After finishing yet another day’s exhausting work that evening, Leonius found himself standing at the edge of the Paradis Palace’s garden, his eyes involuntarily drifting upward as he strolled to embrace a time of respite before finally retreating to his chambers. Immediately, his gaze was fixated on a single point of unwavering brilliance amidst the motes of light that make themselves known after the last embers of crimson bled from the western horizon. As usual, the jewel of the Crown of Majesty continued to be the most recognizable distant object in the northern hemisphere’s celestial dome.
His only companion on the outing, Ruperther, let out a remark. “A clear sky tonight, Your Majesty. The North Star is also shining particularly bright this evening.”
“The North Star…”
A twinge of bitterness seeped into Leonius’ features as he muttered.
Ruperther arched an eyebrow, sensing the underlying tension in the Emperor’s voice. “Does the sight of it trouble you?” he inquired softly.
Leonius’ jaw tightened. “It’s not the sight that troubles me. It’s the associations that come with it.”
“Ah… Does Your Majesty believe in superstitions?”
Hearing his teasing chuckle, Leonius stopped, glanced over his shoulder, and shot him an unamused look.
“Hmph, hardly. But given developments that occurred between the Empire and Milishial, I have little reason to hold a fondness for the implications behind those words.”
“I see… but I wonder what the world will give if it means easing Your Majesty’s mind.”
“I also often ask the same thing to myself,” Leonius scoffed, resuming his walk with Ruperther in tow.
The North Star held profound significance to every nation and people, but its most potent association was undeniably with the world’s undisputed titan of the world stage, the Holy Milishial Empire. The Milishial people traced their lineage back to the ancient Star Tribe, a legendary people who, according to the lore, emerged from the Ancient Sorcerous Empire’s confinement under a clear night sky after the August Star of Heaven banished their homeland. So mesmerized these people with the sight of stars that they started to weave them into the very fabric of their identity. Even though at that time the present-day “North Star” had yet to occupy the celestial pole, it being the brightest star close to the pole made it looked up to as a crucial navigational aid for ancient civilizations.
Milishial’s association with the North Star was a relatively recent invention, only several centuries before the founding of Parpaldia when the Middle Lands was already long since unified. Not everyone liked the narrative, thinking it as pretentious, but since this is about a great power that was recorded to indirectly cause a neighboring periphery country’s succession crisis in the past by causing its monarch’s sudden death by heart attack upon hearing its name being mentioned against him, no one reckless enough to dispute such a largely harmless claim. Nevertheless, Leonius’ lack of appreciation for the North Star was but a projection of his lack of fondness for the country most often associated with it, and seeing it, so distant yet constantly hanging in the sky looking down on his troubles was an infuriating reminder of how similar this very country was doing to his Empire. O Heavens, how utter mockery.
This man inherited the rotting carcass of an empire by standing on top of the dead body of his father, a man more interested in searching for the immortality of all things conceivable than holding the nation together. Which was why Leonius killed him by his own hands and had his sycophants made an example of. Seeing how fallen and loveless his immediate family were, he had no love for them in turn.
Corruption had burrowed deep into Parpaldia’s heart as a festering wound that bled the treasury dry, choked honest ambition, and brought resentment from other major powers abroad. Leonius, unlike his father, burned with a fierce, if often frustrated, ambition. He dreamt of a Parpaldia equaling the August Star of Heaven as a colossus that would bestride the Philades Continent and leave his land free of war and suffering because of borders. Yet the land was filled with nothing but corrupt officials, weak soldiers, fatuous rulers, and blind followers. And though proclaiming that he despised those as bearers of the sickness of mind that weakens oneself and the realm, in reality Leonius was projecting the hatred of his own weakness.
However, years of decay couldn’t be scrubbed away overnight, and thus the progress to repair the nation was slow and frustrating. There were still those who thrived in the rot and saw Leonius’ reforms as a direct assault on their way of life. Like a hydra, issues always seem to sprout new heads for every one Leonius lopped off.
Aware of the discontent simmering against his efforts, Leonius also used the external conflict as a pressure valve. Campaigns into the barbarian lands that bordered northern Parpaldia, framed as glorious conquests to protect the people from their frequent raids, served a dual purpose. The hoarded treasury and slaves of these small countries would be used to enrich themselves. More importantly, these victories would provide a much-needed source of national pride and a distraction for the populace. Sending armies against these poorly equipped foes would showcase their might in a quick victory and deflect internal criticism onto plenty of more manageable enemies. But as a result, foreign superpowers such as the Holy Milishial Empire, ever the hypocrites, had imposed trade restrictions on Parpaldia in retaliation for their ‘barbaric attitude.’ It rankled Leonius to no end. Weren’t they founded in the same way? During their own Warring Kingdoms Period, the Milishial people rose from the ashes of countless warring states after destroying every single one of its contenders to protect its people. Why can’t Parpaldia do the same?
