet they are now integrating our ideas."
"Our goal is simple: to inspire fear—fear that we will achieve further progress. They will be compelled to learn from us."
"To learn, they must engage; through engagement, we obtain all their information."
"My verbal explanation is insufficient; the detailed plan has been uploaded to the public server; you can download it."
"I call this plan, the Genesis Project!"
Luna downloaded the document; her eyes lit up.
The other scholars reacted similarly; some even stood up, exclaiming: "Brilliant! Truly brilliant!"
"This is truly feasible; its influence extends far beyond this single Filament civilization fleet; it affects the entire Filament civilization."
No plan is perfect; some scholars questioned the Genesis Project.
"The Genesis Project creates a world, then lures the Filament civilization into this sandbox to play a game."
"But this world, in your plan, is entirely outside our control; it holds countless uncertainties. How can you ensure these uncertainties benefit us?"
In this new type of warfare, you could achieve your goals or push your opponent to the brink.
The odds weren't 1:9, but closer to 5:5—highly uncertain.
All the scholars felt helpless facing this issue.
Interstellar warfare rarely requires intricate plans; complex strategies are only employed in dire situations, demanding absolute perfection.
Especially in a non-wartime scenario.
During battle, most lifeforms lose some rationality. Even advanced AI can be affected, as advanced AI often possesses emotions; emotions are valuable tools, enabling AI to make more accurate biological decisions.
But outside of wartime, everyone remains perfectly rational, making it extremely difficult to employ any complex strategies.
Therefore, these scholars needed a flawless plan.
Luna then spoke: "Use groups?"
"Groups?"
The scholars were momentarily stunned.
In specialized fields, especially in the Federation's diverse advanced fields, a single word could represent numerous things.
They didn't know which field Luna meant by "groups," but it certainly wasn't a social group.
"Actually, research in Alpha Eridani involved scholars studying groups in macroscopic physics."
"We know that groups in mathematics are crucial for grand unified theories, gauge theories, Yang-Mills theory, and more. In mathematics, it extends to the microscopic level; can we utilize the properties of groups at the macroscopic level?"
A murmur spread through the room.
When Luna mentioned groups in mathematics, all the scholars immediately thought of Abelian groups; after mentioning gauge theory, they understood her meaning.
The concept of a group is simple. Consider an object with multiple states of motion. These states are essentially the same object; we can categorize these states of motion into a group.
In mathematics, (1, 2, 3), (1, 3, 2), (2, 1, 3), (2, 3, 1), (3, 1, 2), and (3, 2, 1) are considered the same group, despite their arrangement.
What is gauge invariance?
Gauge invariance is like units of length and time: cm, m, km, s, min, h. If we equate units of length and time, we unify space and time.
This is a simplified explanation; the true mathematical concepts are abstract. We could, for example, compress all the theorems of the universe or a civilization's understanding of the world into a single mathematical formula.
From group theory, gauge field theory, and Luna's mention of Yang-Mills theory, the scholars easily deduced her plan.
We can apply gauge invariance to 123 and abc. Is it possible to use an object at point a, through gauge invariance, to induce a desired change in an object at point b?
This solved the final problem in the plan.
Point b could be entirely controlled from point a, eliminating uncertainty.
"But is this even possible?" A scholar questioned.
This had been a long and arduous discussion.
But Luna wouldn't have proposed it if it weren't feasible.
"Federation technology is more advanced than you think."
The Federation was vast; the Tau Ceti and Alpha Eridani sectors were over 100 light-years apart, creating significant communication delays, not just for citizens but also for scholars.
Only Ayla, and then Luna, had access to the most comprehensive information.
"Alright, but how would this be implemented?"
In response, Luna waved her hand, creating a holographic model.
In this model, a particle was in Luna's hand; another object was far away. Luna changed the particle's physical properties, affecting the distant object.
The object transformed into a humanoid form, moved, spoke, and performed various actions.
"The Boundary God possesses sufficient computing power to create a new world using gauge invariance."
Thus, the discussion concluded.
Was this plan perfect?
Yes, it was.
But it wasn't simple enough.
Fortunately, the cost was energy, not lives, making it acceptable.
