August 14, 1615 Central Calendar, 03:02
Leiden, Enysfal Province, Holy Milishial Empire
The creak of the house's front door closing served as the final punctuation mark on this early morning's extraordinary discussion. Meteos, still assessing the aftermath of the partial reveal of his future memories, watched as Robin was all but dragged outside by Arthur before quickly vanishing into the cool night air. Despite the positive outcome, there were bound to be some complications, and as he had observed from Arthur’s subtle shift in how he gazed at his surroundings when he brushed the topic of Robin’s changed fate, Meteos surmised that the bird beastman would likely have questions.
“Miss Giles,” Meteos began, tugging lightly at his maid’s sleeve. “I think I need to make sure everything is alright with both of them.”
“Worried that they might do something rash?” Rachel’s tone was understanding.
“Yeah. You must have noticed it too, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, Young Master. There is no way someone as loyal as Byleth will bite the hand that feeds him. And Flamberge? Well, you know her. She’ll probably be more interested in all the possibilities your visions offer than the dangers.”
“But this is less about me and them. Those two seem to have a past history; what I’m worried about is what will they do among themselves.”
“Oh dearie, you know… you’re absolutely correct on that part, Young Master,” Rachel sighed, placing a hand on Meteos’ shoulder. “Very well… I will go with you. Let’s check on them together.”
“Much appreciated. Let us go, then.”
With a shared nod, the two dispersed momentarily to equip themselves with jackets and promptly headed out to see the sky still a canvas of deepening indigo, still more than two hours away from being painted by the vibrant sunrise. The pre-dawn air of Leiden, crisp and cool despite the peak summer month, immediately washed over Rachel and Meteos as they stepped out into the deserted street. Even the ubiquitous cats, usually stalking the shadows for unsuspecting scraps, were nowhere to be seen. It was silent, save for the rhythmic noises of nocturnal critters.
The quietude amplified the boy’s concern. “Now, where could the two have disappeared to?” he muttered, looking around. For their talk, Robin and Arthur must have gone to a more secluded place.
“Don’t worry about that, judging from the performance I’ve witnessed so far, I think finding them will be a rather quick affair with this invention of yours, Young Master,” Rachel chirped, raising a hand that was still gripping the azure Manadriver that glinted in the dim moonlight like a captured piece of starlight.
Meteos nodded, “Using your familiarity with their mana signatures… Hmm, I see. How far do you think you can pinpoint them, though?”
“Let’s say… half a kilometer.”
“That’s actually really impressive for any being that is not elven. As Magister Enepsigos, you are a sensor mage, am I right?”
The maid smiled sweetly at the young master’s compliment. “Why, thank you, Young Master. Indeed, my true rank is the Advanced Mage who specializes in detection magic.”
As Meteos looked on in satisfaction, Rachel closed her eyes and let her desire paint the reality, channeling her mana into the Manadriver and concentrating.
She no longer has to deal with the hassle of time-consuming verbal incantations anymore, yet ultimately the potency of a magical spell relies on the user’s proficiency. By desiring for the same magical effect that served as the foundation of the more specialized mana detector, a mage can sense the mana signatures of living beings within a certain radius from their position. However, precisely pinpointing an individual’s signature requires significant skill on the caster’s part. An elf who has honed their abilities can precisely identify a faint signature in a dense crowd within a range of several kilometers. Even if an enemy actively employs countermeasures to thwart this technique, they are expected to counter that countermeasure and still be able to locate their target within a quarter of that range. Even after the magical technology of the modern era had introduced devices capable of long-range detection such as the mana detectors and recently the conductive magnetic radars, mages excelling in detection magic are still trained as specialists commonly referred to as ‘sensor mages.’
For those fighting inside the ruins of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire’s facilities, more often than not their ability to sense incoming danger that lurked inside helped reduce the casualty rate suffered by the Milishian military personnel tasked to secure those dungeons.
Born a beastwoman, Magister Enepsigos the Revealer who led the Voice of the Order is one such skilled sensor who is not officially a part of the military.
After a few moments, her eyes snapped back open and Rachel immediately reported. “Found them. They are around 150 meters west by south.”
“There’s an empty lot next to the School Sports Services Directorate in that direction…” Meteos mused with a light shrug. “…And a dense cluster of buildings enough for freerunning. If you don’t mind the exercise, we can take the scenic shortcut.”
The maid raised an eyebrow. “Physical exercise is good. But are you sure you’re completely fine now, Young Master?”
“Yeah. I’m completely healed.”
