October 29, 1616 Central Calendar, 03:30
Roguerider Residence
For Meteos and the rest of Exam Group 27, today is an important day. After being given only three days to prepare themselves, an appointment with destiny as decided by their group test examiner, Daguva, had finally come upon them.
Part of their preparation—and thus the test itself—is to predict what kind of test Daguva has planned. Any mage worth their salt understands the value of anticipating the unexpected, making Meteos feel like he would be disappointed if Daguva, with his specialty in martial arts and knack for beating people to submission, structured his exam around physical combat. Although Meteos has definitely trained in that area, there are more inspiring ways to assess future mages than just trading punches.
But before starting all that, first Meteos begins his early morning routine that he continues to adhere to despite everything. Part of this is due to discipline, while the other part comes from the thrill of unlocking and mastering the inherited memories of Attarsamain. As he always woke up at least 30 minutes before diving into the routine at 04:00, Meteos would typically wander aimlessly around the house to relax and kill time. This time, he found himself standing in front of the door leading to the garage and decided to step inside.
At that moment, he spotted a silver-haired figure standing inside with his back turned toward Meteos. Since the figure was close to the side where Legiel’s unopened crates were stacked, Meteos instantly recognized who it was and stifled a groan. This is going to be a long day.
“Oh, good morning, Little Brother,” Legiel said cheerfully, accompanied by an unsettlingly fast about-face when Meteos’ other foot hadn’t even stepped into the garage floor. Squinting his gaze in mirth, he remarked offhandedly, “I was just contemplating about which one of these crates I’m going to unbox first, if you don’t mind me.”
For his warm greeting, Meteos humored those words with a mere indifferent grunt.
With Legiel now in the garage, a pregnant silence settled between them, only for it to go into labor as the Horseman spoke again.
“So, it’s been a while since I’ve been curious about this, but what does All for One reward you with this time? You can’t possibly be content with just a handful of fancy tricks, can you?”
Meteos scoffed and lifted a corner of his mouth challengingly. “I’ll show it if you grant Ace peace of mind from everything you forced upon him.”
“Are you sure about your proposal? The way I see it, Amatsu-Mikaboshi used you as a tool to advance his own agenda: defying me and saving his crush.”
“Yes, that’s the only thing you want to see out of his situation. Then it’s only fair that I do the same.”
“And what do you see, Little Brother?” Legiel tilted his head curiously.
“We started as business partners, and then you turned us into brothers. Is it wrong for me to look after my own sibling?”
“Ah, filial piety.”
Classic Milishial attitude, other than being unintentionally arrogant to what they see as lesser civilizations.
“But I’m your sibling too, right?” Legiel chuckled.
Meteos shifted his weight, frowning but ultimately giving a small, reluctant nod. “…Yes,” he muttered. “You’re my brother. Now if you’ll stop harassing Ace for m—”
“We have a deal!”
“………”
With a grimace, Meteos finally decided to demonstrate what he had been working on with the inherited memories. He stretched out his hand and formed a certain gesture with it, keeping his index and middle fingers straight while curling the others into his palm. Concentrating on the crate at the center of the stack, Meteos willed it to be pulled out with a soft surge of mana. Legiel watched as the crate floated off the pile, its weight seemingly forgotten as it hovered through the air before landing softly on the table. Meteos then extended his will further, guiding the remaining crates to shift and rearrange themselves without a sound, ensuring that nothing fell off the stack.
Legiel beamed at the spectacle, recognizing the ability his younger brother had just showcased.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he chuckled. “The technique of ‘Almighty Reach.’ You’ve got yourself the power of mind over matter! That’s great, you can just snap the neck of anyone you don’t like from across the room now.”
Mulling over it, Meteos’ frown deepened at Legiel’s flippant remark. Although the technique he had just shown was impressive, it was just the meager beginning of a powerful skill set that Meteos felt wouldn’t be enough to confront stronger adversaries yet. He understood that while he could easily manipulate inanimate objects, those with greater mana reserves, density, and experience could sense its activation on them and counter it, making the technique ineffective. Furthermore, other than literal monsters, of the two people that immediately came to mind, one was an anomaly with a barbaric level of mana manipulation and the other was one of the Devils. Both are also known to have unpleasant contingencies in place in case they are to die of murder.
