June 1615 Central Calendar

Hecate Anor, Valahia Province, Holy Milishial Empire

When the time has come to leave the opulent comfort provided by a behemoth of a passenger liner that had carried him and his entourage through the Silberian Sea since the last week, a certain old man felt almost reluctant to step outside. Nevertheless, duty called, so he reluctantly swung his gaunt legs and led his delegation down the ramp onto the solid concrete surface of their destination’s harbor. Waiting there was a reception committee with the city skyline as a backdrop, ready to greet both his entourage and the delegation from their ‘volatile’ neighbor up north.

Speaking of which, the long-standing tension between the two parties had kept their interactions to a minimum, despite the fact that they had literally shared the same ship throughout the entire voyage. The theme of ‘contrasts,’ which had always characterized the relationship between the two sides, now became even more pronounced as they stood side by side on their host’s land. Even in terms of appearance, the old man and his men’s traditional attire dominated by teal and turquoise colors clashed starkly with the militaristic crimson uniforms of their counterparts from beyond the Strait.

Strong versus weak, continental versus islander, civilized versus barbarian, a superpower against a nobody.

For the elder, he had never once imagined in his lifetime that he would be in a position to bring a giant to a negotiating table where they could meet as somewhat equals. Granted, in reality, his country operated more as an instrument of a greater will that set things in motion. What he wouldn’t give to obtain the power to make such a move by themselves.

Standing before them was the chief representative of their host, a tall man impeccably attired in a renowned dark blue outfit adorned with golden trimmings. He greeted them with an air of self-assuredness that left the elderly man with a sense of déjà vu, reminiscent of a certain ambassador from the same country with whom he was more familiar with. The commanding presence of this man seemed perfectly suited for the occasion, especially if the country he was representing was the said ‘greater’ will capable of taming even the rampaging Dragon of Philades.

“Esteemed delegations of the Parpaldia Empire and the Altaras Kingdom… On behalf of His Majesty the Emperor, we warmly welcome you into our Holy Empire,” the Milishian representative announced in a proper manner, his voice loud and clear amidst the clamoring of the media personnel gathering to capture this moment. “My name is Eanasir Azarzade, Secretary of Eastern International Affairs of the Holy Milishial Empire’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and I have the honor of representing our country. We are truly delighted to have you all here for the upcoming talks…!”

Stepping forward after the Milishian man finished speaking, the one leading the crimson-uniformed group placed his clasped right hand in front of his chest and bowed appropriately in greeting.

“I am Arjen Antonius van Dalsen, Director of the Parpaldia Empire’s First Foreign Affairs Bureau and the leader of my country’s delegation. Thank you for accommodating this great endeavor. I hope that this will be a significant step forward in our relations.”

“I am the Foreign Minister of the Altaras Kingdom, Hisham ibn Zahir. Lord Secretary, first of all, we would like to express our gratitude to your country for accepting our invitation to this negotiation.”

“Of course, gentlemen. Considering that it is in our collective best interest to promote stability in the region, I hope that here we will be able to achieve for ourselves something that we did our utmost to achieve… long-lasting prosperity. Let us hope that these negotiations will bear fruitful results for all parties involved!”

Though delivered with a boisterous smile, something about the words from this seemingly affable diplomat sent an unsettling chill down the elderly Hisham’s spine. There was also an ominous gleam in his eyes that made his skin crawl. Drawing further parallels to that ambassador, he couldn’t help but wonder if all Milishian diplomats were required to be snakes that conceal their arrogance and intimidation behind a mask of charm like these men. When he cast a sidelong glance at the Parpaldian delegation leader as they were ushered to the waiting horseless magical carriages known as ‘cars’ that would bring them to their respective lodgings, Hisham also noticed that the thickly mustached younger man wore a stern expression, likely masking a similar sense of unease.

Everlasting Glory. Expeditious Comfort. Enduring Freedom.

