CH1363 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1363: A Long Time Ago

Three choices lay in front of Roland.

The first: use the opportunity Valkries offered and kill Hackzord outright. Near-zero risk. It would amount to eliminating a Grand Lord without a proper battle, an almost embarrassingly clean result. Given Hackzord’s unique spatial abilities and the fact that high-grade demons grew harder to replace as their rank increased, this would help the front lines enormously. He could explain the failure to Valkries through accidents, through unforeseeable complications, and lie convincingly enough. If he was lucky, the same bait might work again on another Grand Lord.

The second: bring Hackzord into the Dream World and let the two speak. Valkries had already chosen to take the leap. The real question was not whether she would cooperate but what came of the meeting. The ideal outcome was that Hackzord verified the truth and Valkries convinced him to withdraw demon forces from the Human Kingdom — and then carried that message outward through their hierarchy — clearing the path from Neverwinter to the Bottomless Land. Kill the last Oracle, reach God at the continent’s edge.

If the war had been only humans against demons, he would have chosen the first without hesitation. Killing Hackzord that way was a certainty, and a dead Grand Lord bought real advantage in the North. The longer the stalemate held, the further Neverwinter could develop its industrial war capacity.

But the war was not only about humans and demons.

There was God. And against that threat, a single Sky Lord was an afterthought. Winning the Battle of Divine Will entirely, with every demon dead and every field secured, would still not prevent human civilization from being destroyed.

Roland did not know what level of development it would take to survive that cataclysm. He only knew the clock was running.

Valkries had likely seen the same arithmetic and chosen the risk accordingly.

It had to be said — the offer showed real sincerity. She had watched the Oracles attack, watched Erosion work, and she had taken Lan’s warning seriously enough to think beyond the Battle of Divine Will. The Transformer had planted something in her long before the battle lines were drawn: a willingness, in the name of her civilization’s survival, to give up on winning a single war. That willingness was bearing fruit now, and perhaps it was inevitable — the seed had been too deep to not eventually grow.

But Hackzord had not been present for any of it. Whether one conversation in the Dream World would be enough to bring him around was unknown. And the more times they met here, the higher the risk of exposure — which was precisely what Roland could not easily accept.

Which left the third choice.

Hold the current position. Buy time. Build enough strength for humanity to reach the Bottomless Land under its own power.

Honestly, this was the choice most consistent with who Roland was. It was the goal he had been pursuing from the beginning. Whatever the demons decided, whatever the Sky Lord ultimately chose — for humanity to arrive at the continent’s edge with the independent capacity to fight was the only outcome that felt truly reliable.

The difficulty was the terrain. The thousand-kilometer distance to the ridge included the Impassable Mountain Range to Neverwinter’s north. To traverse it, the Fire of Heaven was necessary, and alongside it the ability to defend against aerial assault. Research, development, production — all of that took time. What changed along the front lines during that wait was anyone’s guess.

This was the trap Roland had already recognized: choosing the reliable option was itself a form of risk. The difference between this choice and the other two was that the risk here depended heavily on what humanity could make of itself through sustained effort.

I should ask the Association for support on this in the next Dream World visit.

He turned the thought over once and let it rest.


After dinner, Anna came to his office with a roll of design plans and settled across from him at the mahogany desk. This was the hour they had made their own — two or three hours before the research institute closed for the night, during which the day’s work could turn into sudden insight and the pressure could briefly lift. Nightingale usually materialized at the side table with something to eat and a stack of Scroll’s illustrated comics about Dream World events, speaking up occasionally with something dry or irreverent, keeping the air around them soft and warm.

When he’d worked through the day’s technical problems, Roland raised the Dream World question that had been grinding against the inside of his skull.

“So that’s why you were sighing all day.” Nightingale didn’t look up from her comics. “Does the connection have to exist? What if the images from the Dream World are just assembled at random? The more you think about it, the more grey hairs you grow. Some things simply cannot be understood.”

Roland gave her a flat look. “If people stop using their brains, civilization ends.”

“If you keep using yours this hard, you’ll end before civilization does.”

”…” He decided to revise his earlier assessment of the atmosphere as warm.

Anna was quiet for a long time — the long, inward quiet of someone following a thread. Then: “I think Nightingale is right.”

Both of them turned to stare at her.

Anna laughed. “Not about not thinking. About this particular problem.” She tucked her hair back behind one ear. “Maybe the link between the two scenes is simpler than you’re making it.”

“You’ve found something?”

“Not found. Guessed.” She spread her notes in front of her. “For example — the order of the two scenes. Or more specifically: time.”

Roland went still. “The link is time?” He followed the thought forward and then felt it open up. “If the second scene occurred before the first—”

“Then it’s a complete story.” Anna finished it.

“This is the price.”

Not the price paid for evolution — not like the Radiation People who had simply vanished. Not the tsunamis and storms that swallowed survivors whole. Those events were separated from the red cavity by more than ten thousand years, a hundred thousand years, perhaps further still. The price was pointing somewhere else entirely.

The outcome: gravity was no longer the most revered force. A red void, enormous and spreading, had appeared somewhere in the universe.

And if that single declarative line — from this moment forth — was a subtle reference to magic power, then it pointed toward a conclusion that stopped the breath.

Roland and Anna looked at each other across the desk.

“—Magic power did not exist in this world before,” they said, together.

Without magic power, there could be no living beings who depended on it.

No demons.

And no witches.

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