Besides, Meteos’ wind magic is already potent enough to pull the air out of someone’s lungs and suffocate them to death. As the magic that inspired the natives’ creation of guns, wind elemental magic has long been associated with assassination techniques. If he wasn’t interested in engineering, maybe Legiel’s little brother could be the world’s finest assassin.
Meteos pinched the bridge of his nose at the thought.
“That’s just a waste of human resources. If I could help it, I’d rather not squander them when they could help the cause. Such shortsighted thinking only serves to make me look like an idiot,” he refuted.
“So… in a roundabout way, you’ve come to value human life,” Legiel remarked with a shrug. “Well, do what you must but don’t you ever regret the consequences of your decisions.”
“Your concern is unnecessary.”
Whether Meteos Roguerider genuinely meant that or he just indulged in the impulse to refute him out of spite didn’t concern Pestilence that much. The takeaway from this exchange is that this mortal really shared Eldest Brother Death’s ideology that those edgy nihilists were weaklings who succumbed to the ironclad rule of the world instead of trying to destroy it. Yeah, who would’ve thought that the Inevitable himself is the most powerful anti-nihilist out there?
“There’s one issue, though,” Legiel spoke again. “Now that you’ve learned new techniques and become even stronger, you’re not beating those allegations anytime soon.”
“Hardly surprising. Allegations of what kind?”
“Well, a couple of accusations of unrealism, of course! There are those who absolutely hate it when there is a character that is too OP for their own good. But as long as I’m here, you don’t have to worry about them.”
“Is that supposed to be an assurance or a threat?” with furrowed brows, Meteos responded to the reminder.
Legiel observed Meteos’ expression and tension in his posture, taking it as a cue to lighten the mood.
“It’s up to your interpretation… but since you look so gloomy—”
“I’m not.”
“—I think it’s my duty as the older brother to cheer you up! How about a little peek inside one of my crates?” Legiel gestured for Meteos to come over to the table with the crate he pulled earlier sitting on it. “Come on, Little Brother! Don’t just stand there looking like a storm cloud.”
With a resigned sigh, Meteos stepped forward and lifted the crate’s lid (manually). The sound of creaking wood filled the air as he revealed its content.
“Interesting choice.”
“……It’s a ship.”
“Thank you so much for pointing out the obvious, Little Brother, but really? That’s your brilliant observation?”
“It’s a Gra Valkas Empire’s ship, though it’s not something I recognize.”
“Hmph, Gra Valkas Empire… ‘Throughout Heaven and Earth, We ALONE Are JUSTICE,’” Legiel declared, quoting the infamous propaganda in the religious war that they always denied being a religious war.
Yggdra is a world rife with religious wars. However, one side admits that yes, they’re waging a religious war, the other side refuses to acknowledge their religious war despite it being repeatedly shown in their face. One side’s struggle has a good reason behind it, while the other side’s struggle is manufactured for the sole purpose of causing pain, and suffering, and death, so that others can be forced into sinking into their worst version of themselves again, and again, and again.
As the result of Noluthe’s playthrough in the Civilization Annihilation Game, the GVE usually belongs to the latter categories.
If Legiel thought showing him a miniature of the Grade Atlastar would get a petty rise out of Meteos, well, he’s sorely mistaken. Besides, what was inside was not that ship. Despite the naval ensign, nonmagical technology architecture, and silhouette, the scale model is definitely not based on Walman’s murderer.
While it sported a similar hull, smokestack, and characteristic pagoda structure, the scale model is missing the 155 mm secondary gun turrets that would make it a 1/350 scale model of either the Gra Valkan Grade Atlastar or the late war version of the old Japanese Yamato-class battleships.
“A downsized Grade Atlastar with nine 45-caliber 41-centimeter guns in three triple turrets as its main battery. In its native timeline, this fast battleship is a new ‘standard-type’ battleship mass-produced to supplant the older Orion and Hercules classes. The condition of its existence is, well, no ‘protagonist summoned country,’ meaning Shamash doesn’t get to play, the New World War becomes the War of Fate in Ars Goetia, following Noluthe’s playstyle. Eternal. Unending. Artificial and Forced.”
“So much for cheering my mood.”