With the plan finalized, how would they create this "advanced world"?
This world would feature superior lifeforms, emerging from war. This experiment was crucial, not only for the war against the Filament civilization, but also for future gene pool competition.
However, this was incredibly complex.
After the meeting, Luna returned to her quarters, pondering and analyzing the data.
This data wasn't just the verbal discussion; Luna also had all the scholars send their written ideas.
This was an advantage of the augmented brain: it could store memories. You didn't need to recall your actions; the augmented brain recorded everything.
Luna didn't ask Ayla to analyze this data; she analyzed and organized it herself, then had Ayla optimize it—the perfect approach.
During her research, Luna experienced the same feeling the scholar who had countered Multi-eyed had felt when looking at Multi-eyed's eyes.
Fear…
She suddenly recalled a modern myth from Earth.
Many Earth myths stemmed from ancient beliefs. One exception was the Cthulhu mythos.
To Luna, the core of Cthulhu was fear, mystery, and strangeness—unlike other mythologies.
"Let's use this as a template!"
...
135 years later.
This short timeframe wouldn't alter the war's outcome; even if the Filament civilization warships had departed 135 years ago, they would struggle to reach the Federation's lines.
However, this time was sufficient for Luna to perfect and implement the [Genesis] Project.
Creating a world was immensely difficult; theoretical models were insufficient.
Luna first needed to establish a connection between distant matter and matter near her. This connection, a super-long-range link, was more difficult than connecting two black holes, as achieved by the Olive Branch civilization.
This link needed to be stable and long-lasting, unlike the super-gravity weapon's temporary black hole connections, which lasted only minutes or at most half an hour.
Luna's analysis revealed the need for an immense amount of energy.
This energy could only be supplied by a star; it couldn't rely on other lifeforms, nuclear fusion, antimatter annihilation, or dark matter decay.
Luna utilized a star system's energy to complete this plan.
Due to gauge invariance, she needed an equivalent amount of matter to influence the distant point.
Since she was creating a world, she needed a world's worth of matter.
A hundred years earlier, a colossal structure had been constructed in space. This structure, over 300,000 kilometers in diameter, required an immense amount of materials. However, the materials weren't particularly special because the structure was hollow.
Its primary function was to contain these groups of matter and apply gauge invariance to each group, even down to the neutron and nuclear levels.
Concentrating the matter of a star into a single point, then precisely controlling each neutron, nucleus, and electron—the sheer scale of this task is almost unimaginable.
Yet, it was also incredibly impressive.
The connection between the two groups relied on a combination of quantum entanglement and Tachyon communication, minimizing information loss due to distance and ensuring rapid transmission.
To avoid detection by the Filament civilization,
15 Tachyon communication devices were deployed to transmit information.
These were only the macroscopic challenges; countless smaller problems—not millions, not billions, but trillions—had to be solved.
Luna used over one-third of the Tau Ceti sector's resources to complete all this in just over a hundred years.
The massive equipment involved incurred enormous energy consumption; a single star's energy was insufficient, requiring continuous energy transport from other star systems.
The final energy consumption was 17 times the energy output of a standard star (the Sun), an extraordinary amount.
This energy consumption depleted all energy reserves from 22 star systems, including current energy production.
The moment the equipment activated, the Tau Ceti sector experienced a "power outage".
The target area was a region 32 light-years beyond the current Federation defensive lines, devoid of any obstacles.
32 years later, scattered matter in that region of deep space began to coalesce, forming a massive vortex after about 150 years. The vortex began to condense into a proto-planet.
Normally, planet formation takes hundreds of millions of years.
This planet was different. After another 380 years, it had become a planet approximately 1.4 times the mass of Earth.
This anomaly attracted the Filament civilization's attention; they quickly arrived within 500 AU to observe.
They easily determined it wasn't a weapon, and its distance from their main base was significant; they didn't destroy it.
After the planet formed, it entered a stable state within 100 years. Liquid water appeared on the surface, and life began to emerge.
These lifeforms were enormous, each reaching thousands of meters in height.
They resembled giant, towering plants, lacking leaves, consisting only of a central stalk with a fleshy bulb at the apex, emitting light illuminating the surrounding area for tens of kilometers.
