Attarsamain

~Fermi Paradox: After the End~

Falsus salvator lux.

A long time ago, before this species teleported themselves to Ars Goetia and become the Ravernal Empire, eternally scorned by the people whose future they completely rip apart as the “Ancient Sorcerous Empire,” the invasive species named in utter contempt as the ‘false savior light,’ the Light-Winged People were known as Malakh, a race of benign humanoid beings who lived on a shining utopia built on top of a mana-producing planet called Attarsamain. However, that was a long time ago, in a plane of existence far, far away.

The floating continents that were once the crowning achievements of how advanced this civilization managed to turn into have long since crashed into the planet in disrepair. Without explanation nor warning, Attarsamain’s parent star suddenly disappeared, turning this world into a dead wasteland. An example of the aftermath of the Game, the suffering of the seven billion people left behind to die here has completely corrupted a world once called the “Land of Light” into whatever abomination this rogue planet is. The green crystalline surface that was once so beautiful has turned into withered purplish-blue rocks, and the overflowing mana has transformed into rotten black sludge—the mortal suffering made manifest that the Gamers and Audience were addicted to.

They were designed to be so beautiful and angelic that seeing them made one forget to breathe, and the Game and the Audience used them to revel in their denial of what could have been, spitting bad endings in the face of the “characters” as they came.

At the same time, these processes were incredibly inefficient that it’s disgusting. There’s only so much of that can be harvested from a dead world that stagnates. A thriving hollow mana-producing world like Attarsamain produces infinite mana as long as there’s life on it, making it infinitely better just to nurture them like a good gardener. But then again, the addicted Audience wanted their heavenly ecstasy quickly, and the Game is a sadistic drug lord. The Game’s admins and players will gladly ruin the lives of “fictional characters,” “protagonists” and “antagonists” alike, a thousand times over during their “livestreams” just for the sake of it.

Attarsamain, Loagaeth, Aarb, Salome, Deshimo, Grotes, Ugari, Antilla, Mazarius, Revol, Choro, Golgotha, Keel… Earth, Earth, Earth, Earth, Earth, Gaia, Terra, Mars, Ares, Venus, Juno, whatever. With each season, the kill count never stops growing.

By all conceivable means, a normal human cannot survive standing in this world’s insane environment without any sort of protection a sentient mind can envision. Yet, for some reason, an entity resembling a human male wearing only light armor was leisurely sitting cross-legged on this snowball of death, a lantern giving a pale green glow nearby, with the only thing that separated him from the surface was a carpet and that was it. With an impassive look, he was watching the canopy of glowing stars above without regard for the laws that he had brushed aside. Such things are irrelevant to a timeless entity like him.

He was staring at those celestial objects without thinking too much about them, not even bothering to wonder where is everybody—if there was life somewhere beyond this god-forsaken planet. After the galactic-spanning predecessor civilizations of the Malakhs were wiped out in the Civilization Annihilation Game twice, Attarsamain became the last planet capable of supporting life in its home galaxy. And now, after the third Game was concluded, all life in this ill-fated region was finally extinguished, never to recover again for all eternity. Because of the Game, it’s all dead space out here.

“…Why do you push him into battle?”

At some point, a disembodied voice echoed that can be heard by this humanoid entity. It carried a clear tone of agitation and disapproval.

“Do you know that the Game has a grossly unfair advantage to begin with? But in the end, the Game works like a reality show that prefers catering to a certain demographic like the Audience. You, my good friend, should be thankful that the Game is still holding back from what could have been.”

Even without looking, the entity could feel that his formless companion wasn’t satisfied with his flippant tone.

“My interest in him was the reason,” the entity continued. “Your acquaintance… that Amatsu-Mikaboshi… he’s strong. He has no intention of giving in to weakness. He has lost everything, and it drove him to seek power. For fools like him, there will be only one of two fates that await: either he will fall in disgrace… or he will obtain a truly dangerous power.”

