Chapter 80

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Chapter 80: Hence Colorful World

The "Peace Declaration" struck a nerve with the Aryan Empire, making those upper echelons who thought they had paid enough attention to the dungeon issue finally realize their inherent arrogance – the Empire was used to dealing with both minor and major troubles, almost forgetting how to handle an evenly matched opponent. Feeling the threat, they quickly… initiated a new round of meetings.

"Do we really want to keep nurturing this problem?" someone said. "The dungeon has escalated from a local crisis to what it is now because we have been procrastinating and wasting time at the conference table! They are getting closer to the empire, we should mobilize our troops at all costs, sweep the dungeon from Tasmanian, even if it means sacrificing the entire Tasmarin!"

"General Shirel believes the same," someone interjected. "Look at the outcome of the last siege."

"It’s because we didn’t act decisively, it gave them the opportunity to infiltrate…"

"Do you have a solution to the energy issue now, General List?" General Norman said. "I believe we should not provoke them further, they do not have the capacity to continue expanding, but if pushed too far, there might be a possibility of a self-destructive strike."

Many who witnessed the peace declaration nodded with lingering fear, looking at those airships, if they abandon self-preservation and choose to perish with the empire, how much turmoil will it cause?

"Perhaps they simply seek a place of refuge," someone cautiously suggested a softened opinion, "they have marched all the way but killed no one."

"That could be a ruse, as they fundamentally lack the ability to engage us in a full-scale war. Letting them be like this is undoubtedly a foolish path to self-destruction!"

"Not attacking immediately does not mean we are allowing them free reign. We also need time to repair the energy source, perhaps we have been mistaken in this matter for a long time."

"I do not think it was a mistake, in that era…"

"Please allow me to explain again from an economic perspective…"

"Gentlemen, judging by the current morale of the public…"

After a century of stability, the Empire’s top officials were highly educated, well-versed in history, and could provide the most relevant opinions for the interest groups they represented. The military still held most of the power, but finance and public opinion were gaining more influence. After much deliberation, the outcome remained almost unchanged, still aligned with the policies set during the leader’s speech.

At the border of Tasmanian, tall walls were erected.

Armored vehicles were positioned around, deep trenches combined with iron spikes, artificial underground rivers were used to prevent the spread of the dungeon. The high walls made of reinforced concrete surrounded the border of Tasmanian, barbed wire tightly wound around, watchtowers every hundred meters, with a barren open area near the high walls. At night, searchlights scanned the area vigilantly, sentries with guard dogs patrolled around the border, not even a mouse could sneak past.

The "Nightfall" mentioned by the leader was finally created, the Empire claimed it was to prevent Hybrid attacks, although considering it couldn’t stop the sky and would struggle under the dual impact of Iron Golems and magic bombs, its greater role might be to prevent Empire citizens from crossing over illegally.

When the defense line was initially completed, the first wave of new immigrants had already settled in Tasmanian, both in quantity and quality satisfying Tasha, sufficient to lay the foundation for the dungeon above ground. She was aware of her own capabilities, the magical technology of the Craftsman Dwarves had reached a bottleneck, the dungeon needed a significant amount of time to assimilate the new residents. The slogan of "freeing the world" should not be fantasized about.

Besides, the high walls cannot block everything.

Anti-aircraft guns still belonged to rare, high-energy-consuming weapons, while airships were indeed too large a target, careful drones and birds could still leap over the defense line. Propaganda machines and Shape-shifter Druids roamed on both sides, carrying voices from the southeast and bringing back news from the Empire. A large number of spies who failed to retreat remained in the Empire, starting cautious underground espionage work, sheltering outcasts who couldn’t escape and establishing strongholds within the enemy camp.

The seeds have been planted in the soil of the empire, with enough sunlight and rain to make them sprout.