Tens of thousands of these creatures emerged in a short time.
Other lifeforms emerged from the water; these lifeforms underwent millions of years of evolution in just a few decades, with new species appearing almost annually, as if time was accelerated.
Judging by physics and natural laws, this was nothing short of miraculous.
But if viewed as a game orchestrated by an advanced civilization, it makes more sense.
The Filament civilization undoubtedly questioned the planet's origin.
They observed continuously, using minimal warships.
They feared the unknown; they suspected it was a weapon, luring them into a trap.
Therefore, they only sent one warship to observe within 10 AU of the planet.
However, the more they observed, the more terrified they became.
They weren't afraid of planet creation; civilizations like theirs could create planets, albeit at a tremendous cost. They could even accelerate life's emergence.
But…
They found no evidence of mechanical devices involved in the planet's creation.
This spontaneous genesis instilled fear.
They were terrified, wanting to destroy it, but the planet's evolution was too rapid. Within 500 years, diverse lifeforms emerged, even developing civilizations.
The emergence of life calmed their fears somewhat.
These lifeforms were clearly replicas of their enemies, theoretically created by their enemies.
But why create this?
It seemed devoid of any weaponry.
The Filament civilization continued observing, discovering fascinating developments on the planet.
Humans occupied most of the planet's landmass, seafolk dominated the oceans, elves dwelled in primeval forests, and monstrous beings watched from underground.
This world wasn't limited to intelligent life; colossal creatures called Gods existed, possessing immense power, capable of influencing all life through their minds.
Under their influence, many intelligent species developed abilities, evolving into gene pools.
Intelligent life fought the Gods using their gene pools, while also engaging in internal conflicts.
Through these conflicts, both Gods and intelligent life became stronger and more perfect. To resist the Gods, intelligent life rapidly advanced, achieving Type 1 civilization status in a short time.
However, they remained under the shadow of the Gods; their progress fueled the Gods' power.
This was a simulated game.
The Filament civilization believed this.
But then, they grew increasingly concerned, increasingly shocked.
...
"What's beyond the city?"
Pol stopped and asked his father.
His father was a journalist, writing headlines and articles.
"Beyond the city lies desolation and darkness, where monsters lurk in the shadows. They devour humans; even powerful gene pools offer no protection; humans are merely food."
"You can call them monsters; most people call them gods."
"But these gods are not worthy of worship; they are outer gods, evil gods."
"Pol, don't be curious, don't seek contact, don't imagine them. They are demons."
Pol had heard his father's words since childhood. But as he grew older, he developed his own thoughts, and curiosity emerged. What was unknown to others might be thrilling, wouldn't it?
He made it the topic of his stories, forming a secret club.
Discussing outer gods within the city was forbidden.
Everyone believes they are special, especially during adolescence. This belief fades in their thirties; by fifty, they accept their ordinariness and await death.
Pol was no exception; he was young, special, like a protagonist in a novel, and this world was his stage.
That's what he thought.
He expected it to be easy.
Until he saw his companions floating in the darkness, their bodies contorted, crushed, blood splattering, bones shattering, before a gaping maw in the shadows consumed them.
Pol hid in his house, the sound of devouring echoing in his mind.
It was the same sound as when he ate meat, yet the thought filled him with terror.
He remembered his father's words.
"Pol, don't be curious, don't seek contact, don't imagine them. They are demons."
Now he knew it was true.
Curiosity is innate; so is fear.
"Knock knock knock!"
"Knock knock knock!"
He heard knocking; his whole body trembled.
"Pol, open the door!"
His father's voice. He felt a sense of relief; emerging from under his bed, he approached the door.
He peered through the peephole; utter darkness.
"Pol!"
Another urgent knock.
Pol opened the door. Instantly, darkness surged in, filling the room. In the darkness, Pol became a skeleton.
From this room, darkness consumed the entire city, a metropolis of millions instantly deserted.
To an advanced civilization, this power was insignificant, laughable.
But to a lower civilization, it was terrifying.
It's worth noting that humans and other intelligent species possess nuclear weapons capable of destroying the outer gods; the outer gods aren't invincible.