“Then there’s no path too dangerous to take for someone like me,” she replied with a chuckle. “Just be careful on slippery tiles, natural gravity doesn’t take weekends off.”
“Sure, sure. Too bad anti-gravity magic is rather demanding for us poor species,” Meteos made a self-deprecating joke in reply. “I ain’t got no extra Manadriver with me neither to glide around. But never mind.”
Without further ado, the boy launched onto the nearest rooftop after running up the low fence bordering the street with practiced ease. Not to be outdone by the boy’s agility, Rachel also channeled her own inner feline grace. With a springy push from her legs, she propelled herself onto the adjacent building, her nimble feet found purchase on the tiles and moss-covered ridges with an almost preternatural confidence. Balancing effortlessly, she overtook Meteos who deliberately slowed down while darting across the rooftops to let her guide him to the destination.
Soon, they reached the edge of the empty lot Meteos had mentioned. The two of them could just make out the faint silhouettes of two figures bathed in the pallid glow of a lone streetlamp on the other side. Their postures were tense, words seemingly exchanged in clipped, urgent whispers. Meteos, who hadn’t intended for his revelation to create a rift between anyone, began to bite his lip slightly.
“There they are…”
Despite himself, Meteos proposed. “Let’s eavesdrop first. Then, depending on what we hear, we can intervene or leave them to work it out amongst themselves. Miss Giles, your sensor ability is once again much appreciated.”
“Very well. But if you don’t mind me asking, Young Master. What are the circumstances around Flamberge’s ill fate that you imply to have witnessed in your vision?”
“Depression-induced suicide,” Meteos curtly answered with a timbre of tombstone setting into place. “Losing her father in a horrific fashion, then having a fight with her mother, and then insisting on indulging herself in mission after mission as an agent in hopes that it might make her forget about the pain turned out to be not working so well for her mental health. I can’t say that Byleth fared better either; he sought an escape in what illusion of joy that opium could provide before it consumed him and his life fell apart.”
The boy sighed.
“I saw in the visions that no matter what happened, nothing seems to be working for all of us…”
“It must be the aftermath of the Cult Black… it seems that all of us in the upper management underestimated just how costly it would become…” Rachel muttered with the same grave expression, having a good idea of what the boy meant by that last line after everything he had revealed. “If it weren’t for Young Master’s existence who altered what could have been… then…”
It would be safe to say that they will pay the price tenfold, with Meteos Roguerider’s vision of the future giving a glimpse of that price.
As much as it was extremely callous to say it that way, it was a sum of misfortunes and terrible decisions one after another. The lengthy assignment that pushed the two souls to the breaking point might have driven her to that outcome for real had it not for the sudden and highly coincidental discovery of a curious child prodigy somewhere in Leiden and its consequences. Nobody would have guessed that assigning them to observe said Person of Interest was arguably the only right decision taken by the higher-ups at the time, seeing how much the two of them had healed in the process.
“If you don’t have the power to change that past… then just being sorry won’t cut it. Do not make the same mistake twice.”
Rachel heard the young master speak in hushed tones again. His tone carried an air of finality.
“…Yes, Young Master.”
Swallowing her inner lamentations, Rachel’s look hardened into one filled with determination as she followed Meteos who crouched near the ledge. From this vantage point, she could enhance her hearing to hear every flicker of emotion that crossed the faces of their two colleagues.
Hopefully, it was not too late for the hidden ones of the Holy Empire to reflect on their mistakes that would rob them of their glittering future as well.
…………
Coincidentally, the two reached this empty lot through the exact same route as their watchers. Upon arriving, Arthur let out a loud weary sigh to halt what would become an incessant babbling as the woman in front of him seemed to be more interested in the possibilities given by a person who can see the future, with that person turned out to be very much real and he happened to be Robin’s apprentice. While the sentiment isn’t bad, however…
“Robin—Hey, Robin. Listen to me.”
“Yeeah?”
Robin’s uplifting self responded to the call with a voice as light and carefree as a robin’s carol, utterly incongruous with Arthur’s tense look.
“Can you… well, can you believe all about it?” he pressed.
“Hm? You can just ask the kid to name more classified stuff if you really still don’t believe it.”
“No, I mean—about what Young Roguerider’s claim that… in the timeline he’s seeing… It’s a timeline without you in it…”
“What of it?”
“………”
The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, a stark counterpoint to the chirpy lilt of Robin’s earlier reply. Arthur watched, his heart a frantic drum solo against his ribs, as the carefree smile on Robin’s face slowly faltered and she looked at him in the eyes with a rather indescribable gaze. Without Meteos’ coincidental, very slim intervention which brought them to meet each other, her alternate self would have died by her own hands.
