Dragusmachira, Emor Kingdom

The sun, which was already a spear’s length away from setting, cast a fiery glow over the Promised Place and the center of the Emorian civilization, the Willmanz Castle. Palace officials and advisors had gathered for a Royal Council, taking their places among the supporting wooden pillars of the throne room in two columns facing each other. With the last light of the day drawing to a close, yellow magical lights shone from the high ceiling, casting a glow upon their tense expressions. No one dared to make even the slightest of noises until, finally, another dragonoid entered and settled cross-legged on a raised dais at the rear, situated in the midst of an enormous bas-relief image depicting two prancing dragons that breathe wind and thunder, giving the impression that they were flanking him majestically.

With an average height ranging from 1,8 to 2 giris (Emorian ‘steps,’ equivalent to 175-200 cm), the dragonoids possessed a natural robustness surpassing other species in the known world. Their scale-covered skin and horns that grew out of their heads, tinted bluish-white, could be glimpsed beneath the loose garments they wore, creating a striking contrast against their bright red eyes and hair. However, the one who had just come in was different from the rest of the attendees in that his garment featured more decorative ornaments, while his physical features of mustache, beard, and long hair arranged in a braided ponytail, exuded the air of a noble of high standing. With everyone in the room holds him in the highest regard, this is none other than the Dragon King of Emor, Wagdran.

While the attendees waited, he remained silent for a moment before his words finally marked the start of the meeting.

“Fellow members of the council, we gather here today to address a matter of importance that has unfolded near our kingdom’s southern borders. Four days ago, our Wind Dragon riders who patrolled the region reported the sign of a disturbance from the land beyond the borders, which takes the form of lights invisible to our eyes but can be sensed by the Wind Dragons. Is that report correct?”

Wagdran turned his gaze to the military commander and Captain Nabu who sat beside him. As the leader of the first patrol unit that witnessed said ‘disturbance,’ he was invited to the council to give his testimony. Taking the hint and with his commander’s permission, Nabu bowed before addressing the council.

“Your Majesty,” he began. “That is correct. During our routine patrol, my unit’s Wind Dragon partners alerted us about mysterious ‘lights’ that came from beyond Lucifer’s walls. These lights, even though it was invisible to our eyes, were said to be similar to the Wind Dragon’s abilities.”

Hushed whispers rippled through the council as the attendees exchanged wary glances. The Dragon King raised his hand to silence them.

“Continue,” he said with a curious, but commanding tone.

“Based on my partner dragon’s words, we have assumed that the lights were not of natural origin and I ordered my unit to approach them in order to investigate. However, as we closed our distance to the walls, the lights were said to intensify and overwhelmed the Wind Dragons’ senses, prompting us to retreat. On the following days, we decided to stay at a distance of three da-nas (3 leagues, around 33 km) from Lucifer’s walls to observe that the lights were still there, turning on and off around every one minute.”

“The lights that only the Wind Dragons can see?” one attendee pondered with a skeptical tone. “From what I understand, that is how the Wind Dragons are able to speak with each other and see long distances. It’s impossible for the Middle Lands people to ally with the Wind Dragons like us, but what manner of devilry could possibly emit it, then?”

“But the Wind Dragons themselves said that the lights that they saw were too unnatural for them. If they even felt harmed by the lights, then those might be the work of some other magic!”

Speculation filled the minds of the council. Given their lack of knowledge about the real cause of the incident, they drew upon their understanding of the Wind Dragon’s abilities to make sense of it. The Dragon King listened and decided to address Nabu again with his next question.

“What sort of unnatural, Captain?”

“Your Majesty, in my partner Wind Dragon’s words, he said that it feels like listening to ‘someone who speaks the same words in the same tone over and over again.’ I am still uncertain about what exactly are those lights, but the fact remains that our partners are distressed by it.”

“…You don’t see anything beyond the walls that could possibly be the source of the lights?”

“Unfortunately, no, Your Majesty,” Nabu answered truthfully. “Using their abilities, our Wind Dragons can see up to about ten da-nas (120 km), but we still cannot see a possible source.”

“Hmm, does this mean that… whatever emitting those invisible lights can see you, but you can’t?”

Nabu supplicated deeper in response.

“Yes, I believe so.”

Naturally, those statements opened up a flood of debate among the council. Voices rose as differing opinions clashed with each other. Amidst the back-and-forth, a scholarly-oriented council member decided to remind others of his presence.

“Normally I would be skeptical. The ability to see invisible lights and communicate with each other using them is an inherent ability of our allied Wind Dragons that I don’t think could possibly be replicated by anyone, let alone by outsiders,” he commented. “But then I remembered that we are talking about Milishial and its long history of scavenging the relics of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire. Therefore, I am of the suspicion that those lights could be related to something which nature belongs to the oppressors of our ancestors!”

The council bristled once again.

“No, wait! Before jumping to that, what makes you even think that the lights might come from what you are suggesting?”

“Consider this: Milishial has built its fortune by studying the ruins of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire. They have been known to unearth relics and harness their power. Considering that the Ancient Sorcerous Empire was said to be equal to the Divine Dragon nation of Infidragoon in terms of strength, I think it’s not far-fetched to think that the Ancient Sorcerous Empire might possess something that can imitate the Wind Dragons’ abilities, and then that something just so happened to resurface in the present day, whether by accident or intentionally done by the Milishians. That might be the reason why the lights feel unnatural to our dragon partners.”

“Impossible! That’s absurd!”

Pride, superiority complex, and prejudiced against other races.

The dragonoids, the descendants of Infidragoon who were natives to this world, and the Light-Winged People of Ravernal, the descendants of the Malakh civilization who came from another planet, are like mirrors to each other. Adding to the fact that they don’t have enough information and merely grasping at straws to solve the mystery around the occurrence, it makes it easier for that council member to utter words in that manner.