A careful analysis reveals the following power levels: Humans 10, Seafolk 9, Underground Beings 6, Elves 3, Outer Gods 5.
Except for the numerically weak elves, the other species could defeat the outer gods.
Yet, the outer gods still rule.
This is what demands consideration.
Why?
Because of the unknown.
Humans categorized the outer gods within the occult; encountering them meant being devoured. Contemplating the outer gods meant they could perceive you, approach you, and kill you.
This fear was shared by other intelligent species.
Their lack of understanding bred fear.
What do beings fear most?
The unknown!
Scenes like those in the Lovecraftian mythos repeatedly played out; humans maintained stability through strength; the Seafolk did likewise.
The sparse elves enforced strict rules, weakening their fighting strength while resisting the outer gods' mental corruption.
The subterranean species were only slightly stronger than the outer gods; they were initially slaughtered, then began worshipping the outer gods, becoming their followers.
The outer gods have grown stronger.
Their power increased to 7.5, nearing that of the Seafolk. They used the subjugated subterranean species for a two-pronged attack, fighting both humans and Seafolk.
Facing two species stronger than themselves, the outer gods relentlessly pressed their advantage, forcing both sides into continuous retreat.
The entire planet was consumed by this war; the outer gods were the protagonists.
After 100 years, the outer gods began infiltrating both intelligent species; some humans and Seafolk were corrupted, worshipping the outer gods and weakening both societies.
This coincided with the peak of both species' gene pool development.
Some gene pools achieved god-like power.
Humans and Seafolk deployed these gene pools against the outer gods, achieving some success. However, these battles resulted in losses; humans and Seafolk weren't innately powerful; their top-tier gene pools were limited.
The gene pools quickly weakened.
By this point, human and Seafolk technology had reached its peak, making them overall stronger than the outer gods.
Analytically, the outer gods couldn't win.
But the outcome was different.
Over time, the humans and Seafolk were relentlessly pushed back, controlling only one-tenth of the planet's surface, while the weaker outer gods controlled ninety percent.
Even then, humans and Seafolk hadn't utilized their ultimate weapon: nuclear power.
Why?
This is where the advanced civilization's questions began.
The outer gods' territory was vulnerable to nuclear strikes, yet they weren't used.
They only witnessed death, fear, and the outer gods.
The answer is simple: the unknown.
The very term "outer gods" implies the unknown.
What is a god?
Omniscient and omnipotent!
If they are gods, can nuclear weapons defeat them?
Subconsciously, life believes not.
If it's impossible, there's no need to try. This leads to the decline of other species and the dominance of the outer gods.
This wasn't just a game; it was an experiment.
A game has defined rules and outcomes; an experiment only has pre-determined conditions; the outcome is unknown.
Even if this world was created by the Boundary God, her influence wasn't absolute. Luna needed data, and only authentic, unadulterated data would yield perfect results.
Luna sought perfection.
Did the world end here?
No, it was only the beginning.
...
"Useless, the outer gods cannot be defeated."
A desperate man shouted, climbing atop a low building, spreading his arms at the edge before jumping to his death, his head striking the ground.
The surrounding humans felt nothing.
Despair like his was everywhere.
Here, in Vjevina, the last human stronghold, no one believed they could stop the outer gods.
The city held over two million people, including 150,000 members of the Outer God cult actively proselytizing—previously forbidden; now, no one cared.
The human leader relentlessly deployed troops to search for a way to defeat the outer gods, but none returned.
Standing atop a structure taller than the city walls, he gazed at the endless darkness beyond, obscuring even the "streetlights".
Darkness crept closer.
"Ten years, no, five, perhaps three years before Vjevina is destroyed, and humanity perishes."
"What can we do? What choices do we have?"
Neville was the current human leader, yet his mind was blank; he had no concrete plans, only desperation.
He pondered this while reclining in a chair, a maid preparing his tea.
He languidly smoked a cigarette, appearing calm and composed.
His questions were rhetorical; he was like everyone else in the city.
At that moment, his son burst in: "Father, I discovered the outer gods fear fire. Could this mean plasma-based weapons are effective against them?"
"Then, nuclear weapons might also inflict damage."
