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Chapter #17 — The Wise, The Ruthless
🕑 Added 2024-04-03 18:10:24 +0000 UTCThe Sun, seemingly displeased with our actions, cast a harsh glare with increasing intensity upon us… Orchestrated by the Universal Will no doubt.
‘How audacious…’
Despite its desire to see the Sharrï humbled and its clear anticipation of the ensuing conflict, the Will was still acting as if it opposed the war. ‘And here I thought I was already shameless…’
Clearly, I was mistaken.
‘Although, I suppose it is to be expected.’
The Universal Will was created from the essence of all things, hence it’s devoid of both emotion and desire except for Paradis’, and subsequently its own expansion. It cared not which species triumphed, so long as they continued to generate more CE to advance Paradis as a Universe.
Rather than a thinking, feeling creature or AI, it behaved similar to an algorithm.
Similar to myself, the Universal Will was a neutral entity. In the sacred language of capitalism, if the Paradiseans represented warring factions, then the Will’s acting as the bank funding the conflict for profit. Meanwhile, I, as the CEO, had outsourced my services to a third-party provider, enjoying a continuous cash flow without doing much.
Though I suppose it’s best for the Will to remain devoid of emotions and other vices, for much like an actual company, I could get… Ousted from ‘office’ if it grew bigger ambitions and decided to ally with the ‘Chosen species’ and reigning Paradisean of the Age.
Lysara had warned me about the risk…
Apparently, such occurrences were common even in the City of Omnipotence. When a Creator lost control of their Universe to the Will, they had to conquer the rogue Universe with another one, deploying spies to slowly gain influence before launching a full-scale invasion and regain control.
If a Creator—a Fledgling like myself— didn’t possess another world to utilize in such a scenario?
In such situations, one would have to either accept the circumstances and bear the burden or consider borrowing an Universe from a fellow Creator, similar to warlords of the past, to handle the task, although this option also happened to be extremely costly and often rendered the conquered Universes useless for an extended period of time in us Creators’ Divine Calendar.
Consequently, most Creators chose to abandon their rogue Universes. Unfortunately, even as Creators, we were not immune to betrayals from our own creations from time to time.
Given our Immortality, it’s not a question of if we would ever face such challenges but rather when, and whether we’d be able to suppress thoughts of rebellion in time.
Caught in my thoughts, I sighed and rolled my eyes at the frustrated High Lord who complained, “This damn heat is killing me.”
Congrats, Pïer… Now you understood why the Non-Mage was rebelling.
“Isn’t this our own doing?”
Due to the extensive extraction of Mana and Water of Life from other regions in large quantities, many areas had been transformed into barren wastelands. The absence of trees, which played a crucial role in regulating temperature, had made the conditions near the border of Sharrï increasingly harsh.
Once a land adorned with lush and vibrant greenery, Paradis now resembled the desolate landscape of Tatooine with aerial view, with the Midland being the sole exception.
In an effort to conserve what little resources remained, the Universal Will chose to create pockets of habitable lands known as oases. These patches of land were not as fertile as they were in the past, but they were intended to preserve the Creations of Orion and First amidst the deteriorating conditions.
The creation of oases also had the unintended consequence of forming Leylines, or Dragon’s Veins as people called them back on Earth.
I could already envision Wizard Towers popping up in the vicinity these locations in order to harness the energy of these Leylines. However, from my calculations, it seemed that this development was still a long way off.
The Universal Will and I had decided to name that Age the Age of Sorcery.
"You speak of it as if it’s a negative thing. We, the Sharrï, are the chosen ones of the Gods. Paradis is ours by rights The beasts are merely flawed add-ons designed to highlight our…”
The High Lord paused ever so briefly in search of a word, before settling for, “Our perfection.”
I raised an eyebrow at his prideful remark, a skeptical look crossing my face in response. “Milord, I believe you’re bordering on egotism with such statements.”
He stood before me, confusion bleeding in his posture, his emotions seeping into the currents like a flowing river. “Have I spoken falsehood?” Pïer questioned, his voice filled with naught but confidence.
“Are we not the greatest in Paradis? Have we not bent reality itself to suit our every whim and desire?”
A tremor passed through me, my gaze fixated on a hawk gliding away in the distance. “Milord,” I responded, my voice monotonous, “I believe there is much for us to understand and learn.”
“Perhaps,” The High Lord replied, his foot forcefully kicking the side of his mount, a colossal armored feline with a notorious temper and a penchant for violence… Or at least that’s how the Morlogs were in the eyes of First’s Creations, the Pleiguseans.
They’re deadly obedient to the Sharrï though…
Their untamed wills, once fierce and free, had been utterly crushed by handlers. “But we are the dominant species—the epitome of power and perfection!”
Pïer asserted, as if that alone justified their actions.
I held my tongue, ‘I suppose it did.’