As a result, the response to such a comment was predictable.

“Either way, wouldn’t they have informed us if they had developed such technology, especially when it also affects our Kingdom? I thought they know better than to disturb the peace between the two lands!?”

“What reckless behavior if they are the ones behind it!”

The following accusations and counter-accusations flew across the throne room. Some of the older attendees argued that it will be rather uncharacteristic of the Middle Lands, looking at the lengths they did in the past to ensure that the peace between the two lands continues without interruption. As far as these council members, a certain magic that only they can perform was a great advantage in ensuring that the Middle Lands won’t dare to do anything that could possibly antagonize the Promised Place.

“That is preposterous! Why would Middle Lands go behind our backs and plot something clandestine if it damages their interest!?” one attendee shouted with indignation.

“Indeed,” chimed in another, “peace in the Central Continent has been the Middle Lands’ goal for centuries. Suddenly breaking it for no reason would cause Lucifer and his empire to greatly lose the face that they have been sculpting for so long. At this point, I won’t dare make any assumption that they are the culprits.”

“In the first place, coming to the conclusion that an Ancient Sorcerous Empire artifact is the one behind the mysterious lights is rather too hasty in my opinion. Let’s think of some other possible reason first.”

“They need us to prepare against the Ancient Sorcerous Empire’s return, surely they won’t dare offend us dragonfolk,” one council member asserted confidently.

Wagdran silently contemplated the arguments put forth by the attending council members. Lucius of the Morning Star, the Lightbringer of the Two Lands, was an anomaly among the elves who had been holding the reins of the entire Middle Lands since Wagdran’s great-grandfather era, and throughout that time he had kept his commitment to ensure that the two lands would always be at peace. Hasty conclusions could lead to disastrous consequences. Accusing Middle Lands without concrete evidence could strain the relations between their lands and ignite unnecessary conflict. On the other hand, dismissing the concerns that originated from the Middle Lands entirely could leave Emor vulnerable to threats.

“We need to gather more information before coming to anything decisive…” he murmured, crossing his arms. As the sovereign of a superpower, he was seriously intent on grasping what they could know.

Interrupting the debates, Wagdran raised his hand and called for the attention of the council members. The room soon quieted down as all eyes turned to the Dragon King.

“I have listened to your concerns. However, we must tread carefully and avoid rushing to judgment! Accusing Lucifer and his empire without substantial evidence would be a grave mistake, jeopardizing the peace that my father and his father before me have worked so hard to maintain.”

He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. “At the same time, we cannot ignore the distress that our Wind Dragons have experienced. Their bond with us is strong, and their instincts have proven reliable in the past. We must investigate further to uncover the truth behind these mysterious lights. Therefore, Gandash, Moriaul, and Nabonassar.”

The three dragonoids in question bowed in unison and waited for the Dragon King’s command.

“Gandash, I ask you to gather the scholars, mages, and individuals who possess deep knowledge of our own abilities. I want them to study this incident and explore possible explanations within the realm of our capabilities. We must understand the nature of these lights and their origins.”

Gandash, the nobleman serving as the scholarly affairs’ advisor, bowed deeply before acknowledging the Dragon King’s order. “Yes, Your Majesty. We will leave no stone unturned in our pursuit of the truth.”

Turning his attention to the diplomat, Wagdran continued. “Moriaul, continue the preparations for the world conference next spring. But you should also find out the truth from the Milishian officials themselves about what is exactly happening. Seek inquiry from them until there are no doubts.”

“As you command, Your Majesty. I will do my best in conveying our concerns and proceed with caution.”

The Dragon King’s gaze then shifted to Nabonassar, the military commander and Nabu’s superior. “Nabonassar, your task is to assemble a group of warriors to conduct observations near the border where the lights were previously detected. They must remain discreet to ensure that it will not alert the Middle Lands too much.”

“Understood, Your Majesty. In that case, I propose that we should also prepare land-based warriors to scout the region near the walls in addition to the Wind Dragon riders.”

“Good. Do as you will, and do try to keep it quiet if anything happens. The last thing we need right now is a conflict with the Middle Lands.”

Seeing Nabonassar bow in acknowledgment, Wagdran nodded in satisfaction. However, one of the council members raised his hand.

“Your Majesty, what should we do with Milishial at present?”

“…Do nothing. As long as our forces do not suddenly cross the border, there should be no reason for Lucifer’s administration to make a noise. However, I expect you all to pay attention if Milishial made any statements that might be related to the lights. Do you understand?” Wagdran stated.

“As you wish, Your Majesty!” the attendees chorused in response.

“Are there any other questions?”

Seeing that no one want to ask any more questions, Wagdran decided to end the meeting.

“Very well. With this, I hereby declare that the council is adjourned. We will reconvene in one week’s time to discuss the progress made. Until then, each of you must fulfill your respective duties with diligence.”

The officials responded in unison and bowed. When they began to disperse and headed to their respective residences, night had already descended upon Dragusmachira.

…………

“This situation is ill-timed…”

After the inconclusive Royal Council, the Dragon King retreated to his quiet chamber that night. As a sovereign, he needed to project strength to his people so that they can rally behind him, but recent events had worn him down more than he cared to admit. He sensed lurking mysteries, hidden like the lights that eluded a dragonoid’s sight near the southern borders. That’s why he had summoned someone to his chamber and now awaited their arrival, eager to discuss his concerns.

As the doors swung open, a male dragonoid with an aged appearance and long white bread that flowed down his chest slowly entered and bowed before Wagdran.

