The gray-colored sheet was slowly pulled away, enveloping Walman Falkenhausen with a palpable sense of anticipation. His eyes, already gleaming with awe from being surrounded by a treasure trove of ancient weaponry, now sparkled with the wonder of a child on his birthday. His best friend Meteos gave him a playful nudge, but it failed to divert his attention. Every ounce of his focus was fixated solely on the hidden artifact beneath that draping. And as the final corner of the cloth was removed, a gasp of astonishment escaped Walman's lips. Before him was the primary relic housed within the confines of this warehouse.

Perched on a pedestal, the relic before Walman was immediately discernible as a ranged weapon—a Spirit-type magic gun, to be precise. Its angular barrel stretched to approximately two and a half meters, split from around three-quarters up and down. However, what slightly confused him was the absence of the familiar holes that were usually there near the muzzle. Since this is an ancient relic, those holes must be something that the modern Milishians invented to make it work, somehow.

Moreover, a lot of parts also seemed to be not there, leaving the relic practically consisting of just a barrel and its oddly shaped breech. Yet, even in its partially dismantled state, its construction displayed an unmistakable sophistication surpassing any Spirit-type magic guns Walman had previously seen. Its blackish-blue color exuded an ethereal metallic sheen and even emitted a faint scent that whispered to his senses that this gun represented an advanced piece of technology.

Before anyone else had anything to say, Meteos standing beside him blurted words that seemed to convey his first impression: "It's small. That has to be around thirty-eight millimeters."

Emre Senturya could understand young Walman's amazement, with not many rookies their age running around in this place and getting to experience this rare chance, but Meteos' technically proficient but rather unenthusiastic reaction still weirded him out. The creepy kid can't just let him bask in the admiration that the Ground Facility crewmen not-so-secretly craved and ruined the mood that has been built up to introduce this relic.

Suppressing an urge to sigh, the blonde man corrected him with a slight tone of irritation, "It's thirty-eight-point-one millimeter. Why such a strange caliber, you may ask? That's because the Ancient Sorcerous Empire used a different measurement unit than us, which makes this gun 1,5 nuge in their system. But bullets are bullets, anyway, right?"

"Ah," Meteos smiled and nodded. "So this ancient relic still shoots solid projectiles, then?"

"Hm? Oh... yeah, it is," Emre blinked. "You're expecting it to be some sort of magic beam gun that fires death rays or something?"

The boy shrugged and gave him a 'so-so' gesture with his right hand. "It will be more exciting if it's true."

As a matter of fact, there are indeed magical spells in this mortal realm that match that description. In the tumultuous wars of the previous timeline, native, Annonrial, and Ravernal forces have used magic beams as a particularly deadly means of killing the enemy. Often shrouded in secrecy, it mainly served as an unexpected trump card against unsuspecting enemies. Delving even deeper into history, the ancient Dragon Sorcery War between the Ravernal Empire and Infidragoon also witnessed beams of lights traversing the battlefield, striking both sides with impunity.

This Object right here might be just a rapid-firing projectile gun, but its larger and even more advanced Malakhian ancestor on planet Attarsamain was capable of firing such bullets at a rate of fire so astonishingly rapid that it appeared as part of a single light beam—D'oh!

Hold on.

Meteos paused amidst his pondering, his blue eyes widening with astonishment.

'...How did I know that? Whose memories are those?'

Malakh was the name of the Ravernal Empire's ancestor civilization, hailed from a technologically advanced world that fell victim to the Civilization Annihilation Game before Shamash the Deceiver (Amaterasu) envisioned the Nihonkoku Shoukan storyline. As much as Meteos is well-versed in all things Ravernal Empire-related, he knows nothing about Malakh other than the vision he witnessed with the rebellious and whimsical Star God Kagaseo during that peculiar dream. Yet, this information now flowed to him seamlessly, akin to a buried memory that required an appropriate catalyst to resurface—unlike the past life memories that flooded him during his reincarnation, where he was knocked out with a high fever on his fifth birthday. There are other parts that he can vaguely recall, but the ones related to the Object in front of him were the clearest at this very moment.

