Mental Corruption was mutual.
At least, that was how Gawain saw it.
Based on the experimental references provided by The Sleeper and the technical data left behind by the rebels, Gawain could now almost certainly conclude that the birth of gods was connected to mortal faith. Or, more precisely, the collective thoughts of mortals were projected into some dimension deep within this world, giving rise to gods. If this model held true, then dealing with a god face-to-face was essentially a contest of sanity loss—a process of mutual contamination.
A god's knowledge would unimpededly contaminate any mind that established a connection with it—at least, Gawain still did not know how to block such a connection. Conversely, minds connected to a god would inevitably exert an influence in return. Yet one thing was obvious: the minds of ordinary people could not compare to a god's mind, so this contest of sanity loss became a one-sided erosion.
But what if a mind unaffected by divine knowledge, and possessing a vast repository of memories, were to "interface" with a god?
The mountain-like Upper Narrator split apart. Its shattered body slowly collapsed. Its remaining power still struggled to sustain itself, but even that dwindling strength rapidly scattered as the divine patterns dimmed. Gawain stood quietly where he was, watching everything unfold while continuously suppressing and dissolving the corrosive contamination within himself.
The erosion he had suffered was severe—far worse than it appeared. This time, he was no longer facing Divine Flesh sealed inside a crystal cube, nor a counterfeit god's stitched corpse created through Biochemical Technology. The Upper Narrator was a true, complete, living god. Even if it was weak, it possessed a special rank. Matching contamination against it had been an extremely risky move.
But it was the only method Gawain could think