And then, what Leonius worried the most had reared its ugly head. The novelty of conquest soon wore thin, and swift campaigns were morphing into protracted quagmire that drained the very resources he sought to replenish. Adding to Leonius’ woes, the very heavens seemed to be conspiring against him. The past few years have seen a shift in the climate. Harsher winters and unpredictable rainfall patterns had disrupted harvests, leading to widespread food shortages. The people, already burdened with this and that, were growing increasingly restive.
While there’s nothing man can do with the climate, Leonius was unaware that the Holy Milishial Empire’s Order of the Ancients was the reason for Parpaldia’s abrupt setbacks in its invasions by sabotaging its war efforts. Meanwhile, Milishial’s economic front expanded to the small island countries and even the Rodenius Continent located south of Parpaldia. Through diplomacy and carefully targeted investments, Milishial was steadily bringing these islands under its sphere of influence. And then, with these intricate maneuvers in place, the Holy Milishial Empire orchestrated a surprising about-face.
Their target was Parpaldia all along. However, their tendency to present themselves as the ‘noble ones’ caused them to take the roundabout way of doing things. They weakened Parpaldia first, waiting until the rampaging Dragon of Philades fell to its knees, and then swept in as THE savior and bound the dragon to themselves.
Come the Year 1610 Central Calendar, the Treaty of Evergarden was signed with the Altaras Kingdom and the Holy Milishial Empire. Although not explicitly written, Parpaldia has to forever give up its southern ambitions in exchange for foreign aid and the normalization of trade with the Holy Milishial Empire, backed by their sheer military might. The terms were astonishingly fair, a calculated move to not only entice the desperate Parpaldia but also undermine other major powers who might be less inclined to offer such favorable conditions. As a result, Parpaldia granted Milishial the most favored nation treatment.
This sudden shift left Leonius inwardly furious. However, he is neither his father nor he is fatuous. Out of pragmatism, he accepted the Treaty, but not without ordering his diplomats to give them a hard time. “Weakness disgusts me,” he remembered saying that when seeing them off, but the only one weak is none other than himself.
Now, six years since the Treaty, Parpaldia’s fortunes seemed to take a reversal. Choked trade routes courtesy of foreign sanctions reopened and resources flowed freely once more. The coffers, once embarrassingly bare, started to show a semblance of fullness. With the establishment of the Special Economic Zones, modern infrastructure and technology sprung up within these designated zones, attracting foreign investment and creating a boom in job opportunities. The trickle-down effect was swift. Although still limited to major population centers and areas between the SEZs, for the first time in years the Parpaldian citizens began to experience a rise in their standard of living. With their bellies full and pockets a little heavier, the populace grumbled less and found themselves more amenable to Leonius’ reforms.
The invasions against barbarians now became a liability. Citing the need for military modernization, Leonius put an indefinite halt on the campaigns and launched a series of “reforms” that conveniently sidelined the incompetent commanders who outlived their usefulness. In their place, he promoted younger, more capable officers who readily embraced his vision of a streamlined, professional fighting force.
Finally, the emperor was allowed to wage war on the real enemy within, and this time Leonius found his purge of corruption a far smoother operation. Keeping his insecurities to himself, Leonius witnessed that the endless frustration was now a thing of the past. Still unaware of the unseen hand of the Holy Milishial Empire’s Order of the Ancients who are now ordered to work in his favor by exposing his enemies, Leonius was like a man wielding a scalpel to excise the cancerous growths that had plagued Parpaldia for generations. During the storm of purges, some elite Imperial Guard units receiving training and equipped with secondhand bolt-action rifles imported from Milishial were also often deployed to roam the countryside and colonies as secret snipers to execute those listed as criminals on the spot.
Since the mid-1610s, almost every day unidentified corpses, limbs tied and put inside dirty sacks, are found lying on the streets and public places. As it managed to cause the crime to drop significantly, the regime proceeded to expand the killings like a ‘shock therapy’ to the entire nation.