“Your Majesty, I am at your service. What troubles your heart this night?” he gently asked after announcing his presence.

“Ah. Diviner Alesthre, I summoned you here to discuss a certain matter. The recent event at the border, in addition to how unclear our recent divination ceremonies were, have deepened my unease.”

The divination ceremony is an event held once a year that was conducted to see where Emor was heading. Using no less than thirty most powerful dragonoid mages, whose magic power is similar to that of the most powerful high elves, the ceremony is conducted by channeling as much pure mana as possible to cast a divination spell. Then, by seeing the events that will play out, they will see whether or not there are important matters in the world that have an influence over their kingdom with the purpose of hopefully dealing with any threats early on and staying out of trouble. With the blessings of the gods of space-time and an accuracy of over 98%, the divination has been the guide of the Emor Kingdom’s national policies and an indisputable card in diplomacy with other countries.

Yet, the missing two percent should have reminded them that even their revered spatial divination was not infallible. There are times when the future was enveloped in a veil of intense light, causing it to become difficult to interpret. That’s why Wagdran couldn’t help but think about this as he observed a troubling trend in the kingdom’s spatial divinations over the past two years. More than one month had already passed since this year’s divination ceremony, and the once reliable predictions and insights into the future had become increasingly uncertain and filled with blinding light. Since the content of their divinations was crucial for the stability and security of the Emor Kingdom, this decline in clarity troubled the Dragon King.

Alesthre furrowed his brow as he pondered his liege’s words. “Your Majesty, problems with spatial divination are an almost impossible question to answer, but if you couldn’t help but feel that the timing of these occurrences is suspicious, then there is nothing I could offer to help other than redouble my efforts, delving deeper into the materials at hand and seeking answers in hopes of seeking clarity.”

Wagdran sighed with a hint of frustration. “I suspected as much. Perhaps I am being overly paranoid, but I hate not knowing anything. Nevertheless, I am counting on you, Alesthre.”

At the conclusion of their discussion, Alesthre gave his liege a deep bow before leaving the chamber with the weight of the task given to him. The old diviner’s footsteps grew faint as he vanished into the dim corridors, leaving Wagdran alone with his contemplations on the unknown future that lay ahead.

April 9, 1615 Central Calendar, 11:41

MOASEC Apartment Complex, San Redentore District, Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire

Arthur Arkland was sitting quietly inside his car that was parked outside the apartment block, listening to a manacom broadcasting a song that had taken the Holy Empire by storm this year. However, his moment of blissful tranquility was abruptly shattered when something, or rather someone, rapped on the car window. Startled, the verdette reluctantly reached for the lever and lowered the glass, feeling already annoyed by this unexpected visitor.

“………”

“Yo! I’m tired of standing outside, can I come in?”

“…Why are you here, Daguva?” Arthur asked back, neither allowing nor denying the newcomer’s question.

Like an unwelcome tempest, Go-Daguva-Zeba, that one member of the organization with whom everyone is reluctant to work together, suddenly appeared and interrupted Arthur’s prized silence. If Robin was the master of obnoxiousness and the queen of embarrassing nicknames, then this man stood in a league of his own—someone worse to the point that even Robin herself seems to dislike his presence.

At his question, Daguva shrugged with a carefree smile, “If you let me inside, I’ll spill why I’m here.”

“Fine, come in,” Arthur grumbled, gesturing to the car door on the other side while Daguva’s laughter filled the air as he eagerly stepped inside, seemingly unaffected by Arthur’s barely concealed irritation. As the stag beetle beastman settled himself comfortably in the seat next to Arthur, he turned off the manacom and asked again. “Alright, spill it. What brings you here?”

“Heh, heh, heh, isn’t it obvious? I came here as decided at the last night’s meeting.”

Arthur is not amused. “I question Magister Sorath for assigning you, of all people, to this task.”

“Yeah, she is such a great judge of character, isn’t she?” Daguva chuckled sarcastically, crossing his arms and leaned back on the seat. “But orders are orders. That’s what they expect us agents to do, right? Following orders.”

The stark contrast between the two men gave birth to an undeniable tension that pervaded the air. Arthur, with his refined demeanor and sharply dressed appearance, exuded an air of reserved sophistication. In contrast, Daguva, with his boisterous nature and casual fashion sense, seemed completely at odds with him. Yet, beneath the surface, the two men were bound by a common duty as agents of the same organization.

“But I must object. Your methods are simply ill-suited for the delicate task at hand,” Arthur insisted.

“Huh… my methods, you say? Like what…?”

Daguva’s carefree expression slowly morphed into a menacing grin as he flexed his right arm, tapping into his mana reserves to secrete fluids that instantly harden into a black insectoid monster-looking armored gauntlet. Then, in a split-second, he swiped it at Arthur, with a blade then protruded from its open palm, mid-strike.

“Like… THIS!?”

Reacting with his trained reflexes, the bird beastman immediately raised his left arm to grab the incoming attack by the wrist. But this transformed arm exuded far more strength than he had anticipated, and Arthur could feel the strain on his arm as he struggled to hold it back. As the two agents locked eyes, Daguva could see that Arthur’s exterior remained composed, making his grin widen even further.

“…Exactly. What happened to ‘bury the past and build the future,’ huh?” Arthur hissed, his grip on the monstrous arm tightened. As a response, Daguva continued to smile, seemingly unfazed by Arthur’s own display of strength. “At this rate, you are not convincing me with your lack of restraint.”

Daguva chuckled as his other arm revealed something that had been concealed underneath his jacket. A black unit was equipped on both sides of his belt.

“You see this?” he asked with a tone as if he was not trying to kill someone.

“I know what a Manadriver is, you brute…!”

