These days, Princess Lugiel moved with a lightness in her step, even as she carried the constant weight of overseeing the Holy Empire's intelligence operations. Today was no exception; her pace was assured even as she made her way through a concealed passage toward the usual meeting spot where the Emperor, in his role as the Grand Magister of the Order, would call upon his Magisters for their regur audience whenever they were physically capable.

  When she took over the reins of the Eyes of the Order from her disgraced predecessor, she hadn't anticipated it would flourish to such an impressive degree, but it was a development she welcomed wholeheartedly nonetheless. The methodical dismantling of foreign spy networks within the Holy Empire had already been presented to the Emperor with a tone of pride. The operation had been a decisive triumph, neutralizing the August Star of Heaven's most perilous external threats before they could firmly establish themselves. Moreover, Operation GAZER aimed at bolstering their own intelligence networks across the known world was well underway.

  And the greatest triumph yet visible? The advancements in magical technology. The Holy Empire's cooperation with the Rogueriders—whose publicly known status as a powerful conglomerate with a hold of advanced technology had only been the surface of their contributions—was producing results far beyond expectations, again and again. Though the Rogueriders' cooperation was not exactly a wholesome romance, even having a secret of their own, the projects they shared in secret had brought forth some of the most remarkable strides in magical technology, each step eclipsing the st. These good times owed their existence to them as the cornerstone. A certain son of theirs in particur...

  The Imperial Shrine where the private meeting was to occur y deep underground within the Albion Pace complex, hidden from all but the Order of the Ancients' members. It was circur in shape, with murals on the walls representing the cardinal and ordinal directions. These murals portray the seven individuals the Emperor named as his predecessors and then himself, depicted as figures in art that encapsuted the lives they led, even those who were despised. To access it, Lugiel stepped into the small, discreet elevator hidden within the corridor and waited. As the doors opened, she found herself inside.

  Her eyes were immediately drawn to the figure of Emperor Milishial VIII. The tall, elderly elf stood before a projection table at the center of the shrine that glowed faintly with a soft, bluish hue.

  "Welcome, child. Shall we begin?"

  Sensing her presence, the Emperor gestured for her to come closer. In response, the princess inclined her head in a respectful bow, accompanied by a faint smile on her face before stepping to join him.

  He was straight to the point.

  "Thank you, Honored Ancestor. Let me start the report," Lugiel prefaced as she inserted a Datapoint she had brought, brightening the shrine's dim lighting with the holographic surge. The projection of a rge tree stump-like structure materialized, with spherical objects representing fuel tanks and pipelines coiling outward like roots burrowing into a sun-scorched pteau.

  "I brought a report from High Charity that the preparations are complete. Now, they only await your final authorization to fire."

  The Emperor's ageless eyes studied the projection. His arms crossed, he then turned away from the image to the princess. "And the timetable?"

  Lugiel gestured, and the hologram switched into the Borer device in the core of the structure. "Based on prior test data, the field unit estimated a drilling speed of one meter per second under ideal conditions. According to Ancient Sorcerous Empire research records, which indicate a target depth of approximately fifty kilometers, continuous drilling operations would require roughly fourteen hours to breach the target zone. However, logistical constraints such as fuel consumption rates and the need for refueling mean the actual process could take more time... at least twice as long, unfortunately."

  "Hm..."

  A low, contemptive hum resonated in the Emperor's throat. Excluding the period of extensive testing that contributed to unsatisfactory pedanium production, fourteen hours to bore a well deeper than empires were merely a fleeting moment when contrasted with the bor typically required to extract natural resources of simir nature from depths many times shallower. The absurdity of the contrast struck him as darkly comical if not for the setbacks they experienced, as one would expect from a pioneer work.

  Seeing her ancestor, Lugiel allowed herself a shallow breath, unnoticed by the Emperor, as his silence stretched. His ck of probing questions was a relief, with what evidence they had at hand.

  The truth, known only to the White Lotus colborators, was that the "Ancient Sorcerous Empire research records" were masterful fabrications whose creation was orchestrated by none other than their leader in order to fill in the bnks caused by the corrupted data. It was this forgery that had propelled the Hollow Pnet theory from fringe specution prone to be ughed at to a nigh-unassaible fact within the upper echelons of the Holy Empire's scientific collegium. Resistance had crumbled when luminaries cited the "ancient precedent" which resulted in an accelerated rate of the schors' understanding of the matter. The reason why it wasn't present in wider publications yet was basically politics.