Leonius also recognized another inefficiency festering within Parpaldia’s system – slavery. It was a practice common in the known world barring the Civilization Areas where the two strongest superpowers were located. While the Holy Milishial Empire now showered Parpaldia with aid and trade, their attitude regarding slavery rankled. He understood that continued endorsement of the practice would only serve to further isolate Parpaldia and jeopardize the fragile peace they now enjoyed, where Milishial would gladly use the issue to maintain its sanctions. By abolishing it, Leonius could potentially remove this final obstacle and unlock the full benefits of the Treaty of Evergarden.
As the current state of development stands, the Parpaldia Empire as the Third Civilization Area’s superpower is now closer to Magicaraich than Leifor. As the tide was turning, Leonius, who once used conquest to distract from his nation’s woes, now found himself leading a New Order—a revolution not of blood, but of reason and economics. Some even said that he was one of the most sagacious and enlightened of rulers.
At the end of his ruminations, Leonius exhaled a long and weary sigh.
“Hateful star,” he muttered. “Hate it all I want, that North Star remains stubbornly fixed in its place. As if I need any more reminder of what I cannot achieve on my own.”
Ruperther shook his head. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but you have done more for the Empire in these past few years than most rulers manage in a lifetime.”
“I would be elated, but achievements built on the backs of others can only ever feel hollow. Do you think I can take pride in the fact that Parpaldia’s resurgence relies on the scraps tossed our way by a self-righteous hypocrite like Milishial?”
Ruperther’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Your Majesty, do you truly hate them that much?”
In response, Leonius placed his hand against the stone balustrade lining the garden path. Finally tearing his gaze from the starlit sky, he turned to face his most loyal friend.
Milishial.
How that country is the one he admired the most, the one he despised the most, the one he wanted to ally with the most, and the one he wanted to destroy the most.
“……I don’t loathe them at all. What I loathe… is my own weakness back then. The weakness that forced me to my knees and beg for their mercy.”
“Alas, such an ideal world is impossible to achieve.”
“Hmph. What a shame.”
Without realizing the existence of forces who strived to achieve that very ideal world they denounced as impossible, the Emperor of Parpaldia and his advisor continued their stroll while discussing how the world is a cruel place.
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September 1616 Central Calendar
Holy Milishial Empire
In mid-August 1616 Central Calendar, construction commenced on the first of fifteen Silver-class magic light cruisers, part of the first set of cruisers to replace the aging Steel I-class (Bident-pattern). Also known as the Aram-pattern after its lead ship, appearance-wise it was a modified version of its predecessor Steel II-class (Trishula-pattern) magic light cruiser design with an altered superstructure to fit the new fire control and detection systems as well as an increased number of anti-air autocannons to cover all angles of the ship, while maintaining similar dimensions (185 m long and 20 m wide), main and secondary battery (triple 47 caliber 150 mm Spirit Magic Cannons, 2 fore and 2 aft; and 6 twin 38 caliber 127 mm Dual-Purpose Spirit Magic Cannons), armor layout, and performance (32 knots maximum speed and 16.000 km range at 15 knots). However, with the implementation of silver magic alloy as its armor, the time for enhancement sequence to +10% thickness was slashed from 25 to a mere 10 seconds.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Later in the month, the second quartet of the eight Gold-class (Callandor-pattern) fast magic battleships: Chrysaor, Gonturan, Caudimordax, and Gryffindor, was laid down one after another, and crossing over to the next month, the five Mithril-class (Sparda-pattern) ships: Sparda, Caladbolg, Ceard-nan Gallan, Hrunting, and Durandal, were commencing construction.
These thirteen next-generation battleships were derived from the Next-Gen Battleship Design Study and constructed to replace the old Steel I-class (Tizon-pattern) as a further development of the preceding Silver-class (Alastor-pattern), designed with the Annonrial Empire as a secret hypothetical adversary in mind. As such, using the most advanced of the Holy Empire’s currently available capabilities, the ships would incorporate an increased anti-aircraft capability and substantially thicker armor in all areas to become the largest, best-protected, and most heavily armed Milishian battleships. The Sparda’s displacement even rivaled a certain behemoth called Grade Atlastar which hadn’t even existed yet in her home world and her curiously identical-looking sunken cousins separated dimensions apart called the Yamato and Musashi.
