January 27, 1616 Central Calendar
Runepolis Magic Academy Shipbuilding Department Dockyard, Holy Milishial Empire
The morning witnessed an even more bustle in the already lively Academy Yards where shipbuilding activities take place all the time. Despite the light veil of snowfall, a sea of faces bundled up in winter coats gathered at the location at the end of the rows of large slipways holding hulls at different stages of construction, focusing on one large ship slated for launching on this day. A raised platform draped in Imperial colors of azure and gold stood near the forefront, and invited guests gradually took their seats amid applause from the assembled crowd.
After announcing the guests one by one, the representative of the RMA Shipbuilding Department who served as the announcer continued with the last name, "...And now, it is my immense honor to introduce the esteemed sponsor of our ship. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome... Her Highness Imperial Lady of the Third Rank, Princess Lugiel Eldart Hollowrain!"
Applause once again erupted, louder than before, as the crowd craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the member of the Imperial Family. From the distance, they could just make out the tall and beautiful elf dressed in a black and white outfit, looking striking in her modern choice of clothing with her shoulder-length platinum blonde locks, approaching the platform escorted by two of her personal guards. Her seventeenth position in the line of succession did little to dampen the excitement; a princess was a princess, and her presence added a touch of majesty to the already grand occasion. As she stepped up the platform, the cheers reached a fever pitch. The Princess' smile, though small and reserved, held a warmth that seemed to reach even the farthest corners of the yard. She gave a wave with her slender hand as she scanned the crowd once before continuing to walk over to her seat.
Following the playing of the national anthem, the announcer's voice cut through the crowd again.
"And to invoke the blessings of the heavens upon this new vessel, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Captain Darius Broniewski to deliver the invocation."
A tall, broad-shouldered figure in the Imperial Navy's dress uniform emerged from the wings and strode toward the platform. His dress uniform starkly contrasted with the Princess' outfit with gleaming medals reflecting the winter sunlight. His gaze swept over the assembled guests for a moment before settling on Lugiel, giving each other a nod of acknowledgment before he addressed the crowd with a solemn tone.
"Let us pray to Gods in the Heaven. In times long past, the christening of a warship was a test of integrity as the ship would slide down the waves and into the water for the first time. The builders' professional integrity was matched by the ship's watertight integrity......"
While the Imperial Navy chaplain's voice droned on with the invocation, Princess Lugiel's eyes scanned the crowd with the keenness of a hawk. Her blue eyes swept over the sea of spectators, as if searching for something specific. But indeed, she was searching for something and there they were – a group of four silver-haired teenagers huddled far back among the representatives of the Ancient Ministry, flanked on their sides by Lippin and Arkland couples.
Her gaze lingered on the youngest boy in the middle. That was him, the youngest Person of Interest identified by the Order of the Ancients – Meteos Roguerider, who decided to follow his older siblings' path with his most spectacular innovations yet. Seeing him, a faint smile tickled Lugiel's lips. For years since the first report about him, she had been following reports, scrutinizing intel, and piecing together fragments of information about this Person of Interest in his capacity as Magister Sorath leading the Eyes of the Order. Finally, seeing him in person confirmed everything. He was everything she expected from the Rogueriders: bright, inquisitive, and possessing a spark within those cerulean eyes that seemed to transcend his commoner origins just like their humble father.
Just like the Second Timeline, Lugiel of this world has been teased by Andreas Birkburn of MOASEC (Magister Eblis the Summoner) to meet him in person if she truly cared for his wellbeing, so she couldn't wait for a chance to finally meet face-to-face with the child to make that sleazy conspirator shut his mouth.
"...As the bottle breaks on the bow of the Orphan Wolf Legend, O Gods, may the very molecules of the ship sing with it. May it be, O Gods, that the spirit of the crew exemplifies it. May it be, O Gods, that at every moment of testing, our nation may be found worthy of it. For it is only with integrity at the helm that the blessings of freedom and hope for the future may be safeguarded from now until the end of the ages. Bless this ship, her sponsor, the builders and crew, as we look forward to the day when she may be underway and at sea in your service. We pray. Amen."
…………
"........."
Ace Roguerider, the mortal guise of Kagaseo presently forced to spend a period among the inhabitants of this realm, honestly wondered to whom exactly these people were praying.
It didn't matter that this country's faith venerates all gods. All those Ars Goetian gods they worshipped have sold this planet to the Civilization Annihilation Game, leaving Astarte alone as the sole benevolent deity worthy of prayers. However, the Game and those gods' heedless pleasure-seeking machinations rendered her existence forgotten. And what did those pursuits bring these gods to?