“Ah, yeah, so I apparently died, but the kid’s intervention in history allows me to continue to live. Kind of pathetic, huh?” Robin said before averting her gaze sideways and her nonchalance returned. “But it’s morbid to dwell on what could have been, don’t you think? Besides, I’m right here, ain’t I? Living, breathing, even if it’s thanks to some weird visions. So, should we go back and see what the kid has in store for us? I’m famished… for knowledge, that is.”
Arthur frowned. The absurdity of it all, the fragility of their existence laid bare by a child’s foresight, was too much to bear. He needed, demanded, some reaction from her, anything but this maddening, unsettling nonchalance.
Robin, however, remained stubbornly composed. She reached down, picked up a stray pebble, and began idly tossing it in the air, her gaze fixed on its erratic dance against the dark sky. “Look, Arthur, I appreciate your concern. But stressing over what-ifs and could-have-beens won’t change a thing. The kid saw a possible future, that’s all. Doesn’t mean it’s set in stone.”
“But you didn’t even know each other before this, am I right?” Arthur’s tone turned accusatory. “It’s only through some contrived coincidences that you get to live… What happened?”
The pebble in Robin’s hand ceased its playful dance in midair, clattering to the ground like a dropped coin. She spun to face the taller man, her gaze turning sharp and cold as moonlight on steel.
“Oh, now I get it. Yes, I once had thought to kill myself. You were also there and you turned away, why do you decide to care now?”
“That’s…”
The icy bite in Robin’s voice pierced the bird beastman like a winter wind, his insides began to twist.
They were two sides of the same coin, aren’t they? Losing both their fathers in a similar manner—to the Ancient Sorcerous Empire’s artificial monsters, both were grappling with the gaping hole left by their heroes’ deaths, both drowning in unspoken grief. Yet, as Arthur stumbled back and reflected, they’d been islands to each other, clinging to their solitary sorrow instead of finding solace in shared scars, helping each other through the difficult times.
“Ah…” Words began to choke out from Arthur’s mouth, scraping against his throat like gravel upon the realization. “You’re absolutely right. Maybe… you do have the right to hate me for that…”
Indeed, Arthur felt the weight of Robin’s gaze like a physical hand that pinned him to the spot. Shame coiled in his gut, cold and venomous. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat, choked by the weight of his own inaction. She was right, wasn’t she? He had been there too, but he ignored her. His ‘concerned’ attitude now, after learning of her potential demise, sounded hollow, opportunistic even.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Arthur’s own gaze dropped to the ground, unable to meet her steady stare. He took a shaky breath as he finally managed to speak. “I had no right to demand such things, not after everything you’ve been through on your own. I am sorry, Robin.”
“I’m already done thinking about it.”
The icy chill in Robin’s gaze softened slightly following Arthur’s words. Thwarting the oppressive silence that threatened to engulf them both, her voice was surprisingly calm.
“Do not be sorry, Arthur. Be better.”
Robin didn’t need to shout or lash out for her words to echo like thunder in the empty lot. With the quiet weight of his own reflection settling upon him, Arthur felt the ground shift beneath his feet. The woman calmly turned away from him with her back straight and shoulders squared, drifting his gaze at the flickering lights of the town downhill.
“People weren’t there when I needed it most… But maybe I wasn’t there for you either. We were both clinging to our pain like a life raft. But dwelling on that now won’t change anything. I’m done wallowing in ‘what-ifs,’ and so, I made peace with what could have been. I choose to live for the present and for the possibilities that lie ahead.”
“Live for the moment…?”
Arthur could only nod slowly.
“Is that why…”
“‘Why’ what?”
“You keep bothering me whenever you had the chance—”
Remembering the times when she pestered Arthur with her antics, a small laugh bubbled up from Robin’s throat. It was a sound that was more like Robin that he knew, Arthur thought, and it sent a jolt through him as the welcome warmth erased the coldness of their previous conversation.
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” Robin winked. “What-ifs won’t get us anywhere. Look at you, all red from just a little sunshine on your feathers.”
“………Robin, you…”
The outburst managed to bring some heat into Arthur’s face, visible even in the dim moonlight. He hated how easily she saw through him, how her playful teasing managed to fluster him even when he realized it was just her way of cheering him up. Back then, he dismissed it as an annoyance, a childish attempt to flaunt her skills over him. He never realized how his perceived stoicism might have made her feel ignored, uncared for. In her acceptance, her decision to choose the present, Arthur clearly saw a maturity he hadn’t recognized before.