“………”

“Well, while you are teetering between existence and nonexistence, Amatsu-Mikaboshi is reaching out for the power to shake the reality. Just because there’s someone who allows him a place to return to, he’s going to rock the shitty reality to the core. You know what? I want to see who will come out on top in the end. ‘You should eat this ‘incoherent storytelling’ instead and leave the denizens of this world alone!’ …When the Game is thwarted with such violent behavior, what will everyone do? That change should be something to look forward to, no?”

“…Is it not your place to do such things?”

“Haha! No. Nobody ever said that. I just prefer to watch and record stories most of the time. Now, what are you going to do about it?” he challenged with an unapologetic grin. “Yes, odds are the Game’s going to destroy your home, again, but I’d really prefer to see beings like him stop it.”

Ars Goetia

~Live for the Moment~

August 3, 1615 Central Calendar

Leiden, Enysfal Province, Holy Milishial Empire

Meteora’s eyes gradually fluttered open to be welcomed by the soft luminescence seeping through the morning curtains. For a moment, the events of the preceding night appeared to be passing like a blur, what with Meteos having at last returned home, and the mother and son enfolded each other in a heartfelt embrace like their separation had endured an eternity.

Shifting slightly, her hand slowly reached to gently cradle the already pronounced curve of her belly. While she was getting fixated on the four lives growing within, slowly blinking away the remnants of sleep, a soft knock on the door slightly interrupted this moment of serenity, signaling the approaching breakfast time. The door creaked ajar, revealing a tuft of silver hair and an enticing smell that wafted through the air. In walked Meteos, holding a tray adorned with a carefully arranged breakfast—for her. Behind him trailed a flustered Mila, the young maid, her demeanor uncertain in the presence of this young master of the household.

“Good morning, Mom,” Meteos greeted, eyes glinting as he caught sight of his mother stirring in bed. With such a dulcet tone, it complemented his growing look that was already capable of effortlessly leading a lady or two by the nose. It seemed that he took care of himself well despite the supposedly heavy workload of his position.

“…Meteos?” she muttered. So it’s real, after all.

“Yes, Mom. Your eldest child is very much here,” his smile turned wider as he nonchalantly set the tray down on a nearby table. “Look, I’ve made something for you today.”

“I-is it the time already…?”

Meteora’s gaze slowly meandered between her son and the young maid lingering in the background. Sensing the weight of the ocular gesture, Mila hurriedly straightened, executing a slight bow before hesitantly voicing her words, “I… I’m really sorry… it’s supposed to be my task, but Young Master… he insisted…”

While Meteora couldn’t wait to taste Meteos’ cooking again for the first time in a long time, she turned to the boy, “…But Meteos, you just arrived last night?”

“You’re not wrong, but I’m so well-rested that I don’t see any problem with it,” he waved the concerned remark off with a grin. Finding his attitude infectious, Meteora started to giggle in response.

“Hum, you certainly are a handful…”

“Well, I wanted to know if I still got it. Please, Mom, enjoy the meal,” he kindly gestured with his hand.

“Um… have you eaten, son?”

“I did. I’m the one who made breakfast for everyone this morning, actually.”

“Dearie…! Okay… but you’re not giving Mila a hard time, aren’t you?”

“Of course not. Both Miss Pedrosa and Miss Giles are very helpful. Feel free to scold me if I behave badly, even.”

“Okay, I’ll hold on to that… Right… mmmm… let’s see…”

Allowing a smile to slowly unfurl on her lips, Meteora brushed aside stray locks of silver hair from her face. With measured care, she adjusted her position, settling near the bedside table to afford her a better view of the morning repast made by Meteos. She was greeted with a vibrant bowl of seemingly bird wyvern egg-based menu with an array of vegetable toppings. The moment his mother started touching her meal, Meteos nodded to the young maid, and catching the unspoken cue, Mila gave a quick bow and retreated to wait outside.

“Mm!”

