"When will this life ever end?" A rather plain-looking young man emerged from a small wooden hut near noon, exhausted and helpless. He glanced at a classmate coming out of the neighboring hut and voiced his complaint.
"Hang in there," his weary companion Lyle replied, trying to reassure him. "Once we've taught these Ikarians our language, there's a chance we'll get to go home."
"This isn't about patience!" The young man became even more agitated. "Do you know who we're teaching? A bunch of Bagdhas—humanoid war machines that can take on tanks and tear apart aircraft when they're on their flying mounts!"
Hearing this, Lyle's face twitched involuntarily. It wasn't just his anxious friend who felt overwhelmed; they all shared that pressure but simply hid it better.
"We're teaching language to beings that could squash us like bugs at any moment! Do you understand what it's like to feel that every single day?" The young man's emotions grew more intense.
"Of course I do. You think I don't feel the same?" Lyle replied, equally frustrated. He had a good home life, a beautiful fiancée, and was already engaged. But here he was, trapped in this primitive world, practically imprisoned, and forced to teach language to a bunch of natives.
If he didn't get back within a few years, who knew what would happen to his family, or what choices his fiancée might make? Given the usual government approach, his status as "missing in action" would effectively put him in the same category as the dead.
"What are you two mumbling about? Time to eat." Just then, their professor, Dr. Ellen, approached. Now restored to the peak of her twenties, Dr. Ellen was positively radiant.
There wasn't a trace of frustration on her face over the task of teaching the Ikarians their civilization's language; instead, she practically exuded joy.
"Yes, Professor!" Looking at her, the two students wore mixed expressions. Since her rejuvenation by the Ikarian king's mysterious powers, their professor had become an ardent devotee, perhaps even a believer, of this King Urel.
She constantly tried to influence her students, urging them to share her reverence for the Ikarian king, who appeared almost godlike to her.
What was most remarkable, however, was how rapidly this belief had spread among the female students. Even without much urging from Dr. Ellen, many young women longed to preserve their youth, and they quickly began to idolize the Ikarian king.
They too desired the gift of eternal youth and threw themselves into teaching the Ikarians with unprecedented dedication.
In contrast, the male students displayed a bit more resilience, though even some of them were beginning to waver, for the promise of eternal youth was hard for mortals to resist.
…
"Immortality, huh." Muria, having quietly observed this group of outsiders for several days, sat in contemplation upon his throne.
Initially, he'd planned to wait until he attained legendary status, then rally the powerful creatures of this world to stand against the advanced civilization coveting their resources. With enough strength, he could beat them into submission and force them to negotiate, trading their knowledge for the energy resources of the Ikarian world.
In this way, he could directly propel Ikarian civilization into the interstellar era, an achievement significant enough to earn a drop of his world's source energy as a reward.
But a critical risk remained in this plan: even if he overwhelmed the other world with sheer force, they might retaliate in desperation by launching destructive weapons at the Ikarian world.
Muria had no doubt that a civilization capable of space travel would have a formidable stockpile of nuclear weapons. Such an advanced society could easily drag a whole world down with them.
"Conquering hearts is better than storming walls. There are more ways to win than just war."
The events of recent days replayed in Muria's mind: Dr. Ellen, whom he had rejuvenated, and Aki, whom he had resurrected, were both his devout followers now.
From their bodies, he could see faint threads of faith extending toward him, and even from some of the students who had witnessed what seemed like miracles, fine threads of faith connected to him as well.
If he amassed enough faith, he could potentially use it as a foundation to ascend as a god—not in the Ikarian world, but in the world of the interstellar civilization.
But becoming a god in such a world was foolish. Muria hadn't been interested in becoming a god even in Erathia, so there was no way he'd consider it here.
Not wanting to ascend as a god didn't mean he lacked ideas, however; there were other ways to use this faith.
"The allure of eternal life! I should have thought of this before—there's no need for war at all."
Muria chuckled softly, then rose leisurely from his seat. He strolled to the rear courtyard of his palace and found Maisha practicing its vocalizations.
Roar!
Howl!
Groan!
In the courtyard, Maisha was struggling to lower its voice, producing an odd assortment of sounds.
"Enough, enough, stop with those ridiculous noises!" Muria sighed at the sight, understanding exactly what Maisha was attempting.
Maisha's perspective had shifted dramatically after obtaining a portion of Muria's blood, which had triggered a metamorphosis. With this transformation, Maisha had finally rid itself of the "meow" sound it had once found so humiliating, restoring its original, majestic roar.
However, once it regained its roar, Maisha quickly regretted it, realizing that since its evolution, Muria only interacted with it during outings. Otherwise, he didn't even touch it.
Deeply unsettled, Maisha understood its previous form had been the reason for this shift. Realizing it had lost Muria's favor, Maisha began practicing to recapture its former "meow" sound, in the hopes of regaining his attention.
This amusing display hadn't escaped Muria, and he found it somewhat exasperating. Despite its haughty exterior, Maisha was ultimately a creature willing to forgo its dignity, albeit with high standards for doing so.
"Ooouu…" Maisha whimpered upon hearing Muria, the result of its efforts to soften its voice.
"Umiao King, I have a proposal for you," Muria addressed the majestic creature before him. Strangely, he found this version of Maisha far less intriguing than its previously defiant, indifferent self.
"I'd like to know—are you interested in becoming a god, a deity with dominion over life and death?"
"Umm?" Maisha, mid-attempt at appeasement, froze, emitting a puzzled sound. In Ikarian language, there was no term for "god," only for the "Sacred Tree."
"A supreme being with power over life and death," Muria elaborated, "like the Sacred Tree, but with greater freedom."
Muria had calculated that while this mid-tier world's rules weren't as comprehensive as those in Erathia, divinity here would likely allow a deity to walk the earth freely.
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