  "...Very well. They may proceed with utmost caution ensured," the Emperor spoke after a moment of silence, conveying his decision on the matter that made Lugiel's smile return.

  "Thank you, Honored Ancestor. I shall rey your command immediately," she replied, ejecting the inserted Datapoint.

  The Emperor's gaze lingered on the hologram as it dissolved, his expression turned unreadable for a moment.

  "Speaking of which, is there any news on things concerning the Annonrial matter?"

  The change of topic succeeded in sobering the princess, making her smile fade into a mask of solemnity. Shifting a bit, Lugiel cleared her throat as she weighed on how best to frame the update—or, as the Emperor would perceive it, the ck of it—of the endeavor.

  "...It's regrettable, but their submarines persist in intruding into the known world's waters. The deployment of more small ships retrofitted with sonars has proven somewhat effective in deterring harassment along the sea nes we've been patrolling. So far, no merchant ships have been lost under suspicious circumstances. However..."

  Up to this point, it had been a subtle game of cat and mouse. At this rate, despite the Holy Empire's efforts to hide the existence of their U-boats, the Annonrial Empire had likely already inferred that they possessed something akin to their own submarines.

  "We can't just be content with that, can we?" the Emperor pointed out, his expression slightly less severe than before thanks to High Charity's progress.

  "Indeed. Other than the matter of coverage, they immediately retreat the moment our escorts react without fail, still putting up a fa?ade of marine monsters. They could be monitoring our response protocols and developing countermeasures."

  "........."

  If that's the reason why they did not escate, that would be a most troubling prospect. Perhaps, Milishial VIII had grown so accustomed to his nation's dominance that the mere notion of being one step behind a rival provoked frustration—a reaction to what should have been a natural and expected phenomenon of competition. Or alternatively, his frustration stemmed from a sense of existential crisis, judging by the fact that the definite conclusion of said rival's dominance would be something called 'pnetary genocide.'

  The Emperor's footsteps echoed softly against the shrine's stone floor as he started to pace around in deep thought, his gaze distant. The Annonrial defectors had been treated with dignity, but their basic intelligence offered no insights into underwater combat strategies, sonar evasion, or naval deployment patterns. Their value, it seemed, y in confirming the scale of the threat, not unraveling it. Nevertheless, they clung to the hope of reaching out to their fellow "heretics" who remained in hiding, yearning for the day they might unite and overthrow the great deceiver, Emperor Zarathostra, the so-called Messiah of Annonrial.

  Honestly, he didn't mind if the Annonrial Empire were to be torn apart by a civil conflict, allowing the rest of mankind some breathing room. Yet, the imbance between the loyalists and the heretics was so vast that such an outcome would require significant support—something no force in the known world seemed capable of providing. For now, what the Holy Empire needed most was time.

  Suffice it to say, the Emperor's satisfaction was tarnished. They're waging a war the world could not see, wielding weapons with no target. The enemy's readiness benefited from having a hypothetical enemy of equal level that they take seriously, something that the Emperor begrudgingly set as an example to strive for. The Annonrial threat demanded more than reactionary measures to dismantle them. But how to rally the disunited world against an organized enemy whose existence remained cssified, even to most allies?

  Something has to be done about this. However, implementing countermeasures without a clear expnation risked fostering resentment and mistrust among others. The Emperor was well aware that there were countries harboring deep-seated hatred toward the Holy Empire but were compelled to endure the current international dynamics due to their own powerlessness. It was impossible to satisfy everyone. In their weaker situation, it would be damned if they do, damned if they don't. With High Charity still unfinished and their defenses inadequate, disclosing the truth could trigger panic or worse, provoke an immediate violent retaliation from the enemy that they were not yet prepared to withstand.

  Had it not been for that, he would've ordered full disclosure the moment he learned about it. Then how should he proceed as the leader of this nation?

  At that moment, the Emperor ceased his pacing and turned to face Lugiel. A sigh escaped him.

  "...My apologies for spacing out, child. Thank you for your report. Or are there more things you wish to say?"

  "There is... one other matter. Regarding Meteos Roguerider and his contributions... I wondered if... accommodations might be made to give a deserved recognition for his service."

  The Emperor's lips curved slightly at the question. Even without his role as the Grand Magister of the Order, the constant cmoring among his subordinates whenever they thought he wasn't looking had made him well aware of the boy. Younger than seventeen and without an ID card to his name, the boy had already proven himself more valuable than most schors at the Emperor's disposal, even among the Rogueriders themselves. Curiously, his file highlighted an almost obsessive drive to create, indifferent to fame or recognition or politics between his family and the government. He even obeyed his father to wait until the time was right to reveal his inventions to the broader public.