With such prospects, the two countries that seemed impossible to reconcile with each other were now compelled—or forced, for those who prefer cruder terminology—by the Holy Milishial Empire’s powerful intrusion into their regional affairs to settle their grievances or else they would be left behind. Thus, despite the ensuing fanfare, the Inter-Strait Trilateral Conference loomed over the visitors like a gathering storm that would determine the paths laid for both the Parpaldia Empire and the Altaras Kingdom.

❖⟐❖⟐❖

“This proposal is unacceptable.”

‘Well, so much for Altaras’ ‘older brother nation.’’

As the first plenary session commenced at June 7, Hisham had a premonition that it would become one of the dramas of his time. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but commend the composure displayed by the Parpaldian delegation leader when expressing their objections to the proposed terms put forth by the Altaran delegation. Had it been a lesser man, the hotel conference room serving as their venue might have echoed with angry outbursts and insults by now.

Speaking of which, what was the term that the Parpaldians strongly objected to?

The proposal aimed to amend a trade agreement dating back to the early 1500s in the Central Calendar. According to that pact, the Altaras Kingdom was required to dedicate 45% of its annual resource production as a tribute to the Parpaldia Empire. In return, Altaras received an exemption from providing human resources (slaves) on an annual basis, along with the privilege of accessing old magical technology exports regulated by Parpaldia’s Designated Restricted Technical Inventory law. This exemption from slave tribute made Altaras the second country in the Far East after the Greater Pandora Magearchy and the only Outside Civilization Area country to ‘enjoy’ such a ‘privilege.’

Under typical circumstances, the idea of discontinuing this tribute system would be unthinkable to Parpaldia, and Altaras’ best hope would have been negotiating a reduction in the established quota. However, the dynamics had shifted dramatically due to the disruptions caused by the Holy Milishial Empire’s growing interest in the island. This had upset the established order, giving Altaras the upper hand through their own development thanks to the Holy Empire’s investments. As a result, the Altarans were emboldened to push for the most ideal terms possible in their opening attack, backed by the world’s strongest empire’s presence.

The Parpaldians on the other side of the table found themselves utterly baffled by the audacity of the Altarans. The notion of ending the tribute system is a significant departure from the established regional order and runs counter to their long-standing policies. Accepting such a proposal would entail a definitive recognition of Altaras’ full and complete independence, as well as setting a troublesome precedent that could be exploited by weaker nations within the Third Civilization Area that will also try to pander to the Holy Empire. This, in turn, risked undermining Parpaldia’s ambitions for territorial expansion further. Taking these concerns into account despite Parpaldia’s own internal crisis, Emperor Leonius had adopted a hard line and forbade his delegates from agreeing to any concessions that damaged their country’s interest within the Strait region. “Weakness disgusts me,” that’s what he said when sending them off to the Holy Milishial Empire.

Nevertheless, with the powerful host country looming over their shoulders, the distressed Parpaldian delegates increasingly found it unrealistic to cling to their stubbornness as the diplomatic battle of Hecate Anor rages on.

June 11, 1615 CC

Paradis Palace, Esthirant, Parpaldia Empire

When the written version of the update from the conference’s first session was delivered to him via the First Foreign Affairs Bureau, Emperor Leonius couldn’t help but wonder if Taara XIV had finally gone mentally insane from the pressure his Empire had been exerting.

“What has this world turned into…… It says that, ‘The Altaras Kingdom proposes that the Parpaldia Empire recognizes definitively the full and complete independence of the Altaras Kingdom, and, in consequence, the payment of tribute as agreed in the Treaty of Le Brias, in derogation of such independence, shall wholly cease for the future.’ What is this insolence? Do they really believe that having the Milishians at their back can warrant this level of defiance? Unbelievable!”

Having expected Altaras to propose a revision to the unequal treaty between them and Parpaldia, Leonius was taken aback when what came instead was a proposal to annul the entire treaty completely. In its place, Altaras demanded a fair-trade agreement albeit with concessions such as giving Parpaldia the most favored nation treatment, putting them at the same level as currently enjoyed by the Holy Milishial Empire.