Noticing Meteos eyeing him, probably disgusted by such an elaboration, an amused Legiel continued with a sardonic smile on his face.
“That’s why it’s an alternate timeline, so you don’t have to worry about it,” he waved his little brother off for being such a worrywart. “That’s also why in that timeline MILLIONS MUST DIE!”
“It’s early morning, you stupid barbarian…!”
Staggering from a flinch, Meteos quietly snarled at Legiel for suddenly shouting. Pestilence being a genocidal doomer was no surprise for him anymore, but he is an idiot and he has no manners. The absolute nerve!
“My bad, I was getting excited,” Legiel chuckled. “Wait, I think I was about to say one more thing… what is it again? Oh, right! But since the War of Fate means a tiring slog of a storyline with slow buildup and seemingly no resolution, I remember passing a bid from another player to enter the game. He doesn’t usually play this type of genre, but I have to admit, he’s a wonder with his appearances. His name is Baphomet, by the way. You better watch out, Little Brother~ you’ll never know who will show up when the time comes. The point of this discourse is…! Mastering All for One is great and all… but what you really should be doing in an even greater effort is accessing the Multiverse!”
“…Coming from me, that’s really ambitious.”
“Oh, but you already have the key to see the Multiverse: your imagination. The same imagination that propels your mastery of All for One to high heavens.”
Legiel smiled knowingly, as if sharing a piece of wisdom with a junior. Even if the access to the Multiverse was metaphorical, that’ll do.
“…Hmph. Point taken, but I’m leaving,” Meteos muttered dismissively.
With that, he pivoted and walked toward the garage door, intent on heading to his early morning training.
“Think about it, okay!?”
The reincarnator didn’t give the White Rider the satisfaction of a response. Instead, he simply continued forward and disappeared outside as Legiel watched him go, his smile lingering in the garage’s light.
“…Telling you to stop shouting when every room in this house is magically soundproofed… He really wants you to shut up, huh?”
“Well, he has shown that he’s persistently driven to achieve what he wants, including my silence. Had I been an ordinary mortal, he might have beaten me to submission and gagged me.”
Legiel turned and coyly replied to Ashera who had inserted herself sometime during the two’s ‘discussion.’ In her pajamas and still sporting a bedhead, she looked even rougher than usual. She snickered at the last part.
“Yeah, you wouldn’t stop talking.”
“Uh, huh, even when I’m unconscious?”
“ESPECIALLY when you’re unconscious!”
Legiel hummed and gave Ashera a once-over with a curious look in his eyes.
“Alright, Elder Sister, what brings you out here in this state?”
Ashera just smirked, crossing her arms. “Maybe I was just curious about what you’re gonna do now that Little Brother actually treated you somewhat decently for once.”
Legiel’s eyebrows rose as if she’d just handed him the universe. He froze, replaying the moment in his mind when Meteos Roguerider muttered that he was going to (presumably) take his advice to heart before leaving. And suddenly, it was like a sun had risen in his head, beaming brighter than the garage lights.
“Oh, yes. Of course!” Legiel’s grin stretched from ear to ear, and he practically vibrated with glee. “He probably didn’t mean it like that, but Elder Sister, I feel like this moment must be immortalized, possibly even celebrated across dimensions! Oh, what a glorious day it is when my Little Brother acknowledges me, however faintly.”
“Greaaaat…” Ashera drawled, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’d be doing a service! As gratitude, I think I’ll sell this little Asterion-class design to Mu! Add fuel to their factional rivalries so they get torn apart by their own petty disputes even faster. Isn’t that the sort of tribute an older brother ought to leave behind?”
“Legiel… the fuck you’re gonna do?”
“What? Why not? Their existence is a tumor to this world. It’s their destiny to suffer a brutal death because that’s what the ideal monsters I intended them to be when I dumped them here. But since this is not about what I want… now, who among the normal people wouldn’t want to be rid of tumors?”
“Sabotaging them is no fun, let them grow some more before the Judgment Day,” retorted the elder sister.
“On a barren soil?”
“Don’t test my patience.”
“Okay, okay, I find your suggestion more interesting for now, Sister,” Legiel smiled. “I’ll let that fallen angel brat down south do his thing. Now… Sister, are you interested in seeing my CAS-class assault carrier scale model?”
