Among these “special personnel,” there were at least three distinct groups, each with a completely different temperament.

  Elo's gaze fell on several of them—

  They wore uniforms identical to those of regular officers, but on their epaulets, cuffs, and chests, intricate magical patterns subtly appeared.

  These were not decorations, but symbolic arrays deeply etched into the fabric and metal, each stroke and line emitting faint, steady energy fluctuations.

  It was as if another form of power was hidden behind the military discipline—the power of knowledge.

  They often wore a transparent crystal device at their waists,

  inside which strange light flowed, resembling a miniature starry sea, silently spinning as it swayed with the edge of their garments.

  Some even carried heavy tomes, their covers weathered, with profound inscriptions.

  These were not ordinary magical books, but "calculative ritual tomes" that could only be comprehended within advanced knowledge systems;

  and each page possibly contained arcane arts that could alter the course of battle.

  Elo noticed one of them—a stern-faced, indifferent officer.

  who, while talking to others, suddenly snapped his fingers lightly.

  "Snap."

  A faint glow flashed at his fingertips, and the tip of his cigarette was instantly lit.

  The entire process was clean and efficient, with no incantations or redundant movements, as if, to him, magic was simply the most ordinary tool in everyday life.

  In another area, Elo’s gaze passed over a group of people with a completely different demeanor.

  They wore military uniforms identical to those of regular soldiers, but the cross insignia on their chests immediately caught the eye.

  It was a cross made of silver, solemn and majestic, with faint ancient inscriptions appearing on its surface.

  Under the firelight, in the center of the cross, a golden halo slowly emerged, like the morning sun casting its light on the top of a cathedral.

  Inside the halo was a translucent holy jade, not fragile like crystal, but warm and smooth like bone, serene like light.

  Through the holy jade, one could almost see a soft golden glow flowing, like an eternal faint light sealed by time.

  On either side of the cross were a pair of wings—

  Not made of feathers, but crafted from fine metal plates,

  each wing engraved with intricate patterns, as if true feathers had solidified on them.

  As the light passed over, the edges of the wings gently shimmered, as though touched by holy radiance.

  They wore heavy holy scriptures on their waists, the covers wrapped in lacquered gold leather, with diamond and golden thread adorning the corners.

  Across their backs hung a military sacerdotal staff,

  the shaft covered with intricate inscriptions, each circle of relief glowing with faint light blessed by faith.

  They stood solemnly between the night and the fire, their postures upright, their breaths steady;

  as if they themselves were some kind of symbol—

  where the military and the divine merged as one, where discipline and faith walked side by side.

  Even though the clergy members did not speak, the soldiers around them instinctively straightened their backs, even holding their breath.

  This behavior was no longer just a simple gesture of respect, but a belief deeply rooted in their hearts.

  Finally, Elo's gaze fell on another group of particularly striking individuals.

  Their military uniforms were more refined than those of regular soldiers, with clean lines that still conveyed authority.

  On the shoulder armor, wrist guards, and other metal parts, the family crests of each were clearly etched—

  Some bore the emblem of a feathered serpent coiling, others had the mark of a double-headed eagle with wings spread, each design symbolizing noble bloodlines.

  There was no doubt that these individuals came from noble families, and were warriors among the nobility.

  But unlike the decadent and hedonistic image of the nobility people typically had,

  these individuals carried an almost lethal sharpness about them—

  They did not stand on their bloodlines alone, but had truly earned their reputation on the battlefield with their own bloodshed.

  They wore knightly swords at their waists, all in the same style—

  The scabbard was inlaid with light silver steel patterns, inscribed with ancient blessing runes that seemed to subtly shift in the dim light.

  The sword's blade, though still sheathed, already exuded a chilling aura, making it unwise to underestimate them.

  What was even more eye-catching was the weapon they carried at their sides—

  It was not the standard smoothbore or rifled guns used by ordinary soldiers, but a type of handgun resembling a revolver, yet clearly far more exquisite and designed for nobility.

  The entire gun was short, elegant, and compact, with every inch showcasing the artisan's ultimate craftsmanship.

  The gun body was made of dark metal, with a miniature crystal core embedded inside, pulsating with flowing magical energy.