The empire couldn’t capture all the drones and birds, so they made listening to enemy drones and harboring enemy birds illegal. The academy’s mechanical engineers quickly took action, using broadcasting drones as templates to create broadcasting mechanical birds – it’s quite interesting to think that dungeons invented drones based on mechanical birds, and the empire improved mechanical birds based on drones, exchanging and upgrading technologies through war.

Those mechanical birds carrying the empire’s message flew into the heart of Tasmania, condemning the dark rule of the dungeon regime and calling on the deceived people to stand up. They claimed that bloodline identification was a shameful lie used to divide people, and promised that if the refugees realized their mistake and bravely turned back, the empire would not punish them for desertion. They also included messages urging Hybrid to surrender.

The dragon riders patrol team dealt with the junk mail in the sky every day, even if some slipped through, Tasha wouldn’t be as alarmed as the enemy. The content broadcasted by the mechanical birds was far inferior to the speeches given to the ruler, with parts concerning other races filled with condescending pity and absurd speculations about their lives. The dragon riders always treated it as a joke, no need for regular ideological classes like the enemy. Even if such content were played repeatedly in the ears of other races, it would only attract ridicule.

It’s not that they really wanted to mock other races, Tasha believed the empire was really trying to persuade surrender, they just never learned how to think in a minority way. The mainstream, dominant culture often forgets that there are other ethnic groups in the world, previously looking down on minorities, but when the tables turn, not only finding it hard to integrate, even attempting to show equality would unknowingly reveal inherent arrogance – they never thought it was offensive to other races.

Drop your weapons, come back, they kindly and mercifully said, we won’t kill you! As long as you bow to the empire, we will tolerate your existence as natural sinners, allowing you to be second-class citizens in the empire, isn’t it better than living in fear there?

"Bah!" laughed the other races living and working in Tasmania. The mechanical birds kept chattering, with Cyclops holding a laundry basket wanting to kick it, but was stopped by a companion. "Don’t." the companion advised, "A complete mechanical bird can earn more bounty when turned in."

Cyclops thought about it and understood. Thinking about the rewards for recycling garbage, she suddenly didn’t mind a little mental contamination.

After fruitlessly delivering food for a long time, the empire slowly realized the problem with the surrender drafts.

"Don’t you think the mechanical bird we saw recently sounds nice?" Victor said. "Some of these birds bring back information they observe successfully. I thought you would be stricter."

"It’s not necessary," Tasha said. "It’s good to have a two-way communication."

"Really? You’re very polite," Victor said with an obvious tone of disbelief, clearly thinking Tasha was pretending to be something she’s not.

"Blockade confrontation is a process, not a goal," Tasha said.

Tasha’s goal has never been to rule through force.

If she wanted to, she could have locked a bunch of people underground and become an empress from the start. The self-sufficient system in the dungeon could support her in doing so, but what would be the point? Tasha doesn’t have ambitions of taking over all of Aryan, but she wants her influence to cover the whole place.

The empire is helping her cause.

The more they study Tasmanian’s internal situation, the harder it is to ignore the reality of different races, and to deny the similarities between races and humans. What really sets apart humans and non-humans on this planet? One day, they will have to acknowledge that the differences among mixed-race descendants aren’t so vast. One day, among those maliciously observing them, someone will realize that different groups can coexist peacefully.

As long as there is back-and-forth interaction, flowing water will always mix and blend with each other. Just like a monotonous fish pond introducing new species, the water comes alive with competition.

The mechanical bird from the empire promotes an easy and comfortable lifestyle in the imperial capital. Tasmanian takes this opportunity to promote schools that teach magic technology, offering programs for technicians and scientists, leading to more schools opening up. As magic factories open, the demand for skilled workers keeps increasing. Sending children to school instead of farm work becomes more common as the benefits of working in factories or doing business outweigh farming. More ordinary families send their children to learn, leading to a rapid increase in literacy rates in a few years.

The drones in the dungeon always keep an eye on the empire. If they are unfortunately spotted by reconnaissance planes or birds, the empire will capture people from other tribes. The drones spread news, embellished with subtle evidence, about secret arrests and torture of citizens, including the tragic death of a three-year-old child, all branded as belonging to other tribes, causing fear among the local residents.