While her brother backtracked as soon as he laid out his beliefs, Ashera groaned, looking at the ceiling. True to his name, even when Pestilence is sincere, every single word coming out of his mouth is an insult.
❖⟐❖⟐❖
09:00
Imperial Board of Magical Arts Supervision Headquarters, Runepolis
‘Well, well, well…’
Meteos was pleasantly surprised when Daguva exceeded his expectations as an examiner by bringing out a board game for all of them to play with. However, instead of the strategy board games commonly known to the Middle Landers, like chess, encirclement board, or checkers, Daguva presented a folding wooden 8×8 board in black and white to play schaken, also referred to as “Parpaldian chess.”
While Meteos has no issues with it, Hans and Leo only have a limited understanding of the obscure foreign game, while Kaie from Hinomawari, the literal other side of the Third Civilization Area’s known world, is completely ignorant about it and could already be seen fidgeting in nervousness. It looks like he’ll have to carry the group this time.
“Just one game?” Meteos confirmed, shifting his gaze from Daguva to the board. It was the examiner against the entire Exam Group 27, making it a one-on-four matchup. This, it seemed, was the ‘test-looking’ part of the test.
As they gathered around the board and listened to the set of rules from Daguva, the three others leaned toward Meteos in a huddle after seeing him look unfazed by the challenge.
“You seem like you know how to play this,” Leo whispered. “I don’t want us to embarrass ourselves.”
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Kaie looked at the silver-haired boy with wide eyes. “I’ve never played anything like this. What do we even do?”
“Guys… I don’t think we have to win in order to pass this exam,” Hans suddenly chimed in.
“On what basis do you say that?”
“I mean… it’s too simple? We are supposed to ‘look underneath the underneath,’ right?”
“Hmm…”
“…I’ve played this game once or twice,” Meteos said. “I’ll teach you the steps along the way. How’s that?”
The three nodded, deciding to just focus on the current game.
“Ready when you are, sir,” Meteos called out to Daguva who was waiting for them.
In schaken, the player who moves first is called “White” and the player who moves second is called “Black.” Since Group 27 was playing as the latter, they waited for Daguva to make his move first.
“Okay.”
The examiner leaned over the board, reached out and moved a horse-shaped piece called a Knight from its starting place, jumping over other pieces to square f3. It was a flexible move, committing no central pawns. To defend against it, Meteos gestured to Kaie sitting to his left to move the black knight to f6, equally flexible in response. A white Pawn was then moved two squares forward to c4, while Group 27 moved a pawn one square forward to g6. And then White Knight to c3, followed by a black bishop to g7.
Basically, Meteos invited Daguva to establish a classical pawn stronghold in the center, which he intended to target and undermine with his fianchettoed bishop and other pieces.
After Daguva moved another pawn, Meteos leaned to his teammates.
“And now we castle… which is moving the King two squares toward a Rook on the same row, then moving the rook to the square that the King passed over to bring the King to safety.”
“I see…”
Meteos felt a tinge of awkwardness as he discussed their strategies with his teammates. While he was confident in his own understanding of schaken, inadvertently revealing their plans to Daguva in front of them felt like a double-edged sword. However, he knew that transparency could foster teamwork and help his less experienced friends learn… which he believed was the true goal of this test.
Besides, it seemed that they were not required to win anyway.
Except, after numerous back-and-forths, they won.
Yes. There’s no way Meteos would half-ass this exam, with the logic that the longer they last, the more the Group showcases their teamwork.
“………”
In the endgame, Daguva’s King was checkmated by a black Rook and Knight. Moving it sideways, the Knight would capture it; moving it diagonally, it would fall prey to the Rook.
During the game, Daguva committed a dubious move once, while Group 27 under Meteos’ obvious leadership executed a series of decisions a commentator might describe as very good moves. Assessing each examinee’s contribution, Daguva couldn’t help but feel impressed. Meteos coordinated well, his instructions were clear and deliberate, and he balanced leadership with patience. Though obviously the brains of the group due to his familiarity with schaken, he hadn’t commanded them outright but let his confidence carry them forward, even as he revealed strategies out loud, aware that every whisper reached Daguva’s excellent hearing.