“That’s right. By the way, have you ever seen the Josogi, clan Zeba’s signature hardening technique? To access this Imperfect Form, we stag beetle beast-people need concentration and several seconds to transform one limb and half a minute for an entire body, then double that time for a Perfect Form. But thanks to this thing, with the right setting, I can do away with the preparation part, allowing me to just concentrate on channeling mana and voila…! My Imperfect Josogi is complete in an instant!”

“And your point is…?”

Daguva leaned closer. “I underestimated how far the Manadriver can change the realm of magic, and now I become one of the many who owes its creators with this gadget. This gave mages a debt that is extremely hard to pay, but the thing is… I despise owing debts.”

“…Is that so? Does the mighty Go-Daguva-Zeba feels offended that a child is responsible for making him stronger?”

Amused by the accusation, Daguva snorted and deactivated the Josogi, letting the armored gauntlet dissolve into black magic particles that quickly fade into the air. With a theatrical sigh, he leaned away from Arthur.

“You hurt me by thinking that I’m a mere petty criminal. Man… can’t you take a joke? I was demonstrating the evolution of magic, no harm done,” he innocently said.

“……There’s a sickness in you that even the greatest cure in this world can’t heal.”

The green-haired bird beastman had reached the end of his tether with this loose cannon’s reckless antics that he stepped out from the car and pulled out a silver-colored case of Lucky Star, the Holy Empire’s expensive brand of cigarettes. Extracting one, he lit it with a lighter and took a long drag as he leaned on his car and pensively gazed at the people going in and out of the apartment. Daguva meanwhile couldn’t resist but follow him outside, leaning against the car window on the opposite side and glancing at Arthur’s lit cigarette.

“Oi, you can use even your finger to light those, you know,” he remarked, pointing to the lighter. With a Manadriver, casting a fire magic as simple as generating a spark to lit a cigarette or cooking something in the absence of tools became as easy as breathing to any creature born with mana.

“Force of habit,” stiffly replied Arthur, blowing a plume and continuing to smoke in silence afterward.

After a few moments, he sighed inwardly and turned to face Daguva, now propping his head on his hands which he folded on top of the car roof, observing Arthur smoking with mild curiosity. After taking another drag, he extended the case.

“Would you like one?” he asked with a trace of reluctant hospitality.

Daguva’s eyes flickered toward the extended case, and for a moment, Arthur thought he might accept the offer. However, Daguva merely grinned and shook his head.

“Nah, elite brands aren’t my thing. Hand-rolled ones are better, especially with the dragon’s grass.”

“Crop weeds? Hmph. Of course you’ll have a taste for the strange,” Arthur scoffed. “Speaking of which, it seems that our eccentric coworker Robin has grown fond of the Person of Interest and his friend. You better behave yourself, lest she will have your head.”

“Whenever was the last time we see her genuinely angry?”

“You weren’t there yet, but there’s this one time when someone decided it would be amusing to call her deceased father a ‘tasty meal for a Nosgorath.’”

“Oh, someone just lacked survival instincts, I see,” Daguva deadpanned. Even he knows better not to mock the legacy of a dead parent.

Back then, Robin was reprimanded for her excessive use of force, but even their superiors couldn’t help but acknowledge the provocation she endured. Her father, the late Professor Calvello, was a brilliant mind whose cruel death in the hands of a rampaging Ancient Sorcerous Empire bioweapon became a bitter blow for the entire Ancient Ministry.

“By that implied glorification of a Nosgorath, that person made himself wide open for someone to drop the Heresy Law on him, so in my opinion, he’s better off hospitalized than having his entire life ruined. If you ask Robin about it, though, she will say that it was then when she was younger and stupid. An example of someone who knows restraint, unlike you,” Arthur concluded as the two agents fell into a momentary silence. It was then that Daguva, as a counter to that jab, decided to steer the conversation in a more lighthearted direction. A mischievous glint danced in his hazel eyes. He couldn’t resist prodding Arthur about this certain subject.

“So, Arkland,” he began with suppressed laughter. “I’ve been wondering… how does it feel to have your ass whooped so often by Robin?”

Let it be known that while Arthur is no slouch in hand-to-hand combat himself, he was among the lesser skilled martial artists out of the secret department agents. In this domain, Daguva was the one who outshine Robin in their fights. It seemed only fitting that someone even more chaotic would be able to best that crazy woman.

Arthur exhaled before delivering his answer with a frosty demeanor that belied the intensity within.

“If I may be frank with you, Daguva, it’s none of your fucking business.”

…………

Several minutes later, the Person of Interest that these two agents have been waiting for finally showed himself. Meteos Roguerider had returned from his shift, leisurely riding on his wheeled toy called a skateboard and was about to enter the apartment building. Before moving to greet him, Arthur gave Daguva a pointed look, silently warning him to not scare the boy… because Daguva.

However, their presence was already noticed by Meteos from the moment he passed through the entrance. With a friendly smile plastered on his face, the reincarnator instead stopped by the car to greet them and listened to the two agents. That’s how they found themselves sitting and enjoying some treats at a nearby restaurant while having discussions about various things, with Meteos playing along to see what purpose these men possibly have in this place.

“……after reading the report, I just couldn’t help finding the coincidence that the dragons suddenly approaching the border on the first day our conductive magnetic radar activated to be strange. I think they might be reacting to something,” Meteos concluded with an unapologetic shrug at one point in their discussion.

Of course Meteos knew that the Emorian wind dragons can see radar waves as ‘lights,’ but these people do not, and the challenge is to lead them into discovering this without making him sound too suspicious. That’s why he took the ‘conspiracy theorist’ route, knowing that people will mostly tolerate his crazy take for being a kid.

“That’s it?”

