July 27, 1616 Central Calendar

San Redentore District, Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire

A small prism of translucent green sat in the center of a certain room within a Roguerider Foundation facility, surrounded by the workstations and activities of researchers documenting its every nuance, poking and prodding at the inanimate object to unravel the mysteries behind its properties. Sitting underneath the harsh glare of overhead lights, the emerald with a strange otherworldly air to it seemed to also emanate light from within the object itself rather than merely reflecting any external luminescence.

On the other side of the reinforced observation window, a group of five figures stood transfixed by the prism at the heart of the seemingly endlessly bustling lab. Princess Lugiel, her straight posture belying an awestruck gaze in her eyes, watched accompanied by her right-hand man, the Illustrator. Beside them, Meteos hummed in reminiscence.

Not even one week has passed since the Attarsamain metal was born by the hands of a native Ars Goetian in this world. Around twenty years remain for them to prepare, assuming the Civilization Annihilation Game will proceed similarly to the First Timeline.

“I’ll be honest with you two,” Meteos admitted in a carefree tone despite the encroaching sense of helplessness in his mind, scratching the back of his head. “This new material looked like a wonky, rejected bean thing before we refined its shape to be a bit better looking.”

“That’s quite an interesting tidbit.”

While the Illustrator let out a chortle at what he perceived to be a joking remark, the Princess gave the teenage inventor a dry sideways glance and replied in a deadpan. “…Is that so? Oh, well, while its initial aesthetic appeal may have left much to be desired in your eyes, the very existence of something entirely novel to our world is a testament to the incredible work the Foundation is doing here.”

Lugiel’s gaze returned to the emerald prism. Ten months were but a blink of an eye for a long-lived sentient being. However, it was an unusually agonizing ten months of waiting, fueled by endless reports and schematics to actually prove the theories that the silver-haired teenager beside her made since becoming Agent Flamberge’s apprentice, which still hadn’t quite prepared her for the reality of seeing yet another impossible made real.

“It still feels… fantastical,” she murmured.

The Illustrator piped up, tapping a noteboard held against his side. “Alright, let’s see what the boffins have for us. Well, where to begin… given name, Pedanium as Young Meteos proposes, isn’t it? Apparently, it’s incredibly light, weighing a mere five grams for that entire prism. But the kicker is that it’s ridiculously strong. Compared to our data regarding existing materials, their initial tests show it surpassing even the still-largely-mysterious deochalcum itself in terms of sheer durability!”

Lugiel nodded, intrigued. “If it’s better than even deochalcum… then how about the mana conductivity? Is it as good as what that report implies?”

“It allows for near-instantaneous flow and minimal loss, yes. Your Highness, according to these reports, this pedanium is practically a mana superhighway. It channels mana like nothing we’ve ever seen before. A magic circuit made of pedanium would skip many generations, for sure.”

A shadow of concern crossed Lugiel’s features. “There has to be a catch, doesn’t there?” she asked, turning away from the pedanium’s mesmerizing glow.

Meteos tilted his head in acknowledgment. “As much as I hated that notion, unfortunately it seems that’s how things are. Well, every new invention has a teething phase, right, Your Highness? We figured out the basics, now comes the nitty-gritty.”

Adonis joined the conversation. “Indeed. The transmutation process is extremely resource-intensive. In our inaugural attempt, creating just that tiny prism devoured stockpiles of source material and mana. This time, we used iron, but what if the source material is something like liquid magic stone fuel or even water? Maybe we would have to drain oceans.”

“I see. So it’s still far from being available for practical use, huh…”

Robin chimed in last. “Well, that’s a hurdle for our future selves to tackle, wouldn’t you say? The kid finally proved it’s possible!”

With a sigh, the Princess closed her eyes and imagined from another perspective. The young inventor decided to go all in and create a new element this world has never seen, and that’s amazing. However, the invention of pedanium was ultimately just a byproduct of something even more important.