Seeing the rising temper from his liege, Ruperther calmly offered his opinion, “It seems that they are goading us into making rash decisions, whether there’s a prior secret agreement between Altaras and Milishial or not. The problem with Milishial’s stance in this affair, is that nothing from our side can really put us in an upper hand. For example, cutting off the provision of Designated Restricted Technical Inventory in retaliation will only create a vacancy that can be easily filled with Milishial’s superior magical technology. The real question is if this theory of mine is true and Altaras aims to achieve some kind of minimum goal.”

Leonius groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But surely there’s still something we can do to serve our interest as well?”

“There is, Your Majesty,” Ruperther nodded. “Maintaining the non-negotiable stance until Milishial intervenes is a good start. By then, we can present our terms to them.”

“Hmm… indeed, if Milishial cares about their reputation and interest in Altaras so much, they should have been intervening in the conference to force us into relaxing our stance, yes? People like them are less likely to desire the situation escalate into a conflict…”

“…Your Majesty.”

“Don’t give me that look,” Leonius groused in response. “I know better than to sic the Oversight Army to murk the waters, if that’s what you’re thinking. Honestly…”

The advisor silently chuckled as he shook his head seeing his liege turned indignant at what he thought Ruperther was implicating.

During his contemplative moments, pondering about their history, philosophy, and art, Leonius observed that the Holy Milishial Empire has a tendency to place their overwhelming military might as a last resort, favoring diplomacy and the weight their name alone carries to bend the world to their will. The last time their fleet ever sortied to face an enemy nation was at the end of the 16th century Central Calendar to resolve the Sol Island dispute with Mu, scaring them into submission after the second superpower stubbornly held to their claims. This time, however, with no Milishian territory at stake or any Milishian lost to whatever cause, Leonius remained skeptical that they would resort to military force even if things didn’t align with their interests. And because of them not actively threatening Parpaldia’s sphere of influence with their existence, Leonius saw his Empire fall into decadence no thanks to the sense of security the world order under Milishial provides. This fact disgusted Leonius, that even with all the power they wield, the supposedly strongest empire in the world is so weak and spineless.

Ever since he claimed the life of his imbecile predecessor’s life by his two hands and took the throne, Leonius aspired to take over Mu as the August Star of Heaven’s worthiest opponent. Lamenting that he was born way too late to witness the Middle Lands’ Warring Kingdoms period, he will one day remind the senile Lucius of the Morning Star… what it’s like to be the strongest.

Nevertheless, Leonius was fully aware of what would happen if Parpaldia needlessly escalated the situation with that or whatever stupid move that Ruperther was thinking and their forces were to clash on a battlefield. However, battlefields were not limited to the places where cannon fire was echoing. For Leonius, life is a constant battlefield. Exploiting what he knows about the Holy Milishial Empire’s tendencies, he saw the ongoing trilateral conference as a battlefield where Parpaldia could face them as equals.

That’s where the weak could obtain the power to prevent oneself from being preyed upon and abused. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed the Holy Milishial Empire to be an actual threat to wake up the cursed land he was ruling and bring it to greatness.

“Speaking of which, do you have any immediate orders, Your Majesty?” Ruperther asked again, seemingly reading his mind.

“Yes. Have the security around the capital be tightened and keep the undesirables away from the areas surrounding the Foreign Affairs Bureau offices, the Milishian Embassy, and the Outside Civilization Area Legation Quarter. I want no leakage of this information and no foreigner shall be harmed if it happens!”

Somewhen and Somewhere

“…I know this place…”

Meteos Roguerider found himself sitting on a chair as soon as he opened his eyes. The room he found himself in was bathed in a soft ambient light that emanated from the large screen in front of him. The walls were made of sleek, polished metal with glowing lines etched onto their surface for an otherworldly and futuristic feel. The chair he sat upon was comfortably encircled by an array of machines that formed a wide ring. Each of these machines was equipped with an assortment of blinking lights, buttons, and even an advanced magical display floating in the air showing him a blue sphere recognizable as a planet.

Blinking at such an otherworldly but incredibly familiar place, Meteos slowly massaged his right temple in an attempt to keep his composure.