Hans and Leo picked up the basics quickly, and while they left most of the choices to Meteos, they made a couple of observations as the game progressed. Even Kaie, though new to the game, had engaged eagerly, asking questions that allowed the silver-haired boy to clarify strategies for everyone.
Daguva is a mature man who is aware that he excels in punching people in the face, not playing foreign chess. As such, he didn’t feel too much disappointment in losing, for this whole thing was never his specialty in the first place.
“Well, I’ll be taking my leave now,” he said, collecting the game pieces to put them back inside the folding board. “You’ve done what you came here to do. Wait for the announcement of the results on the 10th of next month.” He left it at that, his tone as casual as if he were reminding them of the weather forecast.
After Daguva left the rooftop, Meteos turned to his teammates with a slight grin.
“Alright, now that the exam is over… how about we grab something to eat?”
“Sounds… good?”
Leo watched Meteos’ perpetually relaxed expression in silence, wondering if this boy was either so brilliant or self-assured that this important exam felt like a chore to him—a suspicion that was, in truth, a bit of both.
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November 5, 1616 Central Calendar, 21:00
Tyrene Province, Holy Milishial Empire
It was a cool evening nearing the imminent arrival of winter. One week after that fateful game of schaken with Daguva, Meteos and his newfound time to work on the real business found themselves traveling south from the capital, crossing the Gulf of Caelus on what was officially a joint inspection trip to a Cauldron construction project led by the Roguerider Foundation and a number of its partners. As they awaited their arrival at the site, Meteos turned to glance at Ace sitting right next to his seat, arms crossed and eyes closed. He couldn’t exactly decipher emotions at a glance, but this older brother was badly suffering from fatigue.
The ‘assignment’ that Legiel gave to Ace to combat Minus Energy creatures has led him to become the receiving end of dismemberment and other injuries that would be impossible for ordinary beings to recover from. However, unbeknownst to society, the data collected from treating him was used by Legiel to become a cornerstone in advancing the Holy Milishial Empire’s medical technology. Furthermore, as Ace continued to defeat these monsters off-screen, the levels of stress among people seemed to decrease, particularly in areas where he fought, thanks to the supernatural substance called ‘Hope’ he released each time he destroyed them.
To Pestilence, Ace Roguerider is an “Unsung Hero” for Ars Goetia. And a hero deserves a break from time to time.
In a mocking sense, obviously.
“Are you alright, Ace?”
“Hm, yeah… Just thinking about how ‘very nice’ of that bastard to let me have a day off from monster fighting so that I can come along with you,” exhaling softly, Ace sarcastically grumbled out his thoughts.
“You’re exhausted,” Meteos noted with a frown. “You don’t think he—the other one, I mean—would intervene when you’re being ragged like this?”
“That’s what I assumed at first, and look where it lands me—”
Ace paused mid-rant, seeing Meteos’ worried gaze.
“…I’m sorry if that sounds too selfish… But most of the time, a person who says they’re defying fate ironically believes that destiny will always be by their side. Be careful not to fall into that trap. As for him? It’s just too good to be true. You have to be… what is the correct term? Worthy…?”
‘Worthy’ should be right, Meteos thought. It also served as a fitting contrast to Pestilence’s approach in their feud; whereas Pestilence forces their debate subject to sink to their lowest self—an all too easy feat—Death, on the other hand, while he did set the initial conditions to see how things will play out, ultimately gives them a chance to prove themselves they can be better than that, which is far harder.
“Anyway, speaking of a goal we can actually reach for the time being…”
Ace straightened up, cracked his neck with a satisfying pop, and leaned slightly toward the armored panel that separated them from the driver. With a tap on the control interface, Ace activated the intercom.
“Driver, any update on our ETA?”
“We’ll be arriving at the entrance in just a few minutes, Young Master,” came the driver’s clear and calm reply.
“Hear that?”
“I just hope the supplies we need are being prepared at a satisfactory amount.”
Several minutes later, as the car slipped into an unlit highway tunnel still under construction at the base of a hill, Ace let out an amused snort.
“A tunnel. Of course there’s going to be a tunnel.”