“This kid’s imagination is wild.”

See?

As Arthur rubbed his face, Meteos tilted his head to show confusion.

“What’s the matter, Mister Arkland?”

Daguva replied on his behalf with a cackle, “Arthur’s team thinks that you might be on to something!”

“Well, you can say that I’m on to something, alright,” Meteos leaned forward with eyes gleaming with enthusiasm, “I was also imagining a scenario. Let’s say there is a hostile entity that possesses conductive magnetic radar technology similar to ours, and that they might be using it to monitor our activities and launch surprise attacks without us even knowing. Therefore, in order to stay ahead, we need to envision a system that can detect the emissions of their own systems and issue a warning when a potential threat is detected.”

As a member of the Magic Technology System Development Facility who delved into the conductive magnetic radar’s development, Arthur perked up and nodded in serious contemplation. “…That is an interesting scenario that we can apply in our assumption toward the Ancient Sorcerous Empire’s power. Have you told anyone else about this?”

“Only to Walman and Miss Robin, but what I’m about to say next only popped out just now, still based on the aforementioned scenario.”

Arthur leaned closer in anticipation.

“Go on.”

“Basically, a system to identify any unit as friendly or hostile in order to avoid friendly fire, how about that? There’s no such thing in the Holy Empire, right? The time will come when our Heavenly Vessels can fly at speeds and altitude that makes it impossible to detect visually, so after thinking about the Ancient Sorcerous Empire’s power, I personally think that this idea is something worth studying.”

Targets do show up as featureless blips on the screen, even by using a mana detector. However, due to the great difference between the speeds of aerial units possessed by the nations and the fact that surface ships show up as easily identifiable groups of small mana signatures, the Holy Milishial Empire never had thought of the concept of IFF (identification friend or foe).

“I see. Maybe we should hold a discussion sometime later with you three. I’d like to hear more about those concepts.”

“Ah. Thank you so much, Mister Arkland,” Meteos thanked him with a smile.

Daguva, who had finished eating a plate of pasta, looked up and commented with a sly grin, “Push it to the higher-ups just like what you’re doing with the GPs! The more project we will undertake, the less reason the Villainess have to sh—denounce us good men at the Ancient Ministry, you know?”

“Huh, the Villainess? Who’s that?”

Arthur gave Daguva an exasperated stare, to which the stag-beetle beastman simply rolled his eyes, not seeing anything wrong with it.

“It’s the Lady Minister of Treasury, or as someone of us likes to say, the archenemy of the Ancient Ministry, hehehe.”

“Daguva……”

“What? It’s true.”

Arthur shook his head, “Just ignore anything about her for now and focus on your studies, Roguerider. Talking about her is a part of the politics that someone as young as you shouldn’t be too concerned about.”

“Well, if you say so,” Meteos played along. “But this Villainess sounds like someone rude.”

Daguva laughed, but Arthur quickly clarified. “Believe it or not, she actually has a legitimate reason to be suspicious of our handling of budgets. We’ve been idle for too long, which makes the recent developments more meaningful to us. Well, that’s all you should know about her for now.”

“I see… then, I’ll keep that in mind. By the way, how are things going on your team, Mister Arkland?”

“Hmm,” Arthur took a sip from his apple juice before answering, “We are still discussing the April 3rd report… but last night the Navy liaison officer came and discussed the RN-CM-13x series’ performance in aiding their gunnery is… poor, to say the least.”

“Discussing? More like complaining, I hear that they’re ‘strongly’ disappointed that the new conductive magnetic radar cannot do both,” Daguva said.

Calling it poor would be an understatement, but it’s also because the RN-CM-13x is an early warning radar. Meaning, a conductive magnetic radar that was designed for the long-range detection of targets to allow the defenses to be alerted as early as possible before the intruder reaches its target, operating using longer electromagnetic waves. In contrast, a radar that can assist in targeting emits shorter wavelengths at higher frequencies to ensure accurate tracking information.

This operating principle of using electromagnetic waves that reflected off objects to detect them is what makes a conductive magnetic radar different from a mana detector, where the latter works by emitting a pulse upon activation to generate a ‘detection field’ up to a certain range where the system can then detect magic signatures by ‘feeling’ concentrations of mana (like people or wyverns) among the ambient atmospheric mana. It can be jammed by the presence of a stronger mana concentration that saturates the display, but the latest mana detector’s accuracy is good enough that it can be used both as fire control and search equipment. The detection field’s properties also make it not suffer from the factors that can interfere with the conductive magnetic radar’s performance. Pretty bullshit technology, if one must say, but it is what it is.

But the most glaring weakness of the mana detector is that it is unable to detect anything without mana and unable to detect anything underwater and underground. Therefore, a conductive magnetic radar that they know can do the former and will soon discover the latter is considered an upgrade over their system. It’s just that the Navy men might put too much expectation on a technology that is still in its infancy. It is funny to think that the Holy Milishial Imperial Navy unknowingly thinks that any radar that is incapable of track-while-scan (TWS) is a dogshit system.

“So… a radar that can scan and track objects at the same time…? Well… that sounds difficult. By the way, what did you tell them? And how would you handle the problem?”

“For now, we proposed them joint development for a better conductive magnetic radar that suits their needs. The Navy said that they will positively think about it, but we also conducted some experiments on our own with the Second-Generation Manadrivers to achieve the desired performance.”

“Like making a more powerful system, yeah?” Daguva added.

“Yes.”

“Hmm… Er… this is what I think…”

Meteos reached into his bag and pulled out his pencil and a stack of papers. Then he drew a circle in the center of the paper, followed by several smaller circles evenly spaced apart to the right of the main circle. These small circles were then connected by Meteos to the main circle by drawing straight lines. After that, he also drew arrows pointing outward from each of the smaller circles and finished with curved arrows near the smaller circles.