  A public commendation was already reserved for him, but Lugiel felt the boy deserved much more, particurly considering how the Order had quietly co-opted his innovations for their own purposes—without his knowledge or approval.

  "Has he finally asked for it?"

  "No," Lugiel admitted. "But his silence does not make his supporters immune to resentment. Many vouched for him, and sooner or ter, they're going to ask questions. If I'm being honest, Honored Ancestor, considering it's the Imperial Government that determines what's cssified as highly sensitive knowledge and what isn't—"

  "You're pnning to have someone petition the Imperial Government, aren't you?" the Emperor guessed.

  "........."

  "Very well. But are you confident that you can protect him from our enemies?"

  "That's—"

  The Emperor's gaze sharpened. "Now you see one of the issues, but never mind that. I wonder, child, if your advocacy stems from guilt. The Order's restraint in recruiting him directly owes much to your principles."

  The princess stiffened. When she took on the Magister's title, her furious condemnation of her predecessor's practice of inducting underage prodigies and maniputions entailing it such as the case of Robin Calvello had forced reform. Now, at sixteen, Meteos Roguerider stood on the wrong side of that hard-won age threshold. Even though the Order has Adonis and Ace Roguerider in their ranks, they are more akin to consotion prizes than their real target. Thinking of it made her feel indignant, questioning why certain people have to be underappreciated for doing what's right.

  "Honored Ancestor, I never imagined—"

  "A lesson in unintended consequences," the Emperor interrupted, his tone devoid of reproach but heavy with gravity. "You acted rightly. But there are consequences of one's actions. Meteos Roguerider's brilliance cannot shortcut the rules you demanded we uphold... But what's done is done. Indeed, Meteos Roguerider deserves better than his current treatment. Circumstances make it challenging, but not insurmountable. Rest assured, I will see to it, but it depends on you."

  But before stepping in, he wanted to see the extent of how his descendant would handle this quandary first.

  "Thank you, Honored Ancestor," Lugiel bowed deeply, shoulders rexing as the ghost of old regrets dissolved. "With your leave, I'll finalize the drilling orders."

  "Hm."

  The princess retreated to the elevator without another word, its doors sealing with a hushed click that echoed like a tomb's closure.

  Lucius of the Morning Star, the Emperor of the Holy Milishial Empire, sighed as he found out that in the hours of victory, he only tasted defeat. He did not put the bme on anyone, but he wanted to ask why.

  …………

  A hidden entrance used by the Order of the Ancients was concealed beneath a weathered stone monolith in a nondescript snowy forest region. As Princess Lugiel emerged, having concluded her meeting with the Emperor, the biting wind whipped strands of her bangs across her face. Behind her, the monolith sealed seamlessly into the frozen earth, leaving no trace of the Holy Empire's secrets buried below.

  A soft crunch of snow interrupted her reverie as two figures dropped soundlessly from the skeletal branches of nearby pines. Revealing themselves were Imperial Guardswomen, Tagmatarch Matoya and her subordinate, Lochagos Kuvira, two members of Lugiel's security detail who have been tasked to guard the entrance during the meeting.

  "Well?" Matoya's voice carried the dry amusement of someone already braced for bad news. "How's the meeting?"

  Lugiel's smile was thin. "There's no problem with High Charity. The rest... less so."

  "About Young Master Roguerider's situation?" Kuvira guessed, crossing her arms.

  "And Annonrial issue, though that one I already guessed he would bring the topic sooner or ter," the princess sighed. "Even if he didn't show it, I could feel his disappointment."

  "...That's not ideal. But hardly unexpected."

  "No," Lugiel agreed. "It's the cost of safeguarding the truth. For now."

  Matoya sighed and looked elsewhere. The Emperor was right to be frustrated, Lugiel thought with pursed lips, but that was because he was not privy to a deeper yer of secret she was withholding. If only he knew the White Lotus' hand in helping the cause... but the Emperor's history with the very thing that enabled the creation of the White Lotus was incredibly problematic if even the leader himself struggled with it.

  And then, when she sensed a faint yet familiar presence, one she had been attuned to since their first meeting, Lugiel lifted her gaze toward the source in the sky, her vision catching a dot emerging from the low-hanging cloud cover. A rge flying boat approached from the ocean's direction, its slow yet deliberate descent marked its arrival at the Imperial Capital—one that carried a particur individual of interest.