This penchant for highly advanced subterranean military facilities was inherited from their studies of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire’s ruins. Although this would typically pose a significant challenge, the Holy Empire’s extensive investment in the project—especially through the use of element-bending and Manadriver-equipped mages—made it much more manageable thanks to more options their current technology offered.
Finally, they arrived at their destination: a vast underground shipyard-type Cauldron created by excavating millions of tons of rock beneath a cliff that overlooked the Gulf of Caelus. And while the construction was underway, the Holy Empire made a profit out of those removed rocks by exporting a portion of them to high-demand areas as construction materials.
As they exited the vehicle, the cool air of the facility enveloped them, accompanied by the sounds of the workers on the current shift busily going about their tasks.
“This isn’t going to be finished overnight. Even with your boost, Meteos, this place will still need time to be ready,” Ace commented as he peered down on the edge of the dry dock, a basin large enough to accommodate a future supercarrier—or multiple small ships and U-boats.
“Which is why this Cauldron must be up and running as soon as possible. Even in the worst-case scenario, the Messiah cannot threaten the known world without crossing the oceans.”
“Aye, that’d be true. Even having Core Magic missiles will do jack shit if your Megaflare just fucking denies enemy assets from even taking off the ground. That’s some hardcore aerial supremacy shit, that one.”
The Holy Empire currently holds nearly a 3-to-1 advantage in numbers over the Annonrial Empire. However, due to the technological gap, a hypothetical conflict between the two is expected to be an even fight, just in case. But if they can successfully activate this one Cauldron and unlock the cooperation from the Four Horsemen to boost more Cauldrons, the situation will improve.
Moreover, being a shipyard-type Cauldron doesn’t necessarily mean it will be only capable of making ships. While it’s not specifically designed for that purpose, it could also be made to manufacture small arms, ground vehicles, artillery, missiles, and even aircraft as well as supplies in bulk if needed due to its massive default size. This line of thinking drove the decision to prioritize enhancing this Cauldron first, so it’s not that stupid of a decision, right?
As for the matters of personnel and securing cooperation from their own sovereign, Princess Lugiel will be handling it, so for now Meteos allowed himself to solely focus on enhancing the hardware.
“Well then, if we’re not going to waste any more time, should we get started?”
The reincarnator crouched near the edge of the dock, bringing his gloved hand to touch the surface as he thought about the sheer ambition in their undertaking, and sighed. The vastness of the shipyard was indeed intimidating, but at the same time, it filled him with both awe and determination.
“…Yes. Let’s do this. But Ace, you should rest and watch me from over there.”
“Alright, then!” Ace cracked a grin, momentarily shaking off the fatigue that clung to him. He then turned toward the cluster of project leaders following them. “Hey! We’re executing Protocol Horizon Dreamer! Have the support crew ready, everyone else, steer clear from the area!”
“Aye!”
Workers nearby hastily moved out of the way to a safe distance, while the support crew took positions. Meteos squared his shoulders and stepped onto a position at the edge of the dry dock. Compared to transmuting native elements into the literal otherworldly element that is pedanium, rearranging existing materials into structures felt almost straightforward. This task only felt slightly different because of the sheer scale of the building he was aiming to finish.
“Alright, everyone! We’re about to begin. Since this is a matter of homeland defense—at least, I need absolute focus from all of you. We’re playing our part as defenders, and in doing so we’re going to start by dragging this country kicking and screaming to the future if we have to!”
Ace hollered from the sidelines, followed by a cheer from those around them.
With a group of crewmen behind Meteos channeling their mana into him to provide an extra flow of energy for him to tap into, Meteos clasped his hands and interlocked his fingers in preparation to cast his Overhaul spell. This time, though, the spell’s activation left Ace and the others watching in awe.
A fiery bluish-green aura erupted around the performer at the center of the stage, visible to everyone. It was a brilliant and intense display of mana, far surpassing that of any ordinary spell or even previous Overhaul activations. The spell, it is evolving.
“This never gets old…” murmuring wistfully, Ace almost expecting to see wings of light unfurled.
“Goodness. The mana… is more visible than before…”
“This level of visibility is a mark of a Grand Mage-level spellcaster,” someone murmured. “It’s unheard of for a human so young to command such intensity!”
“No, but it’s possible by means of the Drivers the Young Master is using as amplifier devices and his own means of learning by seeing the future, don’t you think so?”