Swiftly regaining his composure after reeling from this realization, Meteos tried to rationalize how he had come to possess knowledge he was not meant to have. Taking a deep breath, his thoughts raced to piece together this unexpected information. It was a puzzling revelation, one that couldn't be dismissed lightly.

'...It must be another one of Kagaseo's doing. Considering the Game that he wanted to defeat might turn beyond prediction, could it be that he wanted me to be as prepared as possible in case it's not Japan nor Gra Valkas that will appear in the future? Is that it?'

A contingency plan, or possibly compensation in case Kagaseo fails in destroying the Civilization Annihilation Game and entities far worse than the previous timeline will be summoned in their place. A deus ex machina like this didn't seem too far-fetched for a god with Kagaseo's personality to pull off, and somehow, he could feel Kagaseo laughing in whatever divine realm that he was residing with Astarte knowing not a few higher beings he had just infuriated while he took care of things on his part, culling their numbers while they were raging at his 'unrealistic' deeds and 'incoherent storytelling.'

And there's the matter of Astarte. Malakh's civilization dwarfs even the technological advancements of the Ravernal Empire and 22nd-century Japan, though the Desire Driver technology his soul once used in purgatory to fight for his right to reincarnate didn't seem to originate from their civilization. Uplifting his environment using their knowledge being added to his memories of the future might have a more profound effect in helping alleviate the slumbering goddess' suffering.

After being forced to survive the beating of a god, being given a number of siblings and being made to inherit the memories of Malakh civilization was quite something that Meteos could get behind, and he was especially reveling in the wealth of memories he had recently unlocked. Of course, there would be more side quests to undertake, and some adjustments to be made along the way.

A deus ex machina device is often lambasted as being too convenient in a narrative, but isn't that Kagaseo's point? To spite of the Civilization Annihilation Game and their audience who see the lives of mortal beings as their circus animals.

To rebel.

'Alright, then...' Meteos concluded his epiphany with a conspiratorial grin. "Up!"

'What's the shit this creepy child up to now...' Emre narrowed his eyes, noticing the outburst and those cerulean orbs turning to look at him with a mysterious glint.

"Mister Senturya, I was wondering about something..."

"Hm?"

"...Can I take some notes about this relic?"

Emre felt his body tensing at that innocent inquiry and eyed Meteos with a hint of suspicion. The relic before them was an Object that was supposed to be one level above Meteos and Walman's security clearance level. While he respected the boy's curiosity and desire to learn, the blonde man couldn't simply allow him to take notes on something sensitive. Inwardly, he wondered when their superiors had become so whimsical as to make complicated arrangements such as these.

"...You want to take notes," Emre repeated with a flat tone.

"Yes, may I?"

"Where's your book and stationery, then?"

Still maintaining his expression, Meteos pulled a new notebook and a pencil from his jacket's inner pocket.

"I always carry a couple of these around, just in case if I need to write something."

''Just in case,' he says... holy shit.'

Emre let out a sigh and rubbed his temples. After a moment's contemplation, however, he made a decision. "...I need to consult my superiors about this first. It won't be long."

Seeing the boy nod in understanding, Emre quickly left the warehouse to contact his boss through a manacom, leaving the supervision to Arthur and Robin. As for Meteos, he then turned to the Object on the pedestal and used the newly unlocked memories to draw a clearer picture within his mind. As he continued to study the relic with his eyes, the sound of approaching footsteps diverted his attention to Robin who wore a thoughtful expression on her face.

"What do you think, Teacher? Do you think the superiors will grant my request this time?"

Robin shrugged, "Who knows... that's a rather tall order, to be honest. But now that we've come this far, even if the superiors decline your request, I will do my best to vouch for you."

"You will?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Thank you, that means a lot."

Robin then leaned in slightly, her voice lowered as she whispered to him with a cheeky grin, "But if the upper management knows what's best for them, they will let you do it, as long as you follow the rules."

"I see," the silver-haired apprentice let out an amused scoff. Even the rules themselves can be bent to suit the interests of the people in charge, speaking from his experience. That was why he was so confident with his requests.