“…This must be an incredibly lucid dream for me that I found myself inside the bridge of a Pal Chimera again…” he murmured, noticing from his voice that he was back to being his young adult self. “……That’s right… Are you with me, Star God Kagaseo?”

“Mm-hmm. And this is not just a random Pal Chimera either, Roguerider. We’re on board none other than the Ancor Vantian herself, currently flying through the infinite expanse of the dream world!” a familiar voice echoed from behind him, cutting through the air with the sheer smug energy it carried.

Swiveling on his chair in response, he was greeted by the sight of the Star God, Kagaseo, his divine benefactor in this second life who was leaning near the bridge’s entrance with crossed arms and a confident smirk playing at his lips. With that bit of information settling in, Meteos nodded appreciatively and rose from his seat to survey the impeccably rendered environment of this dreamscape. Every display and console within the room mirrored their real-world counterparts with an astonishing level of precision as expected from the performance of a deity.

“…The Ancor Vantian, you say? This is truly a perfect reconstruction of my ship’s bridge,” Meteos crowed.

This particular ship was the very same ship that Meteos once commanded in his previous life’s wars against the alien life starting from the Battle of Baltica. Christened the Ancor Vantian, she was the Mark I Pal Chimera-class heavy command cruiser, or the first among her kind unearthed by the Holy Milishial Empire and put into operation. Even when her sisters and other ships from the more recent generations were shot down by the enemies one after another, the Ancor Vantian amazingly survived into the end of the wars, earning her legendary status as a magical superweapon that carried the last vestiges of the Holy Milishial Empire’s pride.

“Her real-life incarnation should be still sleeping in Area 48. Damn it, despite everything she went through… the Gra Valkans… then Annonrials… and then her own creator, the Ravernals… she kept me and my crew alive throughout the tumultuous period of my world’s history. Laugh at me if you want, but I’ve developed quite an attachment to this ship, you see,” the silver-haired human fondly reminisced.

“Nah, I get the feeling. But the Ancor Vantian is incomplete without her captain and crewmen. If this ship has a human form, I’m sure she will reciprocate that feeling too,” Kagaseo replied with a quiet whisper.

“What was that?” Meteos quirked an eyebrow.

“…Eh, forget it,” the god waved him off. “By the way, I also made a bit of a creative adjustment with the holomap over there, albeit anachronistic for the Ancor Vantian. What are your thoughts? Those are based on Malakh technology’s specifications.”

“Yes, I noticed. The aesthetics don’t match the Japanese, and it’s a bit different from the Ravernal technology. Having these inherited memories also helped me in figuring it out.”

Walking over to the raised platform area, Kagaseo joined Meteos in gazing at the holomap. Hovering above a pedestal located between the captain’s seat and the wide screen was a fully mapped holographic projection of a planet, adorned with points that presumably marked important locations associated with the Ravernal Empire’s activity. A constellation of what must be Mystar satellites encircled the globe, undoubtedly responsible for providing the data for the projection they were witnessing.

Some of the ancient civilizations slaughtered by the Ravernal Empire when they arrived in this world called this planet “Loagaeth,” while the Light-Winged People named it “Ars Goetia.” On the other hand, each of the civilizations in the present day seems to have their own name for this planet, but for Meteos personally, “Luciftias,” which means “brightness,” is a good name for this world.

Meteos warmly commented, “Our so-called ‘known world’ is only part of the reachable realm for its locals… but outside, a whole new world awaits. Even now, we are in a way just like children who think that the world is a very big place.”

“The world’s still the same. There’s just… less in it,” Kagaseo muttered again.

“…I wonder if the people of my second life’s era must wait for another century until we can see the wonders these places can offer by ourselves? There are civilizations out there that also thrived close to the Ravernal Empire’s ruins. Some exhibit parallel thinking with us, but there are others who developed their own interpretations that evolve to become completely different than our philosophies! If only doing so weren’t so suspicious, I would have already made scale models of the wonders I saw in my travels.”

“Well, that depends on your effort, mate.”

“Not in this timeline, they won’t. At least, that’s what I would like to…” Meteos sighed.

