Chapter 84

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Chapter 84: Old Lady

The truth caused a great uproar in Aryan.

For a moment, almost everyone was talking about this matter, whether in various corners of Tasmanian or at the core of the Aryan Empire – as one of the exchange conditions for this cooperation, in the negotiations before the cooperation, Tasha insisted that the final research results be made public, regardless of the outcome. The dungeon can provide experimental consumption, experimental sites, concessions can be made elsewhere, but there is no room for compromise on this matter.

"Your decision may destroy the beliefs of a generation," said an official from the Empire side with a bitter smile. "We always believed that disclosing it too soon was not the way."

"To me, the truth has come too late," replied Tasha, "everyone has the right and responsibility to know the truth. It’s better to die early and be reborn with the correct beliefs than to cling to false beliefs from the beginning."

Using the term "created a huge stir" seems too light.

The truth is like a heavy bomb, blasting away old beliefs. The Empire acknowledged that "non-human beings and spellcasters are important parts of the magic ecosystem," implying something else: many groups judged as remnants of the abyss for so many years are actually no different from humans, all being indigenous to this plane.

Surpassing the shock of The Day of Red Rain swept across the entire Empire. On the day the news was officially announced, a sense of gloom hung over the capital city, shattering the beliefs of many people.

Are those humans who can lift their swords without hesitation against other races truly born devils, cruel and evil villains?

Some people have been brainwashed by human supremacism, failing to see other races as equal beings. In their eyes, outsiders are no different from animals, although some may love cats and dogs, they never see the other side as equals. Without a sense of "sameness," there is no empathy, no sympathy. People will not show mercy to obstacles in their path, only seeking to eradicate them.

After The Day of Red Rain, half of these extreme human supremacists disappeared, either mentally or physically. The more extreme the human supremacist, the less able they were to tolerate having non-human blood, as it would mean denying their purpose of existence. Half of them either committed suicide or went mad and met their end, among those who survived, about half began to question their previous beliefs. Roughly half of those who were adamant that The Day of Red Rain was a conspiracy also changed their minds, leaving only a dwindling number of hardliners that can’t be compared to the past.

Even before The Day of Red Rain, hatred towards other races was not the deciding reason for most people. Hatred can bring explosive power, while love and honor can sustain persistently.

More people, even considered "good people."

They believed they were doing the right thing, these soldiers faced death with determination, willing to sacrifice their lives, thinking that all their efforts were protecting their families, defending the human empire, and even defending the entire Aryan world. The human army had high morale, outstanding soldiers were brave, strong, willing to sacrifice, defend honor, and it was with this unity that humans finally defeated the more advanced dwarf of the Magic Civilization and the stronger Orc.

It is hard to simply define the humans of Aryan as villains. In fact, it is difficult to classify any race on earth with simple good or evil attributes. When the magic energy declined, humans and dwarves dependent on the Magic Civilization needed to survive and develop, thus the war started; as productivity developed, magical creatures gradually receded, the number of ordinary people and orcs not heavily reliant on magic exploded, and then for living space, conflicts escalated, eventually brewing into a new war. The Aryan Empire stood tall because humans won several times.

Some say that while humans are not morally pure, dwarves are hot-tempered and greedy, and orcs are savage and crazy. If history had turned in a different direction in the past, when the winners were dwarves or orcs, the losers might not have fared much better.

Perhaps they are right, but that does not justify the empire’s enslavement and extermination of other races.

Therefore, various accusations were made against other ethnic groups.

Massacres do not need a group of demons, only an excuse, a spark, an outlet for anger, hatred, and fear, along with a group of ordinary people lacking clear judgment.

The birth and expansion of the Aryan Empire have always been in the midst of war. Initially, people fought against gods and demons, then dwarves, then orcs; each battle was earth-shattering and all-out. The ancestors of the Aryan Empire fought for their survival, to protect their families, to ensure that future generations did not have to live in fear, these wars and victories, even today hundreds of years later, still stir the blood.