  Following her gaze, Matoya and Kuvira also noticed the growing silhouette of the incoming aircraft.

  "Ah, speak of the wolf and he is at your door," the feline beastwoman commented.

  "So, the so-called business trip is over."

  "...I need to pay him a visit soon," Lugiel murmured.

  Matoya and Kuvira exchanged knowing gnces but said nothing, merely falling in step behind their charge as she turned to leave.

  ?????

  "...In the end, we only managed to capture one infiltrator, Special Lieutenant Kael of the Annonrial Intelligencers, operating number TL-4467. As much as I wanted to bring him here, even removing this one will tip off the enemy that something is wrong with their operations."

  ".........I see."

  Lugiel's seemingly distracted expression belied the focus she maintained on Meteos as he recounted his most recent quest during her visit that evening. Though she had already received the regur reports on his progress as she always did, rendering the meeting somewhat unnecessary and inefficient, she still opted to see him in person. There was something she needed to discuss. As she mustered the will to bring it up, she decided to ease into the conversation with this 'small' talk.

  The boy seated from her fiddled with a strand of his hair before continuing. "The infiltrator we captured doesn't even know if there are more like him in Mu because he is 'merely' an operative tasked with gathering mundane information—civilian activities, local gossip, nothing of immediate strategic value. But that's precisely how the Annonrial Empire operates. They're ultra-isotionist by choice, so in order to stay informed, they go to such lengths. Even the most trivial details are collected and analyzed."

  The whole thing seemed to be ridiculously meticulous, but it hinted at the scope of their intelligence-gathering activities. Then again, it was them who chose to close themselves off from the rest of the world. Lugiel conceded, however, thinking that if she were a mastermind in Zarathostra of the Messiah's circumstances, she would likely act simirly given the right resources.

  Moreover, one thing that Lugiel personally could never accept was that the Annonrial Empire, being an isotionist state to such an extent, somehow possessed a more advanced understanding of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire's knowledge than her own people, who had been tearing heaven and earth in studying and exploring them for centuries. Isotionism should have been a stifle to innovation. Yet...

  It was outrageous and unfair.

  That is, until the Emperor revealed to the Order that Emperor Zarathostra was a spitting image of his old nemesis, a Light Winged Man named Sokrates the Deceiver, which made wild theories form. If even one of these theories held any truth, the Holy Empire could at least take soce in the fact that this bastard, with all his knowledge, had been forced to abandon his research and start from zero after the ascendancy of the Holy Milishial Empire forced him to flee. What a garbage writing-sounding tale.

  But as the discussion continued, what's more concerning was that the operative Meteos captured was part of the so-called 'advanced personnel program.' The Annonrial Empire has been experimenting with biologically modified operatives. They alter their physiques to blend into the known world's popuce, making them nearly indistinguishable from ordinary citizens. TL-4467, for instance, was modified to appear as a child younger than his real age.

  The real Rémi—TL-4467's alias—and his family died around four years ago, when the passenger ship they were on was sunk by an Annonrial hunter submarine looking for spoils farther north than the usual Absolute Kill Zone and dragged into the depths. Those who survived they distributed to various facilities to be experimented on. Some of those who died were used as temptes to infiltrate the known world. The rest were...

  "This is unacceptable..." Lugiel's brow furrowed, a flicker of unease crossing her serene features. "They even dare to desecrate the dead."

  "It confirms what I've seen in my future memories," Meteos noted grimly. "The Annonrial Empire excels in human experimentation and biotechnology. This operative was part of a project targeting orphans—children indoctrinated with their state religion. And while we managed to capture this one, the others evaded us still..."

  When Meteos found him, TL-4467 happened to be ill and frail, making his subjugation easy. And now, as a colborator, he stayed behind to fulfill his role as the White Lotus' new mole. But in general, they were skilled in keeping themselves untouched, combined with an unfavorable terrain that stacked the odds against the White Lotus' operations despite their advantages.

  The ongoing cooperation efforts between the Holy Milishial Empire and Mu, among other things, were aimed at reducing their hiding spots. The introduction of mana detectors in Mu—where they're almost nonexistent—will make it easier for them to sneak their highly sensitive equipment to locate and capture these infiltrators. At least they were not entirely powerless, nor clueless against the Messiah's schemes, though their hidden movements still made one's skin crawl.