From the first spoonful, Meteora’s cheeks immediately loosened from the rich flavor and warmth of the meal. The scrambled eggs were light and fluffy, neither over nor undercooked. It was then complemented by the burst of juiciness from diced tomatoes, while the spinach introduced a refreshing and slightly peppery note to the ensemble. With each bite, Meteora felt a gratifying fullness enveloping both her stomach and heart. Meteos leaned back and sighed with satisfaction witnessing his mother relish every morsel. The warmth in the cerulean orbs, a mirror of his own, and the pleasant hums escaping her lips were all the validation he needed.

Last midnight when he passed by the kitchen, Meteos happened to spot two giant eggs lying around in the pantry. Coming from a gargwa, a domesticated flightless bird wyvern that is also called a mastodon bird due to how big they are, its egg can reach a hundred times greater in volume than a chicken’s egg on average. Seeing this, Meteos couldn’t help himself in not resisting the temptation to cook one and as a result, the entire household was having an egg bowl as breakfast today. Beyond their size, gargwa eggs were prized for their ability to satisfy one’s stomach and dense nutritional profile. After working around with the taste, Meteos crafted this dish for his mother as a result.

“So, how was it?”

“This is… absolutely delightful!” Meteora praised. “You never disappoint.”

“Like what Dad once said, having a good meal is good for motivation.”

“Indeed! Ah… my adorable sweetheart is growing into such a dependable young man.”

“Please, you’re about to get overboard with the praise…” Meteos lightly shook his head.

“Your dad will beg to disagree about that… After all the things you’ve been doing as a young child, do you think we are not taking you seriously?” Meteora giggled again.

“Huh… then, what are you doing with those when I’m away?” her son’s voice took on a teasing timbre.

“Mm-hmm. It’s mostly Rod who likes to take a peek at them from time to time, though. It helps motivate him, he says.”

“Honestly…”

Meteos chortled. The preparations he made to “enroll in a prestigious academy” in the future were made in such a way that they deliberately leaned heavily on drawings that were too cryptic for people who are clueless, requiring his presence to explain what the heck are those. Despite all that precaution, it didn’t seem to deter Roderick from admiring them from time to time. His dad, a man with hardly a mean bone within him, was quite disappointed seeing his son’s disinterest in following either of his parents’ career paths, yet he was proud knowing that Meteos was aspiring for something higher and had successfully achieved his goals.

“Dad is really the best. Now that I have secured a connection with the Ancient Ministry, it’s time to help him. You too, Mom. I wonder if we can talk about it later? That’s the least I can do…”

Meteora exclaimed, “Sweetheart, that’s pretty much a big deal! What do you even mean that’s ‘the least you can do’?”

“Oceans and Golds, Mom.”

In both timelines, Meteos as a child wrote a poem and recited it for an elementary school assignment: even if entire oceans can be turned into gold, it will still not be enough to repay his father and mother for raising him with such love and compassion, and it’s even less if he thinks he can repay even one second of pain that his mother endured when giving birth of him. It’s really very much the least he can do. ‘Oceans and Golds’ was the title of said poem, and the teacher of his class was none other than Meteora herself.

Realizing what he meant by that, Meteora’s gaze softened in response, bringing a free hand to squeeze Meteos’ shoulder affectionately.

When he was about to let his mother continue with the breakfast, his gaze slowly went to her belly. As expected, the swell is already that large. Among the consequences of his actions as he became active in advancing his agenda, this one was the most impactful, and fueled by his own recollection, a sense of slowly encroaching dread began to intrude on his thoughts. He solely was responsible for this. However, a measure of solace eased his conscience—thanks to their doctor’s counsel, the couple had apparently been convinced to opt for a caesarean delivery after they weighed the risks. Notably, the doctor was the same Master who had handled Meteos’ own birth, making the expectant couple inclined to trust in his guidance.

Fate is standing by his side, but blind faith is dangerous for the ignorant… it can backfire, even.

“Uhm,” Meteos swallowed and cleared his throat. “Ahem—so… Mom… how have you been feeling? Are you feeling okay?”