“I told you, that’s why when you base your expectations only on what you see, you blind yourself to the possibilities of a new reality… wait, who said that quote again?”
“—Young Master Legiel?”
Ace was proud seeing what the Fate’s Rebel had grown into, but the mention of Pestilence made him somewhat bitter again.
By incorporating Almighty Reach into Overhaul, the spell’s efficiency experienced a dramatic increase. Meteos directed the magic toward the vast piles of materials around the dock, wrapping them in slithers of magical energy. Steel beams, Amrita, aggregates of pedanium, gravel, cement powder, sand, and other elements rose into the air together, each piece moving in a coordinated swirl under Meteos’ command like a conductor guiding a grand orchestra. In sequences, the Overhaul spell worked through the structure and materializing pedanium circuits out of raw materials to complete a segment of the unfinished Cauldron.
He only stopped 45 minutes later because they had literally run out of materials.
When Ace and the others approached him and the exhausted support crew, the older brother gently clasped Meteos’ shoulder while he was still catching his breath.
“Hey… How much do you think I manage?” the younger brother immediately asked.
Ace glanced back at the Cauldron, squinting to assess the progress. The characteristic sheen of the pedanium could be seen neatly lining a portion of its length on the floor, walls, and ceiling.
“I’d say it’s about… 20 percent completion…”
“Even with one and a half million tons of rock… That’s less than I thought, at this rate we’re going to have it ready next month at the earliest,” Meteos harrumphed. “It’s the pedanium, I swear…”
“Until we get that dedicated plant, the production will not keep up with the demands.”
“Then I’ll just make them on-site.”
If it weren’t for the requirement to install pedanium circuits on four sides enclosing the dry dock, it could have been deemed finished much sooner using only the Holy Empire’s ‘conventional’ construction methods. However, that wouldn’t make it a Cauldron.
Ace turned to a white helmet-wearing elf serving as the site manager standing nearby.
“Barago, come here for a minute.”
“Y-yes, Young Master Ace?”
“We are going to come by again next week to work on the rest. What’s the prospect for non-pedanium materials?”
The man’s face brightened as he answered. “Given today’s progress, I believe it’s going to be very positive, Young Masters.”
“Well, aren’t you a confident one. Alright, if you think you can provide preferably double the current amount next week, feel free to do so.”
“Y-yes!”
“Hey!” Meteos elbowed his older brother before turning to the flustered site manager. “That one is already covered by the Ancient Ministry. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“……Once again, thank you so much, Young Master Meteos. You’re a real-life miracle worker.”
‘Miracle worker, huh…’
While they moved away from the construction site to take a moment to breathe, Meteos’ thoughts wandered to Princess Lugiel and her preparations to convince the Emperor.
----------------------------------------
November 6, 1616 Central Calendar, 09:00
Albion Palace, Runepolis
“…Your Majesty, we have completed the questioning of the Annonrial defectors and compiled the report and their ‘tributes’ into a Datapoint,” Princess Lugiel announced. With the Director of the Imperial Intelligence Bureau in tow, they inclined their heads slightly as they entered the Emperor’s office.
A second after looking up from his work, Emperor Milishial VIII took in the tautness in their postures, then decided to go straight to the topic that his spymasters had just brought in.
“Something troubles you both. Did something happen?”
The Director took a breath. “Y-Your Majesty. What transpired in that room… must be seen to be believed.”
‘Oh……?’
As a country considered somewhat young, comparable to the Parpaldia Empire if one took the date of their appearance on the world stage as a reference point, the Annonrial Empire was a mystery tightly wrapped in iron walls and silence. As a civilization situated in the Southern World, a place known for its hostile climates and uncharted regions, Annonrial was long considered a closed and unreachable land for those in the known world. No intelligence-gathering measures worked there, no agents infiltrated it, and no leaks ever made it out.
However, the Holy Empire never gave up. They simply gauged the situation through others’ own attempts.
Thus, the decision to meet with a pair of men claiming as defectors bringing along ‘tributes’ to ensure their safety from that very place had not been taken lightly. The Order of the Ancients had taken every precaution, and now, with the questioning over, it seemed that a sense of urgency hung over the results they carried. Milishial VIII could see it clearly in his descendant and her subordinate’s faces. Just what secrets had these defectors shared that left seasoned agents so visibly disturbed.