Kagaseo once stumbled upon the outer edge of a certain place when he saved Astarte from the Game's clutches by breaking into their lair. It resembled a great hall carved into a cliffside on a floating rock, encircled by a moat of black sludge with a stench so fetid that it lingered in the then-Star God's senses for quite some time, even though he merely passed by and cast a brief glance at it from a distance. In this place, numerous Audiences—higher beings enamored by the Game's premise entertainment, ended up inhabiting. They used to be capable of thinking and voluntarily subscribed for their own reasons, but over time, their exposure to the Game's content and the mortal suffering it generated turned them into addicts and stripped away their autonomy. Gradually, they transformed into mindless entities unaware of their surroundings, trapped in a perpetual state of ecstasy as the Game took them there to forever roam that great hall aimlessly.
While they could still receive positive energy from unaware worshippers who pray for them, if there were any, this intake became futile as the Game would periodically drain it from the wandering Audience and convert it into more potent mortal suffering fueled by the despair of those whose prayers went unanswered. Once confined to this hall, the Audience was beyond salvation, and they held no other value even as ingredients for Gameizers due to their uselessness in that state. As it turned out, Pestilence took precautions and gave them protection using his power so that any random intruder couldn't destroy these fools.
It didn't matter what the reasons these higher beings were in subscribing; the Game is indiscriminate. At this rate, the prayers of these mortals would only hasten the demise of their world. Ace feared an apocalypse in Astarte's home world if things continued this way. As far as the current situation is concerned, there is no god left in Ars Goetia to protect the world from the end.
A very, very, very ironic end.
If mortals continue praying to traitors, they would be praying for their own apocalypse; if mortals stop praying to anyone, they get annihilated still.
The solution seemed simple enough for Ars Goetia: pray to Astarte instead. Except that is impossible now.
Or destroy other planets and their pantheon with it. Pure retardation which will only serve to prove Pestilence's point even if he could.
The problems are, that no one except Meteos remembers who Astarte is, and that Kagaseo was forced into this mortal form, unlike the Four Horsemen. He couldn't access his divine powers and items, nor he could receive positive energy from prayers; he could do nothing. Worse still, it seemed that the method of having Meteos pray to Astarte in order to boost her recovery became useless with the timeline reset, and even the Temple of Heaven magic can't be used to make someone remember her name which doesn't exist. Astarte's condition remained unchanged, and it only served to burden her mortal family in this world with worry. Before Kagaseo's plan in the Second Timeline had a chance to expand, Pestilence simply came and easily ruined everything.
This current world is practically a ceasefire zone of the feud between Death and Pestilence. As part of the deal surrounding this Third Timeline, his supposed benefactor Death withholds answers and leaves him to figure out how to solve this puzzle and find salvation by himself, while the perpetrator of this all, Pestilence, continues to taunt Kagaseo's helplessness in his face.
'Be better,' Death hinted. Heartwarming, but Ace was frustrated because it didn't seem to be too concrete of a solution. It was unfair.
Amidst the crowd of people who solemnly lowered their heads in prayer, Ace grimaced knowing there was no one on the other side who would positively respond to their plea.
'These mortals should stop praying to those traitors, but they couldn't remember Astarte's existence... what can I do...? What should I do?'
Sitting right beside him, Meteos Roguerider's mind was in a different state of tumult.
…………
At the end of the invocation, the announcer addressed the crowd to be seated and continued with the next agenda of a speech by the director of the RMA Shipbuilding Department, the ceremony giving way to its more boring part: listening to speeches by the distinguished platform guests one by one until the actual launching approximately one hour and forty minutes later.
Standing on the bottle-breaking platform near the bow, Princess Lugiel's voice was heard through the loudspeakers again after she gave her speech earlier.
"I name the ship Orphan Wolf Legend. May Gods bless her and all who sail in her."
The Princess shattered a bottle of elderberry wine against the hull with a powerful swing, and at the same time cheer erupted from the crowd as the wine cascaded down. The christening was a symbolic gesture that marked the beginning of the ship's life. Now, it was time for the real spectacle to begin.
51 thousand tons, propelled by four thrusters powered by four sets of state-of-the-art RMA-made Naval Manadrive engines, the Orphan Wolf Legend and her peculiarly-shaped flight deck and an island superstructure on the starboard side was the first single-hulled magic aviation mothership for the Holy Milishial Empire and the pioneer of many other firsts, a floating island boasted as the largest single-hulled warship in the known world with an overall length of 295 meters. Equipped with an angled deck and a pair of MALS catapults at the forward flight deck, this ship is able to operate an air wing of 65 to 70 second-generation fighter and multirole jets owned by the Holy Empire from the beginning. Theoretically she could be equipped with up to 80 planes, but it was soon decided that the coordination of so many planes was beyond the effective command and control ability of one ship. Besides, this number is close enough to the catamaran carriers the class was intended to replace with the ability to easily accommodate the rapid growth in aircraft size.