“Mm, I’m doing wonderfully.”

His brow furrowed a little. “But… isn’t it tough?”

“I do get tired more quickly, but that’s to be expected,” Meteora set the utensils down at the end of her meal and turned to see her son in the eyes. “As for everything else, there’s nothing too unusual going on. The doctor also said a similar thing. Isn’t that good? Right, dear?”

“I guess that can be called a blessing… it’s as if the stars themselves have smiled upon you.”

“Huh…”

It made Meteora blink. “Blessing, huh…” she beamed and gently stroked her belly. “Hehe… your big brother is so kind, isn’t he? …Hm? Ah…”

“!!! …Did they move? They just moved, didn’t they?”

“They did! Come, dear, why don’t you try feeling them for yourself?”

“Alright…”

Meteos scooted closer and slowly reached out. Carefully, he placed his hand, feeling a slight warmth beneath his palm. And then, after a moment, a gentle flutter like tiny butterflies danced beneath his fingers. It was a foreign sensation, enough to make him let out a light gasp. Once again, he was struck with a realization that left him with a mix of awe and a bit of an indescribable feeling.

“Can you feel it?”

“Yes…” trying to maintain his cool, Meteos slowly wore a smile that ran contrary to his intentions. “It’s… surreal,” he muttered, as his hand continued to feel the gentle movements beneath his palm. Due to his responsibilities and commitments back in Runepolis, he might not be present for their arrival. His thoughts flickered, and a subtle frown immediately tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I really wish I could be there during the due date. Funny, the work I’ve been aiming for so much is going to make me miss an occasion this grand for the family.”

“Don’t blame yourself over things you can’t predict, sweetheart,” Meteora reassured him. “We’ll make sure to keep you in touch, so that you may be here with us in spirit.”

“In spirit, you say? …Haha, maybe I’ll settle for that for now, but it’s not like we know what exactly will happen in the future, are we not?” Meteos replied to the remark with a playful glint in his eyes.

A laugh escaped the mother’s lips in response.

“But thank you, Mom, for your kindness. I’ll see what can I do by that time. At least, thanks to the little ones, the house will not feel lonely even if I’m not here,” Meteos rose from his seat to gather the empty bowl and glass. “Then, I’ll take care of these. Rest easy, Mom. If there’s anything you need, just let us know.”

“Thank you for the meal, dear. Ah… I’m going to miss it when you return to the Capital.”

“Well then.”

With that, Meteos exited Meteora’s room and handed the empty utensils to Mila in order to get them cleaned.

…………

After seeing his father and his valet Walter off to fetch his Runepolian friends from the inn they were staying in, Meteos decided to ‘bother’ Rachel Giles, the other maid in the household’s service.

“Miss Giles, I need your help again.”

Along with Valeria Almeida, who was hired originally as a nanny but dressed and acted like a butler, Rachel and Milagros Pedrosa formed a team of three. As a maid of the Rogueriders, this blue-haired beastwoman switched her burgundy civilian attire for an appropriate outfit for her job, consisting of a black dress, matching petticoat with lace around the rims, a white apron, frilly cap, and lace-up boots. Setting apart Rachel’s outfit from Milagros Pedrosa’s however was the addition of a black leather corset wrapped around her torso, holding her body into an hourglass figure. Add in an azure brooch in the middle of a ribbon-tie that gives her an elegant look, she easily competes with Valeria in terms of flashiness. All Meteos needed was that they all do their jobs in serving his household as lovely as their looks.

After quickly coming to his side, the older woman bowed to the young boy with practiced grace. “Do you need something, Young Master?”

“So, to spend the time until the others come here, I wanted to see if my drawings in the basement have started to gather dust or not, but there are quite a lot of them. Can you help me in unpacking some of those?”

“As you wish,” Rachel smiled and promptly complied with his request without hesitation. Not even the slightest hint of questioning gaze.

‘Hah. All of this still takes some getting used to,’ Meteos discreetly inhaled a breath and schooled his expression before the maid, silently gesturing for Rachel to follow him to the basement.