Before the red rain, some people could ignore issues without consequences, but after the red rain, everyone fears becoming the next victim, even the military and officers. Arresting those suspected of being Hybrids used to be an easy task, but now it’s becoming more challenging, leading to fewer officials using it to showcase their achievements.

Both sides’ broadcasts, newspapers, and news outlets rapidly expand during the war of words. Various information allows the audience to choose and think for themselves. The empire finds it difficult to enforce bans as discussions continue. Tasha does not suppress discussions, whether they are good or bad, wise or foolish. Everyone is responsible for their words, and if someone is harmed, it becomes a matter for the judiciary.

Two years after the "Nightfall," Saroism unexpectedly became the most widespread belief in Tasmanian.

Saro Saint Child Samuel spread Saroism among the initial Orc slaves, starting as a belief centered on light and justice. It began as an ideology before gradually forming into a more defined religious organization. Saroism actively participates in war and post-war activities, providing aid to the wounded, guiding the deceased, comforting the living, counseling prisoners, and filling the spiritual void for the lost, growing in size over time.

The long-lived and eventful Cult of Saul has undergone several changes over the past five hundred years.

Before being isolated, the Heavenly Realm was a kind and orderly sacred sect that welcomed all good races, detested evil, and devoutly believed in gods, following their will as a guide. Amidst the Orc War, the remaining religious sect transformed into the Church of Light, with templars becoming Paladins. This church, led by renegades, fought only for humans, rejecting the gods and all other races. During the Anti-magic War, clerics and wizards, as magic practitioners, met a similar fate. Survivors who fled with Divine Artifacts struggled in the corners of the empire, fuelled by resentment and unwillingness to revert, forming a strange and stricter version against Samuel’s foster mother’s teachings compared to the former Cult of Saul.

The Saroism today is undoubtedly different from what Samuel’s foster mother used to preach.

It recites the name of the sun god, but encourages people to pray for the light in their hearts. Saint Child claims that God’s love is spread throughout the world, regardless of gender, age, or race, as long as one believes sincerely, they can find peace in their hearts. Even those with a dark lineage or who use unscrupulous means can be saved as long as they have good intentions in their hearts.

"If Saro really saw what they were up to, he might be very angry." Victor said with a smirk.

For these reasons, he was very enthusiastic about all the applications submitted by Saint Child of Saro, and even encouraged Tasha to create a Saro God figure. "I have seen Saro with my own eyes!" he said excitedly, "Let me think, hmm, black hair, red eyes, bulbous nose, pockmarked face, a bunch of dirty whiskers and nose hair mixed together…"

Tasha rolled her eyes at this childish behavior.

Saro’s Saint Child, now Pope Saro Samuel, did not require the erection of a statue.

"We should not worship idols, the divine is in our hearts," he said, also rejecting requests from believers to spend money on statues, "as long as you pray sincerely, give back to others, it is better than bowing to statues a hundred times."

The once young Samuel was now in his thirties, looking gentle and stable, complemented by his Saro robe, suitable for being painted into pamphlets distributed everywhere – this is how Saroism operates. "God loves the world," a few big words accompanied by the Pope in a suit under the sunshine, the gentle saint with blond hair and blue eyes opening his arms toward the viewers with a compassionate smile. This pamphlet was often distributed and quickly sold out as it claimed the number one spot of "Top 10 ads that housewives won’t throw away easily," even if you are not religious, keeping the pamphlet is not a bad idea.

Some older individuals believed that by putting up the posters behind the doors of expectant mothers, with the blessing of Saro God, gazing at the Pope more often could bring forth a well-behaved child with good looks. It’s unclear from where this principle originated.