The transmutation magic spell utilized by Meteos to create it was not just a simple breakthrough in the science of atoms and molecules, it was a spark that could ignite a revolution. The Holy Empire currently lagged behind the descendants of the Enemy of All Races, Annonrial, by years if not decades. Their technological advancements were impressive over Mu and the primitives of the known world but paled in comparison to Annonrial. Here, in this conglomerate’s grounds, however, lay the potential to quickly bridge that gap, and perhaps even surpass it. The Princess started to believe that the Holy Milishial Empire could genuinely live up to its own rhetoric as the defender of humanity and stand on the undisputed pinnacle while they were at it.

Lugiel sighed reluctantly. “Robin, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but the reality isn’t that simple. Resource scarcity could bottleneck its widespread use. There’s also the question of scalability. Transmuting such a small amount was one thing, but industrializing the magic spell that Young Meteos used and mass-production of materials would require a whole new level of magical engineering.”

Admittedly, the mainstream magical technology simply wasn’t quite there yet to make supercomputers and then shrink them, for example. From what she heard from the discussions with the Foundation, Meteos himself estimated that to replicate this incredibly complicated magic spell ‘from the future’ using machines at a scale suitable for widespread production using existing automatic spellcasting technology, they would require a facility as vast as no less than an entire city. Even then, the most such a colossal undertaking could potentially produce in one incredibly inefficient process would be a single, minuscule speck of pedanium, no larger than a grain of sand.

Pedanium, a revolutionary material with near-mythical properties, was currently within their grasp, yet still out of reach. To the Holy Milishial Empire, a magical civilization that boasts an ambition to learn every magic spell in existence and a penchant to industrialize them using technology, this is a challenge a bit too insurmountable at present.

Luckily, her woes were offset by the presence of Meteos himself, who is able to process the spell better just by himself and able to allow the Holy Empire significant leaps with the pedanium he is able to produce. Still, Lugiel’s opinion was a fair observation, Meteos conceded.

However, even the exorbitant amount of source materials needed can also be mitigated as he leveraged his inherited memories to unlock more of Attarsamain’s technology in Ars Goetia. Both planets are the same type of hollow world, brimming with mana as if it’s the planet’s lifeblood; a sum of all life on the planet, it is capable of producing it endlessly as long as living organisms are still present, of which the civilization living on it can harness as much as they needed with enough know-how. That’s why when the Civilization Annihilation Game forcibly killed all life on Attarsamain, the planet’s mana stagnated and ceased to be completely.

Consequently, concerns regarding magical resources capable of being condensed into materials for transmutation should not be an issue. Heck, if the technology is advanced enough, they can directly generate materials—not just pedanium—from condensed mana, and if that is put to widespread use, even capitalism would become obsolete as people can create everything from the literal endless life force of their home planet, just like what the Malakh civilization on Attarsamain used to be.

The possibilities and problems that arose in a scenario where scarcity could potentially be eradicated and everything could be created were both a tantalizing and sobering thought.

“Hmm… uhmm…” Lugiel pursed her lips, shifting slightly in discomfort at the topic she was about to bring up next.

As much as one craved to share this revolutionary discovery with the entire Holy Empire, she knew that the Foundation might desire to safeguard their invention. This technology, in the wrong hands, could upset the delicate balance of power or worse, fall into the clutches of rogue nations or even the Annonrial Empire’s forces. She understood that despite being allies with the Order of the Ancients, the Roguerider Foundation, or more precisely the White Lotus’ inner circle, has its own secrets and discoveries that they dole out to allies only on a need-to-know basis.

“While I would be remiss if I didn’t express a yearning to see this knowledge disseminated throughout the Holy Empire,” the Princess began, her voice measured as she looked alternately between the two Roguerider siblings present. “I recognize the potential dangers of such a powerful resource falling into the wrong hands. The Roguerider Foundation’s discretion is, of course, respected.”