Descending the staircase leading underground, Meteos decided to ease the silence a bit. “Miss Giles, where are you from?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“I am from Mysidia, Young Master,” still maintaining her smile, Rachel replied amidst the faintly echoing footfalls.

“Mysidia, huh? That’s quite a long way from Leiden, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Rachel confirmed. “I previously served a noble family in Mythgraven as one of the lady’s maids, but unfortunately she passed away not too long ago and my contract was terminated by the household. I happened to be visiting a relative in Enysfal when I saw the job recruitment notice in the newspaper.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Meteos nodded sympathetically. “But now that you’ve been hired by us, how do you find this household?”

“Thank you, Young Master. The pay was quite attractive, and living costs in Leiden are actually cheaper.”

“Oh? How much did you earn before?”

“I was paid twelve zollarks per hour.”

The boy chuckled after making some quick calculations in his head. The cost of living in Leiden was about 20% lower than in Mysidia, with a bold 14 zollarks per hour salary offered by the Rogueriders. Even though her new position as a maid-of-all-work in a smaller staff required meant she will do more jobs than before, Rachel’s overall income and purchasing power would be higher.

Meteos didn’t voice it, but if she served a noble household before, then it would make more sense for Rachel to look the way she did now if the household she served was a prominent provincial family in Mythgraven, the capital of the Caelus Province.

In this High Imperial Period, there was a sort of unspoken competition between minor to middle-class Milishian noble families to appear better among society to garner respect from the common folk. Not only did the wealthy households brag about paying taxes and even going above and beyond, they did the same thing in terms of their treatment of their retainers and workers. Rachel Giles, who claimed such background, is a maid that one would guess to be in her twenties, but believe it or not, she is four years younger than Valeria, a 37-year-old lady who looked pretty younger than she looks herself.

However, instead of wondering how his parents were able to find helpers like them, another kind of thought circulated within his mind at the moment.

“We are a commoner family, so it’ll be quite a downgrade from serving a noble in terms of prestige, I reckon. Still, I hope you’ll find living here to be both fulfilling and rewarding.”

“Please don’t worry about that, Young Master,” he saw Rachel’s eyes twinkling with those words and smiled coolly in return.

The air in the basement was cool and still with a faint scent of dust and old paper. The family’s efforts in organizing the basement years ago were evident, with the space neatly divided into sections and the stacks of crates neatly lined against the walls. The crates, which housed Meteos’ old drawings, covered all sides of the basement, towering from floor to ceiling due to their sheer number.

“Are all these really yours, Young Master?” Rachel softly asked as she surveyed the impressive collection.

“Hahah, yeah, since I was five, if there’s anything that came to my mind, I always want to draw it on paper,” Meteos laughed. “Mostly trying to make technical drawings of machines I saw on the news, though, cars, autobikes, random things…”

“Such motivation… I heard from Master Roguerider that you draw all this so that you can show it to the Runepolis Magic Academy and enroll there.”

While Meteos regaled Rachel with tales of his childhood days, the maid saw the eager silver-haired young master quickly grabbing a ladder lying nearby and positioning it against the stack on the right side, seemingly deciding to retrieve one of the crates perched on top. With careful steps, he ascended the ladder and reached for the crate’s edge.

“…But when you think about it, all of these seems a bit too overboard in hindsight, isn’t it? …Ugh…!” while he was teasing the maid, Meteos’ tone turned strained as he leaned with outstretched hands to grab said crate’s edge and began to pull it.

“I don’t really know, but anyway, please be careful.”

“I—gah!?” However, as he grasped the crate, something seemed to startle Meteos, causing him to tumble backward and fall from the ladder onto the hard concrete floor.

Rachel’s eyes widened in alarm, but then just as her feet were about to kick the floor and rush to his aid, she witnessed the young master somersault through the air and land gracefully on his feet, rolling to absorb the impact and regaining his balance in a fluid motion. Unscathed, Meteos plopped himself on the floor with a loud sigh after he realized what happened.