“Your outlook is indeed a wise one, Robin.”
“Well, wouldn’t want to be outdone by a weird fifteen-year-old, would we?” the woman shrugged. “In a way… since my apprentice is just that much of an Ace, as a mentor, I should be at least good too, right? It was my pride talking, I know, but ehh…”
“…I guess I never really knew what to make of you,” Arthur admitted. “You always seem so… perfect. Good at everything, never letting anything get you down. That’s why I…”
“Hum?”
The words sprung from Arthur’s lips before he could fully grasp them, raw and vulnerable in the stillness of the night. He hadn’t meant to let them out, not like that. But seeing the woman before him had ripped open a dam he hadn’t realized was holding back a torrent of unspoken emotions. After all the times looking away, he told himself that he needed to face this head-on. Just for this once.
Arthur’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m… amazed—at you—more than what I’d like to think… But my foolish self was hesitant,” he continued. “I’m afraid that you were too good for someone like me. I thought you wouldn’t even notice if I tried to reach out. But seeing you like that, back when you were hurting… it tore me up inside. I want to help, but I was so scared that you’d see me as a just another face in the crowd.”
For a moment, Arthur genuinely feared that he had shattered something he couldn’t rebuild.
“………”
Then, with a soft sigh, Robin moved. Without a word, she brushed past the bird beastman, her steps echoing on the deserted pavement. For a few agonizing seconds, his heart plummeted. A surge of panic choked Arthur, his heart hammering against his ribs at the silent gesture. He expected something of a retort, anything to break the suffocating quiet. But instead, she kept walking, leaving him alone with a storm of emotions swirling within him.
‘Was this it, then?’
However, when he turned to watch Robin’s back in despair, a glint of moonlight caught on Robin’s face, who stopped mid-stride to throw him a glance over her shoulder with a rather familiar grin.
“I gotta say, that certainly wasn’t the smoothest confession I’ve ever heard,” she drawled with a teasing tone. “But it must’ve taken you long enough, didn’t it?”
“Uh…?”
“And here I was, starting to think you were immune to my charms,” she quipped, turning back to face him. Her eyes held a warmth that sent shivers down Arthur’s spine. “For all your silent brooding act and whatnot, I didn’t think you had it in you to be so… boldly romantic.”
“Robin, you…”
Arthur’s heart jumped. His face, already getting warm from the direction their exchange was heading, flamed a deeper crimson.
“…I just felt like I needed to say something. Pretending didn’t seem right anymore…”
“‘It’s complicated,’ isn’t it?” Robin laughed quietly. “Well, you certainly surprised me. If you’ve finally decided to throw your hat in the ring, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to see what moves you’ve got.”
“………!”
This wasn’t the playful banter he was used to; this was a loaded invitation, a door creaking open to a possibility he’d barely dared to imagine. He straightened his shoulders, a newfound confidence blooming in his chest.
“For starters, as a man of few words, you can be surprisingly eloquent when you want to be. If I were to ask you a place for a date, what your answer will be? I want to hear you say it.”
In response, Arthur managed to lift a corner of his mouth and look at her in the eyes. “Anywhere you want, Robin. As long as I’m with you… it’s the only sky I need.”
“Heh… hahahahaha…! Hah! I’m heading back to Meteos’ house, so you can return to the lodgings without me if you want.”
Robin’s airy laughter lingered in the air even after she turned to walk away. It was a sound devoid of the usual teasing, replaced with something softer, almost tender.
“Looking forward to it, Artie,” she called over her shoulder. “But be warned, I’m not easy to impress.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Oh, you can do it by stopping being a dour-looking cucumber.”
“………”
Of course, Robin is Robin, after all.
But this time, Arthur didn’t hesitate. Making up his mind, he strode after her with determined steps and a soaring heart. Together, they ended up taking the scenic route on the way back, getting to be more open around each other from now on.
…………
Meteos’ heart settled back into its rhythm much like a tide receding from the shore. The tension that had knotted his insides since ‘revealing’ his visions loosened its grip, replaced by a look of relief. Arthur and Robin’s exchange, relayed by Rachel for him to hear, was a melody that soothed his anxieties. It wasn’t yet a resolution, he understood that, but it was a bridge built over a chasm of unspoken truths.
“Robin’s advice is something that you really should give to your children in the future, Young Master.”
