The symphony of gunfire that burst out from the North’s Locomotives finally died down after an hour, as the last of the spectres turned into ash. These spectres were already beginning to adapt to the rigours of war in this new age; a thick barrier had been erected to fend off incoming fire.

Unfortunately, for those spectres, these barriers had helped the troops of the Five Lands more. Instead of engaging in a costly skirmish, three Locomotives had simply advanced to the positions of the vanguard before unleashing a hail of fire upon the little tortoise shells that the spectres were hiding inside.

They couldn’t even resist.

“The value of these Locomotives,” said Thasvia, “are extraordinary and a paradox to the North.”

“Huh?” Gemini, who had been watching three metal hulks lay out a one-sided beatdown on a bunch of ants, looked up. “What do you mean by that?”

“They’re clearly important to the North, which is why they aren’t at the very front, where a well-laid ambush can bring one or two down,” said Thasvia. “But they’re used in direct confrontations with the enemy spectres, which means that they’re not irreplaceable.”

“The North has more, then.”

“Considering that forty Locomotives are supporting the assault from the northern side, I think that’s almost a given. If this war ends with our victory, the Mortal Light Dynasty will probably dominate Orb henceforth.” The Breath-maker tutted. “I cannot say I am fond of this possibility.”

“No. You’re wrong.” Gemini shook his head. “Without this war, without the Abyss Sovereign’s festival of creation, the entire world would have sunk into a war of its own. Originally, my intention was to continuously sow seeds of doubt within the Five Lands; had the Abyss Sovereign not shown up, a huge war would have taken place in the South once more. The North would intervene this time, without the Human God or the Holy Temple to hold them back, and then unleash this terrible force upon the Southern Assembly.”

“And the Western Holdings.”

“Perhaps even the Divine Kingdoms of the great gods too,” Gemini finished. “I would have made use of that time to consolidate the defences of the Wildlands, waiting for the time when the Five Lands were unified under the banner of the dynasty. And the true Third Extermination would begin.”

“…you sound very certain.”

“That was the future I saw before the Abyss Sovereign came in from left field,” Gemini replied. “Did the rest of you not see it?”

Thasvia was silent.

There were many ways Gemini could interpret that, but instead of pressing her on the topic, he decided to let the topic slide. It would seem that the great gods had their own circumstances; back then, before his awakening, they had been fighting the Demon God for days on end. It was very possible that the great gods knew that they were collectively powerless to avert the destiny that they saw before them.

In fact, it was even possible that they couldn’t quite divine the future of Orb back then too. Hereward, for instance, couldn’t tell what was about to happen when the Abyss Sovereign embarked on his insane mission. Given that at that point, most of the gods, save for Hereward, did not know about his existence back then, they could have very well perceived a different possibility.

If only this uncertainty extended to their current situation. Right now, all Gemini and Thasvia could perceive was a boundless starry sky, with the brightest centre stemming from the very tip of the tower.

The more Gemini looked at it, the stronger the uncertainty in his heart. Was this a sign telling him that Celestia would be created with no issues whatsoever? In that case, was it proof that their fight would be pointless?

A gentle gust of wind stroked his face, and he shook himself mentally. There was no point in lowering their own morale before the decisive battle truly happened. Even if the Abyss Sovereign was truly confident in his ability to win, that was none of Gemini’s business; the North had proven itself to be a very hard nut to crack.

“How’s Hereward?” Gemini asked, distracting himself from his thoughts.

Thasvia, who was completely unaware of the little thoughts he had just now, shook her head. “Still catatonic. It seems that the Abyss Sovereign’s little play had shaken my brother deeply.”

“Do they know each other?”

“We, the great gods, did come into contact with Gaius on the day of Anren’s passing,” she replied slowly. “On hindsight, we should have been a bit more careful. Back then, my brother was fixated on consuming Gaius; he called him the ‘Chosen of the Abyss’. Should have raised a few alarm bells, really. But that phrase had slipped out of our awareness at that time, as if there was some incredible power manipulating even our memories.”

“The Abyss itself?” Gemini asked.

“Probably.” The Breath-maker pondered, and the light surrounding her flickered. Her presence weakened slightly a second later, the emerald radiance she emanated fading.

“Thasvia?”

“I’m fine.” She held a hand up. “There was a restriction on even our thoughts. When I was trying to draw a link between Hereward, the Abyss and those souls…”

The wind shrieked around her, forming a small hurricane that lasted for three seconds, before falling apart to reveal an impassionate Thasvia. The weakness she was emanating off her small frame had vanished, replaced by a sense of rejuvenation.

“What did you find?”

“Those souls that we saw…are likely to be related to old Orb,” Thasvia replied. “In a sense, they can be considered as Hereward’s children, his creations. It is possible that those souls were never able to reincarnate naturally; in the wake of the two ancient gods’ descent, they were forced into hibernation, and then used by the Abyss Sovereign to produce soldiers who were capable of independent thought.”

“Produce soldiers…”

“By placing those souls into spectres, presumably.” Thasvia folded her arms. “You just need to look at the enemy with the right kinds of eyes…like these spectres flying towards the expedition now, for instance.”

She gestured at the approaching spectres, which had appeared out of nowhere. “Take a look.”