As the currently most advanced surface heavy hitters of the Imperial Navy, the Callandor and Sparda patterns would be equipped with triple 50 caliber 406 mm Spirit Magic Cannons (three turrets on Callandor and four on Sparda), along with 10 twin 38 caliber 127 mm Dual-Purpose Spirit Magic Cannons as secondaries, and numerous anti-air autocannons. These main guns would be capable of firing 1,2-ton superheavy shells with a higher muzzle velocity compared to the shorter barrels of the preceding Alastor-pattern, though still somewhat slower than the Grade Atlastar’s main gun, which fires 1,4-ton shells. In addition, by the time of their completion, the ship-to-ship guided magic bullets would have been definitely available as a weapon. Although in the event of conflict against Annonrial, maybe it would be better to spam smaller ships equipped with these.
By the time these battleships were completed in 1619, the Holy Empire’s main battle fleet would possess a total of 16 modern battleships plus 8 older ones, totaling 24. In comparison, although the Annonrial Empire was slow in constructing ships, it just happened that they already boasted… twenty battleships that individually rivaled the Callandor and Sparda patterns in terms of armor, armament, and fire control. At least they were currently pausing new ship construction to focus on maintaining their fleet and allocate their limited resources elsewhere, as reported by the Seventy’s members after some digging.
Called the Standels, the fifteen Standel I-pattern used gold magic alloy while the five Standel IIs were mithrils with a 380 mm armor belt. Both carried nine 50 caliber 406 mm Salvation Magic Cannons in three triple turrets, capable of firing 1,1-ton projectiles with the fastest muzzle velocity and longest range out of any naval guns in the known world. In addition, their defenses were also troublesome, since the Annonrial armor enhancement technology allowed for a +25% boost within 5-8 seconds and can be maintained for much longer, compared to Milishial tech which is currently capped at +10% at best at shorter bursts. This is why the Ancient Ministry explored other means to improve the defenses other than relying solely on armor to absorb attacks.
Two weeks after the Sparda-pattern ships started construction, the Holy Empire’s first-ever single-hulled carrier, the Orphan Wolf Legend, was finally commissioned into the Imperial Navy’s Zeroth Magic Fleet as a training carrier. It was decided that she would shift to a combat role in 1619. Meanwhile, her sisters Failnaught and Prydwen were still in various stages of completion and would be launched within three months after the Orphan Wolf Legend’s commissioning. Along with the seven older Ascendant Justice-pattern catamaran carriers overhauled to be equipped with catapults but now had to carry fewer planes and relatively weak in terms of defenses, within three years the Holy Empire would have ten CATOBARs. This is in contrast with Annonrial’s seven state-of-the-art magic aviation motherships, while the situation wasn’t looking really good for the Holy Empire’s (carrier) air force in terms of performance.
Lastly, even though the Holy Empire had nearly twice as many surface ships from cruisers down as the Annonrial fleet, these ships were individually inferior. In addition, the Holy Empire’s submarine warfare capabilities were still nascent, with only a dozen U-boats compared to the hundreds possessed by Annonrial, though thanks to the Rogueriders’ relentless push, the Holy Empire’s anti-submarine capabilities were surprisingly decent.
…………
“Right, and that concludes the summary of the Holy Empire’s developments within the last two months until the end of this year.”
With a broad smile on his face, Legiel Roguerider finished his presentation in front of his teenage siblings but one within Adonis’ study. Ace was notably absent, as he was currently somewhere else on another business. It was dangerously irresponsible of him to leave Meteos alone with dangerous entities, one might think. However, despite this unsettling behavior, the truce between the Horsemen held firm. Besides, Ace wouldn’t have left without a very good reason, and Meteos himself had urged his departure.
As he processed the information Legiel presented, Meteos couldn’t help but furrow his brow.
“We need just a few more years… if we can somehow stall whatever Zarathostra of the Messiah is planning within the few years, we will have a better chance of resisting…”
What the Holy Empire needed most was more time to prepare. Rapid technological advancement left its military with varying proficiency due to constant equipment upgrades. In contrast, Annonrial boasted a more developed military across the board, but their isolationist stance and resource limitations worked against them. Annonrial’s clear advantage lay in their currently superior technology, however, they have an even more sluggish production rate than the Holy Empire before the Rogueriders’ reforms. The Holy Empire, with its booming economy and robust industrial and organizational assets, could potentially bridge the gap through sheer industrial muscle, churning out more equipment to overwhelm Annonrial’s quality with quantity. Despite it would never be as insane as the Gra Valkas Empire, the gap between the two is relatively close for it to make an effect. In addition, even the tech gap could be closed and surpassed in the long run.
While the situation isn’t hopeless, Meteos is on edge by the possibility of everything being ruined because of ill timing.