  The barrel was wrapped in intricate magical patterns, occasionally revealing faint glimmers, as though whispering or breathing.

  These weapons did not require ammunition; their power came from either crystal energy storage or the flow of energy within the wielder’s body.

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  Each pull of the trigger released a precisely aimed magical energy strike—silent, yet deadly.

  These individuals were not just soldiers, but nobles who combined traditional honor with transcendent power.

  Their steps were steady, without words, without provocation, only the silent and sharp pressure of their presence.

  Like swords kept in their sheaths, quietly waiting for the moment the command would fall—then unsheathing to slay their enemies.

  However, the energy within them was not just one, but three completely different systems.

  The first type of energy—vast and boundless, the abyss and the starry sky.

  This energy did not belong to this world; it seemed to be connected to some deeper, more mysterious dimension.

  It was profound and majestic, beyond the reach of common understanding.

  A breathtaking vision emerged in Elo’s spiritual world—

  an endless sea of stars unfolded deep within his consciousness.

  The stars moved, their light flickering, as if some supreme law were being written across the universe.

  However, at the end of that endless starlight, the abyss was stirring.

  It was a darkness that devoured light, both serene and restless.

  It seemed like some indescribable entity slept within, waiting to be awakened.

  This power symbolized both wisdom and order, as well as corruption and the unknown.

  It was vast, deep, and awe-inspiring.

  It was not simply destruction, but a cold, detached force that stood at the peak of the world, overlooking everything.

  —Grand, profound, unshakable.

  The second type of energy—light woven with hope and despair.

  This time, a completely different scene emerged in his spiritual world—

  Golden light filled the heavens and earth, bright, warm, and pure.

  It was like the rising sun, as if it could dispel all the darkness in the world.

  It brought hope and redemption, making one instinctively want to follow, to yearn for that pure sanctity.

  However, Elo could clearly see that beyond that pure light, there lingered an undeniable darkness.

  This darkness was neither evil nor chaotic, but silent, forgotten.

  It was like a shadow cast aside by the light, quietly curled up, coldly watching everything.

  —Hope and despair intertwined, light and darkness coexisted.

  The third type of energy—a blazing flame where flesh and soul merge.

  This time, there were no vast starry skies, no divine light, only a sea of flames burning intensely.

  The flames surged, crimson tongues of fire danced wildly in the darkness, and the air was filled with the scorching scent of burning flesh and soul intertwining.

  With every heartbeat, power was released; with every breath, the roar of battle echoed.

  There were no mysteries here, no divinity—only the most primal life instincts, the purest fighting spirit.

  Burning, fighting, tearing, rebirth.

  It was the ultimate manifestation of all survival instincts—unyielding, indestructible, and fighting until the last moment!

  It does not contemplate, it does not hesitate, and it never compromises.

  —Only the flame continues to burn, only power remains ever ignited!

  Elo couldn't help but laugh; he knew exactly what those three completely different energies were.

  —They were Magic Energy, Holy Energy, and Battle Energy.

  Magic Energy flowed between the stars and the laws, constructing the order of the world, controlling knowledge and mysteries.

  Holy Energy carried faith and miracles, and was also the light that intertwined hope and despair.

  Battle Energy was the purest will to survive, born from the burning of flesh and soul, releasing astonishing destructive power.

  Accordingly, the transcendent beings who wield these powers were—

  —The mage, who controls Magic Energy, writing mysteries, manipulating magical elements, shaking the very rules of the world.

  —The priest, who controls Holy Energy, granting redemption, and can also bring down divine punishment, holding the power of light and faith.

  —The knight, martial artist, swordsman, and assassin, who control Battle Energy, using their bodies as blades and their souls as fire, carving a path between life and death.

  He felt an indescribable emotion surge in his chest—

  —It was agitation, joy, and even a trace of uncontrollable exhilaration.

  This feeling stemmed from a deep, beautiful dream—

  A dream that was both beautiful and cruel, yet... unrealistic.

  A world that existed only in fantasy, now appearing before him in the most real way.

  —It made his heart race!

  However, now was not the time to be immersed in fantasy.

  Elo withdrew his wandering thoughts and refocused his gaze on the military camp.