With a guttural groan, the hydraulic rams beneath this ship strained, pushing against the cradle that had held the behemoth aloft. Slowly, the massive vessel began to slide down the inclined slipway. Then, with a graceful splash that seemed to defy its immense size, the ship entered the water where the tugboats were waiting for her.
Fixing his gaze on the christened Orphan Wolf Legend as she glided into the water, Arthur turned to the group. "This public ceremony now feels like a gamble. While it bolsters morale and showcases our advancements, it also throws open the curtain."
His fellow members of the new network took his words seriously and nodded. Because the carrier is the most radical change among other major projects so far, there's no doubt that the scheming Annonrial Empire with its superior technology and magic will take notice. 'Where did they get the idea to make a carrier similar to ours?' they might think. They'll dissect every detail in search of weaknesses to exploit and sabotage the world whenever they can.
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At the same time, however, the current Holy Empire plays its card close to its chest. Public pronouncements like this only reveal a fraction of the true picture while beneath the surface, the relentless scouring by its personnel for the ancient relics to reverse-engineer and transmission of future knowledge from Meteos began to bear fruit one after another. Determined to use their trump card effectively, the group was cautious, but not overly worried.
At that moment, Robin placed her hand on Meteos' shoulder. "So, Kid," she brought his mouth close to his ear and whispered, "are you ready for the next agenda?"
With a silent nod, Meteos conveyed his understanding and willingness. He had his own agenda, after all. Robin had informed him that with her superior within the Order, Magister Sorath, being increasingly interested in the silver-haired boy's performance, she apparently wished to have a direct, in-person meeting with him. Therefore, as Sorath is moving to orchestrate a contrived coincidence-like occurrence where the two of them can meet and talk... or 'talk,' Meteos adapted his preparations based on the intel provided by certain members within his network who operated under the woman.
If he could establish direct communication and information exchange with Sorath without a hitch, whatever future plan he might have would become even smoother as another Magister who also belonged to the Imperial Family would be incorporated into his network. After that, there will be no more roundabout poking and prodding of each other's intentions that will waste time, energy, and resources.
"The other party wants it to be quick and is convinced of a one-on-one meeting, yes?" Meteos confirmed again.
"They can't be missing for too long and you happen to have a flight to Leiden later, so yeah, both of your schedules are limited."
The boy took a deep breath and nodded. Because this is their first time meeting, it's most likely that the scenario will lead to them exchanging contact information with each other.
Before he turned to leave, he received a silent pat on the back from Ace, a nod from Cyrus, and lastly a playful wink from Ashera – each gesture meant to be supportive and encouraging.
Meteos sighed and chose to silently nod at Robin to signal that he was ready to go. Brushing his winter coat, his fingers briefly closed around a certain concealed device that he would use as a crutch this time and hoped that it would work according to the calculations he had made with it. This is no time for second thoughts.
"...Alright. Let's make the most of this."
Under the guise of carrying out a favor for Robin, Meteos left the launching ceremony's venue and made his way toward a nearby store manned by a Handler, contemplating the possible direction from which the other party might approach.
❖⟐❖⟐❖
Heading towards the bookstore specified by Robin for their encounter, Meteos maintained a casual demeanor as he entered, pretending to be a customer perusing the shelves while his senses searched for any sign of the person he was expecting.
When someone suddenly bumped into him from behind, Meteos felt the jolt to his frame and proceeded to let go of the stack of books he was holding. The whole sequence was smooth, with nary a feeling of it being staged. Amidst the noises of tumbling books hitting the floor, the boy caught a whiff of lavender and a soft apology.
“Ah, I’m terribly sorry!” the one who bumped into him exclaimed with a concerned tone. “I wasn’t paying attention and…”
Her words trailed off as their eyes met. The blonde Princess Lugiel, choosing the disguise of a town elf redhead wearing a beanie and casual winter clothing, had arrived and played her part.
Meteos pretended to be taken aback as he pivoted to confront her, mirroring the look of astonishment in the disguised Princess’ eyes. For onlookers, her surprise was far from unwarranted. Meteos’ silver hair, a rarity in this land, will naturally draw attention. Add to that his association with this world’s Roguerider family, whose wealth and influence whispered tales of their own, making the disguised woman’s reaction perfectly understandable.