Legiel giggled. “Feeling overwhelmed, Little Brother? Remember, both Eldest Brother’s and my offers still stand. A little divine intervention could go a long way in evening the odds.”
Meteos’ countenance went flat. “No, thank you. The same goes for yours, Eldest Brother, sorry.”
“Hm, very well,” Adonis hummed, not at all offended.
The mere thought of their proposals sent shivers down his spine.
The memory of that “pep talk” before the Imperial Board exam’s Qualification Phase flickered in his mind.
Legiel the Pestilence proposed to summon a strong country at “canon” Japan’s technological level, place it next to Annonrial, and let them duke it out. However, he will destroy the planet after the war ends.
Hell no. That’s just Civilization Annihilation Game.
On the other hand, Adonis the Death’s ‘boon’ was that he would severely hinder the enemy (he didn’t specify what exactly), but for each deed done, Meteos must name 300 settlements whose entire inhabitants would be reaped by Death. Since Meteos had memorized maps of both Yggdra and Earth in his past life, he can use them in addition to Ars Goetia. However, if he couldn’t, Death would indiscriminately claim 3.000 random settlements, with Runepolis not even an exception.
Knowing Death, Meteos was sure that bad karma would make itself known and have him as one of the casualties. Nope. Nopenopenopenope.
Obviously Meteos wouldn’t consider either offer. Not only the consequences were harmful to himself, they were far too horrendous bordering on pure evil. He pretty much gets the memo of this episode that they were just messing with him—no, making things clear in case Meteos’ desperation led him to ask irrational things that he will regret. That Kagaseo’s gifts were good enough for him to achieve his ideal world with his own hands…
What Meteos didn’t really expect after that was that Cyrus the Famine would ask Legiel and Adonis in a roundabout way to grant Meteos boons not as the Horsemen, but as their brothers. And so, that time he spoke a request that made Ace jolt in astonishment.
“I dare ask my brothers to pray for our friend Guinevere Pendragon’s swift recovery.”
Instead of military might or strategic advantage, he would ask for something so mundane.
Later, when the tension eased and they were alone, Meteos explained his reasoning to Ace. Given that the Four Horsemen are committed to their roles as his siblings, they will of course help him in his goals, so it is useless to ask for something that they will naturally do, but nothing normal people can do about Guinevere’s (Astarte) condition. This was tantamount to hoping for a miracle, however, and it has been almost one month since that time without any news about a change in her condition—
At that moment, Meteos’ grimoire rang.
‘Ace?’ he murmured as he glanced at the screen and answered with a hushed call of his name.
“………!”
There was a beat of silence, but the effect was clear. His eyes widened, his jaw clenched, and he shot a tense look at both Legiel and Adonis. Then, without a word, Meteos threw his chair back and stormed out of the room, leaving the Four Horsemen to exchange a knowing look.
After the silence following their Little Brother’s abrupt exit, Cyrus rose from his seat.
“Thank you both, Brothers,” he calmly said. With a nod towards Ashera, who quickly followed by his side, Cyrus proceeded to move towards the door.
“Well, looks like Little Brother is in quite a hurry,” Legiel leaned towards Adonis with a sly grin.
Instead of humoring Legiel, Adonis quietly stood up and donned his cloak. As he adjusted the collar, he cast a glance towards Legiel, who remained comfortably settled in his chair.
“Aren’t you coming?”
“How amusing,” Legiel raised an eyebrow. “Is it truly wise for Astarte to be greeted by the face of her tormentor, hm?”
“Serves you right,” Adonis commented, turning and striding out of the study.
As he made his way towards his car, he reached into his pocket and pulled his own grimoire.
“Kaios, tell your friends to go to the Magala Familia Central.”
“Eh? Is that a hospital?” the boy’s astonished voice could be heard from the other side. “Is everyone okay, sir?”
“We’re visiting Annette’s sister, but there’s also something I want to talk about with your team. Is that okay?”
“Y-yes, of course! We’ll be there!”
“Alright, thank you.”
❖⟐❖⟐❖
Today, Ace once again shuffled into Guinevere’s hospital room by himself, steps heavy with a weariness that transcended physical fatigue before pulling up the chair beside the bed. She no longer needed the machine’s rhythmic hum that had become the unwelcome background noise of their days. The sterile wires were gone, replaced only by the faint adhesive marks on her skin. Yet, her eyes remained stubbornly shut. Slowly taking the slumbering goddess’s pale hand, he traced the lines on her palm as if it was a map now leading him nowhere, but a map he wouldn’t abandon.
