Despite its familiar scenery at first, Ars Goetia was a world of impossible contradictions when compared to Earth or Yggdra, the homeworlds of Japan and the Gra Valkas Empire, respectively. Though its diameter stretched two and half times that of the two planets, its gravity remained the same—which from these interlopers’ point of view, was an anomaly that defied their conventional understanding. Beneath Ars Goetia’s crust lay a region unlike anything they found called the Hollow Planet, a vast, turbulent expanse of raw mana. This energy roiled ceaselessly, churning beneath the surface in ways that blurred the line between this region and what should have been the mantle.

  The presence of this one element made Ars Goetia’s universe more similar to Attarsamain’s, where the long-dead inhabitants of the latter once used their own planetary mana to transform their world into a Land of Light. This was also why the ancient Ravernals failed to recognize that, instead of blindly teleporting to a planet with life somewhere in their native universe, they were actually sent across the multiverse to one adjacent dimension by the Game’s meddling.

  When this “planetary mana” escaped to the surface, it reacted with the elements of the world, crystallizing into magic stones. Unlike finite earthly resources—which can actually be made infinite themselves through an advanced understanding of magick anyway, Ars Goetia’s planetary mana was already boundless as an eternal wellspring of power that seeped into the fabric of the civilizations flourishing on it. An important key phrase is “as long as there’s life,” so the planetary mana’s definitely supernatural way of endlessly replenishing itself might be connected to the sum of all life itself. Reflecting on the case with Attarsamain, the White Lotus Leader already knew what would happen to a mana-producing planet when all life on it was wiped out.

  Despite various lost religions that venerate mana used to speak the concept of its ‘Will,’ it appears that planetary mana is nothing more than a source of energy with no will of its own. When the Ancient Sorcerous Empire and the natives raced to harness it so that they could obliterate each other, they suffered no consequences other than the karma of their own unwise actions.

  And so, because they knew better about such things than most, one faction dared to try to use this source of power in what would seem to be reckless abandon.

  ?????

  January 18, 1617 Central Calendar, 09:00

  Area B7R, Southeastern Holy Milishial Empire

  It was exactly twelve hours since the Spire was activated and the facility’s construction began. In that time, what was once a dull, empty plot of land with a brief activity to stock construction materials had transformed into something that was no longer a dull, empty plot of land.

  The crew in the area watched as a gray truncated cone-like construct made of metal literally grew from a small magic rod into a structure, reaching the height of a three-story building overnight after consuming the prepared feedstock. Though its growth had significantly decelerated compared to the previous night, every 30 minutes glowing lines would appear on its surface before the wall split into smaller segments. These sections would then shift outward, with the gaps being seamlessly filled through a magical process that reconnected them, gradually increasing the structure’s size with each cycle.

  Many of them were so mesmerized that they had to be scolded to continue their tasks. A foreman barked orders at the gawking workers, “It’s not going anywhere, people! Get back to work!” His words jolted them back to reality, but their eyes still darted back to the structure every so often.

  Inside the specialized trailer of a HELVS truck parked nearby were a couple of crewmen and Belial, who was stationed at a console displaying a holographic schematic of the Spire-grown structure. As he was the only one required to oversee and control the structure’s growth, Belial filled his relatively light duties by lecturing the others and tasking them to study.

  “…So, the Borer will first fire a very thin beam that will melt the crust, all the way to the Hollow Planet?”

  “Not melt, transmute,” Belial corrected. “The Borer’s circuits are installed with a command that will make it fire a narrow beam, a millimeter wide, that transmutes everything it touches and shapes them into a pedanium shaft encasing the beam as it travels 50 kilometers down. This process is like threading a needle through the planet’s crust and inserting a brace to support the hole at the same time.”

  The one who asked hummed in understanding and nodded.

  This process is what earned the beam its moniker of “Overhaul beam,” derived from Meteos Roguerider’s revolutionary spell of the same name.

  On the holographic schematic, Belial highlighted the large tank-like structures arranged above the Borer in a five-petal flower configuration among other devices. “Once the beam fully penetrates to the designated depth, the pressure will cause raw mana to surge through the shaft. Thanks to pedanium’s properties and the enhancement it would be given, the shaft will remain intact, and this high-temperature jet will be guided through it without the structure being compromised.”