The boy raised a questioning eyebrow at the smiling blue-haired maid after she finished relaying Robin and Arthur’s words to each other. However, he decided to not speak against it.
“Looks like it is I who underestimated their level of maturity,” he concluded quietly, smiling sheepishly to the blue-haired maid who accompanied him.
“Indeed, they seem to be alright,” Rachel chuckled, her eyes mirroring the soft glow of the city lights. “Your future visions might have had a hand in bringing them a little closer, wouldn’t you say, Young Master?”
“If that’s the outcome of all this… then may their happiness be eternal.”
Meteos stood up with a light grunt. “Let’s head back, Miss Giles,” he said with a light tone. “They won’t need us watching anymore, and I wouldn’t want them to catch us before they’ve had their moment.”
“I understand. Back to the ‘future’ matters we go,” Rachel giggled in reply. “Do you have set the time and place for another meeting?”
“Until there are more people whom I can divulge information with, my basement will do. Same hour as today.”
“Very well, Young Master. We’ll make sure to be careful.”
And so, they navigated the rooftops once more. With Rachel’s agile form flitting beside him, Meteos’ thoughts drifted to Astarte somewhere out there. This would be exactly what that goddess wanted from this world. He didn’t know if there was even a reward waiting for him after doing this, but his heart did feel a little lighter.
❖⟐❖⟐❖
08:00
On his fifteenth birthday, one of the presents that Meteos received was this year’s edition of the Fighting Ships Yearbook. This annual publication contains information about warships from around the known world, arranged by nation, including details such as their names, dimensions, armaments, silhouettes and photographs, et cetera. Originally created by a certain artist in an era when two powerful nations were starting to develop steel warships, the Yearbook’s success led to support from the Voice of the Order from behind the scenes to expand and encompass all the known world’s fighting ships. Eventually, it was used to assist naval officers and the general public in playing naval wargames. This era’s publication was divided into three major sections, which were dedicated to the magic ships of the Holy Milishial Empire, ironclads from Mu and the Magicaraich Community, and then sailing ships from other countries, respectively. In the future, after more countries began to possess ironclads on their own, subsequent editions started to forego this ‘others’ grouping part.
Wargames emerged among the rulers of all civilizations. Cultures separated by distances and years felt the same necessity to equip future rulers with the acumen to outthink their counterparts. The capacity to foresee the repercussions of one’s potential actions and predict the potential counteractions of adversaries, an essential skill in the deadly game of war, not only fueled the dissemination of the acclaimed compendium of warships such as the Yearbook but also engendered strategic board games that offer abstract depictions of war.
Having decided to spend this day relaxing and lounging, Meteos sat in his house’s library flanked by two such things this morning. Walman and the younger members of the vacation group looked after the diverse shapes of vessels on one side of the table, while the adults were watching Robin playing an encirclement board game against Arthur on the other. As the clink of round-shaped agate stones being placed on the grid’s vacant intersections—points—echoed, the younger ones let a clamor pointing at the colored pictures being displayed on the Yearbook’s pages.
He himself was in serious contemplation, mentally sorting out the materials he was going to disseminate to his embryonic information network. The notable advantage conferred by the Desire Driver MR was the ability to direct mana particles, using his mind, to visualize his imagination for others to perceive. What a way to compensate for a lack of advanced computers, by providing a means to transmit what he’s thinking. He’s looking forward to pushing that capability’s limits as well and seeing what could be improved.
Anyway, back to planning. The Holy Empire must be prepared for the Civilization Annihilation Game, whatever its outcome might be.
Revealing the genuine nature of the Annonrial Empire is a matter of course. To prevent the Holy Empire from being caught off guard by an underestimated force in the future, an incident that will bring massive embarrassment, it is crucial for people to be informed that the Winged People have orchestrated an elaborate deception on a whole island with reenactors. Awareness should extend to the ongoing production and advancement of massive battleships, capable of rivaling the Holy Empire’s strongest fleets, and fighter planes with transonic capabilities in the Southern World—equipment surpassing the Holy Empire’s current arsenal. Then they need to develop countermeasures accordingly.
Information about the untapped potential of other countries in the known world comes next. He will tell them many things that even the countries themselves haven’t known yet to exploit them to their advantage. Then they need to develop countermeasures accordingly.
After that, what lies beyond what they perceive as the ‘known world.’ There exist civilizations in Ars Goetia thriving in coexistence with the relics of the Ravernal Empire just like themselves, evolving in distinctive ways that render them unique due to various circumstances. While some of these civilizations can be reasoned with and become valuable allies, there are some others that, by their mere existence as political entities, pose a direct threat to the Holy Empire’s greatest mission. Then they need to develop countermeasures accordingly.