“I am… so tired…” he started hoarsely. It was a routine he clung to, trying to reach her hoping that she would be able to hear his voice.
“It’s always the same. Every night, Pestilence has me fight them, these monstrous parodies of life… And I have to fight them, before they can hurt anyone. But it feels so pointless… I don’t even know if it really makes a difference.”
Since the night prior to the arrival of his younger siblings to this world, Pestilence introduced yet another burden to this world, aiming to torment the god ensnared within. Each night, a new creature birthed from the collective anxieties and dread of the world, materialized in his vicinity as a challenge Ace had to overcome before dawn. However, beyond the initial occurrence onward, his battles remained unacknowledged in the tale, as Ace is not a main character in the narrative and Pestilence is a spiteful author.
Ace squeezed his eyes shut with frustration. “No… I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be the one complaining. You’re the one who’s trapped here, fighting your own battle.” He choked back a sob. “And it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been so weak… I’m so sorry…”
His grip on her hand tightened. “Please… wake up. This world… and I…”
At that moment, a faint tremor ran through Guinevere’s hand, and Ace’s eyes widened. Was it…?
He watched, breath caught in his throat, as a single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and traced a glistening path down his cheek.
Then, a flicker.
Guinevere’s eyelids fluttered, once, twice, before finally creaking open. Calming magical lighting, dulled by days spent in the sterile confines, flooded her pupils. She blinked, disoriented, the world a blurry mosaic of whites and muted colors.
“Astarte……?” Ace’s voice broke amidst the sterile silence.
The young woman’s gaze fell upon him, confusion clouding her initial disorientation. She saw the face of a young man etched with worry and exhaustion as he held her hand, while his eyes shimmered with something akin to desperation. It was a face she recognized, yet the name that should have sprung readily to mind remained stubbornly elusive.
“…You… who…?” she croaked, her voice dry and raspy from disuse.
Relief washed over Ace, a wave so powerful it nearly knocked him off his chair. Astarte—Guinevere was awake. Her voice, though rough, was the sweetest melody he’d ever heard. Yet, a new wave of worry crashed upon him as he noticed the confusion in her eyes. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he forced a smile even as tears continued to flow from his shining blue eyes.
“……It’s me. Don’t you… remember?”
Guinevere’s brow furrowed, a tiny crease appearing between her brows as she studied him. Vague recognition flickered in her eyes, but it wasn’t enough.
“You… from that time…”
“It’s alright,” Ace hurriedly assured her. “You’ve been out for a while. Hold on, I’ll get a nurse…!” he continued as he frantically reached for the call button beside the bed.
Just as he pressed the button, a shift occurred in the young woman’s eyes. A jolt of recognition sparked and images flooded her mind. Each new surge of images brought with it a burst of emotion, love, frustration, joy, all culminating in one single realization.
“Ace……?”
“!!!”
“Ace…!” she cried out, her voice gaining strength. This time, the name rang true, filled with a lifetime of unspoken words. When she reached out with her trembling hand, a choked sob escaped Ace’s lips. He didn’t know if her memories as Goddess Astarte were truly gone, but Guinevere remained. He was Ace to her.
And that, in that moment, was all that mattered.
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Ars Goetia Secret
THE FIVE PEOPLES OF THE MODERN ERA
The five peoples of the modern era: humans, elves, dark elves, dwarves, and beastmen, rose to prominence around the world in the wake of the August Star of Heaven, which was the falling star thrown by the gods to banish the Ancient Sorcerous Empire. Throughout their history, they have been subjected to attacks by dangerous gigantic beasts of the world and contempt by the more "monstrous"-looking races, such as the Dragonoids.
The reason for the Emorians' seeming arrogance and contempt for these races and the attacks on their well-being by monsters around the world rooted in one reason: they were created by the Ravernal Empire, who fashioned the Five Peoples in their image. Basically, the Five Peoples were what the Ravernal Empire's people look like if they were altered a bit.
In other words, humans, elves, dark elves, dwarves, and beastmen, who see themselves as "natives" of Ars Goetia, are in actuality the invasive species left behind by their progenitor for whatever reason. Living without truly knowing about their origins, the Five Peoples built their civilizations while enduring the hatred directed at them from the natives who suffered so much during the Rape of Ars Goetia.
This is all a tragedy caused by the Civilization Annihilation Game, who panders to an Audience who desire to watch a "good story."