The human army that went through these great wars had faith, they were proud of their actions. Many people, like the generous and self-sacrificing Paladins, did not persecute other races and spellcasters for personal gain. When they caused the horrific tragedies, they truly believed they were accomplishing a great deed.

Until now.

People who believed they were doing good for the world and stood for justice were shocked to find that their actions were contrary to their goals.

The shining utopia shattered, revealing the grim truth, and only then did the true weight of sin climb onto their backs.

The indifferent commoners were one thing, but the most affected were the elites. In the years of confrontation, the empire continued to nurture new leaders, preparing for possible wars. These vibrant young generations grew up under the preparation for war, like sharpened blades. When the empire they trusted finally announced such results, a slap from themselves landed on the faces of the top officials, guilt fell on the old soldiers, and the sharpening stone broke the blade. The foundation beneath these young people’s feet shattered, shaking their world completely.

The lingering shock persisted, even worsening. Gloom pervaded among the vital organs of the empire, and the upper echelons were almost powerless. Yes, they could control any turmoil with an iron fist, but how could they control people’s hearts, stop those whose beliefs shattered from giving up on themselves?

A top student jumped from the highest tower of the military academy. He was considered brave, eloquent, and optimistic by his classmates and teachers, and this event happened without warning. Subsequently, patrolling officers organized several suicide incidents, seemingly all influenced, perhaps by the bloodstains below the tall buildings. This event spread like a contagious disease, forcing the military academy to temporarily suspend classes.

Suicide incidents among veterans occurred nationwide, and a grieving widow posted her husband’s farewell letter at the military district gate. The veteran who committed suicide had been involved in the massacre of the wild Orc tribe and had killed a child the same age as his own daughter. "We were told it was necessary evil, even if conscience may be troubled. I told myself the same, that I must eradicate evil, for Aryan’s sake." The trembling letter wrote, "But this was never it, never."

The iron-fisted methods could defeat enemies, yet they were helpless against the enemies in people’s hearts. The iron-fisted empire, accustomed to blood and fire strategies, lacked the sensitivity and compassion to deal with such matters. Their ways of boosting morale were well-practiced, but because they mainly targeted non-human entities from a position of justice, treating soldiers’ psychological trauma after battles was only put on the agenda today.

Unfortunately, the core region of the Aryan Empire had long been ruled by a harsh militarized way of life. The supposed cultural center was located far from the capital city at Ribe Lake.

Including Ribe Lake, the entire Tasmanian region belonged to Tasha.

In the days after the results were announced, the dungeon area was constantly busy.

Drones and spies were still busy during this turbulent time in the empire, as any attempt to poach or sow discord in the other side would be more successful. However, the unexpected kindness from the visitors from Tasmanian, along with the sound brought by the drones, was not meant to be mocking.

It was just singing.

Jacqueline’s voice echoed through the skies of the empire.

The mechanically transmitted singing did not have the same effect as minstrel skills, but Jacqueline was still a very talented singer. After years of gentle therapy, her face now showed a range of emotions, but she still only spoke through singing. It was as if all other languages and emotions had fused into her voice.

Perhaps there was a slight influence, as a choir of formal ministers provided music for her. The minstrel, with a lineage of fairies and sea nymphs, sang beautifully, and the melodic voice flowed into tapes, spreading across the Aryan Empire through the drones.

It flowed clear as a mountain spring, gentle as a spring breeze, bringing peace to the soul. Anger, pain, sadness, guilt… all negative emotions faded away in the song, at least for those tormented when Jacqueline’s music played in their ears.

For the first time, the empire’s mechanical birds did not intercept the drones, allowing them to fly into the heart of the empire.

Some unimportant negotiations were taking place between the empire and Tasmarin.