Samuel enjoyed remarkable popularity among women of all ages, from eight to eighty. He had transformed from a funny mascot of the past into… Tasha felt that compared to the elevated Pope, this still very young and beautiful man might be closer to an idol – to save the beloved Saroism, a young priest stepped forward to become an idol… It sounds reasonable, doesn’t it?

Of course, Samuel is not just good-looking.

He went to dark graveyards to keep watch over soldiers, and also went to bustling salons to spread his teachings amidst doubts and mockery. He persuaded those who refused to cooperate in prisoner-of-war camps, where the prisoners spat on his face, but Samuel simply wiped it off calmly.

"You traitor full of lies!" the prisoner cursed.

"I have been lost in confusion, but I have never spoken lies," Samuel said.

"Is it your god who made you betray humanity?" the other person sneered.

"God loves every soul equally, including humans and non-humans. There is no betrayal," Saint Child replied.

"Are you talking about those Celestial Beings?" the former military officer seemed to know more, sneering repeatedly, "We once drove out the Heavenly Realm, and your predecessors were involved in this blasphemous act. How all-knowing and all-powerful can a god be that could be driven out? It is said that the backlash of the gods quickly killed a large group of Clergy. A god who can kill so many Clergy, how much love can he have for the world?"

"Then he is not a god," Samuel chuckled.

The prisoner was stunned by this illogical answer, his prepared brilliant rebuttal stuck in his throat, leaving him standing in place, unable to continue his eloquent speech.

"Our Saro God knows everything and loves every soul of Aryan," Samuel gently and firmly replied, "If the ‘Saro’ in the sky is not all-knowing and all-loving towards the world, then he is just a powerful imposter using the name of Saro, not a god."

The question that once caused Samuel pain, shook his faith, and made him despair, now he has his own answer.

"Look at me, I am a person with a limp," Saro’s Saint Child stood up and confidently showed his legs, "If Saro allows someone with a limp to be his Saint Child, he must be much more tolerant than those stories tell."

He smiled at the prisoner of war, "Please be more forgiving towards others and yourself, it is not a sin."

In the third year, the Wizard Association on this side of the dungeon invented pesticides.

The inventors were wizard Miranda and her apprentices, following the tradition from dark-robed wizards. With terms and experiments on animals and plants that sounded cruel and confusing to Tasha, it was only when they mentioned the effect of killing crop pests without harming the plants that she realized this sophisticated curse potion was actually a pesticide.

Tasha marveled at a group of people dressed as typical dark wizards, from fingers discolored by unknown chemicals to gloomy faces, never expecting their invention to be so beneficial to the country and the people while also down-to-earth. The judgmental behavior made Tasha feel a bit ashamed, wanting to shake their hands and offer warm wishes like a seasoned official. Unfortunately, this was a research presentation, and the person sitting beside her seemed to disagree with Tasha’s view.

"I disagree!" the Druid representative slammed the table, "This is absurd! Are we supposed to pour this poison into the ground?!"

"What do you suggest then? Pour it into your mouth?" Miranda smirked without humor.

"You!" The angry Druid turned red. "This poison will harm the land! It will spread with rain and groundwater, polluting rivers and seas! If you do this, how are you any different from the Blight Convention?"

"The soil can still grow healthy crops. Even if a small amount spreads and enters animals, their meat won’t become toxic."

Miranda raised her hand and the apprentice began reciting various experimental results of control groups. The injuries to living animals and plants did not improve the Druid’s mood. The young Druid accompanying him couldn’t hold back his anger and accused, "How could you do such a thing to these living animals?!"

"Do you want me to do the same to living people?" Miranda scoffed. "Fine, keep sympathizing with rabbits and let the Tasmanian human-like residents starve."

The land of Tasmania was not just a hundred times larger than a southeast corner, some were fertile and some were barren, Tasha couldn’t supply food for everyone. With the increasing population, food was indeed becoming a big issue.

"With enough manpower, farmers can catch insects themselves!"

"But what about fungi? How do you deal with wheat powdery mildew and rust diseases on crops? Catch them with your hands too?"