  Lugiel's expression softened as she studied Meteos. She could sense the boy's indignation through his troubled gaze, though he hid it beneath his calm demeanor.

  "In any case, you've done well," she began gently. "Capturing even one of the infiltrators is no small feat."

  Meteos gnced up and chortled, sensing Lugiel's intent. "I just hate it when the enemy is one step ahead of us. A genocidal one, no less."

  "I remember that the Emperor had said the same thing before... Is that why you completely forgot to mention your other remarkable progress?"

  "Hm?"

  The silver-haired boy blinked for a moment. Then, as realization dawned, he let out a small, almost sheepish sigh. "Ah. That. I... suppose I did."

  "You suppose? Meteos, you've effectively become the de facto ruler of the second-strongest nation in the known world. To say that your cause's movements there are now easier to coordinate is a massive understatement. That's something every intelligence organization can only dream."

  A beat passed, long enough for the clock on the mantel to mark three measured ticks—before he broke the silence.

  "...You've let me prattle on about operatives and orphans long enough," Meteos said. "So, do you have something else you need of me?"

  "Well, earlier, I've been thinking about official commendations for you. It's already reserved, of course... but I am thinking of consulting you on what level to propose."

  "If I were to ask for a fiefdom somewhere, would you push for it?" dryly asked Meteos, causing the princess to giggle.

  "I wish I could, but the Emperor will likely expect my recommendation. I need to decide on the most realistic level I can propose without rousing... complications."

  The boy looked away and snorted. 'The R-word...'

  "What do you have in mind?"

  "Were it my decision alone, you'd receive the highest commendations possible—nd, titles, perhaps even a peerage. Albion Pace has granted nobility for far less than reshaping a nation's destiny."

  "But is my file written as I asked?"

  "Yes, every word," Lugiel's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. "But that's far too undignified for someone who gives our cause unimaginable resources overnight."

  "What did His Majesty say?"

  "...He asked if I can protect you from our potential enemies. Obviously referring to Annonrial operatives..."

  "Let's think this way, then. You, Your Highness, are going to hand the enemy a clear assassination target. Even more problematic—you risk making the Emperor wonder why his spymaster is so impressed by a 'reclusive inventor' so much that she advocates for granting me nobility. The Emperor is testing you."

  "...The merit of the first point I concede, but not only the second point is already too te, you underestimated yourself," Lugiel retorted. "If you feel like being impatient and finally ask for titles, I'm sure it will be positively considered."

  Nobility in the Holy Empire is a curious thing. While the titles are hereditary, the Emperor would never create new nobility titles and award them to people with a major skill issue, as maintaining a merit-based system is essential. That said, these titles carry little to no practical authority other than a sign of social status in the modern age, as centuries of reforms have eroded the power they once held during feudal times. However, as part of natural selection, capable individuals from established noble households transformed this influence into new forms. Take, for instance, the Legendorgas conglomerate.

  "Oh," Meteos tilted his head. "Then it's a test for me. It's not like this is the first time the Emperor is doing this, right?"

  "I mean—yes, but really..."

  "Well, it's just a theory," he leaned back in his chair with a wry smile. "Officially, I'm still the dutiful child quietly supporting the Roguerider family's political maneuvering to gain the Emperor's favor through a show of loyalty and filial piety. If my achievements were publicly celebrated with bad execution, it would only be counterproductive, showing to His Majesty that after all, I am more concerned with personal pride. Well, at least I'm rich from the patents. If anything, I feel kind of bad hoarding patents like this."

  It felt like a mismanagement of human resources. He could be doing more to uplift people, to ensure they rise together rather than just him.

  "It's just absurd. If I propose anything less than a title, I look incompetent. If I push for more, I risk exposing our maneuvers. When people start asking questions, I will be nothing but a reactionary. Either way, the Emperor questions my judgment."

  It seemed she was really upset, despite the fact that her public image would not take a dent from this due to her behind-the-scenes work. For a moment, the princess's regal composure wavered as her gaze dropped to the floor.

  "Back then... I prepared to support you from behind the scenes, thinking you are a potential child prodigy. But now, things have escated beyond what I'm signing up for... I guess not even the Holy Empire is prepared to deal with an anomaly like you, huh," Lugiel muttered, venting her frustrations a little.

  "For what it's worth, Your Highness... I'm sorry."