“That’s a good spirit. I like people who rise up to the challenges.”

“This is the Way.”

“Che… If Astarte is here, she will be proud of you.”

Meteos turned to face him, concerned at the mention of the suffering goddess, “…Is she still incapacitated?”

“Yeah. In addition there’s a certain part of the Audience who gets a kick from seeing her torture specifically, so the Gamers are being made to track her whereabouts… No thanks to them, I was forced to be more cautious so that your peace won’t be compromised this early…”

“I see. So, until that time, you’re obfuscating our whereabouts from their evil eyes while we’re continuing with our lives.”

“………”

Standing this close to him, Meteos didn’t miss how Kagaseo’s appearance seemed to be more haggard than the last time they met. After a brief and uncomfortable silence under the human’s concerned gaze, the Star God let out a mirthless chuckle.

“Heh. Don’t worry about me. Any Gamer or Audience who came near me is dying all the same. I’m simply too determined to perish, you know. But yes, I’ll make this visit brief before dealing with the Gamers’ hunt again. Actually, I came to check on you, so let’s first address the mastodon in the room. How’s my ‘deus ex machina’ treating you? I decided to send you those inherited memories once I deemed it safe for your mind to handle, but I still need your feedback. Those are the knowledge of an entire advanced civilization, you know.”

“Well, it’s… overwhelming… to say the least. I’m confident that I can control it, but there are times when my mind unlocked something that strongly compels me to do something with those memories…”

“Ah, that’s quite risky. I can tone down the influx rate if you wish,” Kagaseo offered.

At his proposition, Meteos brought his hand to touch his temple again and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he answered clearly, “Thank you, but no, thank you. These… urges… require me to learn self-control. It’s useful, and I don’t want to risk a reduction in performance.”

“Okay, cool. If that’s your decision, then I wish you luck. Go awaken the Ancor Vantian or whatever, all the positive changes you made serve as a cure for Astarte’s sake.”

With a smile, Meteos took the Star God’s encouragement in stride. However, it’s time for him to broach a different topic. Meteos had already accepted his status as an instrument to heal Astarte while he tried to achieve his own ideal world, but he still had burning questions that had been nagging at him, something that can only be answered in the direct presence of a deity like Kagaseo.

“There are still so many questions I wanted to ask…” he murmured, gazing at the colorful expanse beyond the screen.

“I know, but you can’t be dreaming forever, can’t you?” Kagaseo acknowledged. “Henceforth, within the limited time available until you wake up, you can ask up to three questions. Think carefully of what will satisfy your curiosity the most, and be quick.”

Meteos was taken aback by the conditions and grumbled that he had to make the most of the limited opportunity. Cursing to himself for taking a chunk of his time in this dream world getting distracted by the Ancor Vantian’s splendor, Meteos pondered for a moment before settled on a set of inquiries filtered from probably a battleship-load of questions inside his mind.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

“Shoot,” raising his hand in an inviting gesture, Kagaseo prompted the human.

“The first question is about the Malakhs. From the inherited memories, I noticed something strange with them. If they are so incredibly advanced technologically speaking, why were they only getting started to prepare for colonizing other planets in their star system when the Game stole their sun?”

Kagaseo’s lips thinned. “That’s easy. It’s called ‘peak lazy writing.’”

“Hah—”

“Yes. The higher beings, the Civilization Annihilation Game and the Audience who see mortal lives as mere fictional insects to toy with called the Malakhs an example of motherfucking ‘peak lazy writing.’ But to truly answer your question, the Malakh’s Man and Woman of the Beginning were the last remnants of an ancient galactic empire that was annihilated by a Game in the ancient past, which, in turn, emerged from the ashes of yet another advanced civilization ruled by a God-Emperor—who was different than that one particular God-Emperor thankfully—which was also a victim of the Game. Seeing what happened to their predecessor, this galactic empire had thought to ensure that their lessons would be passed on to the next generation should they perish. That’s what happened to the early Malakhs, having their civilization boosted thanks to the guidance they provided. Long story short, the Malakhs made it a policy to develop Attarsamain to the utmost before they were ready to colonize space once again… but by that time, the final Game for their species happened, seemingly claiming them for good.”