Glancing at a Datapoint reader device the Director carried, the Emperor nodded slowly.
“I see. Well then, show me the details of the matter.”
“Yes.”
…………
When the recording finally ended, the room instantly fell into a dreadful silence. Lugiel watched as her ancestor’s face shifted from shock and sheer disbelief to something far more severe. His typically composed expression cracked for a fleeting moment, and his hands, folded on his desk, trembled, barely restraining the impulse to shatter the furniture into pieces. When he rose from his desk, those hands clenched the edges with such force that they instantly made a loud cracking noise as they chipped.
They had revealed everything to Milishial VIII—testimonies of the ‘defectors,’ the ‘tribute,’ the state of the Southern World, and even Zarathostra of the Messiah and his likeness. Every last detail.
The White Lotus Leader’s plan to open the old sovereign’s eyes had succeeded, but what concerned Lugiel now was how the Emperor would respond.
“Your Majesty…?”
The Emperor gave no response, with his gaze fixed ahead, seeing nothing and everything at once.
“This is—” with a great strain in his voice, the Emperor muttered to no one. “—it can’t be…”
“………?”
“Now I understand the reason behind this longevity of mine…”
“Honored Ancestor, please…” Lugiel called at him again, begging for a response.
“…I’ve failed you all. Lugiel… my child, all of you deserved better than living in a world such as this one, where I let this festering rot grow unchecked while I sat on my throne, blind to the truths lurking in the shadows.”
Lugiel’s heart sank at his words, but such is the price of truth. After all, there’s a reason why he took this the way he was.
“…Are other Magisters already informed about this information?”
“No, Your Majesty. You are the first person we conveyed this information to.”
“Then, first I want the Order’s leadership to be convened at once. A council shall be held before the date changes. This is a threat unlike any other. Understand?”
“At once!”
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Magicaregia, Annonrial Empire
Beneath the spires of the Oranata Palace, where sunlight kissed its deochalcum structure, lay a place that Zarathostra never forgot to visit. This was his refuge where he honored the echoes of his forebears and the memory of his missing family. The sole place where he would kneel and bow down, an act he vowed never to extend to any other living being in this world.
Returning to his daily visit, the sight of a man kneeling in the corridor brought a small smile to the emperor’s face.
“Your servant, Sigma Sauron Stoller of the Fleet of Particular Justice, pays his respects to Your Radiance.”
“Arise.”
The long silver-haired man clad in a crisp navy uniform rose gracefully from his knee.
“By Your Radiance’s mandate, I conducted a thorough effort to find out the most efficient and destructive method to reduce the Kingdom of Mu’s maritime power in the upcoming campaign. As per your command, I am here to present my theory.”
“Hm, it’s as expected of you, Vice Admiral.”
“Everything that your servant has done is by the grace of Your Radiance. Besides, this is unfortunately still an unproven theory. I dare not assume merit.”
“By studying yourself and conveying your insights, you have aided me in understanding the field you endeavored in. Let us not linger any longer.”
Zarathostra of the Messiah longed for the Reclamation—the day when he will finally be reunited with his loved ones, and he does everything in his power to ensure their safe return.
Feeling lost and alone, he reaches out in desperation to fill the emptiness in his heart. He is a fierce flame that ignites the world, and his kindness will scorch the earth and char the frozen time.
Even his smallest scars hurt more than the gods of this world, and that is why, he will continue to destroy everything.
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Lucius of the Morning Star clenched his fist and glared at the Devil projected by the device once again.
“…How you two are completely indistinguishable from each other…”
Lumen the Betrayer had long since died. But with immense regret, the same cannot be said for Sokrates the Deceiver. Evidently, he had survived, and then gave rise to a new enemy. A powerful enemy… a personal enemy.
His very original sin.
If this self-proclaimed Messiah is anything like his forefather, then more families will be torn apart and brothers be made to kill each other. He could not let that happen again, but the Devil has grown too powerful to be simply vanquished with brute force.
With the next Order of the Ancients’ leadership council, the interests of the sovereign and the White Lotus under Amon’s helm will finally align.