  These were siphons, essential to the operation but Belial felt that they would still need more of them. They were designed to capture the intense energy surge and channel it into the Manadriver as its fuel, which will be used to expand the shaft into the desired diameter and further upgrade the developing structure. This accelerated process allows the facility to achieve operational capacity in a fraction of the current time, which while satisfactory, is ultimately constrained by the pace at which raw materials are delivered from the nearby mines. Progress is particularly slow when it comes to producing Amrita and pedanium, both of which they need in large quantities for the system. Such are the hardships of being a pioneer.

  Belial then zoomed out. “Of course, if the siphon devices were to fail to contain it…”

  The crew exchanged uneasy glances as they studied the projection, which highlighted the thick pedanium bulkhead within the structure’s interior. This layer serves as a failsafe, ensuring that even if the mana’s power overwhelms the siphons, it will remain confined within the reinforced walls rather than escaping into the surrounding area. In fact, Belial slowed down the structure’s growth to focus on these pedanium-intensive interior parts.

  The system is built with multiple redundancies to prevent a catastrophe, and they were confident it would never come to that. Even so, despite the numerous safeguards in place, they couldn’t shake the thought of the consequences that an uncontrolled planetary mana eruption could bring.

  If the planetary mana, which is around 1.000 degrees Celsius at the lowest, were to suddenly erupt from the drilling hole, the consequences could be catastrophic despite the pedanium shaft’s indestructibility. In its volatile and superheated state, the raw mana would rapidly expand upon reaching the lower-pressure environment of the surface. This expansion would result in an intense localized heat bloom, instantly igniting any flammable materials within the vicinity. The air surrounding the eruption point would rapidly rise in temperature, causing an immediate updraft and potentially forming a storm of mana—a highly unstable phenomenon characterized by chaotic energy discharges, wild elemental fluctuations, and unpredictable atmospheric disturbances. Not to mention it would definitely overwhelm the mana detectors.

  “Well, its potential to create problems has been studied for the past twelve months… Let’s pray to the Goddess that we won’t be seeing it.”

  “Amen…” the crew listening to the masked operator’s monologue chorused.

  ‘………’

  Listening to these people began to remember their Goddess one after another… how it brought a duality of joy and pain to Belial’s chest, each emotion pulling in opposite directions.

  …………

  By 10 o’clock that morning, the Spire-grown installation stopped growing in diameter for the time being as Belial’s focus shifted to refining and expanding its internal systems. Sometimes, he needed to adjust the placement of the existing components. Belial also dedicated time to reinforcing the structure for the added height. The higher the installation grew, the greater the structural stress it would face. Using the accumulated materials, he instructed the system to fortify key load-bearing segments and enhance the resilience of the internal framework. Fortunately, a Spire-grown installation had the unique ability to be reshaped in a manner similar to how it initially grew in an unprecedented showcase of unrivaled flexibility. With careful inputs through the control console, sections of the structure could be repositioned to adjust to the evolving design.

  The upcoming phase of development required the generation of additional siphons, another cooling array, and a second layer of Manadrivers to be stacked atop the existing configuration. This expansion would result in the structure stretching to the height of a six-story building when done. But for now, Belial found himself taking a respite as the system continued its operations. At the current pace, it would take a few more hours to accumulate the necessary materials for the next phase.

  After taking a walk outside and finding his brother, Belial joined Revan as he made a call to report to his direct superior in the Order of the Ancients, Magister Sorath. Belial observed in silence as the disguised princess’s hologram moved around the current schematic of the installation. Despite being shrouded in a red robe and mask, he was certain the Magister was awed by yet another display of unprecedented technological marvel. A part of him found it amusing that the Magister could still be surprised, given how often they had been exposed to groundbreaking developments by now.

  Receiving the explanation from Belial, Sorath craned her head.

  “Belial, when can we expect it to reach operational status? Do you think you can have it running before Amon returns from Mu?”

  Belial took a moment to consider the question. “I will see to it. It’s just that I estimate that it still won’t be nearing operational readiness by this weekend. That said, we’re in a somewhat comfortable position here. The proximity to an abundant source of magic stone and other critical minerals means we can maintain a steady supply chain with minimal delays. More importantly, it’s not necessary to refine raw materials before they are fed into the system.”

  That advantage alone already accelerates construction beyond conventional means.

  “Very well, then…” Sorath nodded, deciding not to push the matter any further. Drilling through the continental crust was already a tall order in itself, but she had brought it up because they were facing an enemy who didn’t abide by their rules.