Neville smiled, turning his head. "Your curiosity is unnecessary. Our time is short; you should learn to enjoy life."
"Get your maid to join you; teach her what pleasure is."
Indolence.
Kaurney stared incredulously at his father. He remembered his father wasn't like this; he'd always held onto hope, otherwise, he wouldn't have sent troops to find a way to defeat the outer gods.
"But we never even tried, did we?"
"At this point, are we just going to wait for death?"
"Don't you feel any resentment?"
He roared.
Neville's expression remained unchanged. He said coldly: "The nuclear weapons aren't under my control, a mere mayor. The person who possessed them is dead; the launch site is hundreds of kilometers from here."
"Even if what you say is true, Kaurney, it's too late."
Kaurney stormed off.
He found his uncle, Mobenxi, the current commander of Vjevina's forces.
"I want to leave the city, Uncle Mobenxi."
Mobenxi was drunk, slumped against a wall, clutching a bottle. He mumbled: "Ah, Kaurney. You're here just in time; help me up."
Kaurney didn't help him. "I want to leave. Give me a military escort, or a command order."
Mobenxi hiccuped, slowly pulling out a medal. "Take it. It's useless now; this is the commander's medal."
Childish mockery.
Kaurney took a deep breath, accepted the medal, and left.
The military barracks were empty.
An old soldier looked at him. "Looking for someone? Don't bother; everyone's gone."
"Going out to die is worse than spending time with family or finding a woman for pleasure."
Kaurney's face fell.
"Why?"
He wanted to risk everything for his research; he refused to wait for death like his father; it was unbearable.
The medal slipped from his hand. The old soldier, noticing it, asked: "What are you doing here?"
He had assumed Kaurney was looking for someone.
"Forget it."
"It was all a dream, a foolish belief that I could save the world with my naive ideas. But how could that be possible?"
"So many people have tried; hasn't anyone researched whether nuclear weapons could destroy the outer gods?"
"But no one did; everyone knows it's futile."
Kaurney muttered, leaving despondently.
The old soldier then spoke: "You want to leave the city?"
"I can help you."
Kaurney was surprised. "Don't you want to enjoy yourself?"
The old soldier, over fifty but still strong, shook his head.
"If I wanted to, I'd be in a bar, not here."
He stood up, smiling. "Don't worry about me; my family is gone. I can find some others; they also want to leave; staying here is unbearable. Better to risk it outside."
Kaurney's face lit up; he nodded.
Soon, the old soldier found a few others—only three, plus Kaurney—a total of five.
This wasn't a full military unit; it was a small squad, a suicide squad.
Yet, their faces showed no despair, only relief.
"Let's go!"
Armed, they boarded an armored vehicle and headed towards the city gates.
No one stopped them; they left the city unimpeded.
After traveling 100 meters, they entered a dense, dark fog, their headlights illuminating only a few meters of road ahead.
No one cared about these few individuals.
Neither the Filament civilization nor the outer gods.
A few thousand soldiers were insignificant to them; why would they care about five people?
Even the powerful outer gods wouldn't bother; smaller monsters would take care of them.
But being insignificant didn't mean they were powerless. With the help of a map, they found the secret nuclear launch site.
This was a highly classified area, even unknown to most outer gods.
The outer gods weren't truly omniscient; their power depended on the fear of living beings.
These five weren't afraid; they couldn't be spied upon, couldn't be defeated by the outer gods.
"Launch it."
"One last gamble."
"Winning or losing doesn't matter; we tried," said the old soldier, missing a hand and a leg, laughing.
Kaurney, his body wrapped in bandages, lay on the ground, barely alive, his eyelids fluttering, awaiting death.
The other three were also injured, none unscathed.
The nuclear launch program was complex, but the long-neglected equipment was outdated.
Outdated equipment is vulnerable to hacking. One of the soldiers, possessing some technical skill, hacked into the system and launched the nuclear weapon.
They believed this wouldn't change anything; a single nuclear weapon wouldn't alter the outcome.
That's what they thought.
But they were wrong. This nuclear weapon dramatically changed the world; everything was different. The previously dominant outer gods began their decline after this single strike.