Emre returned not long after with verbal confirmation from his boss, and then it was on.

…………

12:32

Returning to his own office makes no difference as retreating somewhere underground for Andreas Birkburn, given his actual position as the chief of the MOASEC's Ancient Arms Analysis Tactical Operations Department. Located deep within a hidden complex, Birkburn's office had no windows and was just slightly more extravagant than his section chiefs' office rooms. He had grown accustomed to the secrecy and solitude that his role demanded, orchestrating intricate schemes to protect the Ancient Ministry's interests.

As he was carrying out his duties, developing a proposal that he just devised to Director Arsene Lippin for a collaborative research venture among the four facilities of the Ancient Ministry, the magical lamps that had illuminated his workspace began to flicker erratically. Their once steady and reassuring glow faltered, casting strange, uneven shadows across the room. In response to this unsettling scene, Birkburn calmly paused his work, momentarily diverting his attention from the mountain of documents around him. He then neatly folded his arms atop his desk as if he were waiting for someone's arrival, while the lamps soon sputtered and extinguished themselves, plunging the office room into darkness.

"........."

When the lights turned back on themselves, their glow revealed a figure standing before Birkburn's desk, emerging seemingly from thin air. This individual concealed their identity behind a featureless black mask and a garment that blended elements of contemporary fashion with the regality of a Mysidian noble. Beneath their red and gold robe, they wore a sleek long-sleeved black collared shirt, matched with trousers, boots, and gloves. The eerie red glow emanating from the mask's eyes fixed upon Birkburn, who remained seated in his chair, utterly unruffled by the ominous presence. In fact, Birkburn welcomed the mysterious visitor with a warm, cordial smile and a polite greeting.

"Good afternoon, Magister Sorath."

"Whatever do you mean by that? Do you mean to wish me a good afternoon or do you mean that it is a good afternoon whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular afternoon? Or are you simply stating that this is an afternoon to be good on?"

Birkburn chuckled, "All of them at once, maybe. But for Magister Sorath the Illuminator herself to appear in this place, what can I possibly help you with?"

"That remains to be seen," Sorath's modulated voice conveyed no emotion. "However, it has come to my attention through Aym that the Person of Interest, our child Meteos Roguerider and his friend Walman Falkenhausen, have been granted permission to document a Clearance Level 3 Object despite themselves only possessing a Clearance Level 2... Is this a part of your schemes?"

Leaning back in his chair, Birkburn's fingers steepled beneath his chin and the auburn-haired man gave Sorath a carefree grin. "Indeed, it is. A calculated risk, you might say. First, I wanted to gauge where Young Roguerider's true worth lies, and second, I wanted to determine if his talent could be used to expedite matters relating to the Ancient Sorcerous Empire. Magister Sorath, as a long-lived person yourself, when was the last time you encountered someone as young, yet so talented as him?"

Sorath crossed her arms, deciding that Birkburn's question was a rhetorical one before asserting her opinion. "What's next? I have seen that the Left Arm has been confident in their assessment of Young Roguerider, and I can see what are you going to do next... 'Magister Eblis the Summoner.'"

"Ahaha, you got me."

"........."

If the Holy Milishial Empire is likened to a great tree, then the organization that these two individuals belonged to is the unseen one that supports it from the depths of the earth as its foundations... the "Order of the Ancients."

Initially established as a scholarly group during the era of Emperor Astra (Milishial II), their primary purpose was to contemplate, study, and unlock the mysteries of the relics left behind by the Ancient Sorcerous Empire. It can be said that they were the precursors of the Ministry of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire Countermeasures. However, while the MOASEC became its own organization in the future, the Order evolved to encompass a broader vision, and during the chaotic Warring Kingdoms Period, the Order finally decided what it wanted to do in this world. Yearning for unity and order in the fractured Middle Lands, they set their sights on establishing a harmonious and enlightened state. Their goal was to create a society where violence would be eradicated, and the people could collectively progress toward a rational and developed civilization in preparation for the arrival of the true enemy of all sentient beings.