"We are trying our best!" Druid said, "We select the best disease-resistant seeds, mitigate disasters, using the most natural methods…"

"Even elves build houses, so why not live in trees if you admire nature so much?" Miranda bluntly interrupted, "If you want to return to nature, go ahead and do it yourself! Not everyone can turn into animals and live in a pen."

"Oh no!"

"Please don’t use bad words," the host urged.

"The brain capacity of wild animals is also limited to this." Miranda said.

"Host, is this considered a personal attack?" Orc representative raised his hand.

"We think what Miranda said is right!" Witch representative Medusa couldn’t help but interrupt, giving a thumbs up to the wizard, "We support you!"

"Who the heck is Miranda," Miranda glared at her darkly, "The wizard speaks, the witch shuts up."

The Craftsman Dwarf representative had already fallen asleep, drooling.

With the increase of residents in the dungeon, various conflicts were inevitable.

Natural races and Druids tend to preserve the original nature, the magical technology of Craftsman Dwarfs and the research of black robe wizards require the same land; wizards and witches still resent each other due to their magical academic differences, not deep hatred, but always willing to cause trouble to each other; black robe and white robe wizards greet each other with their noses, each race has types that cannot get along well due to their nature, for example, the lizard people hybrids who love dry environments are particularly annoyed by their mermaid descendant roommates whose rooms are damp and moldy… This is not the first dispute, nor the last one, there will always be conflicts in different places.

However, the world became more wonderful because of it.

The results of the voters’ election leaned towards the black-robed wizard in the end, except for a few large forest and wetland areas, where pesticides would be pilot tested and then widely promoted. At the same time, the wizard promised to quickly improve the pesticides, find the varieties with the least residue, and start researching types that can naturally decompose in the environment.

With Druid’s hybrid selection and fertilizers, along with the wizard’s multiple approaches to pesticides, agriculture in Tasmania began to experience explosive growth.

In a following year, during a rare decade of severe famine, many places in the Aryan Empire suffered crop failures due to a combination of diseases and pests. Consequently, small gaps began to appear above the Nightfall Line.

Some guards who were bribed or persuaded looked the other way, and more importantly, some higher-ups turned a blind eye and allowed things to happen. Through these "non-existent" trade windows, some goods began to exchange hands.

A large surplus of grain was shipped out in exchange for some exotic goods, some magic devices that absolutely could not be used as weapons—over the years, many things were unearthed from the collapsed parts of the city—and even a slightly softened attitude on their side, perhaps reducing the daily calls to "go die" in the dungeon from seven times a day to just three. The merchants only discussed prices, the soldiers on both sides of the escort remained silent, pretending not to see each other.

These trades continued throughout the autumn, until the first heavy snow of the sealing road was about to fall. Being trapped near the border was not a good situation. As the final caravan from the dungeon packed up to leave, the leader of the escort had a brief conversation with the garrison, albeit only a sentence.

"My sister did not starve," the stern soldier said, handing the leader a cigar, a high-quality item from the capital. With that, he walked away, still wearing a serious expression.

"You can just say thank you directly," the leader raised an eyebrow at his back and scratched the scales on his face.

*

"You can wait a little longer," Victor complained, "Why not let more people starve to death so we can take advantage of the situation?"

"That would be wasteful," Tasha said, "They don’t even give me the bodies."

Victor kept grumbling there, as if Tasha was a spoiled and extravagant spender. "Even if I die, I can’t beat them." Tasha asked him, "So are you considering me, or just want to see corpses everywhere?"

The wicked book chuckled and changed the subject. Tasha found it very cute, but then started to reflect and thought these ideas were quite foolish.

Never mind, it’s not important.

Tasha not only traded food, but also shared fertilizer and inferior versions of pesticides. This was both humanitarian support and a way to showcase goods.

When the next spring came, and the Aryan Empire began a bountiful harvest in the following year, the nonexistent small trade window was never closed.

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