A warm smile flickered across Adonis’ face. “We are deeply grateful for your understanding, Your Highness,” he said. “Indeed, it will be our trade secret, but the Order of the Ancients’ presence here signifies a trust we deeply value for your generous patronage. Rest assured, the White Lotus prioritizes the betterment of all humanity. We will continue to work tirelessly alongside you to ensure this marvel serves the greater good.”

“In that case, we eagerly await further developments.”

“Yes, please look forward to it.”

“Mm-hmm. As usual, let us know if you need something.”

Lugiel thought that would be it for today, but just as the Princess prepared to bid the three farewells, Meteos continued. “Also… we hope this success and the ones to come will help solidify your standing as a Magister within the Order.”

Lugiel blinked, surprised by his unexpected concern. A warmth bloomed in her chest, unexpected yet welcome. “Ahaha. Meteos,” she giggled, “that’s a very thoughtful thing to say.” She paused, a small smile playing on her lips. “You don’t have to worry about me, though. Instead, your contributions are what truly matter. Without your ingenuity, none of this would be possible.”

The Illustrator added. “Take it in stride, boy. Her Highness has a knack for spotting hidden talents,” he remarked, tilting his head at the young Apprentice Mage.

Meteos laughed to himself, a quiet chuckle that barely escaped his lips. Internally, his mind drifted to a random memory of his childhood. Speaking of which, Walman used to have a shameless crush on the Princess, wasn’t he? He couldn’t help but wonder what that boy’s reaction would be if he were here, witnessing Meteos casually chatting with the Princess herself. Would he be impressed? Jealous? Maybe even a little heartbroken, knowing his childhood dream remained just that – a dream?

These thoughts, however, remained firmly within the confines of his mind. The Princess was already gathering her things in a noticeably more chipper mood as she left. There would be time for entertaining mundane matters later, after they left the confines of the facility. For now, he simply nodded in response to the Illustrator’s teasing, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in his words.

July 29, 1616 Central Calendar, 14:00

Roguerider Foundation Headquarters, San Redentore District, Runepolis

Lugiel Eldart Hollowrain, Imperial Lady of the Third Rank.

Magister Sorath the Illuminator, of the Eyes of the Order.

Born sixteenth in line of the succession of the Holy Empire’s throne as a descendant of the Crown Prince’s second son, she is now the seventeenth after the son of her older brother, Justinian, Imperial Duke of the Third Rank, was born. As the people of the Holy Empire can tell, their Princess is named after somebody famous—that of the Third Milishial Emperor, Lugiel of the Azure Star, who lived during the Star Gleaming Period (6544 – 6800 BCC). With the inherent elven longevity trait that graced her being, she walks among the people with the appearance of a woman in her early twenties, despite her birth predating the establishment of the Parpaldia Empire by sixty years.

Princess Lugiel considered herself to be so far away from courtly intrigue that the talk of it held little sway over her. Publicly, she devoted her time working for various charitable organizations, painting a picture of someone far removed from the machinations of power. Yet, beneath this surface, she was given the command over the vast intelligence network of the Holy Empire as the leader of the Eyes, a branch of the Order of the Ancients who answered directly to the Emperor, her distant ancestor.

From the very beginning, she emerged as his most ardent supporter almost immediately after the Order designated him as the Person of Interest, and later Meteos found himself a valuable ally in the Princess and the Eyes that she commanded. Their vast intelligence network proved to be an invaluable asset, keeping him abreast of happenings beyond his immediate reach, and a quick means of expanding the White Lotus’ ranks.

Expecting her arrival shortly after sending her a text message, Meteos entered a private lounge and waited.

…………

The clink of a fork against a porcelain dish echoed in the private lounge as Meteos speared a juicy chunk from his fruit salad. He glanced up, momentarily distracted, as the hiss of the entrance door sliced through the quiet. Lugiel, in her Militiades Novachrono getup, stepped into the lavishly furnished room. This time, however, her eyes held a touch of exasperation as they landed on the boy. Clutched in her hand was a plain brown briefcase containing something he had been itching to get his hands on to while away the time. After the elf crossed the threshold, Meteos reached for a nearby control panel and activated the door’s lock to ensure they wouldn’t be disturbed.