“What are those, kid?” Daguva raised an eyebrow.

“Right. Imagine that this large circle is the main body of a conductive magnetic radar. These smaller circles represent the antennae, the lines represent the connections between the radar’s main body and each antenna, these arrows pointing outward are the radar beam, and finally… these curved arrows represent the radar’s ability to change its beam direction. It’s like… a radar that can change its focus and direct its attention to different areas, almost like a chameleon changing its gaze, while using the same analogy, the chameleon’s brain stores the information that its eyes see. If you can use the Manadrivers to make a conductive radar that can work like this, I think we might be closer to achieving what the gentlemen at the Navy wanted.”

“So… difficult, eh?”

After digesting the explanation and burning the diagram into their memory, Daguva turned to Meteos and teased him, earning him a sheepish laugh. It wasn’t even five minutes.

The experiments conducted by Arthur and his team involve taking advantage of the Manadriver’s desire-interpreting ability to brute force the conductive magnetic radar into being capable of changing the emitted wavelength and frequency, but this concept offered by Meteos will push the already cheating power of the Manadriver technology to its limits.

“This concept is worth trying out,” Arthur declared. “But the problem is I’m not sure how long it will take to even achieve half the progress of the Navy’s requirement.”

“Well, aren’t those guys just being jerks,” Daguva chimed in with an amused tone. “The Navy has its own research laboratory, why aren’t they trying to tweak the system on their own first before coming to us?”

“I hear they are already busy with other projects… so they naturally turned to the largest research and development organization, which is us,” Arthur muttered.

Said projects were the magic torpedoes and the U-boat, which was being constructed under the guise of building a small ship somewhere in the southwestern Milishial.

“But they should at least come to us with some tact, you know.”

“Maybe it’s also because of the mentality of many Milishian people that they are… not pleased with the result,” Meteos suggested.

“Elaborate.”

“Our people are used to wait something that takes a long time to finish, but it’s perfect to their standards. This means that the Milishian majority’s tendency is to waste resources to achieve perfection. But then I asked myself a question, which one do you think is the most advantageous path to take? Develop something that worked tomorrow or something that might be perfect next year? I gave it a thought and concluded that progress is better than perfection. I mean, we can continue to strive for perfection, beat ourselves up along the way and wonder whether or not we’re done or whether it’s good enough. But there’s always someone out there who will never be satisfied with the final piece, maybe telling us that there’s always one thing to add or do differently?”

“Interesting take…”

When Arthur thought about it, this line of thinking has merits. The Ancient Ministry as an organization at this point was desperate to produce something out of their research when Meteos and Walman came. Therefore, they changed how they will approach things: do a little, get better. Do a little more, get it better yet. The justification was that they aim to uplift the country’s capability to a decent level of power as fast as possible, not knowing when exactly the Ancient Sorcerous Empire will return. ‘Assuming that the Ancient Sorcerous Empire will be revived in the very near future and that they lacked time to wait too long for a perfectly polished design’ was the argument put forth by Arsene Lippin’s leadership.

Do the Imperial ministers think of him as reckless? Hell yes. But the Emperor does not care as long as they provide, and that’s the only thing that matters.

It’s just that this philosophy clashed with the mentality of many Milishian people as Meteos said. The most prevalent example is the conductive magnetic radar that Arthur and his team at the Magic Technology System Development Facility iteratively developed based on Meteos’ invention. The government and military were initially ecstatic, but after discovering that the new technology didn’t perform as excellently as the mana detector, this is where scathing protests flooded in.

“Why are the curs at the Ancient Ministry giving us something as terrible as this!?”

…Which in turn worsened the perception that the MOASEC is overexaggerated in its supposed importance and is plotting to hoard more budget (as accused by the Treasury Minister Herodia). To them, taking too long to produce something useful and producing working but subpar equipment in rapid succession is the same sin. Fortunately, the introduction of the magic torpedoes, naval mine, and the U-boat much later dampened the protests to a degree.

Daguva cut in, “Hah, are you sure th—hm?”

Looking under the table, Daguva witnessed that Arthur’s boot had slammed on top of his own. Then he looked back and forth between Meteos and an empty plate in front of him.

“Are you sure… about what?”

“…that you don’t want to have some pasta?” Daguva quickly improvised. “This store makes something good, man!”

“…Oh. Haha, maybe later.”

Arthur glared at him, “…I don’t feel like eating right now.”

“Your loss, then, I’ll be back, wanna order seconds, or maybe thirds, hehe,” Daguva shrugged with a grin and walked away, not failing to notice a subtle smirk that Arthur gave him, while Meteos simply laughed it off.

‘Feh, that birdbrain, what’s wrong with giving a kid a dose of reality? What a jerk,’ he grumbled.

Meanwhile, the conversation between Arthur and Meteos continued.

“Actually, I felt sorry if the criticisms you received caused any inconvenience. As the one who started the whole thing, I guess I am also responsible for the whole thing…”

“Nonsense. You should not concern yourself over everything. Since it’s a decision made by us adults, it’s we who will handle the matter accordingly. As long as His Majesty the Emperor still approves the Ancient Ministry’s existence, it is safe to say that we can ignore what the others say about us.”

It’s similar to what the Star God Kagaseo told Meteos in his dream, he noted. Perhaps this is the privilege of being a kid.

“Wow, Mister Arkland, the adults are so awesome…” he teased.

The usually stoic Arthur’s gaze softened slightly at the comment, and as he awkwardly coughed to clear his throat, he inwardly had to admit that the bright smile this child had given him was infectious.