Meteos tried to digest this lore material as he replied, “But they didn’t. So, it’s safe to presume that by faithfully adhering to that guidance, they managed to achieve their ideal world without suffering too many conflicts.”

“Correct. There’s a saying that ‘reality is often stranger than fiction,’ right? That’s happened to the Malakhs, who were seemingly so advanced but haven’t colonized outer space yet. They’ve become a paradoxical existence for the Audience’s eyes, but those dictators can’t and won’t accept it as real, thus leading them to demand their ‘unrealistic’ existence to be annihilated via a Game. But in the end, you don’t have to worry, Meteos. Even if you’re not as good as the Malakhs, you should be optimistic despite the Game because you got something that many others don’t: deities who care for you.”

“………”

“These are trying times, but we will protect you as our precious children. This is the Way.”

“……Heh, heh, heh, I see, I see. This is the Way.”

“Damn straight,” the deity proudly smirked. “Now, what would be your second question?”

Clearing his throat with a cough, the human proceeded to speak. “What exactly did the higher beings do to the Malakh remnants that they transformed into something as twisted as the Ravernal Empire?”

“Hmmm… Okay. As they interfered with their teleportation to your world, the Game took away a part of their souls, cursing them with a void in them that can’t be filled without measures. This feeling of ‘incompleteness’ was agonizing, to say the least, and nothing seemed able to satisfy their souls. Therefore, they became bent on filling the void left in them by consuming the world to regain what was lost. Some time in their history, they came to the conclusion that the ‘gods must be the ones who did this’ and the rest is history. Sadly, even if they had their way, they will never become whole.”

“Such cruelty. That was a fate worse than death, in my opinion.”

“It’s almost time to wake up. Let’s hear your third question,” Kagaseo reminded.

“Right. Since our encounter that day… I’ve been wondering this the most,” Meteos replied, his countenance turned sullen.

“Well, speak of it, then.”

“Why me?” he asked, turning to look at the Star God in the eyes.

“……Oh.”

“Please, don’t mistake this question as being ungrateful. It’s just… there are other heroes and holy men other than me with higher moral ground than me, a selfish mage whose envy was simply too huge that it remained burning even after transcending lifetimes. And yet…”

“To be honest, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Meteos parroted in doubt.

Kagaseo began to pace around the bridge, arms folded behind his back.

“I really have no idea how is it you who ended up reincarnating. You know what? I need someone who can resonate with Astarte, but it will require Astarte to be somewhat conscious to trigger her power, so my options were limited. I’ve picked souls of heroes, saints, and people with pure hearts, those whom I placed a high expectation to be the instrument. But none of them passed the trial. All of them buckled within the first two minutes of our fight. In the end, none of them even came close to resonating with Astarte… You, on the other hand, are no Chosen One. You’re just a random soul I’ve picked, and I don’t put too much faith in you. It’s just… your soul burns with something that I later found out to be desire. As I headed out to face you and begin the trial, I saw you survive the first two minutes of our bout, then I taunted you to see your resolve as my hopes began to grow. Then you survived the next two minutes, and the most unbelievable of all, you managed to resonate with Astarte’s soul and fought me to a draw! Your achievement was unrealistic, but credit is where credit is due. Thus, I rewarded you for finally rebuilding Astarte’s connection with your world.”

Listening to Kagaseo’s rambling made Meteos regret ever asking that question. He silently pinched the bridge of his nose.

“A random lucky soul, that’s what I really am?”

“Who knows,” Kagaseo stopped, grasping the distraught human’s right shoulder from behind. “Maybe it’s the lack of realism that counts. Maybe it’s proof that individuals can shape their own destinies. We’re trying to rebel against fate, after all. Or maybe there are really no accidents. Either way, it’s now up to you, whether you can achieve your dreams, happiness, and ideal world.”

“That’s right…” Meteos nodded slowly, glancing over his shoulder. “Sorry, that was a useless thing to ask.”