  If the Emperor could be made to see the Temple of Heaven, it wouldn't be so difficult. The Emperor is a powerful man—so powerful that Meteos' reserves of a lifetime wouldn't even compare. Even if High Charity is completed and he gains access to unlimited mana, his physical form remains the limiting factor. At some point, Meteos eventually learned that no machine, no matter how advanced, could replicate the properties of the Temple of Heaven, effects he hadn't realized were tied to the soul. This power can only be channeled through a living body, and his own is far too fragile to withstand such an overwhelming force.

  "Why must doing the right thing be so difficult?" Lugiel let out a light sigh.

  "I'm already a maniputor who outmaneuvers the Emperor's monitoring of me and circumvents his authority. If I were to ask something from His Majesty, it'd be forgiveness," Meteos idly commented.

  "........."

  Is this what it feels like to aim for a much rger purpose—rger than life itself, perhaps—that everything else looks trivial? The reincarnator thought to himself. Meteos observed Lugiel's silence and allowed the quiet to stretch for a moment. Then, deliberately shifting his tone, he spoke in a lighter, but purposeful tone.

  "High Charity's completion will conclude soon," he remarked, gncing briefly at the clock. "Once operational, I hope you'll have fewer constraints—and more avenues—to navigate these political conundrums. Maybe it can be a catalyst to help ease some reveals in the future. If you insist, that is."

  Despite the words of reassurance from Meteos, Lugiel continued to sulk With Meteos' goal of stopping the Apocalypse in the future, it was impossible to stop him from his mission, but ensuring a proper acknowledgment for him would prove even more troublesome to manage than it already was.

  "Ugh... politics... so tiresome. Fine, then. You better hang in there until then...!"

  Despite his own grievances, the reincarnator let out an amused chuckle in response to the princess's unexpected dispy of her childish side.

  January 30, 1617 Central Calendar

  Arbor Instaltion 01 – High Charity

  Area B7R, Southeastern Holy Milishial Empire

  Revan and Belial stood among the other operatives of the Order of the Ancients, all fixated on the holographic projection in the control room.

  With the dispyed progress bar inching forward, now showing an estimated 90% completion, it marked the imminent completion of the drilling of the crust after 28 hours of continuous operation. Meaning, the Borer had fired its ground-penetrating transmutation beam nonstop for more than a day. This duration was twice the initial estimate for optimal conditions, as the field unit deemed it essential to guarantee uninterrupted logistics for the Borer. Still, for the field unit, it was within the acceptable range.

  "Estimated time to breach, three minutes," announced Rei, the Xyston Magia who had accompanied Revan and Belial. Though her physical body was absent, her presence was felt through her management of the Instaltion's operations as an Artificial Intelligence.

  Three minutes ter, Rei's voice broke the silence once more. "Breach imminent. All systems nominal. Preparing for mana surge detection."

  "!!!"

  "Here goes..."

  The room grew still, every operative holding their breath. Belial clenched his fists, bracing for what would happen next. Suddenly, the holographic dispy flickered as a brilliant surge of light erupted from the projection of the boring shaft. "Breach achieved," Rei reported with a steady tone. "Mana surge detected through the shaft. Levels are... extraordinary." Some muttered prayers under their breath, while others simply stared, transfixed by the raw power now flowing into the Instaltion.

  But Rei's next words brought a wave of immense relief.

  "No leakage detected. Siphon devices are functioning optimally. Mana containment is stable. No abnormalities reported... Breaching process complete. The Instaltion is now successfully connected to the Hollow Pnet. Congratutions, sir."

  A cheer erupted from the crew, their voices a mix of exhaustion and triumph. Meanwhile, Belial wasted no time. His voice quickly cut through the jubition.

  "First things first, we must send tributes to the Emperor and the people... Rei, proceed with the upgrade and reinforcement of all components by one level. Next, I want Cauldrons and the equipment they produce ASAP. Rods, raw material, Pelicans, and Condors."

  "Acknowledged. Initiating system-wide upgrades. Estimated completion time: two hours."

  "Good."

  Belial's brother stepped to stand beside him, speaking calmly. "Now that we've tapped into the Hollow Pnet, we can make whatever we want."

  Tilting head slightly, Belial's own mask obscured any expression, but his tone carried a hint of dry amusement as he replied. "As long as we always have an idea of what to make next. Unlimited resources mean nothing without direction."

  "We already got that covered, don't we?"

  "Heh."

  Belial scoffed and turned to the rest of the crew, his voice rising with pride. "For now, let it be known—High Charity is officially in business!"

  ?????