After weighing the weight of the world on his shoulders, Meteos turned his attention away from the swirling plans in his head and toward the group huddled around the Yearbook.
“What are you guys seeing there?” he began, voice cutting through the chatter like a ship’s bow cleaving through waves.
“Oh, we’re checking out Mu’s ships,” his friend Walman announced. “You know, they’re the only ones that seem to be worth looking at, really. The others just have sailing ships, sailing ships, and more sailing ships… a bunch of ships that look the same. Meanwhile, you can find something like this one on Mu,” he pointed to a picture of a gray metal ship sporting a crest depicting a roaring lion’s head on its bow.
Despite giving the same vibe as the Milishian magic ships, the Muish warships are visually distinct due to the cylindrical smokestacks that protruded amidships. Being powered by a completely non-magical steam engine that uses coal as a fuel, they need to expel thick black smoke produced by the engine’s operation outside, hence the presence of such features.
Nodding in confirmation, Meteos let out a chuckle when one of the girls commented that those steel ships—more precisely the capital ships, were ‘huge.’ Indeed, those heavy hitters were at least 50% larger than the next largest capital ship owned by the Magicaraich Community.
One thing about the Muish Royal Navy that rather bummed him, however, was that they change so little. Despite experiencing the Sol Island Dispute of 1592, where their greatest rival and potential foe had driven them into retreat by showing up with a superior force alone, the Muish fleet remained stubbornly stagnant. With the time when Mu announced a modernization program for its navy in the previous timeline approaching, Meteos braced himself for a bitter disappointment. Assuming that they would somehow be unaffected by the butterfly effect, he could almost see the pathetic silhouettes of their new vessels, barely distinguishable from their outdated predecessors all the way to their so-called ‘state-of-the-art,’ La Kasami.
But ultimately, an organization is a collection of people and money. Despite having the technology to potentially build a ship capable of resembling the Milishian battleships, it was the people inside that were problematic. That’s not to say that the money condition is good either.
Wracked by the Muish Civil War, the Kingdom of Mu resembled a ship battling not only turbulent seas but also its own fractured hull. A stagnant economy, a teetering government, and a king indecisive as a weather vane made their future murky until it was too late. Faced with the immediate threat of a bordering Leifor, Mu chose to bolster its land and air forces, sacrificing its navy in a budget-strapped gamble. While seemingly understandable, political infighting and brutal factional rivalries rendered them unable to secure significant budgets, as one faction will always try to hamstring the other. Locked in a vicious cycle, their decision-making process resembled a runner sprinting in place.
Some among their ranks needed to be smacked in the head so that they could think straight.
‘Maybe the world isn’t ready for a Muish all-big-gun battleship. Yet,’ Meteos thought sarcastically as another thought entered his head. For his part, he would want their presence to adorn the pages of his Fighting Ships Yearbook so that it won’t be too boring reading it, at the very least.
It seemed that his competitive spirit flared upon deeper reflection. There are planets out there like Attarsamain, and while he never saw them himself, there’s Earth and even Yggdra where its denizens seemed to live in the future in the eyes of the Ars Goetians. Thus, he concluded that it would be worth it to raise the world itself as a long-term plan. While he acknowledged that not all of them can become dependable allies, at least they won’t suffer too much if they end up becoming cannon fodders.
Meteos exhaled slightly, leaning back in his chair and bringing a hand to his temple.
Right, the inherited memories courtesy of Kagaseo have granted him the Temple of Heaven. And considering the upcoming Eleven Countries Leadership Conference, a few stumbles with important foreigners could very well result in an outcome that not even Princess Lugiel holding the reins of intelligence in this country could ever imagine.
Instead of becoming a mere observer of the butterfly effect happening abroad, he could have been more proactive when it came to imparting knowledge from his inherited memories. By expanding his connections across distant lands, identifying promising individuals, and sharing his knowledge, he could have nudged events worldwide toward a more favorable outcome. Learning Malakhian magic, however impractical it may seem, could provide the necessary edge to offset potential deficiencies in his plan. Ultimately, in order for his plan to not become stillborn, he needs an ability to strategically adapt and improvise, wielding both past, present, future, and beyond to bend the arc of history towards a brighter future—Attarsamain can, why shouldn’t Ars Goetia be any different.
“………”
It will be much better if the Civilization Annihilation Game is the only enemy that Ars Goetia needed.
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