“Ahem… Promise that you don’t tell Robin… or worse, Daguva, about this…”

“Don’t worry!” Meteos assured, “But seriously? His Majesty’s approval is the only thing that matters? Nothing else?”

“I’m not joking. I mean, as the owner, it’s only natural that His Majesty is the one who gives the final decision whether to discard his property or not.”

“…Fair enough.”

Daguva soon returned and took his seat, followed by a waitress who brought a tray filled with three plates of pasta and a glass of iced tea.

“Let’s dig in!” the stag beetle beastman exclaimed enthusiastically and began picking on the menu with gusto.

Eyeing the spectacle with twitchy eyes, Arthur declared, “It’s every man for his own meal today.”

“What about Roguerider?” Daguva retorted, gesturing to the silverette.

“I said ‘man,’ Daguva. Not ‘boy,’ surely Roguerider is biologically not yet classified as a ‘man.’”

“…Feh, clever. What are you, a raven?”

“I’m a tanager,” corrected Arthur.

Well, from a biological perspective, he was not yet mature. But Meteos was glad that Arthur, his senior, is as snarky to his peers as he remembered. In addition, by doing this talk, he also started to have a better relationship with the agents than in his previous life. Things are doing well so far.

“Daguva, we’re leaving after you finished eating,” Arthur pointedly called out, to which Daguva answered with a simple grunt. Now that he had gathered the information he wanted, Arthur would like to smoke a bit before reporting to his superior when the time comes, but not in Meteos’ presence.

Fortunately, Daguva ate like a barbarian. The three plates full of pasta were devoured at a speed that was thought to be impossible for people. After paying the bill for themselves and Meteos, the two men bid farewell to the child.

…………

“Send my regards to Falkenhausen.”

Meteos, carrying a bag of treats that the green-haired agent bought him as well, smiled as he watched them enter Arthur’s car and drove away.

“Yes, Mister Arkland. I’m looking forward to working with you. Have a good day!”

“Hm.”

“See you later, kiddo!” Daguva grinned.

After the car disappeared from his sight, Meteos’ expression of well-practiced cordiality turned into a thin smile with a hint of wryness in it, brooding the visitors who have just shown up near his residence.

‘Hmm… I wonder… did I rattle the leaves enough to warrant more interest…?’

April ██, 1615 Central Calendar

█████ ██ ███ ████████

The time has come.

Clad in the full ceremonial garb, Arthur Arkland stood upright in the center of a spotlight that streamed down from above his head, while around him, the swirling shadows continued to conceal what was meant to be unseen. However, he was not alone in this place. Also standing under a similar illumination flanking Arthur were Robin and Daguva, and flanking them on the outer edge of each side were his other comrades. All were now silent, their faces were covered from the outside world by an expressionless barrier known as the mask, and their ceremonial uniforms, taking the form of hooded robes of varying colors and patterns, concealed their true forms.

Looming in front of them were the seven seats of the leadership to which Arthur, some among his colleagues, and some among the strangers that he didn’t even know swore to serve. Five of them were vacant, and the ones occupying the rest were clad in equally concealing garments. The two leaders present did not utter a single word within moments after Arthur finished the sequence of reports that the five standing ones gave them, but soon that silence will be broken when the one sitting directly to the left of the seat in the middle spoke. That was Sorath the Illuminator, Magister of the branch to which Arthur reports within this organization.

“We have listened to all your reports. Ashmodai and Flamberge, you may excuse yourselves.”

The distorted voices coming from Daguva and Robin’s figures echoed before they bowed and stepped back, with the spotlights illuminating their presence soon turned off and replaced by the darkness.

Sorath spoke again, “Gusion.”

“Yes, Magister,” came the addressed agent’s voice from Arthur’s left as they bowed.

“In response to Charun’s words of an unwanted tendril growing around Valiante, you are hereby assigned to head south and bolster the local cell. Do your utmost to unravel this undesirable filth as soon as possible.”

“I humbly accept this duty. We will depart as soon as we ready.”

Sorath made a gesture with her hand. “This time, we will not tolerate any more mishaps. The integrity of our great tree depends on the elimination of those who are unwanted in this land. Is that clear?”

“…Yes, Magister.”

“We will take your word for it. Go forth, Gusion. May the August Star light your way.”

Similar to before, this agent also bowed and left. Since Arthur was the last to report, he will have his turn after the agent to his right finished receiving instructions from the leaders. As he patiently waited, this time, the seated figure next to Sorath is the one who spoke after being silent for the duration of the meeting.

“Zarugin?”

“Yes, Magister…”

“Your assignment is canceled, you may leave.”

“……Eh?”

‘Hmmm…’

As Zarugin stood frozen with a slight jolt, the superior who had spoken tilted their head slightly.

“Hm? Did you not hear what I said?” they say with a tone of feigned innocence. The playful tone sent shivers down Zarugin’s spine, and their face underneath that mask contorted in confusion.

“M-Magister, I… I apologize… wasn’t earlier you said…?”

Zarugin’s superior chuckled softly, “Oh, my, why so nervous? There is a change in the plans. From now on, I will handle the assignment myself. Run along now, my dear, do whatever you want outside.”

“…! T-thank you very much, Magister, I humbly accept!”

That’s very lucky of Zarugin, as their direct superior basically freed them from the ever-present assignment of this organization until further notice, Arthur thought silently. But the question remains as to why would a Magister bother to do their subordinate’s chore, which Sorath also wondered. Now, Arthur was the only subordinate left.

“What is your play, Magister Enepsigos?” Sorath turned to them curiously.

Enepsigos, the name of the Magister who had decided to take over Zarugin’s assignment, crossed their legs and shifted in their seat. Even when concealed, their being emanated an air of confidence. After a brief pause, Enepsigos began to speak with a calm yet persuasive tone.