“Well, you’ve asked your questions, it’s time to wake up.”

As if on cue, the room around them began to dissolve just like the last time, signifying the end of Meteos’ time dreaming.

“Thank you, Star God Kagaseo. May your victories multiply.”

“On you as well!”

Giving him a smiling thumbs up, Kagaseo watched as Meteos slowly faded away and returned to the waking world. The dreamscape around them shifted back into an endless starry sky, devoid of any artificial structure.

July 5, 1615 Central Calendar, 07:30

MOASEC Apartment Complex, San Redentore District, Runepolis

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP…! BEEP, BEEP, BEEP…! BEEP, BEEP, BEEP…!

“Coming, coming, coming!”

Despite, or maybe because he had his divine benefactor checked on him and experienced a no small amount of answers for some of his questions in a dream last night, Meteos managed to go on his Sunday morning routine merrily surrounded by his close friends. And just as he was about to clean the dining table after breakfast, his grimoire that he left in the living room began to ring loudly, alerting him of an incoming call. Walman was taking a dump in the bathroom, leaving Robin sitting there, looking at her apprentice rushing to answer a call with a chuckle.

Meteos cleared his throat and answered the call. “Hello, how can I help you?”

“Hello! May I speak with Mister Meteos Roguerider, apprentice of Professor Robin Calvello?” a very receptionist-like tone of a female came from the other side.

“Of course, you’re already speaking to him,” he cheekily grinned as he headed back to the dining table.

“Excellent, Mister Roguerider! I am from the Ministry of Ancient Sorcerous Empire Countermeasures’ Magic Technology System Development Facility. I’m calling to inform you that the custom package you ordered has been completed ahead of schedule. They’re ready for retrieval at your earliest convenience.”

“Oh, thank Astarte! That’s wizard. I’ll come by right away to pick them up. Thank you so much!”

“………Ah, y-yes… You’re very welcome, Mister Roguerider. Have a nice day.”

Delighted, Meteos hung up the phone with a grin, but soon realized the slip of the tongue he had just made and gulped nervously. Ever since he broke the curse that prevented her name from being remembered, Meteos found it increasingly easy to let slip the forgotten goddess’ name in conversations. He did some tests from time to time, but all he got from asking was that the person would always mind-blanked for a second before shrugging it off when they came back to their senses. It happened again with the receptionist.

‘What a disappointment. I wonder… what effort I must make so that her name can take hold in this world even more?’

From the corner of his eyes, he can see Robin blinked unsurely for a moment before turning her attention to Meteos again.

“Sooo… when will we depart?” Robin smiled, raring to go outside.

“……Heh,” Meteos sighed. “When we’re done with the matters of personal hygiene, of course.”

“Fair, fair.”

“Okay, then.”

Meteos excused himself and headed towards the bedroom, leaving Robin lounging alone at the dining table. The moment her apprentice left her sight, her mind started to wander and her brows furrowed slightly.

‘Who’s… As—who? Wait, what I’m thinking again?’ Robin shook her head. “Ah, maybe I’ll just ask Meteos later.”

She totally forgot about it.

Crack, crack, crack!

Kagaseo was about to head back to see Astarte when his senses tingled with a familiar sense of alarm. When he sensed a presence behind, Kagaseo turned to see the space behind him begin to crack and shatter like glass, writhing tendrils made of rot and darkness bursting from it and inched closer and closer to the Star God. Disgusting voices dripping with malice began to echo around him.

“WHERE ARE YOU……?”

“WE WILL FIND YOU……”

“NO ONE IS SAFE……”

“THE GAME MUST COMMENCE……”

Realizing what was happening, his glowing lavender eyes hardened. The Civilization Annihilation Gamers were close by.

“This is getting tiresome, but let the culling begin,” Kagaseo growled. They were relentless, but Kagaseo had Astarte and an ideal world to protect. If the upcoming Game would be summoning an unsuspecting entity to wreak havoc in his world, then he will give the Game the most terrible ending possible.

The air is still, and he is the hunter.