  And then, the topic of conversation shifted as the Magister continued in an upbeat tone.

  “Ah, yes. Moving on to the more trivial part. During the meeting it was decided that the ongoing project there in Area B7R will henceforth be known as ‘Arbor Installation 01,’ though informally, it has been given the nickname ‘High Charity.’”

  Sorath explained that this new terminology, “Installation,” had been finally coined to distinguish the Holy Empire’s original constructions from the countless facilities derived from the ruins of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire, called “Areas.” While the remnants of the old world served as a foundation for modern civilization, the Installation was touted by the higher-ups as a gigantic leap forward, being a wholly independent marvel of Milishian ingenuity.

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  The name of “High Charity” was an informal one, but it continued the long-standing tradition of assigning evocative nicknames to these technologically advanced sites, following examples such as “Hill of the Crying Moon” for Area 01 and “Warrior’s Peak” for Area 10. Apparently, other names were considered such as “Base Titan,” “Will-and-Might,” and “Fortress Freedom,” but in the end, High Charity is what they would call Installation 01.

  Lastly, the moniker “Arbor” was derived from the Installation’s envisioned structure as an incredibly versatile multipurpose facility. As the Installation continued to evolve, it was projected to take a tree-like appearance, with branching extensions for various sub-Installations with a highly customizable layout. Like a tree drawing nutrients from the soil, the Arbor Installation would harness raw planetary mana and refine it into a source of unimaginable power.

  “His Majesty, the Grand Magister, is praying for the Installation’s successful completion. He’s expecting many great things from it.”

  “His Majesty honors us,” Belial bowed in acknowledgment.

  “We won’t let everyone down. Amon sacrificed his personal glory for the cause of the greater good. Therefore, we will not fail to give him a helping hand. The ‘Mantle of Responsibility’ doesn’t have to be shouldered by him alone.”

  “………”

  There was something about those words that struck a chord with the princess, more than the usual reminder about… such things. But he was true.

  Confident in Sorath’s firm control over these covert operations—backed by solid evidence of her competence—the Emperor has willingly leveraged his authority to enable novel initiatives from groups like the Rogueriders whenever possible, further strengthening the Holy Empire’s power and influence as they readied themselves for the ultimate enemy. Yet, despite Amon doing what he does knowingly and willingly, Revan’s words rang true nonetheless: they owed that young man a great deal.

  Looking at the two brothers’ subdued reaction on the other side of the communication, Sorath sighed to herself, knowing they had grown used to such statements.

  January 19, 1617 Central Calendar, 11:00 Second Civilization Time

  Kingdom of Mu

  Meteos stared at the file his tablet just received, narrowing his eyes slightly.

  Truth be told, he was growing weary of how things were unfolding. Not only did he have to break the deadlock between the Ikaruga and the hidden Annonrial infiltrators in Mu, but he also had to participate in MOASEC’s public agenda. While it was structured to grant him as much freedom of movement as possible, it remained an obligation he couldn’t avoid as a tradeoff of traveling abroad under his young public persona. If not for friends, family, and Nadia, he would rather wear a mask all the time, now that the one he currently wore in this timeline covered his entire face, leaving only his eyes visible.

  He’s stubborn like that.

  And now, life decided to throw him another conundrum. To be fair, a teenage Meteos Roguerider in 1617 would miss the part where this was his problem, being busy competing with academic rivals in pursuit of prestige. However, he’s no longer that ignorant boy. The Meteos Roguerider of this timeline has decided that this problem is his.

  The communications station in south Gynamo that they stole from Annonrial last year had detected an appearance of a new source of military transmissions in the Annonrial mainland region, suspected to be a recently operational installation. Considering the location, there was a possibility that it was actually a naval base or maybe even a submarine pen. Why would he have assumed that? Based on the admittedly unrealistic assumption that this development is not a result of the Third Timeline’s already massive ripple effect, the timetable is still adjacent to the past timeline’s deployment of a new, more advanced submarine class set to succeed Annonrial’s current mainstay underwater raiders. And with it, the expansion of the Messiah regime’s submarine warfare arm and his overall military might in general.

  It fueled his discomfort that there was nothing Meteos could do about it for now due to a lack of assets at hand to properly penetrate the Annonrial Empire. Despite his general understanding of their behavior, there were bound to be minute details that eluded him, in addition to his current position leaving him with little leverage to act on this intel decisively. Believing that a near miss is as good as screwing up so badly, this troubling development made him click his tongue in frustration.