The unsettling truth was that if the Deities—the Paradiseans chose to reset the world and eradicate all mortals from existence, the Sharrï would find themselves powerless to intervene.
The same held true for the Paradiseans and me. It was the one unchanging Truth I had come to understand… History was shaped by the victors, after all.
Yet, Pïer seemed to have overlooked a vital aspect: Change.
Change was inevitable.
Currently, the Sharrï may hold dominion, but their grip on power would eventually weaken. And when that time arrived, they could only hope that the world would look at them with fondness rather than hatred and resentment.
“Men, we’re almost at our destination!” Pïer announced.
The guards let out collective sighs of relief at the mention of the nearing oasis.
The intense heat and the pervasive dust had taken their toll on all of them, but we hadn’t stopped since with our limited resources, a byproduct of the Sages’ schemes to undermine Pïer, left us with little time to waste. If we didn’t reach the town of Sharrä soon, we risked being stranded in the blistering sun without food or water for the arduous miles ahead.
To motivate the weary and dehydrated soldiers, Pïer had cleverly used the promise of an oasis as a reward.
It was like dangling a juicy piece of meat in front of starving animals, and it worked wonderfully. The soldiers, desperate for respite from the harsh conditions, were able to press onwards. While not everyone found joy in the prolonged march, they were smart enough to know the futility of complaining or revealing dissatisfaction.
Besides, the enticing reward awaiting them in such oppressive weather conditions served as a rather powerful incentive to persevere.
‘Wonder when they will finally claim those…’ Quite a number of Paradiseans were actively undertaking the process of claiming various Laws, but the ones that currently interested me the most were the ‘Great Eight’. This group of Paradiseans were currently in the pursuit of harnessing the power of the different Elemental Laws: Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Lightning, Ice, Light, and Dark.
Once they succeeded in mastering them, the entire ecosystem of Paradis could potentially experience a great transformation, and confine the intense heat to specific regions.
‘If we’re lucky, they might finish before the mortals succumb to heatstroke…’ I mused.
With dwindling morale, the soldiers suddenly spotted something that ignited a spark of hope within them. “I see it… I see it!”
One of them exclaimed with joy. “The oasis! We’re here!”
In a burst of excitement, one of the soldiers could not contain his enthusiasm and charged towards the lake, inspiring the rest to follow suit. This reaction was not unexpected. These soldiers were inexperienced greenhorns, and although they had endured hardships, an extended march under the scorching sun would naturally drain the spirits of any army.
History had repeatedly shown that even the mightiest armies on Earth could not conquer the forces of Nature.
Napoleon’s failed campaign in Russia due to the harsh snow; the Mongols’ struggle against devastating typhoons were just a couple of examples.
To his credit, Pier had absorbed the lessons I imparted to him rather well.
He neither criticized nor attempted to stop his men from rushing towards the oasis with the troops’ morale in mind.
Instead, he actively joined them in the charge, struggling to ‘barely’ conceal his ‘eagerness’, all in order to connect with and gain the favor of the soldiers. The humanizing strategy, it was called, aimed to create a sense of camaraderie between the leader and their supporters.
If citizens were the lifeblood of a society and politicians its brain, then the army served as its backbone.
Though blood could be occasionally spilt or drained—once a month even, the body would not survive without a strong backbone.
Winning over the army also meant political power would swiftly follow.
If anyone got an issue with your rule afterwards? ‘Heh…’
“Come, my friend!” Pïer exclaimed, beckoning me to join them.
To humans, this sight would have been disturbing—a gathering of soldiers drinking and bathing in what seemed to be diluted blood. However, this was a customary practice until the Sages took control over all sources of the Water of Life. “The water is quite invigorating!” Pïer tempted, uncharacteristically nice.
Sadly for him, I could see it–his real intentions, ‘Trying to teach a fish to swim?’
Nevertheless, I complied and joined the group in their temporary mirth. For hours, we soldiers—Pïer and I included—sat together, drinking and conversing and learning that Mage, retainers and soldiers turned out to be quite similar. Of course, this perception couldn’t have been further from the truth.
The soldiers were content with a comfortable and simple existence, whereas Pïer harbored a desire for supremacy.
Despite his attempts to sugarcoat it, Pïer’s main aim was to overthrow the previous Order and impose his own Will upon the world, and unlike Earth’s politicians who were all barks and no bite, he possessed both the means and abilities to turn his ambitions into reality.
Eventually, Pïer and I found privacy in a secluded corner. “Tell me the truth,” He began. “What are our chances of victory?”
“I will be frank with you, Milo—” I just started when, “Enough of this ‘Milord this, Milord that’!” Pïer interjected.
“You and I can forgo the pretenses. We both know you’ve never seen me as your Lord, nor have I ever looked at you as a mere servant.”
"It's appropriate,” I merely answered.