To bring their vision to fruition, the Order embarked on a quest to find a leader capable of embodying their ideals and principles. They sought a wise and philosophical leader who would guide the new civilization toward a future built by the people and for the people. In their search, the Order gradually came to support a young and seemingly uncouth town elf who would later defy all expectations and stand on top of a unified Middle Lands. The strongest empire in the known world was built upon hopes and dreams, riding on a vision of a world that was laughed and mocked at so many times, yet they emerged victorious in the end.

Within the Order itself, its organization was divided into six branches that operate autonomously, yet collaborate and synergize their efforts to fulfill the collective's overall vision, each led by an individual called the Magister: 'the Eyes,' 'the Voice,' 'the Vein,' 'the Left Arm,' 'the Right Arm,' and 'the Heart,' with the seventh leading position occupied by the Emperor himself as the Grand Magister of the Order. Under Milishial VIII's rule, the Order served both as a secret agency directly under the Emperor and as an extension of himself to get in touch with the people he ruled over in a manner that is more intimate compared to the government, with its members worked to shape the Holy Empire's direction and policies, influencing the society from the shadows.

"The time of trial is almost finished, Magister Sorath... and the Left Arm wants him to join our side."

Now that he stated his intentions, Birkburn, also known as Eblis the Summoner, Magister of the Left Arm within the Order, stared at Sorath, waiting for her reaction.

"...Only him?"

"Well, if Young Roguerider's friend Walman Falkenhausen turned out to be just coasting on the Person of Interest's achievements, then he's not worth recruiting."

Sorath bristled, visibly upset at that flippant remark, "...I wish you a week in hell for that. Those two are practically inseparable, how could you take one of them away and subject both to suffering like that...?"

"A week in hell might be a much-needed reprieve," Birkburn replied with a wry smile. "Whether it will come to pass remains to be seen, but I do sincerely hope for the best for Young Falkenhausen as well. With proper guidance, he will go places."

"I will remember your callous words, Magister Eblis," the masked woman grunted. "You better make sure that they will succeed together... or I will have your head."

Birkburn chortled. "One more thing, Magister Sorath. If you care about them so much, perhaps you should go out and meet them in person for once instead of relying solely on your subordinates' reports."

"...I will think about it."

"Sure. Meanwhile, I will deal with the aftermath of my decision."

For a moment, Sorath was silent with her head held down, but she immediately snapped to attention and swiped her left hand while her entire being dissolved into bluish-white magic particles that quickly disappeared into the air.

Now alone in the office, Birkburn sighed and allowed his tense muscles to relax.

The real Sorath was never there. Long-lived races with high mana reserves like her are capable of using an advanced Astral Projection Magic spell to project images of themselves and communicate with others from a long distance as if they were there. Depending on the person's proficiency, the projected images can range from distorting and flickering silhouettes with altered voices or a perfect replication of one's own appearance and voice like what Sorath just did. However, with the advent of the Manadriver and the advancement in magical technology, even Astral Projection Magic spells are destined to be streamlined and available to the masses in the future.

However, a new headache came to Birkburn following that exchange.

"Acting as a bad guy sucks. Why it has to be me? I don't want to be a bad guy anymore..." he groaned as he slumped in his chair.

Birkburn's earlier attitude was part of a larger scheme that had little to do with Meteos Roguerider or Walman Falkenhausen. In fact, the one being referred to when he mentioned the 'time of trial' was none other than Sorath herself, the newest and most inexperienced of the seven leaders who led the Order of the Ancients. Birkburn's seemingly cavalier manner and his bluster to take only Meteos under consideration were all part of a test. With Meteos Roguerider and Walman Falkenhausen's rapid rise coinciding with the time of trial, Eblis (Birkburn) merely used the circumstances around them to give Sorath a final test to see her compassion. How far she will stand up against injustice and question his actions?

Her appalled response and her declaration to ensure that both children succeed together were a good start, but as part of the trial, Sorath is expected to interfere with the scenario that will be laid out by the Order. As the caretaker of the Great Tree, a Magister of the Order, after all, must be able to stand up and fight for what they believe in, even if they were to stand alone.