  Two hours ter, a pulse of iridescent mana surged upward through High Charity's core, flowing through the conduits and gathering at the pinnacle. There, eight skeletal Cauldrons emerged, their metallic, angur structures unfolding like branches. Freshly formed circuits illuminated as raw mana was transformed into usable products.

  Days went by. The lethargy shattered as squadrons of pedanium-hulled Pelicans and their rger cousins, Condors, began to rise into the sky in synchronized waves. Unmanned, these LEGION weapons group's processors navigated preordained flight paths, carrying cargo bays filled with either material or rod-shaped premium quality pedanium batteries. The fleets dispersed across the heavens, heading toward distant facilities in need of the materials and fuel they carried.

  However, High Charity only got started.

  Meteos was grateful to Ace for managing High Charity in his pce, a feeling that words could scarcely express. However, to subscribe to the idea that actions spoke louder than words, he decided that the best way to show his appreciation was by putting the opportunity to good use. As soon as the Pelicans and Condors began arriving at their base of operations, the White Lotus wasted no time in leveraging the abundant sweet pedanium they had transported to initiate long-awaited expansions and upgrades—

  "Hey, Little Brother. Does this mean we are going to see the 'interesting' bits of your mortal life?"

  Deciding to withhold his answer, Meteos ignored the lighthearted remark as he telepathically guided each of the ten Spires into their designated slots around a certain rge circur room they were in. With a final tap on the control panel beside him, the activation sequence began, and the room pulsed with mana.

  Satisfied, he turned around to see Legiel down on the floor, effortlessly performing pushups. Behind them, Meteos' first two Xyston Magias stood side by side, watching the workout with a look of disapproval. Dunning, the calmer of the two, shook his head slightly, while Kruger's lips were pressed into a thin line of disgust.

  "Bored already?" Meteos inquired with a tilt of his head.

  "Well..."

  Legiel finished his pushups with a flourish, springing to his feet with grace. Stretching his arms casually, a smile pyed on his lips as he gnced around the room. "An operation with no complications is indeed boring—nay, it is cringe."

  "Cringe, he says..."

  If being cringe is what saves the world, then let there be cringe.

  However, too tired for his older brother's antics, Meteos brushed him off with a slight wave of his hand. His attention returned to the view beyond the control panel ptform, where a strange metal sphere, about the size of a person, rested on a pedestal. Its surface shimmered with a mesmerizing sheen, and as the mana from the Spires flowed into it, the sphere began to expand ever so slightly, its surface unduting like liquid metal.

  Meteos Roguerider's investment in the peculiar object stemmed from its identity as the object that housed his Valhal program—a computer of unmatched sophistication yet. As it absorbed mana and seamlessly underwent Overhaul, its processing power surged even more, its internal systems becoming increasingly intricate and advanced with every second. And Meteos fed it with a generous amount of mana. It seemed like he finally made up his mind to create an android army of his own, as he fed it with ten Spires powered with supercharged pedanium rods. Would you believe that combined they hold power output equivalent to several nuclear reactors? Of course you shouldn't, because that would be cringe.

  "Do you have nothing better to do?"

  Legiel paused mid-stretch, his lips curling into a coy grin. "Well, I don't see why I should put in any more effort now that you're here, actively murdering capitalism as a concept," he replied with a tilted head, feigning innocence.

  Meteos maintained a stoic silence at the clear attempt to get a rise out of him, something that Legiel found not particurly bothersome. With a shrug, he conceded and began to make his way toward the exit. As he passed by Dunning and Kruger, the two Magias instinctively stepped aside, giving him a wide berth. Legiel's attitude didn't falter even as he noticed the female one glowering at him, his eyes glinting with mirth. It's Legiel, after all.

  "........."

  "Dunning, Kruger, would you two like to meet your new siblings?" Meteos suddenly asked as he started to fiddle with the control panel again.

  "Now...? No, wait. That's a rhetorical question, isn't it?" Kruger guessed, pretty much because their master would create more Magias anyway.

  Meteos chuckled dryly.

  "Admittedly, I asked it so that you would forget Legiel's antics just now."

  Kruger slumped and let out a mencholic sigh, "Master is so considerate..."

  "But Master..." the usually calm and collected Dunning chimed in with a slight frown. "I still find such conduct akin to rubbing salt in a wound unacceptable, especially from an individual bearing the status of your sibling."