“Are you okay?” she called out, walking over to crouch in front of Meteos to check on him.

“I’m okay,” the boy assured the maid. “Just a bit startled by a giant bug there. I’ll be more careful, I promise,” Meteos rubbed his nape with a troubled smile under Rachel’s concerned gaze.

“That move…”

“Behind you!”

Rachel seemed to be in amazement with Meteos’ maneuver to escape an accident. But that moment of relief was short-lived. The crate, half-pulled before Meteos fell, teetered precariously from the stack and began to plummet toward Rachel’s back.

The plunging wooden crate cast an ominous shadow over her, but in a split-second, Rachel noticed Meteos’ gaze snapping to behind her and reacted with a speed that belied her gentle demeanor. She twirled on her footing, arms outstretched, and with a mighty heave, she managed to catch the crate just inches from slamming into her face. Behind her, Meteos stared at the back of the maid who subsequently set the crate gently on the floor before turning to face him with a relieved look after what had happened in quick succession.

“That was close,” Meteos remarked and stood up to dust his trousers. “That’s amazing. You’re amazing, Miss Giles.”

Rachel smiled modestly. “Thank you, Young Master,” she nodded. “Luckily I’ve had a lot of experience with catching and lifting things.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It looks like the training you undergo and my past experience have saved us from what could have been a dangerous accident.”

“So it would seem,” Meteos concurred with a slight quirk of his lips. “But this happens because of my clumsiness… I sincerely apologize…”

Rachel waved his apology away. “It’s no trouble at all, Young Master. I’m just glad I was able to help.”

“So… the others might be worried if they heard about this… Miss Giles, can we please keep what had just happened between us?”

“I understand. It will be better to do so.”

“Now, where are we at? Oh, right, time to get the drawings. I can’t wait.”

Before long, the two made their way to Meteos’ room in order to get the crate unpacked. While helping around, Rachel continued to listen to the tale spun by the young master with curiosity.

In reality, Meteos never saw any arthropod in the basement. Testing the waters on how he could get away by acting like a 14-year-old young boy, he was now laughing inwardly at the entire thing.

August 4, 1615 Central Calendar, 20:10

William Ameir District, Runepolis

For the second in a row tonight, a rare visitor appeared at the street where the restaurant named In Bocca al Lupo was located just as the clock struck half past ten. Looking up from the ledger upon hearing the merry sound of a bell announcing the arrival of a customer, the sight of this person led owner Bakura Paramita to give a slight quirk of an eyebrow until the person, an imposing one clad in a faded brown trench coat, walked over to the counter with a measured stride and their eyes met.

Looking at the face under the shade of a soft-brimmed hat (fedora) the visitor was wearing with recognition, a polite smile played on Bakura’s lips. “Good evening, sir, and welcome to our establishment. How may I assist you tonight?”

…………

There were two floors of the restaurant; the ground floor where In Bocca al Lupo accommodates their regular patrons, and a second floor reserved for private dining. After checking in with the owner and ordering something on the menu, the visitor was led to a tastefully decorated room with elegant furnishings and a quiet ambiance.

“I hope you find the service to your liking. Your order will be ready shortly, if there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to let us know. Enjoy your evening.”

As soon as they arrived, the guiding waitress gave the visitor a courteous nod and closed the door before heading back downstairs. Already inside was a man who immediately turned his attention to the arrival and stood up to greet him. With a wide smile, he let out a hearty laugh the moment the visitor lifted his hat to reveal striking blue eyes and neatly parted silver hair.

“Ah! Your Grace, thank you very much for taking your time here.”

“Victor,” the visitor acknowledged with a nod before shaking the man’s outstretched hand. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes… It’s an incredibly rare sight to see you with a moment to spare. I’m rather surprised actually.”

While they proceeded to settle into their seats facing each other, the silver-haired Duke Lucius Pendragon couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the remark made by the younger man in front of him, Victor Legendorga.