That's good and he was proud of Sorath, but Birkburn's psyche was already preoccupied with not feeling guilty with manipulating the accession of the current MOASEC director's seat to earn another person's enmity. Even more so considering the face behind Magister Sorath the Illuminator's mask.

He can't even try to take a nap since his subordinates from the MOASEC's secret department will come and give him updates on various ongoing operations.

Birkburn needed that one week in hell, badly.

…………

Meanwhile

MOASEC, Ground System Development Facility

"...What are you seeing is one of the bases for all modern Spirit magic cannons in the Holy Empire, the Object 119 or 1,5Nu Origin Spirit Magic Cannon. You all know about Spirit-type magic guns, right?"

"Yes, of course! It's a type of gun that fires the ammunition using the systems within the gun itself instead of being assisted by shell charges," Walman answered with enthusiasm.

"So, you already covered the basics, good. Spirit-type magic cannons in our country come in various calibers, but the smallest is 57 millimeters. Now do you know the reason why?"

Walman briefly glanced over at Meteos, who was intensely writing in his notebook while crouching near the pedestal, joined by an enthusiastic Robin and an impressed Arthur. The upper management had given him permission to take notes of the relic, with the condition that he would need to submit those notes to the Ground System Development Facility first once their tour concluded, akin to a school assignment.

With him being too preoccupied, Walman just shrugged before answering, "Because our capabilities at present are not advanced enough to completely copy this relic, I guess?"

Spirit-type magic cannons are valued for their ability to modify the properties of the projectiles they fired, doing away with multiple types of shells seen in their mechanical rival, the Kingdom of Mu. However, as a general rule regarding the Ancient Sorcerous Empire-based technology, in order to make a device more efficient in terms of mana usage, one must make it bigger where there will be more room to place magic circuits that can complete a spell's sequence without being aided by external factors. The 343 mm (13,5Nu) Spirit magic cannons used by the Imperial Navy's cutting-edge battleships and heavy artillery in general are able to work in a similar way as its Ravernal basis because they are large, allowing the placement of many magic circuits that can support the operation of such mechanisms. The problem is, when the Milishians try to replicate the ancient smaller guns that use the same mechanism with their capabilities... they can't. Even more so with the fact that the smaller a Spirit-type magic gun, the more cumbersome its support will be.

But their desire to possess such guns was so immense that their stubbornness ended up devising a roundabout way of using them. One thing led to another, and they came up with the inconvenience of packaging a projectile and a propellant within a metallic case which is struck by an enchanter to ignite it and launch the bullet, thus giving birth to a type of firearm dubbed "magic light guns" for calibers smaller than 57 mm.

"That's obvious, at least you're not wrong," Emre deadpanned at Walman. "We suspected that this origin Object might be a rapid-fire weapon. Nevertheless, it's already bad enough that the Imperial Army has to prepare fuel trucks to make their Spirit magic cannons work, so they decided to ditch the notion of something that belong to the awesome but impractical category like that. For now," he uttered those last two words while eyeing Meteos' own activities. It seemed that the Ground Facility crewmen would be eating good today. And holy shit is that a second notebook that he pulled out of his jacket?

"........."

"When looked from this closely, this gun seems to use a metal I've never seen before, what is this made of?" inquired Meteos amidst his writing, putting up the act. Material is also one of the factors that made this particular origin Object so mythical in the eyes of the Milishians; a so-called "wonder weapon."

"Yeah, well... we have no idea of what it is."

Emre without hesitation answered with utter honesty.

"We only know that it is a kind of alloy and... oh, hey Arthur, you're the right guy to explain this stuff, what's your take, mate?"

Upon being addressed and all eyes turned on him, Arthur Arkland, the Magic Technology System Development Facility technician who was watching quietly, crossed his arms and spoke.

"Hn. Our past analysis discovered that this alloy triumphed over every other material known to us in terms of heat resistance, cold resistance, damage resistance, strength, mana conductivity, and other properties. It is also lightweight; you may think that this Object in its current state weighs at least one hundred kilograms or so but no, it's just 63 kilograms."