Depositing the briefcase she was clutching on the empty space of the couch next to Meteos, Lugiel quirked an eyebrow. “Reading these is your idea of unwinding, Young Master Roguerider?”

“It’s a productive activity, why not?”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He simply shrugged and countered with a raised eyebrow of his own as if it was obvious.

The disguised Princess let out a laugh and took a seat on the couch opposite Meteos. “Well, if they keep you entertained, then who am I to judge?”

Her gaze flickered toward the calendar on the table. “Speaking of which,” Lugiel remarked, adopting a more serious tone. “The Imperial Board’s magical arts examination is only two weeks away. Are you sure you’re not burning yourself out with all your work?”

Meteos paused mid-chew, his blue eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. “Thank you for the concern. But don’t worry about it.” Swallowing, he took another bite of his fruit salad before offering, “Want some? It’s good.”

“I’m already full, thank you.” Lugiel politely shook her head with a small smile. Settling deeper into the plush couch, she crossed her arms and tilted her head, eyes gleaming as Meteos carefully reached for the briefcase clasp and unlatched it.

Nestled against a soft velvet lining inside were several stacks of neatly bound documents. A quick glance revealed the insignia of the Order of the Ancients embossed on the covers – a deep-rooted tree surrounded by a coiling serpent. The night prior, Meteos had requested access to these documents, and owing to the positive impact the boy and his White Lotus allies had on the Order’s operations, Lugiel readily agreed to provide him with copies. Sharing these reports, classified as they were, was just a small token of appreciation. Given the boy’s gift of ability to see visions of the future, it made sense that Meteos would be curious to compare the cold hard facts of the present with the glimpses of the future he received. After all, he already had a proven track record of utilizing his visions to great effect that the Holy Empire had benefited from.

Meteos skimmed through the covers of foreign intelligence activities that belonged to the sprawling initiative of Operation GAZER, of which the Eyes led by Lugiel was in charge of the operations. Lugiel watched him intently, curious about his reaction, but the room remained silent except for the occasional rustle of turning pages. As he read, it became evident that this timeline’s version of this endeavor is able to achieve a greater degree of success than the Order’s design for the known world in both preceding timelines.

In one of the documents, Meteos’ eyes snagged on a particular page and found a photograph embedded in the document. The picture, grainy and taken from a significant distance, depicted a sleek, elongated shape floating on the surface of a dark ocean, with its low silhouette, with something protruding upward in the middle, stark against the night sky. Despite the poor quality, Meteos recognized it instantly and the implications behind this photograph.

A sidelined program for the Southern World, Plan HOURGLASS, is now actually making progress as the Seventy allies they recruited from Annonrial did their best to leak intel from their homeland. Meteos’ visions such as the Annonrial Empire using “submarines”—their version of U-boats—to transport their spies to various regions, the location of bases, and other such information aligns well with what provided by the members of Seventy in high positions such as Karl Krunch or Dagded Dujardin. A satisfied smile tugged at the boy’s lips as he flipped through the document. “This aligns with what the visions give about the Annonrial Empire’s current state,” he murmured.

Relief washed over the Princess’ features. “Isn’t that really incredible? Now that your visions are corroborated by factual evidence, it strengthens our confidence in the intel we’re receiving, however strange it is to be coming from something so… supernatural. No offense.”

“Mm-hmm, none taken.” Meteos shrugged. “It seems the intervention of the Seventy is proving more fruitful than anticipated, but acting as moles must be difficult. I hope they all will be fine until we can ‘recruit’ more of their brethren to our cause.”

“Amen.”

After flipping to the final page of the Plan HOURGLASS document, a satisfied sigh escaped his lips. He carefully placed it back in the briefcase with the weight of the classified information settling comfortably in his gut. There was a thrill in seeing his predictions validated.