In the Mage Tower, most of the books and researchers were taken away, but a small group stayed behind to continue studying the mysteries of Aryan magic. The leaders on both sides cautiously probed each other, trying to avoid conflict, while the researchers themselves paid no attention to this. Recruiting and isolating spellcasters had only been happening for a little over ten years, not enough time to build strong loyalty to the Empire or Tasmarin. The wizards all had their own pride, and Tasha thought their egos were just as big as the witches’.

The Empire approved and organized a medical institution for the mental health of soldiers, which partnered with the medical department of the dungeon. The Empire’s military mental health institution had many experienced military doctors, while Tasmarin had calming potions and a good number of minstrels. Currently, the Empire only accepted potion trades, and having half-magical people come to heal the affected might not be very beneficial for their mental health.

Plague Witch Leslie was arrested for poisoning the potions sent to the Empire. Tasha caught her in the act. Leslie regretted not being successful in poisoning and declared she would continue if given the chance.

"They deserve it!" Leslie hissed, "They showed no mercy when hunting witches back then, now they think a mistake can fix everything? Ha! Don’t make me laugh! So now we have to provide potions to heal the fragile souls of those innocent babies? Let them all rot in the mud!"

"These potions will be given to those military school students who attempted suicide," Tasha said, "They haven’t done anything yet."

"It’s only a matter of time!" Leslie angrily retorted, "Their ancestors were covered in our blood, and if war breaks out, they’ll do the same thing!"

"Because their ancestors killed your ancestors, because they might do the same in the future," Tasha repeated the witch’s words, "Leslie, these reasons, when they mention them, are not unreasonable at all."

The witch furrowed her brows, her smudged makeup making her look like an angry raccoon.

"Ancestors had grievances, the future might bring troubles, if that can be a legitimate reason to start a war, then every creature on this land could hurt anyone, anytime, Aryan’s history is so long, bloodlines so tangled," Tasha said, "When they first targeted spellcasters, weren’t they using the same excuse?"

"So what? If guilty, then guilty," Leslie defensively crossed her arms, Tasha knew she couldn’t come up with a reasonable rebuttal.

"Doesn’t matter, I’m just telling you, whether you listen is up to you," Tasha said, "Putting aside the issue of vigilantism, even in prosecuting war criminals, those to be judged should be the ones responsible for the war crimes, soldiers are just cogs in a huge machine. Those who voted in favor of the Anti-magic Movement are now just a handful of dust."

"The current leader of the Empire is still alive!" Leslie immediately exclaimed, "Why don’t you seek justice for the Orcdwarf who only died in recent years? According to your laws, shouldn’t they be sentenced to death too?"

"According to the laws of Tasmarin," Tasha corrected, "So what’s your plan then?"

"Let the leaders of the human empire all confess and atone for their sins!" The witch revealed a twisted smile, "If they refuse, then we go to war!"

"I think that’s a good idea," Victor murmured.

"Go to war," Tasha chuckled, "Who’s going to fight? You?"

"Of course, I will also join the fight!" Leslie said.

"You alone in the fight?"

"I am not the only one who wants war!" Leslie argued. "As long as you are willing to let me go and call for help…"

"So you will gather a large group of people to the battlefield?" Tasha added. "Well, then you will be the initiator and leader of the war. You will carry the responsibility for all those who die in this war. It will be on your shoulders. It is you who will drag them from peaceful lives back into the fire and death of war, forcing them to give up their future for the past. Do you want to argue with me? Do you want to say you will only find volunteers? Throw a stone across the border and it could spark a full-scale war, this is not just a fight. Leslie, you have never been involved in a war, indeed."

"I have seen enough in history!" Leslie said indignantly.

"Well, this is where we differ," Tasha concluded shortly, ending the conversation. "After seeing enough history, your conclusion is to start a new war, while mine is to end the current one."

There has already been enough wasted blood and tears, and enough internal conflicts. Isn’t it a pity to let young souls continue to fade away when a turning point is approaching?

"Your ambition has grown again," Victor chuckled softly beside her. "You only care about the flowers and trees once you have added the land beyond the wall to your backyard."