“Well, Magister Sorath, I have reconsidered the assignment that I was about to give to Zarugin. It is a task that demands delicacy and finesse, qualities that I believe I possess more than my dearest subordinates. Besides, it has been a while since I ventured outside the walls. A change of scenery might do me so good.”

Sorath shook their head.

“I doubt that such a trivial excuse is your true reason, Magister Enepsigos, but let us finish this meeting before moving on to that.”

Finally, Sorath turned to directly address Arthur himself.

“Byleth.”

“Magister,” Arthur bowed slightly in acknowledgment.

“As for you, after working with him for a while, I want you to give us your assessment of Ashmodai’s character.”

Sighing, Arthur proceeded with his verbal report. He will not say that Ashmodai, or Go-Daguva-Zeba, is a loose cannon that was inducted here only because of Magister Eblis the Summoner’s favoritism, unlike the genuinely useful Flamberge. He has other ways to describe just how obstructive he is in the workings of this organization.

“Magisters, I must report that my assessment of Agent Ashmodai leans towards a negative evaluation. First of all, Ashmodai has been prone to violence most of the time and displays a lack of professionalism and maturity. His demeanor is often boisterous and impulsive, bordering on reckless, even. He exhibits an attitude that prevents others from forming a bond with him and vice versa. In conclusion, my assessment of Ashmodai’s character is unfavorable. I am concerned about his suitability for the role within our Order, therefore I recommend further evaluation and corrective measures to address his issues and determine whether Ashmodai is capable of fulfilling the expectations of his position.”

Silence.

While Enepsigos leaned back in their chair, Sorath crossed her arms with an indescribable tone of voice.

“Byleth… do you harbor any resentment on how Ashmodai was inducted into the Order?”

“No, Magister. I do not care about how someone is inducted into the Order as long as they can maintain their behavior and perform their duties seriously.”

Sorath nodded slowly. “Very well, Byleth. I have heard of your less-than-favorable assessment of Ashmodai. However, casting him away is not the way our Order works. He should be guided toward a more desirable path, and I believe you, being the one who knows him so well, can guide Ashmodai towards becoming a respected member of the Order.”

‘Ah, shit.’

Arthur dreaded Magister Sorath’s next words. As someone who desires a peaceful life, he never wanted to throw his lot with the crazy. What is this turn of fate, he lamented.

“…Please, Magister, I am not worthy,” Arthur bowed.

“Hmm… is that so?” Sorath leaned back in her chair. “But judging from your report much earlier, it seems that Ashmodai’s behavior mellows in the presence of a child. And coincidentally, we have the Person of Interest. I believe that by assigning Ashmodai to work with you more often, specifically in the company of this child, we might be able to guide him towards a path of greater responsibility and maturity.”

Arthur’s choked slightly at the mention of the Person of Interest. It was true that Daguva had shown a slightly softer side when interacting with the child. Does Magister Sorath really see a glimmer of hope in that approach?

Daguva’s ironic words about Sorath’s ability in judging a character resurfaced briefly within his mind.

Enepsigos turned to Sorath, “Magister Sorath, don’t you think it’s only natural that the Order should increase the protection and support over the Person of Interest, now that his importance grows stronger day by day?”

“Yes… That’s right. Byleth, your next assignment will pass over two mountains in a single gallop, give a deep thought about it.”

“Y-yes, Magister.”

“Now, as for your next long-term assignment. Byleth, Ashmodai, and Flamberge. Convey to the other two that you are hereby ordered to get close to the Person of Interest and protect him from harm at any cost, and if there are any, eliminate them with impunity. Is this order clear?”

Arthur bowed, accepting his new assignment. Deep down, he felt resentment, but at the same time, this is his duty.

To ensure the Person of Interest’s well-being while benefiting from his works, the Order was subscribing to the concept of enlightened self-interest.

“As you command, Magister. We will do everything to ensure that not even a hair of danger gets close to the child.”

“As you should. May the August Star light your way, Byleth. Dismissed.”

With those parting words, Sorath signaled the end of the meeting. Arthur bowed respectfully once more before turning to leave the chamber, disappearing into the darkness with new thoughts about how to approach this new mission and role. In the meeting place, with only Sorath and Enepsigos remaining, they then continued their planned talk as the former regarded the latter with what could possibly be a scrutinizing look.

“So, Magister Enepsigos, are you going to tell me the real reason why you decided to take over your subordinate’s assignment?” she asked.

“Ahahaha… Magister Sorath. Well, do you still remember the Cult White Incident eighteen years ago?”

“How could I not? The Grand Magister himself ordered that this incident should not be known to the outside world for all eternity.”

“Indeed, Magister Sorath. The Cult White Incident is a stain upon our history that we have worked tirelessly to conceal. But as the years pass, fragments of that incident might resurface. It is our duty to ensure that every trace of that incident stays buried, or if the push comes to shove, eradicate it thoroughly.”

Sorath’s eyes narrowed under her mask. “I hope we will never come to that conclusion.”

“Only the filthiest of a devil wants that, Magister Sorath.”

“…When will you leave?”

“As soon as possible. I will be in touch with my contacts there after leaving this place.”

Currently Publicly Available Information

EMOR KINGDOM

A country located in the Promised Place, a region in the central First Civilization Area, and the third strongest country in the known world. Even though Emor only has a population of about one million, they were given the title of “superpower” due to the characteristics of the dragonoids who constitute the sole race that inhabits this country. It is bordered to the north by the Revizuela Kingdom, to the east by the Matrintis and Meerky Kingdoms, to the west by the Torkia Kingdom, and to the south by the Holy Milishial Empire.