“It’s been so quiet around the manor with Anna away on a vacation with her friends. Maybe I was getting bored with the silence,” Lucius said. “Are you a regular here?”

Victor smiled in understanding but shook his head. “An acquaintance recommended me to this hidden gem. I thought it would be a place worth trying while catching up with each other.”

“I see.”

The Duke initially assumed so because the place was located not too far away from the Condor Tower, the headquarters of Victor’s Aikon Corporation. But apparently that was not the case.

The menu they ordered earlier arrived moments later. With both of them being unfamiliar with the place, they ended up ordering the one recommended by the owner, a pot skillet chicken cacciatore and wine for the two of them. As the origin story goes, the dish emerged in the southernmost part of the Holy Empire as a means to feed hunters who’d been away tracking for long periods of time using ingredients they’d collected along the way, hence its name, a Carthinian word for “hunter.”

Over the delicious meal, they delved into a comfortable conversation, catching up on their lives and recent endeavors. Victor, with his usual air of confidence, shared the grimoire’s latest success that had propelled his company to new heights. As the conversation flowed like the fine wine they were enjoying, Victor then looked at the Duke with a more subdued air and asked a certain matter.

“I heard from Annette that you still haven’t had the time to meet that inventor boy, Meteos Roguerider, in person.”

Lucius shook his head clear. “No, I haven’t. What about you?”

“Well, it’s the same with me, but between the two of us, it seems that I am the one getting a head start.”

“Is that so?”

Even though it was for different intentions, both of these men expressed their wishes to meet with a certain youngling that made so much impact on their lives in the past year.

Always on the lookout for opportunities to expand his business and gain an edge over his competitors, Victor had his sights set on a promising new concept of a device that would allow Manadrivers to memorize the spell sequences they generate. He had an inkling, however, that he was not alone in this. To make sure that his efforts wouldn’t be redundant, he wanted to know what the inventors of grimoire thought about it and if possible, tap into their insights and at the same time strengthen the collaboration with the Ancient Ministry to which Aikon had already maintained a partnership agreement.

A familiar grin broke on Victor’s expression as he continued, “That’s right. If I can’t bring him to Aikon, then I will bring Aikon to him. Besides, he conveniently lives in Leiden. The children are going to love this year’s summer vacation.”

“It seems that you are getting impatient,” Lucius pointed out.

“I guess you can say that.”

The man across from him chuckled.

“And since you’re here, Your Grace, as an apology for overtaking you, here is an interesting piece I acquired from a connection who happened to be very close to the boy’s family.”

Victor reached into his suit’s pocket and retrieved a small envelope, from which he casually extracted a photograph from within and handed it over to Lucius. It was already a colored photograph, allowing the Duke to see the most striking feature of this family that made him almost ignore everything else: it was a picture of a family of three, depicting a tall man with short brown hair and Meteos Roguerider as a younger child, sitting on the lap of a woman with white hair cascading down to her shoulders and back.

Lucius looked at it for a good few seconds, reading the words penned at the back before turning his attention back to Victor.

“The father’s name is Roderick, and the mother is Meteora, huh… When did you get this?”

For the last eight years, the youngest Legendorga spared no effort in gathering information, which allowed him to execute well-calculated gambles that propelled the Aikon Corporation into the state it was in now. At present, his network is far and wide, and as a result, he was able to obtain information almost earlier than other noble families.

Victor’s shoulders shook again. “Apparently that connection of mine has been working in their very household for several months by now. The matriarch is also currently five months pregnant and is expecting a quadruplet! Isn’t that interesting?”

Currently Publicly Available Information

GARGWA

Flightless bird wyverns with vestigial wings belonging to the genus Kyklornis that are native to the Middle Lands. They can often be found roaming in the wild, but are also raised as livestock. It is comprised of several species, with Kyklornis maximus to be the largest. A gargwa’s beak is made of an insulating material that prevents them from being shocked by their favorite prey, thunderbugs.