CH734 · Rewrite
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Chapter 734: The Root of the Divergence

“Underground civilization?”

The turnoffs on the North Slope Mine. The cluster of grottos threading through the Impassable Mountain Range. Roland had never found a geological process that could account for either — no collapse pattern, no water erosion, no tectonic shift that produced forms like those. He had assumed at first some species of oversized demonic beast, boring through the rock for nesting. But perhaps those tunnels were not holes at all. Perhaps they were corridors.

“People at the time didn’t recognize it for what it was,” Pasha said, “and made no attempt at communication. Our forms were so different that the early records classified them as a new type of demon — which is why the histories diverged so badly from what was true. It wasn’t until the final phase of the second Battle of Divine Will that a breakthrough came.” A pause. “By then, Taquila was the only holy city left standing. The Union had reached the moment of survival or extinction.”

“What breakthrough?”

“The Quest Society, working from the remaining lithographs, decoded the method of storing a soul and verified it using an unhatched original carrier. From that discovery, the Three Chiefs began the research into what became the God’s Punishment Army transformation.”

Agatha said quietly, “I knew nothing about that.”

“Soul Transfer was the Union’s most closely guarded secret — classified two levels above even the God’s Punishment Army plan, which used witches as its subjects. At that time, only the Three Chiefs and a handful of senior officials had been told. I learned it myself only with the fall of Taquila.” Pasha’s voice was steady and gave nothing away.

Roland turned a question over. “So Natalia supported the God’s Punishment Army plan initially? And — what is an original carrier?”

“She supported it because no other options existed yet. As for the latter —” Pasha’s tentacles curled slowly inward and then spread again, a gesture he was beginning to read as something like resignation. “It is what we look like now. This body. This shell. The evidence that the underground civilization once existed. Their only remaining tombstone.” A brief pause. “It is a long story, Your Majesty. Allow me to tell it properly.”

Roland poured himself a glass of Chaos Drink, settled back in the chair, and listened.

“The Quest Society followed the clues left on the lithographs and learned that the vanished civilization had left a city somewhere in the Impassable Mountain Range. They searched for a long time without result. Then someone thought: this civilization moved underground. Perhaps the city is underground as well.”

“The expanded search found it. Four layers, with an area roughly half the size of Taquila. Every layer was threaded with turnoffs and hollow chambers — the complexity of a maze, and one that would trap a person permanently without a witch capable of sensing direction. The Quest Society gave it that name: the maze ruin.”

“Before they could fully explore it, the demons took Taquila. The survivors fled. After considerable cost, we reached the maze. The plan was to take the original carriers stored there, withdraw to the Hermes Plateau, and build a new Holy City on the eastern coast to restore the Union’s reach.”

“No one anticipated what we found next.”

Pasha went quiet. The scales across her body dimmed — not a trick of the light curtain, but something that seemed to come from within the shell itself. Even without a face, grief had its textures.

After a long moment, she resumed: “The maze ruin was intact. More than intact — it was a new city in everything that mattered. Besides the original carriers, its lowest level held three things of extraordinary importance: the magic core, the central carrier, and the recorded history of the vanished civilization.”

“And it was then that we understood: they had intended to lead us there. Since the first Battle of Divine Will, they had been trying to bring us to that place. The maze ruin had been prepared for us.”

“For what purpose?” Tilly asked.

“For revenge.” A different voice, colder and more clipped. “They wanted us to destroy the demons. To take vengeance for the extinction of their people.”

“That is Lady Natalia’s interpretation,” Pasha said, with a gentleness toward the other voice that suggested long habit. “It is not what the documents state explicitly. They may simply have wanted their civilization to be remembered — to be passed forward. In any case, from the remaining records, the Quest Society recovered an enormous body of research on God’s Will and magic power. To help us understand, the civilization had translated most of its conclusions into the form of lithographs.”

“And the record of the magic core,” she continued, “is the precise point at which the Queen of Sunchaser and the Queen of Starfall City could no longer agree. One of the most important passages in the lithographs states: ‘Magic power offers infinite possibilities, and the pursuit of God’s Will is the ladder to mastering magic power.’”

Roland felt the conversation arrive at the thing it had been moving toward. “What is the magic core? Does it connect to the Instrument of Divine Retribution?”

“Think of the core as an artificial Magic Cyclone — not bound to a witch’s body, capable of shifting its configuration at need. This device alone overturned nearly everything the Union believed it understood about magic.” One tentacle extended toward the light curtain. “The phantom instrument we are using to speak right now is a small-scale magic core. When the situation requires, it can be converted into other forms. The Instrument of Divine Retribution is the largest magic core in the ruin.”

A universal terminal. Roland saw it immediately — the superiority over a witch’s inherent and fixed ability, the vast effective range that dwarfed the five-meter limit. In industrial terms, in military terms, in any terms: the magic core was categorically more powerful than any individual witch. The comparison between them was the comparison between a fixed tool and a reconfigurable one.

“But that is only the first level of use,” Pasha said, and her voice carried something that might have been the echo of an old excitement, worn smooth by time. “Just as the relationship between original awakening and full evolution, the lithographs predicted: with sufficient deepening of magic power’s development, one day we might reach equivalence with God—”

She stopped.

The pause had a particular quality. Not searching for words, but arriving at a loss she had lived with for a very long time.

“You ran out of time,” Roland said.

“Yes. At first we didn’t know how long the path would be — a century, or a millennium. And to approach the core directly was fatal: several Quest Society members died trying. Witches could not touch those instruments. We needed a solution and found only partial leads. The lithographs were limited — to access the deeper documents, we had to follow their specific instructions. Only when enough people had merged with the central carrier could we begin to understand their language and proceed further into their records.”

“But we didn’t have time. Three years passed while we worked through what we had. Common people who had joined us earlier were beginning to resist our authority. The number of witches needed for the merger was unknown. Our resources could sustain only one research attempt. If things continued as they were, the Union’s great plan — to restore order across the continent — would collapse before we reached the answer.”

“And the most irreconcilable problem of all: Lady Alice’s God’s Punishment Army plan contradicted the underground civilization’s recorded principles at their foundation. A witch who abandoned her body to become a God’s Punishment Warrior would not only forfeit the possibility of further evolution—” Pasha paused, and the weight of it was deliberate. “She would lose God’s Will forever.”

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