  This feeling reminded him of that time when he found out firsthand about the Givl bomb’s lackluster result against a doomed Gra Valkan battleship, or when those assassins kept coming for his head. Juvenile, yes. However, there was also a somewhat inexplicable foreboding feeling that made his chest ache.

  ‘Hmm… now I realize how much I hated not being on a high ground,’ Meteos ran a hand through his hair and grumbled internally.

  Or rather, he hated being weak—powerless, unable to decide the terms by himself. Especially when it came to his destiny.

  After a while, Meteos exhaled sharply and decided he couldn’t afford to sit around wallowing in frustration like a spoiled brat denied his desired toy. He pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning and tucked the tablet into his bag. In the end, he decided that if he couldn’t act on the intel yet, then he might as well clear his head.

  Stepping outside the building, he was greeted by the sight of an austere airfield with a dirt runway stretching before him. His gaze immediately drifted to a small group standing at the only hangar visible, where his friend Walman stood with a few of their MOASEC colleagues. Watching their animated discussion, Meteos jogged over them across the uneven ground.

  As he approached, Walman turned with a raised eyebrow.

  “Oh, hey! There you are.”

  “…What?”

  “When was the last time you spent that long in the toilet?”

  “It’s cold out here,” Meteos retorted. “Why do you care about a man’s answer to nature’s call, anyway?”

  “Uh… never mind.”

  “There you go. Now, what did I miss?”

  “Oh, nothing much, just some chatter,” the brunette boy helpfully supplied. “Mister Leclerc and the others are about to fly their new plane, by the way.”

  When he pointed behind him with his thumb, Meteos craned his head, looking past Walman’s shoulder toward a handful of ground crew busy preparing a contraption with two sets of wings stacked on top of another and a single two-bladed windmill-like part made of wood at its fore end.

  Ah, yes. In this one case, everything is proceeding exactly as he had foreseen.

  Covertly providing the Muish with essential materials and assistance through the Foundation’s connections—well before the most recent World Conference—accelerated their aircraft engine development. As a result, a particular manufacturer successfully created its first V-12 internal combustion engine, which caught the attention of Roche Leclerc, the head of the company commissioned by the government to reverse-engineer his Dreaming Child design.

  From there, the Muish were confident that their design could match the original’s exceptional performance (when compared to wyverns and their own flying machines, that is). Though, there was a disappointing aspect of the project. While it made perfect sense for Mu, now fully committed to the joint development and looking toward mass production of it in the future, it was still a letdown for Meteos.

  The Dreaming Child was an all-metal aircraft constructed using magical alloy. But in an effort to reduce costs, the Muish opted to use metal only for the steel tube and the exterior from the cockpit forward, as well as for the tailplane and fin. The sides and undersides of the fuselage, along with the wings and empennage control surfaces, were instead clad in fabric. Despite this compromise, the reduced use of tension cables and the streamlined fuselage shape did give the aircraft a more refined and elegant appearance than a normal Muish biplane.

  But aesthetics doesn’t win air combat…

  When Meteos’ gaze turned back to Walman, he gestured with his shoulder and decided to make his way over to Roche Leclerc, who stood near the ground crew overseeing the final preparations for the test flight. Walman followed closely behind.

  “Mister Leclerc,” Meteos greeted. “Are we ready to go?”

  The older man turned, a grin spreading across his face despite the hints of fatigue in his eyes. “Ah, Young Meteos! We’re almost ready. Just a few final checks, and she’ll be good to go.”

  “Good to hear… Looks like the serious effort you’ve been putting in is paying off, huh?”

  “You’re making me blush, young one.”

  Leclerc chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

  “But yes. I’ve spent a few sleepless nights myself, making sure everything was perfect. But in the end, it feels worth it to finally deliver results.”

  “………”

  At first, these Muish aerospace engineers had shown resistance to what they perceived as an intrusion into their proud engineering traditions by their greatest rival country—sentimental nonsense that the Temple of Heaven, naturally, has no trouble addressing. Making them see it made them more open, leading to such a remark as if the two of them were close colleagues.

  But then Meteos’ mind drifted back to Leclerc’s mention of sleepless nights, and a certain line of thought crossed his mind again. If the man had been so engrossed in work, naturally it would have altered the course of his personal life.