  Meteos paused in his work, allowing a faint smile to touch his lips. The Magias couldn't see it, but the weight of Dunning's words lingered. It struck him, not for the first time, how alive they felt. They carried the memories of Attarsamain's fallen, yes, but those were sterile records, devoid of the emotions that once colored them. Their personalities, for all things, were entirely their own. A flicker of pride mingled with sadness.

  "Well, Legiel Roguerider's very nature makes him something of a force majeure himself. I don't know about the future world, but nowadays you don't reason with a hurricane. You board the windows and pray it veers into the ocean, or hunker down and endure."

  "Horseman of the Apocalypse..."

  Kruger crossed her arms, her mechanical fingers tapping impatiently against her sleeve. "If he's literally one of those... entities, shouldn't he be waiting patiently for the end times instead of—!" She gestured wildly toward the empty doorway Legiel had sauntered through. "Instead of speedrunning it? That's why he summoned those countries, right? To justify sughtering them in cold blood by fabricating 'evidence' of their inherent evil..."

  Should Meteos be gd that Pestilence is stuck watching him? Ars Goetia is a big pce, plenty of cases for him to justify his point. Yet, by enduring Legiel, the entirety of Ars Goetia is spared from an untimely demise.

  "That's really something, isn't it?" Meteos murmured, more to himself than the Magias. "In the end, he's just someone who is looking out for his brother's dignity. His methods disgust me... but I envy his crity."

  Finally, Meteos turned slowly, with the ambient mana from the activated Spires casting an ethereal halo around his silhouette. They were silent, letting Meteos voice what was weighing on his mind and ease his burden, even a little.

  "As for me, I masked my heartache with a certain purpose: a desire for Milishial, guardian of all that exists. I 'wanted' to see the roots of Ars Goetia grow deep under our careful tending. Where there is life, the wisdom of our countless generations will saturate the soil. Our strength will be a luminous sun, towards which all intelligence blossoms... And the impervious shelter beneath which it will prosper. Thus, I stand before you, accused of the sin of ensuring its ascendancy. Of attempting to save us from the fate where we are forced to... recede."

  Kruger let out a stammer, feeling a bit intimidated. Even though Dunning was silent, he would've agreed with his sister. To the two of them, the glow sharpened Meteos' features into something both familiar and alien—the faint luminescence of his eyes like twin cerulean stars piercing through a static haze. For a moment, their creator seemed more like a creator of a different level entirely.

  "To act without having to pretend to be something else... No grand lies to oneself... If the Messiah possesses even a fraction of Pestilence's resolve, Annonrial would be unstoppable."

  A concerned Dunning brought a hand to his chin, deep in thought.

  "A formidable enemy... and yet, that man's presence prevents you from taking the fight to the Messiah directly without suffering the consequences..."

  With Death's tacit consent, Pestilence had long prepared a severe divine punishment should Meteos and by extension, the Holy Milishial Empire, fall into the trap of validating his argument. By then, he might not even require the involvement of Japan and Gra Valkas. Given that neither nation had returned to their own world, and considering the probable reasons behind it, perhaps this time Pestilence would simply abandon them to face whatever destiny awaited their respective worlds.

  "So it is," Meteos shook his head, turning at the computer again. "...But are we people with skill issues that waging war right off the bat is our only option?"

  "I'd say it's still outrageous and unfair!" Kruger grumbled bitterly.

  "...Try to think of it as a form of moral guardianship. I find it easier to operate that way. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, after all."

  "All that man did is create an exception to the rule. At least none will see you as a 'holier-than-thou' figure."

  "Oh, someone definitely will," Meteos shrugged. "Even so, I will not abandon my campaign against the Annonrial Empire, regardless of what motive drives it."

  Whether it was out of a sense of duty or survival instinct, it didn't matter. He had come this far.

  "As the active pyer in the Ravernal Empire's resurrection, Zarathostra of the Messiah stands as the greatest threat to all of mankind. Refusing to stop him is a fool's gambit," Meteos' gaze hardened with finality. A visible shift in the room around the computer drew the attention of the two Magias as well.

  "We squander millennia in the darkness, while they seize our triumphs for their own. I will don this mantle of responsibility, even if it means I'm alone. Think of my acts as you will... But do not doubt the reality: the Recmation has already begun. And I don't want us to be hopeless to stop it."

  Ars Goetia Secret

  Ich frage euch: Wollt ihr den totalen Krieg!? Wollt ihr ihn, wenn n?tig, totaler und radikaler, als wir ihn uns heute überhaupt erst vorstellen k?nnen!?