Others seemed to be also progressing with tangible results. However, for Plans ASTROLABE for northern Philades and NOCTURNAL for Grameus, there’s not much development going on due to priority allocation other than sending survey ships in the vicinity, with the latter even harder to approve than the former simply due to sheer distance.

Moving on, the last one was titled Plan COMPASS, pertaining to operations within the southern Philades region where Kaios and Elto’s homeland is located.

In comparison to both preceding timelines, the northern invasion by the Parpaldia Empire in 1614 against the northern coalition of Kooze, Arukh, Cannara, and Edrin seemed to be a constant event. The Third Timeline version is the one the Parpaldians set off with the greatest level of confidence now that their country enjoyed better trading relations with the Holy Empire for several years already and was reaping benefits from it. However, as usual, the game was rigged from the start by none other than the Order of the Ancients, turning the invasion into a humiliating slog as the worsening logistic situations, general incompetence, and the Order leaking intel to the rebels to entice them into harassing the rear of the Parpaldian army caused the Dragon of Philades to overextend itself. Though, in the end, Parpaldia still declared “victory” and turned the four into de facto vassal states, like the Second Timeline version but not outright colonies as in the First Timeline.

Plan COMPASS included manipulating the factions opposed to the Parpaldia Empire’s expansionism and the simmering rebellions within its borders in order to sabotage Parpaldia’s ambitions and sap the country’s strength. The goal, as he read further, was to force the aggressive empire to its knees. The Holy Empire would then swoop in and offer much-needed aid in exchange for concessions. Desperation would leave Parpaldia with little choice but to accept the terms of the only superpower that mattered to them. The major difference in this timeline is that the crisis in eastern Parpaldia seemed to be significantly less severe and there was no famine spreading throughout the entire country.

Meteos paused in his reading. “So, after using Plan COMPASS to cripple Parpaldia, then what?”

“If I’m allowed to be extremely blunt, it’s all about advancing the Holy Empire’s interests in the Philades Continent. But first, we need to force them to accept some reforms.”

Lugiel continued. “Parpaldia is the newest among the great five, and they are an outlier—an aggressive, barbaric nation that thrives on subjugating its neighbors and exploiting them through slavery. The other superpowers, while they may have their squabbles with us, operate within a certain degree of civility. Parpaldia, no matter how attractive their market is, makes it hard for us to deal with them due to their nature. That’s why we need to turn them into a truly civilized country, even if it means dragging them kicking and screaming.”

“Okay. Basically, with interests and face on the world stage in mind, the Holy Empire aims to exploit the weakness, enter, and expand its influence in the region without the stain of getting too friendly with a nation that’s little more than a glorified band of bandits?” Meteos tilted his head.

Lugiel hummed in confirmation.

A frown creased Meteos’ face. “Playing an indirect and long game… I kind of understand that this is the standard operating procedure for the Holy Empire and yes, it can work, but forgive me for saying this: for my human self and my species’ lifespan, you guys are taking things too slowly.”

The Princess’ jolt and widening of her eyes might be a sign that she was taken aback, but she later gave him a sly grin.

“Hmm, interesting. Did you… just bring up some kind of self-deprecating racial stereotype and pair it with a rather valid point?”

The boy’s lips quirked slightly, “Yes. Please don’t try it at home, but I’m not sorry.”

“Haha! How bold! No, no, you don’t need to. I can look past that if there’s merit in people’s words,” Lugiel laughed. But in the next instant, that smile dropped and the air around them seemed to turn colder. “But you better justify your claims.”

“If something unexpected happened inside Parpaldia, it can derail the plan entirely if the Holy Empire is also caught off guard by it.”

“For example?” Lugiel prompted, hoping to hear the opinion from the one with the ability to literally “see the future” unlike a certain Parpaldian advisor.

“Emperor Leonius and his spouse’s sudden death, for example.”

“An assassination of the ruler…? Well, never mind. What did you ‘see’ about the circumstances? Any details about it?”