"A material stronger than even orichalcum and adamantine?" Walman wondered. Those two metals are often championed as the strongest metals in the known world, but an amazing thing even stronger than those actually existed, much to his astonishment.

"Yep, we designated this alloy as Object 120 and usually called it 'deochalcum,'" Emre added.

"Ah, deochalcum, from where did that name come from?"

"...Never mind that. It's not an official name, anyway. What's more important is that this origin Object is truly a kind! We also unearthed a number of Spirit magic cannons made of metals like mithril and the like all around the country, but every other specimen is damaged except for this one gun. Crazy, right?"

Inching closer and grabbing Walman by his shoulder, Emre's tone turned to become more mysterious.

"Makes you wonder how much punishment a small thing like this can take, didn't you? What manner of magic was used in its construction to make even being exposed to the elements for many millennia didn't do anything to blemish its mystical beauty? Hmm?"

Walman nodded frantically, "Y-yeah! Magic is wonderful, isn't it?"

"Why, yes. Of course, it's wonderful. Here we have a motto, you know. 'If you can't use magic to do whatever you want, then you're doing it wrong.'"

"Really?"

"But here's the thing, rookie. Do not take those words at face value. That is not a permission to be free, but a warning for us to be wise."

At that point, Walman very much understood. It's quite similar in how to interpret it with the phrase Meteos once said, that "Nothing is true; everything is permitted."

Contrary to popular foreign belief, just like knowledge, there is no magic too sacred to be learned in the Holy Empire, but when the pursuit of magic leads one to cast away what makes them human, then that individual is a Light-Winged Devil in all but name.

"Ooh, I'll think about it..." Walman swallowed nervously, but still took those words to heart.

"Anyway, Mister Senturya," Meteos called out from the side, "This gun seems to look fine, have you ever tried firing it?"

"Aha! The answer to that is no. We mostly used this origin Object as a reference and comparison material to the other ancient Spirit magic cannons that we found so that we could make our own. We only took apart and reassembled it once we learned something new, and at most, we removed the magic circuit arrays from the mechanism to study."

Having used up the last page of his notebook and ran out of ink for his pen, Meteos closed it with a snap and stood up.

"I see... well, I actually agree with your theory that this is probably a rapid-fire weapon. I've drawn a hypothetical drawing of a complete Object 119 in this notebook. Here, if you'd like to see."

With a raised eyebrow, the three others huddled near Emre as he received the notebook, still emanating the scent of fresh ink, and began to flip through its pages.

"Slap me thrice and return me to my momma..." the blonde blurted with twitching eyebrows. "...I see a belt-feeding mechanism and a coolant tank is listed here as optional."

"Yes, I admit that I incorporated elements from magic light cannons and the GP-01 we've been working to speculate on the design. That's why my guess is that the Object 119 must be a cannon equipped on a Heavenly Vessel or an anti-air gun."

"Not bad," Emre harrumphed, hiding his admiration for the meticulous details the notebook displayed.

Meteos couldn't possibly reveal what exactly the weapon platform that was once equipped with Object 119 when said relic is categorized at an even higher Clearance Level at present. Nevertheless, this weapon was really belt-fed and demonstrated formidable firepower when deployed against the native hordes during the Ancient Sorcerous Empire's rampage. Moreover, this weapon is also really unique among the ancient relics. It was forged from a special alloy known as 'deochalcum,' or 'Rodanite' as termed by the Ravernals. This alloy was invented by combining the metals native to Meteos' world with those originating from Attarsamain, the doomed ancestral home of the Ravernal Empire upon their arrival in this world.

In essence, this object was an ultra-rare find for the Milishians, considering that even the Ravernal Empire itself, severed from its homeworld, resorted to dismantling useless structures in Latistor to obtain the Attarsamain metal. The invention of Rodanite transpired during the chaos following the transference and a significant technological regression. Eventually, as the supply of rodanite dwindled, the Ravernals had no choice but to use lower-grade alloys native to this planet like adamantine and orichalcum.