  He began to carefully observe the movements of the transcendent beings—

  They did not scatter, but instead remained stationed in several key areas.

  Their positions were precise, their distribution orderly.

  This was not a setup that ordinary patrol soldiers could create, it was a tactical deployment, and one with clear intent—

  Specifically designed to guard against enemy transcendent infiltration and surprise attacks.

  Elo's eyes narrowed.

  This meant—

  The attacking force had already realized that the defending force had sent out powerful transcendent beings—

  —and they had prepared for it.

  He remained silent for a moment, lightly stroking his chin with his fingertips.

  His thoughts spread like a net, beginning to deduce another possibility.

  —If the attacking force had such a mature countermeasure system,

  —Then they had most likely carried out similar infiltration operations.

  —Perhaps, on some past night,

  —They had struck at the enemy's vital points in the same way.

  Elo's gaze grew increasingly intense, this was no longer a simple battle between regular soldiers, it was a transcendent war fought in the shadows.

  And in such a war—

  It often only takes the collapse of one side's transcendent force for the entire battle to crumble in an instant.

  Not a stalemate, but a sudden resolution of victory or defeat.

  With this in mind, Elo couldn't help but think:

  —The ones who decide everything, from beginning to end, are the transcendent beings.

  The army, the people, the system, the law... these seemingly foundational elements that build social order—

  —In the face of true transcendent power, they are nothing but subordinates, decorative frameworks.

  No matter how precise the tactics, no matter how brave the soldiers—

  —What truly dictates the course of the battle are always those who stand above ordinary people.

  And what does this mean?

  —It means that in this world, heroes have triumphed over the people.

  In the traditional world, the people could overthrow tyrants, the army could suppress rebellions, and the law could constrain power.

  All social change had once been driven by the “will of the masses.”

  But here, all of that is completely overturned.

  When one person's power is enough to tear apart armies and overthrow cities, they no longer need a country, an army, or wealth—

  —They don’t even need any supporters.

  With just their own strength, they are the king of war.

  With just their own will, they can become the order itself.

  In history, commoners overthrew classes through organization, strategy, and collective power;

  But in this world, a bottom-up revolution is nearly impossible.

  No matter how many people or how strong the will, in the end, they can only be trampled underfoot.

  The barrier of class is no longer wealth, no longer bloodlines, and not even politics or systems,

  but that invisible yet insurmountable threshold—transcendence.

  It is not the "nobles" who are elevated, but the "transcendent" who stand above.

  In this world, the people no longer drive history.

  It is driven by—heroes.

  Thinking this, he couldn't help but let out a soft sigh.

  This reality clashed with the values deep within him.

  He had always believed—what truly drives the progress of an era is not the hero, but the people.

  The chapters of history have never been written by lone individuals;

  But by millions—woven together with blood and sweat into an epic.

  Farmers plow the fields, craftsmen temper metal, scholars seek knowledge, soldiers fight, merchants hustle...

  The nation's framework is upheld inch by inch by these nameless individuals.

  The height of civilization has never depended on the few with halos above their heads, but on the countless "ordinary" shoulders.

  But in this world, dominated by transcendent beings, everything has been turned upside down.

  The hero has defeated the people.

  The commoners have become subordinates.

  The evolution of society no longer relies on the will of the masses, but is swayed by the power of a few.

  The era is no longer driven by the people, but is turned over at the whim of those at the top.

  The pen of history is now held by those transcendent beings who stand above all.

  They are no longer the guardians of the people, but the ones who write the rules.

  At this moment, a sense of indescribable loneliness rose within him.

  —Because the Ark Empire is even more extreme.

  If the transcendent beings here are still merely "heroes," then—

  Elo has long exceeded the boundaries that "heroes" can define.

  No matter how eloquent the empire's ideals, how enlightened its policies,

  ultimately—it has never escaped that iron law.

  —Everything originates from Elo's will.

  His values are the empire's values;

  his thoughts are the empire's policies;

  he is the empire itself.

  Elo couldn't help but think:

  —Perhaps, in the eyes of many, a world without transcendence is the true utopia.

  But he knows better than anyone that such a world is not a fantasy.

  That "utopia," he has walked through it himself.

  He was born and raised there, and walked all the way to where he is today.