Head pounding.
That was exactly how Charles felt at the moment.
The two sides had been in direct contact for several days now. While no full-scale assault had been launched yet, probing attacks had never once ceased.
Every second, the sky was streaked with countless volleys of fire, like multicolored comets trailing glowing tails as they slammed into the opposing forces.
Under this high-intensity warfare, as one of the overseers of the wizard Tower, Charles had to dedicate himself fully—working overtime with unwavering focus just to keep the tower running smoothly.
The war machines still hung in the skies, colossal and imposing, dominating the battlefield from above.
Neither side had yet lost their most important weaponry. Instead, they maintained a relentless 24-hour harassment campaign, tying down each other's main forces in a grinding stalemate.
Meanwhile, on the ground, on the newly born and rapidly-scarred land…
Billions of magical beasts were clashing with equally innumerable psionic mechanical troops. The shrieking, roaring magical beasts stood in stark contrast to the emotionless, unyielding war machines, the battlefield split between primal chaos and cold precision.
Waves of magical energy and torrents of wild power surged back and forth. All manner of attacks and artillery fire flew unchecked, spilling blood and hurling mechanical debris across the terrain.
In just a few days, so many corpses and broken machines had piled up that they blanketed the land entirely. With each step, blood and machine oil splashed underfoot.
Skirting the battlefield's edge, hidden by the power of his innate camouflage, Orsaga didn't engage in any combat—nor did anyone attempt to confront him. He was like a phantom wandering freely through the chaos, quietly harvesting unnoticed souls from the dead.
He stayed far away from the powerful ones. Those souls might be under watch, and claiming them could alert certain entities to his presence. Besides, powerful souls tended to resist and would take energy to suppress—something that could jeopardize his cover.
So Orsaga contented himself with what others overlooked—the scraps. He took one soul after idling for a while, then another, slowly and steadily fleecing the battlefield like a master thief.
As a traditional, down-to-abyss kind of demon, Orsaga was discreet and pragmatic. He didn't chase after unrealistic goals—only took deals he could be absolutely sure of.
After all, if he were kicked out of this battlefield, sneaking back in once the enemy was on alert would be far more difficult. Caution was key. Quietly amassing wealth without bragging about it was the smart way to go.
Riding his personally hand-crafted, custom-designed bicycle, Orsaga watched the chaos around him with a detached gaze.
He nearly started humming the melody to A Happy Life out loud.
"Sigh… how dull."
Casually grabbing another soul while dodging a flying body part, Orsaga sighed from his seat atop the bicycle. "I swear I'm the protagonist here, but no one's even targeting me. Life is just so… mundane. There's no sweeping drama, no epic showdowns. It's disappointing for a demon like me."
Since the day he was born, almost no one had ever come looking for trouble. Most of the time, he killed enemies in passing—before they could even react, let alone fight back. There wasn't a single opponent who'd left a strong impression—he just killed and moved on.
Unhurriedly, he guided his bike to dodge another splash of blood heading for his face. With serene indifference, he thought, "Maybe… maybe this is what they call a peaceful life."
—
Unlike Orsaga's carefree meandering. Deep beneath the Silent Heart Academy, Saya was practically drowning in chaos.
He was responsible for transporting magical beasts. While his job only covered a small segment of the task, it was enough to have him completely overwhelmed.
Thanks to their powerful vitality, magical beasts weren't as fragile as ordinary animals. Most wounds, so long as they weren't fatal, could heal naturally. On top of that, the Aelthorpe Star carried a large number of beast-repair units that significantly improved their survivability.
Even so, the battlefield still devoured millions of magical beasts every day.
And this was only the beginning of the war—barely even counted as the opening act. Just a hint of the storm to come.
That's why the logistics teams of the wizarding world were still working at full tilt. All their usual tasks had been doubled. Around the clock, magical beasts were being restored and readied to return to the frontlines as expendable assets.
Judging by the current state of things, this frantic pace would last for quite some time. Based on historical records, world wars in this world could drag on for hundreds of years—long enough to outlive a dozen generations of ordinary people.
This was one of the main reasons wizards looked down on regular humans. By the time a war ended from a wizard's perspective, humans had been born, aged, and died across ten or more generations. Their lives were fleeting—brief flickers of light. The gap between the two races wasn't just one of power, but of worldview, perception, and the way they thought about time itself.
—
At the Heart of the World, within the Wizard Council—
Dozens of glowing orbs floated in the air as usual.
But this time, something was different: a massive projection screen stood prominently at the center.
It was displaying live footage from the battlefield from various angles.
One of the orbs, shrouded in a faint black mist, spoke in a calm and deep voice:
"The enemy's war machines strongly resemble the so-called 'spaceships' of the former Kaylon Civilization. Their primary methods of attack involve physical projectiles and various beam weapons."
"Although their individual firepower and defenses are not as advanced as the Aelthorpe Star, they make up for it in sheer numbers. From the signs of their manufacturing process, these ships seem to be similar to the silicon-based weapons—simpler, but streamlined. Like our production of magical beasts, it's a fully developed and efficient system."
"If this technology has existed for some time and they've prepared adequately, their fleet likely numbers far more than we can currently imagine."
"Just like the Kaylon Civilization back then—with its hundreds of thousands of warships that blotted out the sky and tried to crush the wizard world through overwhelming force—this new opponent, the Gaiensar Civilization, might very well attempt the same approach. And that is not good news for us."
The speaker was none other than the commander of the wizarding world's forces in this world war.
He was currently located within one of the Aelthorpe Stars, right on the battlefield itself, with full oversight of the war. His grasp of the situation was far beyond what the other council members could perceive.
Everyone present understood he would never speak lightly on such matters. If he made such a statement, it was because he had a high degree of certainty. Moreover, he had also been the one to lead the war against the Kaylon Civilization in the past. His insights carried immense weight.
And so, they began to discuss—carefully and seriously—how best to respond to this new threat.
These were beings whose lifespans stretched across half the recorded history of the wizarding world. They knew all too well: just because they'd defeated the Kaylon Civilization back then didn't mean they could win this time against the Gaiensar Civilization.
This was a brutal world.
Every civilization that managed to rise had its own unique advantages and secret weapons. Especially those civilizations that thrived on devouring others—those were the most dangerous of all.
What you see on the surface doesn't mean much. A reversal of fortune could come in the blink of an eye.
Underestimating the enemy had been a key factor in the Kaylon Civilization's downfall. Their massive fleets were shattered by hubris.
The wizarding world, meanwhile, had survived for countless eras thanks in part to its leaders—immortals who had been tempered by endless years. The wisdom granted by time taught them how to spot risks, how to act decisively, and most importantly, what not to do.
It was precisely this wariness of the ancients that kept Orsaga's main body, hidden somewhere within the wizarding world, from ever crossing certain red lines.
His inherited memories made it clear—those old monsters were not to be trifled with.
_____
T/N:
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