While checking on more new memories that surfaced when thinking about rodanite, Meteos was shocked. A lost technology for the Ravernal Empire, the Malakhian magical technology at its peak even allows one to transmute substances, so now that Meteos also possesses an understanding of the atomic structure of that Attarsamain metal, it's possible to produce it on this planet once the supporting infrastructure is available. A Desire Driver as an energy cell might be capable of producing enough energy to break down the structure of a material, and a sufficiently advanced Manadriver can be used to control the process... if he can somehow combine the functions of a Desire Driver and Manadriver into one, then he can—

"I-I think I'm going to faint from sheer joy," he murmured. His heart rate spiked, and as he ran a trembling hand through his silvery locks, he found it damp with sweat. Even now, he was suppressing a wide grin that threatened to split his face in two. Meteos thus decided that when they got home, the first thing he would do was to get a stack of papers and fill them all with theories.

For him, this is happiness.

"Miss Robin, can you remind me to take a rest tonight? I think I will be unable to help myself again, heh, heh, heh."

"Cheeky brat," Robin playfully ruffled his hair before recoiling when feeling the unusual sensation. "Eww! You're sweaty! ...Ecstatic much, kid?"

"Serves you right, Teacher," Meteos laughed, his cerulean eyes gleaming even brighter than before.

When the first day's inspection tour ended and all parties concerned reported to their respective superiors, Meteos submitted his notes—four of them—to the Ground System Development Facility as agreed, but he still went home with more knowledge than before he arrived.

…………

Night of the same day

The crimson-robed figure of Sorath the Illuminator traversed through a dark tunnel, accompanied only by soft white magic particles that coalesced around her index finger to light the way. Underneath that mask, the woman was filled with worry about the path the Order of the Ancients was taking, especially when it came to the treatment of those two young talents. In her mind, she replayed her confrontation with Eblis the Summoner. Her subordinate Flamberge who was assigned as their guardian often spoke fondly about how they always be kind and helpful to each other, making the cold and calculating way Eblis had spoken about seeing only the usefulness in Meteos and leaving his close friend Walman behind should he is unable to catch up stoked the flames of indignation within Sorath's being.

Unaware that the entire thing was merely a test for her, Sorath decided that she had to do something if the Order refused to make an effort to nurture them fairly. She was still unsure about their induction into the Order given their tender age, but if both of them cannot be accepted at the same time, then it's better to not do it at all. The Order of the Ancient has a myriad of ways to support their allies from behind the shadows.

After arriving at her residence using the secret passage and redressing into her public persona, the woman behind Sorath's mask concluded her activities for the day with such concerns in mind.

RECAP

As the new timeline enters the early May 1615 Central Calendar, the reincarnated Meteos Roguerider manages to catch the attention of two powerful organizations within the Holy Milishial Empire.

The first is the Ministry of Ancient Sorcerous Empire Countermeasures (MOASEC). Recognizing his extraordinary talent in proportion to his age, it led the MOASEC to designate him as a "Person of Interest" and do everything in their power to secure their cooperation before anyone else could. While initially viewed as a strange, if not outright retarded move, their gambit nevertheless paid off greatly with the burst of advancement that gradually breaks the stagnation that is prevalent prior to the pair's inclusion. Meanwhile, Meteos acquired the greatest possible backing and political power within the Holy Milishial Empire to push for his long-term agenda of uplifting the Holy Milishial Empire.

The second, which happens in an indirect manner, is the Order of the Ancients, an even more powerful clandestine collective from which the MOASEC's predecessor originates. In particular, Meteos has drawn the attention of Magister Eblis the Summoner, also known as Andreas Birkburn who occupies an important seat within the MOASEC, and through him, Magister Sorath the Illuminator. Some of Sorath's subordinates within the Order (Flamberge, Byleth, and Ashmodai) doubles as Birkburn's agents who officially work at the MOASEC, where cooperation between the two entities enables the information about Meteos reach the Order in a relatively short time. Although Meteos himself never directly mentions the Order, he did wonder if his actions 'rattle the leaves enough to warrant more interest.'

Despite the shared interest, however, Eblis and Sorath have a clashing view regarding how to handle this pair of children... except not really.