"No, my ambition has always been this big," Tasha said calmly. "It’s just that now I have the power to do so."

On both sides of the Nightfall Line, the relationship between the Empire and Tasmanian was slowly changing.

In response to the drones’ serenade, the Empire’s mechanical birds became silent. There were no more propaganda blimps hovering in the sky. Having received such a friendly signal, the Dragon Cavalry no longer shot down all mechanical birds approaching the defensive line, only doing so when they entered restricted areas.

The new leader (the previous one has retired) made a routine speech with slight changes in wording, describing the relations with the other tribe and dungeon more softly. The opposition remains, but more relaxed than before. The long-existing "non-existent passage" quietly surfaced, and after the signing of the bilateral trade agreement, there was communication between private trade associations.

By the next spring, both sides engaged in the first political-level negotiation.

The ruins beneath the capital city have been completely excavated. The Empire has the magical technology products that Tasha needs, and Tasha has a surplus of Magic Stones. The Empire wants its soldiers to study in Tasmanian for advancements in the magical environment which benefits professional growth; Tasha wants wizards to study in the imperial capital’s Grand Library, which contains many lost spellbooks. Both sides claimed their research in magical technology was for the prosperity of their societies. They both worried that the talent they send to the other side would be detained, thinking this way because they have had similar thoughts.

It was clear that this would be a very challenging negotiation.

"Is this useful?" Victor skeptically asked, "Including ‘restricting weapons manufacturing’, who would actually enforce that?"

"It’s just a bargaining chip in negotiations," Tasha replied.

"I don’t see the point of wasting months on arguing over words, only to sign an agreement that’s not magically binding, instead of a treaty," Victor persistently argued, "Isn’t this just something to be torn up?"

"At least it shows a willingness for peace," Tasha smiled.

Diplomats from the Empire and the dungeon had endless negotiations at the table, while far away, the news industry had plenty of stories to cover in these months. The media in Tasmanian was thriving, with coverage on the standoff between the Aryan Empire and Tasmanian, regional elections, and the biannual meetings of researchers from various tribes attracting widespread attention. The Orc Phoenix’s newspaper columns were gaining popularity and might soon lead to talk shows and current affairs programs.

When history unfolded, each step seemed slow and unsteady, making people anxious, but rushing was pointless. Tasha was satisfied with her long lifespan body, knowing that as long as nothing unexpected happened, she would be able to see the fruits of her plans many years later.

"Do you really want peace?" Victor sounded surprised.

"Why, I thought I made myself clear enough," Tasha said.

"You want a rich and colorful Aryan, and peace isn’t a good option," Victor advised. "Conflict is what creates civilization."

"That’s a new concept to me," Tasha chuckled. "From my experience, civilization only gets destroyed in the fires of war, and peace is what can preserve it."

"Is that so? Look at the previous Aryan Empire!" Victor flipped through the pages. "It was your appearance that brought change, stirring up the waters, allowing different fish to swim. Before that, a peaceful Aryan was dull and lifeless, as monotonous as a clock, emptier and colder than a graveyard."

"That isn’t called peace."

"Because there were still small groups of different races fighting?"

"Because that was just the process of the dominant race exterminating others," Tasha said.

Tasha rubbed the corner of the book page, like she was rubbing an animal’s ear, Victor’s complaints quickly turned into muffled grumbling sounds.

Peace is not a bad thing.

Tasmanian was developing every day, the Empire weakened in several shocks, the situation looked very good. However, the merging and restructuring of the dungeon has made no progress over the years, the progress is still uncertain, and it is unknown if the progress bar has advanced. Tasha managed to get a piece of Dungeon Core fragment, this thing fused into her core, but it disappeared without any reaction.

Victor looked normal most of the time, like a foolish mascot, occasionally making insightful remarks that caught people off guard. The Book of Dungeons remained the same for more than a decade, the damaged parts were not repaired, no new pages appeared, and no old pages decreased.