Meteos shook his head slowly. “Not exactly. Even now, the methods, culprit, time, and place always shift, but the result is always the same. Both Emperor Leonius and his wife are gone, but their child survives.” He tapped a finger against the document that now rested against his lap. “If they died when he’s still too young, then their Imperial Advisor will become his regent. This person is decent, but as soon as Ludius ascends to the throne, any progress made will be quickly undone by him. In many paths, he always grows up stoking the flames of hatred against the barbarians who supposedly caused his parents’ deaths. So, when Ludius takes the reins of Parpaldia, he turns the entire country into a genocidal war machine that uses various justifications so that he can take his revenge. Whether his motive decays after some time passes depends, but it still doesn’t change the severity of the outcome.”

“Hmm…… what else are the possible outcomes that you see besides a lethally emotional ruler taking the helm?”

“More assassinations… and political instability…”

“That’s not good for our interests either.”

“Nor it is good for business.”

Seeing his empire as a mirror of the Holy Milishial Empire at the end of the Warring Kingdoms Period, Leonius was rumored to have devised a plan in which he pursued a government system similar to the Holy Empire. Seeing Mu stumble, to quote Leonius, “pathetically,” to the changing whims of the masses (political instability) not long after the Sol Islands Dispute further fueled his distrust toward a system of constitutional monarchy like the second superpower. A man known for his pragmatism, Leonius is an autocratic ruler who is open to reforms because he wants Parpaldia to be more efficient at being evil—I mean, a superpower, and what better superpower to emulate than the first, whom he both dreamed to be an equal and loathed the most at the same time.

The Holy Empire almost had a similar style of constitutional monarchy, but the one who proposed it turned out to be an Ancient Sorcerous Empire cultist with an evil plan to corrupt the fledgling unifier, and the nation was fresh from battling against the Heretic King during the Warring Kingdoms Period’s final war, so His Majesty the Emperor did the reasonable thing for this betrayal—bludgeoning the bastard until he turned into bloody mush. With his halberd. And his horse. And then with his bare hands.

Before being known as a stoic ruler, Lucius of the Morning Star was not just a towering and menacing grumpy jerk of an elf. He was a towering, menacing, and violent grumpy jerk of an elf.

Oof.

After this short mental trip to the past, they realized that Leonius and a younger Emperor Milishial VIII were really alike, now that Meteos and Lugiel thought about it.

Ludius’ parents did die in the First Timeline due to assassination, but since Meteos wasn’t actually a seer, his pronouncements about the so-called “future visions” were actually calculated gambles. This time, he simply knew about Ludius and how bitter he was after Japan conveniently appeared out of nowhere, defeated his empire, and turned him into a powerless figurehead. In the end, he never grew up from the tragedy that would define his reign; that of a blind vengeance. He never got the chance to avenge his parents, and he died losing everything. He was stupid, but he was a pitiful villain.

But unlike his dad, Ludius’ reign was basically defined by his roaring rampage of revenge. If he was the one who passed Kagaseo’s trial, what would Ludius do in a new timeline, and how he would stomach the Civilization Annihilation Game?

Well, having gotten his hands on the rather obscure autobiography of the man himself also helped Meteos in gaining insights into his character.

At the end of her musings, Lugiel finally spoke.

“In essence, the world is better with that boy Leonius surviving than dead?”

Meteos met her gaze with a nod. “Pretty much, Leonius might treat anyone and anything as tools and values them based on their usefulness, but he’s certainly not Hark Louria—he’s not someone who harbors unhinged racial superiority beliefs. Slavery that his country is perpetuating is also nothing but a tool for him. If someone were to present him with enough and undeniable evidence that some tools are harming his empire, he is willing to discard those tools.”

Lugiel furrowed her brow. “Hmm… now that makes sense… his approach is not necessarily shared by the imbeciles—ahem, I mean, his subordinates. If they see this as a threat to their standings, they might try to… do some ‘corrections.’”

“We can’t let that happen.”