Readying himself, Meteos offered her a smile, brushing off the incident with a casual wave before crouching to gather the scattered books. “Oh. No harm done, miss.”
Still looking flustered, the redhead mirrored his actions. “Please, allow me to help,” she insisted.
“…Sure thing.”
At some point, their uncovered hands brushed as they reached the same book, and at that moment, with the conditions fulfilled to enhance the success rate, Meteos willed the Temple of Heaven to activate when the jolt from their touch caused them to look into each other’s eyes. Looking deeper into his eyes, the Princess realized that Meteos Roguerider’s eyes were a shade bluer than she initially perceived.
Meteos gathered the last book and straightened up, a blush seemingly creeping up his cheeks. “You know, that was quite clumsy of me,” he said, his smile turned sheepish. “Perhaps to compensate, I could offer you a cup of tea at the store across the street? My treat, of course.”
‘Eh—?’
The disguised Lugiel blinked, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected offer. Why was he apologizing when she was the one who bumped into him? A subtle frown creased her brow before smoothing out as she considered his words. In the worst-case scenario, her disguise might not be perfect and this child might realize who she really is. However, that required Meteos Roguerider to be a very good actor himself to not instantly freak out from confronting an Imperial Family member, which is… doubtful.
Perhaps it was simply his nature to be polite, or maybe a cultural difference among nobles and commoners, or that of between Runepolians and Leidener like Meteos. Whatever the reason, Lugiel wouldn’t refuse a chance to glean more information about him.
“Um… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” she replied, her voice softer than intended. “Though I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“So…”
“Very well,” the elf acquiesced and nodded with a small smile. “Your offer does sound rather delightful.”
With a polite bow, Meteos excused himself and quickly went to finalize the payment for the books he picked up. As he did, his mind raced with both disbelief and cautious elation. He was apprehensive, but the Temple of Heaven had indeed worked. The entire exchange did feel absurd because it was absurd, but the main characteristic of the Temple of Heaven is to make the target do the command from the caster as if they were doing it of their own free will. Therefore, the disguised Princess must have rationalized Meteos’ offer for tea as something.
Emerging from the bookstore, Meteos gestured towards the quaint tea shop across the street. “Shall we?” he asked, his voice laced with a subtle confidence he hadn’t felt before.
…………
Leaving the tea shop at the end of their brief meeting, Lugiel pulled down her beanie while a satisfied smile played on her lips. In the end, the two of them exchanged contact information with each other and her plan was a success. Not only did the Princess gain valuable insights into the Person of Interest’s character, but she also established a direct line of communication with him. This could prove instrumental in facilitating future plans for both the Order of the Ancients and her efforts to protect him and his friend from the potentially unsavory decisions of her organization.
On the other hand, as he watched the disguised princess disappear among the pedestrians, Meteos rose from his seat with a thoughtful expression on his face. The encounter had been nerve-wracking, yet it provided reassurance that, even when he employed the Temple of Heaven sparingly to direct the conversation to the one he wanted, the elf exhibited no apparent signs of conflict between her thoughts and actions whenever the spell was activated. As a result, Meteos made Lugiel inwardly convince herself to try to contact him tonight exactly at 11 o’clock.
He thought to himself that it was still an unbelievable feat. Even against an elf, an inherently magically powerful race, the spell seemed to be taking hold thanks to the aid from the Desire Driver he wore underneath his coat. Because of this far-future technology—even seemingly surpassing the Malakh civilization’s level, the magic spell he reverse-engineered from their inherited memories suddenly became overpowered enough for a human like him to influence the mind of a 400-year-old elf.
If only there was no time limit until the Civilization Annihilation Game, he might be filled with hesitation to choose this path.
A heavy sigh escaped Meteos as he walked away. He was no hero, alright, no shining knight wielding righteous magic. He was an ordinary man thrust into an impossible situation, forced to play his hand to survive a cruel fate with stakes beyond his initial comprehension.
‘Let the sin be mine,’ he reminded himself again. ‘Besides, if this world’s gods have truly sold us off, then who is left to judge anyway?’
At that moment, a jolt of surprise ripped through Meteos, interrupting his internal contemplation. A tingling sensation blossomed around his mind, followed by a voice echoing directly in his thoughts – not spoken, but rather felt.
‘White Rider to Blue Rogue. Can you hear me, Little Brother?’
“Huh…?”
‘I’m contacting you through telepathy. No need to voice your answer, just think.’
Legiel, the White Rider.
Out of all voices in his head… why it has to be him…?
‘Brother Legiel…’ Meteos responded in annoyance.