  …Myrus Leclerc—Roche’s future son—was supposed to be born around this year.

  “…I see… you’ve certainly worked hard, Mister Leclerc… So, how’s the family doing?” he asked, trying to be as casual as possible. Why he was doing this, he was quite unsure himself.

  “Ah, well, she’s been patient with me, thankfully. Though, no big news on that front yet.”

  “Alright then, let’s get this over with so you can finally get some well-deserved rest, Mister Leclerc,” Meteos nodded.

  His tone hovered between jest and sincerity. From his side, Walman raised a disbelieving eyebrow. He couldn’t believe he heard those words from Meteos Roguerider of all people. But when a snort escaped him, Meteos snapped and shot him a dry look.

  “No. We’ve been through this.”

  “…What?”

  …………

  They watched the small biplane lift into the sky, with the sunlight glinting off the metal surfaces, while the wings flexed as the pilot gently banked to the left before vanishing from sight. With the plane gone, Meteos and the crewmen from the Kingdom and the Holy Empire shifted their focus to the ground station, where Meteos’ laptop-type pedanium grimoire rested on a table, linked to an array of cables and antennas set up by the Holy Empire’s personnel. On the screen were rows of rapidly changing data—altitude, speed, engine performance metrics, and even rudimentary atmospheric readings.

  “You’re telling me that those tiny magical contraptions up there are actually feeding information into this thing? In the actual time during which the process occurs?”

  “Hm. It looks like the sensors are working well.”

  Meteos nodded without looking away. Beside him, Leclerc was excitedly jotting down a few notes on a clipboard.

  “This is incredible! With this level of detail, we’ll be able to fine-tune our designs and optimize performance like never before!”

  Meteos allowed himself a smile at his enthusiasm but quickly schooled his expression back to neutrality.

  “Just don’t forget that deal. Once today’s tests are done, you owe yourself some well-earned rest.”

  The crew chuckled as Leclerc turned sheepish.

  “Yes, yes, I remember. Once we wrap things up, I’ll take it easy for a while. You have my word.”

  Looking satisfied with the response, Meteos returned his attention to his laptop. For today’s agenda, he had the Cauldron manufacture customized sensors designed for easy installation, ostensibly to enhance the performance assessment of Mu’s prototype biplane. These sensors would provide unprecedented insights into an aircraft’s capabilities, far beyond anything Mu had previously achieved. This might result in Mu grossly overestimating the true technological prowess of the Holy Empire, as even his own nation’s mainstream technology had yet to fully reach such levels. But it didn’t matter, for the Kingdom of Mu already belonged to him anyway.

  The joint Mu-HME development project for a new Muish flying machine was no secret, if somewhat unusual; rather, it had been widely announced to the known world and promoted as a symbol of cooperation between the two nations (ignoring the criticisms). Meteos planned to leverage this transparency by having the prototype carry a portable mana detector tucked within its compact bomb bay. Located north of Mykal, Issen-Maritime where they were is close to southern Mu. The prototype biplane had a limited range of just 500 kilometers, but the original Dreaming Child, with its new lightning motor, would be able to reach four times that range. Airborne vehicle-mounted mana detectors in general weren’t known for being sensitive enough to single out lifeforms. However, its sensing field can still be sensed by reverse-sensors.

  If the Annonrial infiltrators could be lured into thinking that the Muish had started using aircraft-mounted mana detectors or had found sensor mages to recruit…

  While this is primarily intended to justify moving sensing fields appearing within the Kingdom’s territory, Mu adapting to use magic technology in this world when their native tech was proven time and time again to be hopelessly inferior to the HME could be seen as a logical course of development for a country yearning to keep up with their hypothetical enemies. However, what would the enemy do? They might try to leak this to the separatists to stir up chaos, but an increasing number of separatists had already aligned themselves with the White Lotus. At the very least, it would provide them with a clearer direction of where to look.

  Meteos sighed. So much for trying to clear his head.

  Personally, Meteos hated relying on such uncertainty, especially when the stakes were high. This conditioning of the enemy wasn’t an ideal way to defeat them. A baiting attempt that relied far too heavily on assumption.

  And now, here he was, praying for the Ikaruga to somehow capture an infiltrator during a random raid. The thought of relying on such a random occurrence unsettled him.

  Were it so easy…