“Then we won’t,” she declared. “This will need to be discussed with the higher-ups, but if the Holy Empire were to desire a stable Parpaldia, then the Order will spare no effort in ensuring Leonius and his wife’s survival.”

Finally, with a soft sigh, Meteos snapped the document shut and settled back against the couch, arms stretched.

“That’s quite a lot to take in,” he admitted. “Nevertheless, thank you for letting me see these reports, Your Highness. I know that the White Lotus’ presence overseas is still not as widespread as the Order’s own network, but we will do our part with our recruited collaborators.”

Lugiel chuckled. Even at fifteen, the boy carried himself with a quiet authority that belied his age. Perhaps due to his gift.

“Yes… since the Order and the White Lotus started cooperating and sharing information, we have an easier time operating behind the scenes by covering each other’s weaknesses. Wouldn’t you say our networks complement each other rather well?”

“Hehe, I hope so.”

“Ah, before you forget, these documents are classified, remember? Make sure to dispose of them properly after you’ve finished reviewing them.”

Meteos offered her a reassuring nod. “Of course, Your Highness. Discretion is paramount.”

Lugiel stretched, her eyes flitting to the clock on the far wall. “Goodness, it’s getting late. Perhaps we should take a break and resume this discussion when we’re both fresh?”

The silver-haired boy readily agreed. “Sounds like a plan. My mind is swimming with all this new information.” Returning his attention to the fruit salad, he scooped up the last bite and popped it into his mouth with a satisfied hum.

When he was left alone after Lugiel departed, Meteos stood up and donned his Desire Driver. With an application of Overhaul, the documents and the briefcase were gone, disassembled into nothing but air, leaving no trace of the classified information he had been privy to.

A bitter scowl marred his visage.

Just as he was about to lounge about in peace, the thought of Legiel appeared within his mind. The longer he desired for dreams, happiness, and ideal world, yet not acting to be better, the louder the Civilization Annihilation Game and the Will of the Audience will laugh at him.

Being laughed at brought some bad memories. Meteos really detested being laughed at.

The Available Information from Beyond

DERIVED FROM THE INHERITED MEMORIES

The inherited memories is a term coined by Amatsu-Mikaboshi's tool--no, instrument, Meteos Roguerider, to refer the set of memories he could recall based on the accumulated knowledge from one of the Civilization Annihilation Game's past playthroughs: Land of Light - Attarsamain. It is unclear why Amatsu-Mikaboshi did this exactly, but due to the sheer power of potential it can unleash, it is likely that he did this out of spite and defiance toward us, the Civilization Annihilation Game, and you, our dearest Audience.

Up to this point, the boy is able to use the inherited memories in order to create three magical abilities:

Understanding in Seeing Others to Strengthen Oneself - All for One. The inherited memories assist in Meteos' analytical capabilities by manifesting as an imaginary technological tree whenever he focuses on an object in order to break it down and suggest the most ideal upgrade for him to take. This is normally a magic spell that must be activated, but Amatsu-Mikaboshi modified it and turned it into a passively active ability. Illusion Magic - Temple of Heaven. Meteos' most used technique, being the control freak manipulator that he is. It casts a powerful yet subtle mind-controlling illusion on the target. This spell, being the illusion magic of the highest caliber, allows the user to manipulate the target by giving them false experiences, making it seem as if they were doing things of their own free will. (Actually, this description is wrong. The Temple of Heaven is not a mind-altering magic, but reality-altering magic. How so? Well, do you see the boy having an epiphany of remorse after using it? No? Well, that's because that's the side effect of the reality alteration thanks to that bastard Amatsu-Mikaboshi giving him some broken magic. However, the former seems to be what Meteos perceived it to be.) Matter Transformation Magic - Overhaul. The recent unlockable with a wide array of potential uses. It utilizes advanced knowledge of atomic structures to manipulate matter on a fundamental level, capable of disassembling and then reassembling them, also allowing the user to transmute one type of material into another so long as they can comprehend it.

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