The gods, unable to find an answer, eventually turned to Gaia.
Although Gaia was called the Earth Mother, in truth, she was the very Counter Force of the Earth, the instinctive will that ensured the survival of the planet itself.
She bore no prejudice toward humanity, beings who had evolved from ancient apes yet transcended animals.
At this time, the world's population was still sparse, and Alaya had not yet fully formed.
Thus, she gave the gods stones infused with both human genes and the power of creation.
And so, the gods decided to create mankind.
Originally, this task was to have been completed by the last remnants of the previous generation of humans, Deucalion and Pyrrha.
But because of Alaric's influence, the Great Flood came too early.
Pyrrha was never born at all, while Deucalion either died in the flood soon after birth or perhaps was never born in the first place.
In the end, no one survived this flood, and the gods had to act themselves.
Zeus and Hera took it upon themselves. Covering their heads, they followed Gaia's command and cast the stones behind them.
A miracle occurred: the stones ceased to be hard and brittle, turning soft, growing large, and slowly taking form.
Human shapes began to emerge, though not yet complete, like the rough outlines an artist first chisels from marble.
Damp soil upon the stones transformed into muscle, solid rock into bone, and the stone's natural patterns into human veins.
Curiously, every stone Zeus cast became a man, while every stone Hera cast became a woman.
At last, a new humanity appeared upon the earth.
This time, the gods learned from the mistakes of the previous age. They guided humanity personally, demanding reverence and worship in return.
The god of agriculture and harvest taught men how to sow and reap, ensuring food.
The god of war and Athena, goddess of wisdom, taught weaving and many crafts, so humans could clothe themselves.
Apollo, god of the sun and the arts, taught medicine, music, and poetry, granting the ability to heal disease and enjoy beauty.
Artemis, goddess of the hunt and the moon, taught hunting, so mankind could fend off beasts and secure more food.
Ares taught them strength and combat, forging power through struggle.
Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, taught passion between men and women, so that they might pair, support each other, and bear children.
Hephaestus, god of fire and the forge, taught smithing, allowing them to craft tools for daily life.
Hermes, divine messenger, taught travel and commerce, enabling journeys between settlements and trade.
Dionysus, god of wine, taught winemaking and revelry, so mankind would know how to rest and enjoy life.
Hestia, goddess of the hearth, taught the forming of households, ensuring peace and harmony within families.
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Thus, the new humanity gradually spread across the earth, forming villages, which grew into cities, and cities into kingdoms.
Under divine guidance, civilization developed at a rapid pace.
Humans explored the land, settled new places, multiplied in number, until their settlements filled even the divine realm.
Because of the gods' instruction, this generation of mankind was far more devout than the last.
Every village raised statues for worship, every city built temples, and generations of men and women offered sincere reverence to the gods.
This greatly delighted the gods, convincing them that their efforts were worthwhile.
Yet, as generations passed, humanity's numbers grew, their civilizations flourished, and the gods themselves grew lax.
They no longer guided as before, instead indulging in enjoyment, for after all, had they not nurtured mankind precisely so their worship might be harvested for the gods' own pleasure?
During this era, Alaric had hardly been idle.
Pandora, truly worthy of being a creation of the gods, learned magic at a breathtaking pace.
Her flawless body itself was endowed with immense magical potential.
In the terms of the Nasuverse, her magic circuits, whether in quantity, quality, or precision, were of the highest rank.
With Alaric, a living library of arcane knowledge, as her teacher, her progress was effortless.
Since the rebirth of mankind, more than a century had passed.
In that time, Pandora had absorbed magical knowledge from Alaric like a sponge, her ability now reaching a level comparable to legend.
In sheer destructive power and spell potency she stood equal to a legendary mage, though in research and spellcrafting she had yet to meet the standard.
Thanks to Alaric's guidance, Pandora achieved near-universal mastery, but her body, tempered of earth and water, forged by divine fire, cooled by divine wind, made her especially adept in manipulating the four elements and energies.
Evocation spells were her greatest passion.
In battle, she resembled characters from certain fantasy novels, mages who knew only elemental magic.
With every gesture came gales, flames, frost, and lightning.
Though Alaric frequently scolded her methods as foolish and unworthy of a true mage's essence, Pandora never tired of it.
In Alaric's mind, the true strength of a mage lay in control, in the ability to manipulate foes within the palm of one's hand, to adapt to any circumstance with versatility.
A mage should not be reduced to a brainless artillery platform.
Yet Pandora, blessed with elemental affinity so great even Alaric envied it, chose to be a living cannon.
With relentless storms of elemental fury she crushed her enemies, unmoved even after Alaric's criticism for a full century.
Naturally, if even Pandora had reached legendary heights, Alaric himself was no exception.
His accumulated knowledge had long surpassed that level, and his talent was more than sufficient. His delay in breaking through stemmed only from his hunger to master all.
For a mage, entering the legendary realm meant establishing a personal magical theory transcending all existing systems.
Such a theory was like a Reality Marble, an inner world imposing itself upon reality, granting unmatched power and miracles.
After all, when casting according to others' rules, one would always be bound. But with rules of one's own, how could there be any constraint?
Of course, the rules thus surpassed were only surface-level ones, like the magical foundations. The deeper laws of the world could never be broken.
From this, it was clear why in the Nasuverse a Reality Marble was considered among the highest achievements of magecraft.
It was also worth noting that in A Certain Magical Index, espers' so-called "personal realities" were based on the same principle.
Developing esper powers could be seen as a shortcut to the legendary realm.
Yet such shortcuts carried their price: unless one truly broke through the final barrier, all other possibilities would be lost.
It was like a mage who possessed only a developing legendary power, capable of using legendary-level spells, yes, but unable to learn or wield anything else.
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