‘I contacted you because I sensed your magic Temple of Heaven’s activation. Clever use as usual. Congratulations on your success.’
‘……Is that it? You mean to contact me just to give me praise?’
Legiel’s voice chuckled lightly within his mind.
‘Oh, I also felt like telling you a little trivia about your ‘Temple of Heaven.’ It’s not really an illusion magic as your mind perceives, not even close. You’re a lucky one, you know, being able to access that ability.’
‘What is it, then?’
‘Ah, but that’s the extent of the information that I want to divulge to you. Maybe if you wait a little bit more, I’ll tell you more about it…’
Meteos rolled his eyes, hardly surprised by Legiel’s teasing.
‘But here’s one more thing. If I find you using the Temple of Heaven for reasons I and the Eldest Brother find frivolous…’
Meteos’ annoyance at his attitude was instantly gone, replaced by a cold wave of raw killing intent that slammed over the boy like a powerful blow, so thick and potent it almost knocked him off his feet. He stumbled midway and leaned to a wall, his heart hammering against his ribs. When the telepathic link snapped shut, a concerned man passing nearby called out to him, asking if he was okay.
Politely waving the man off, Meteos straightened and proceeded to return to his group in the venue immediately. Gritting his teeth, Meteos’ face was pale as the echo of Legiel’s last transmission continued to resonate in his skull.
❖⟐❖⟐❖
“…I’ll kill you on where you stand and bring down this planet with it. This is the way.”
Sitting in his cabin within the Foundation’s Boudica flying boat moored on the other side of Runepolis, Legiel disconnected the telepathic link with the insulting rendition of a certain catchphrase. He then reclined on his bed, fixating on the ‘All as One’ card that either Ace or Meteos’ existence represents.
Typically, and as it should be, the story of a world will not suffer too much if one insignificant soul is removed from the realm of living, but in the now-godless Ars Goetia’s case, the premature death of Meteos Roguerider will guarantee an instant destruction of this world. Therefore, as Legiel decided to pen an account of Meteos’ post-reincarnation experience in the form of fiction, Legiel took it upon himself to warn the protagonist to be always at his behavior. He wasn’t expecting outright heroism from the protagonist, but rather hoped that Meteos would contribute positively to the well-being of many as he pursued his self-interest. Rather than merely watching like he usually did with the Civilization Annihilation Game, interacting directly with the characters was turning out more entertaining than anticipated.
As an author of that story, Legiel was invested in his youngest brother’s growth because Meteos succeeded in inventing the Temple of Heaven, a reverse-engineered ‘illusion magic’ that is a watered-down version of its real thing once wielded by the Malakh’s Man and Woman of the Beginning.
By entrusting their fate to another and then to their descendants, the Malakh’s Man and Woman of Beginning were able to bring out their civilization’s full potential even after being annihilated two times by the Game. It was this concept of Common Destiny that Meteos Roguerider reverse-engineered through his inherited memories to develop the Illusion Magic: Temple of Heaven, a rather strongarm technique that neither affects mind nor heart; it affects the soul. But hey, it works.
Legiel grinned. “Serves him right for being a genius,” he remarked, pocketed the card and closed his eyes to take a nap. “Now he needs to be a replacement deity for this planet even more.”
He wanted to see if Meteos continue to persevere with him constantly pestering and reminding him that his knowledge and inherited memories are a curse.
The door to his cabin creaked open, and Adonis’ poker face peeked inside.
“Are you finished?” he inquired curtly.
“Finished and done, Eldest Brother,” Legiel drawled. “Little Brother got his earful, and I believe the message landed with enough impact. By the way, is the message acceptable?” he asked, opening his eyes and turning to gaze at Adonis, who stood at the doorway, silhouetted against the morning light.
“It was acceptable. But do not overreach.”
“Hehe. Sure thing.”
❖⟐❖⟐❖
Two hours later, the flying boat took off from Runepolis with the Roguerider siblings on board, turning toward the south to reach Leiden. Initially intended as a short visit to their mother following a break granted to the MOASEC-affiliated members after the launch of Project OWL’s lead ship, their arrival happened to coincide with the timing of Meteora’s childbirth one day later.
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Currently Publicly Available Information
SILVER-CLASS, ORPHAN WOLF LEGEND-PATTERN MAGIC AVIATION MOTHERSHIP
image [https://img.wattpad.com/24910244763f06c40f2b3b43e86e7815a5a2b694/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f3456736c5f4d4e784153435143413d3d2d313431383630393031392e313761663130633765663465323065323831303130393031373830312e706e67]
I don't feel like giving the Audience an infodump today.