The mystery between extraordinary individuals and the magic environment seemed to have a reasonable answer, but thinking deeper, more questions arose. If extraordinary individuals are the producers of the magic environment, then why did the magic environment deteriorate in the beginning?

The decrease of spellcasters led to the deterioration of the magic environment; their significant reduction was due to the Anti-magic Movement; the Anti-magic Movement was caused by scholars making erroneous conclusions, while high-level wizards and powerful magical creatures disappeared and could not be stopped; high-level wizards sought death-like exterminating dragons and powerful magical creatures because they knew their time was running out.

Why couldn’t these high-level wizards survive?

There is a possibility of over 80%, it was due to the changes in the magic environment.

The Anti-magic Movement could not be the starting point of the decline of magic, at most, it simply accelerated the decline of the Aryan. The decline should be pushed back to two or three hundred years ago.

Before the dragon-slaying frenzy, the dragons had already migrated as a group. So, could the departure of the dragons be the reason?

Probably not. The dragons left because of a prophecy with unclear content. The Dragon’s Prophecy happened after the Dwarf War, which was triggered by the depletion of Magic Stone Resources by humans and dwarves, dating back three hundred years. What happened between the plane war and the depletion of Magic Stone Resources? The journey of the elves and Druids. Could the decline of the magic environment be related to them?

We can’t know for sure at the moment.

With too many loopholes and too little evidence, tracing back to the origins, the reasons for the departure of the elves and Druids remain a mystery, as well as what happened after the expulsion from the Heavenly Realm. Going even further back, what happened during the Battle of the Heaven and Earth? And even before that? Tasha sometimes feels she thinks too little, sometimes too much, and the unsolvable problem becomes a sword hanging over her head: why did the magical race flourish at the beginning, with Magic Civilization thriving and extraordinary high magical beings like Aryan everywhere, only to decline from prosperity to decline?

It happened once, so it might happen a second time. Can the barren plane, just recovering now, withstand that reason?

Tasha sighed in her heart. When she first woke up in the dungeon, she was truly ignorant and fearless.

Before getting an answer, she was like a squirrel waiting for the cold wind from afar, cautiously maintaining a peaceful relationship with rivals, storing pine cones for the winter.

——————————

First came a blinding white light that could blind people, followed by intense pain and high temperatures.

Shirel saw endless flames.

Flames were everywhere, filling the entire train carriage. The intense heat welded the doors shut, blocking the last escape route. The explosion happened quickly, but the minutes between the explosion and losing consciousness felt very long. Shirel smelled burnt fabric and roasted meat, the latter possibly coming from their own body. The heart-wrenching cries faded amidst the explosions within seconds. Then, under the fallen metal sheets where Shirel lay, another burst of flames emerged.

Shirel jumped up in fear.

Thinking they had leaped up, in reality, Shirel only moved their fingers and opened their eyes. Shirel’s eyelids felt sore as if stuck together. Oh no! The heat and pain seemed to return, flames burning in their eyes, causing a whimper to escape.

"…Woke up?" fragmented voices came from the side, "He’s awake!"

Someone rushed in, waking Shirel from the past dream. Shirel blinked again, noticing the low ceiling, not very clean, with spiderwebs in the corners. Shirel realized they were lying on a bed, unable to move.

Then, they recalled why they had lost consciousness.

"Where are those Hybrids?" Shirel anxiously shouted, feeling like there was a red-hot coal in his throat, his voice sounded hoarse like a donkey. Feeling embarrassed by the sound, he closed his mouth, but after a while, he couldn’t help but struggle to raise his voice, "The battle… How did it go? Did we win?"

No one came for a long time, this neglect of a general was unacceptable. Anger swirled in Shirel’s mind, filled with curses. When the door finally opened, an old lady who bore a resemblance to his mother walked in.

"Shirel," the tired old lady said, "The war has been over for more than ten years."