What little rewards I’d gain, were I a normal Sharrï, wouldn’t outweigh the responsibilities I got, not simply as a butler, but as a strategist and advisor.
Kindness had its own way of coming back to you, that’s why some people called it, ‘Sowing karma.’ Sometimes, it made sense or was even wise to turn down another down. “Rubbish. When we’re alone, just use my name Pïer.”
“Alright, if you insist, Pïer.” I relented, prompting a smile to sprout on his face. I could easily discern its falseness. How? First, I was God—their thoughts and feelings, regardless of how deeply hidden, would be revealed to me. Secondly, I had never witnessed such a smile on him, not even in the presence of his own wife whom he dearly cherished, else he would not have sided with the Non-Mage.
Moreover, it lacked authenticity, especially in the eyes.
While it might’ve been difficult for others to read another’s expression from afar, being up close made it painfully obvious when someone was feigning their emotions.
“Allow me to continue. Going straight into battle would greatly diminish our chances of victory,”
Although the situation did seem bleak, it’s not hopeless.
Our goal was not simply to suppress the rebellion, but to do so with minimal losses on both sides. In a sense, we were here more as… Negotiators and a show of force.
“We haven’t been allotted enough rations for a prolonged siege,” The High Lord wearily explained.
“We can expedite our progress by having our troops gather their waste. Divide the company into two shifts – one operating during the day and the other at night. With these measures, I am confident we can conquer Sharrä within a matter of weeks,” I proposed.
“A month at worst.”
Pïer hesitated before asking, “Waste? Do you mean… Feces?”
“Yes, and urine. The more, the better.”
Looking every bit as grossed out as he should, the High Lord finally asked the prize-winning question, “Why?”
“We will use them as ammunition. Additionally, we can utilize this as an opportunity to instill discipline in our troops. Those who violate military laws will be punished by being tasked with carrying these oversized containers of waste,” I explained, a wicked smirk forming on my lips.
Pïer looked visibly repulsed by the idea as he stared at me in disbelief. “You wish to wage wars on their minds…”
Sipping on a cup of tea, I mumbled. “You break their Spirit, and half the battle has already been won… We should start immediately, allow our men to acclimate to the new schedule quicker.”
The High Lord’s expression was devoid of emotion, like that of a seasoned poker player. He was certainly not unintelligent.
The moment I mentioned the waste, he already had a suspicion of what I had in mind.
He simply needed confirmation from me.
“You’re quite sinister, Sharru,”
Finally, the Mage Lord said, his heart beginning to show a tinge of fear, just as expected. ‘Disappointing, but predictable.’
“I would prefer the term pragmatic, but I suppose that’s one way to view it.”
This was precisely why ‘Sharru’ must be ‘killed’.
As long as I continued to exist, Pier’s heart would never find peace, always burdened by the thought of me scheming behind the scene. It was more preferable to part ways amicably, rather than letting our brief friendship end in such a manner. To my surprise, Pïer quickly suppressed such thoughts, head whirling back to the tales I’d tell his three children just to get them off my ass, many of which were about the mythicized civilizations of Earth.
He had heard tales of many Emperors who ended up alienating his own loyal subjects; how the fear and paranoia would fester in their minds, and decided to suppress them on the spot. ‘Ah, maybe I’ll throw in a boon for you.’ I thought, searching through the endless list of Traits—both the available and the currently unavailable for mortals to purchase—before settling for, [Semi-Reincarnator], which would allow all his existing abilities—Spells included to carry to his next life…
Even certain thoughts and feelings powerful enough would be passed on.
But the Trait had ‘Semi’ for a reason.
His Reincarnation wouldn’t know who he was, just that all these information had existed in his mind the moment he’s born.
The Universal Will had put an obscene price tag on this Trait to reduce the number of Reincarnators wrecking havoc everywhere like this was an Isekai novel.
Without my help, it’d take him thousands of extremely fulfilling and productive lives to buy, and that’s under the very unlikely assumption he’d never buy another Trait until he had saved up the Credits for [Semi-Reincarnator]. ‘You’re welcome.’
“Still, your strategy is a bit… Absurd.” The High Lord frowned.
“Do not concern yourself with the methods, but focus on the outcomes, Pier,”
I reminded him. “Moreover, you stand to gain from this as well. The Sages may discredit your accomplishments by alleging that our methods are foul, but if you have our own men spread the news…”
Grabbing a branch, I drew a stick-figure of him with patched clothes, “The Shit Lord who flings feces at his enemies like an animal,”
With a sharp motion, I crossed out the initial figure, replacing it with a new one—depicting him adorned in exquisitely-crafted armor, his reliable staff resting nearby. “Behold, the Great Lord who swiftly suppresses rebellions through ingenious tactics,”
I chuckled. “We can even incorporate a touch of humor. Granted, we may have to portray the rebels as fools and clowns, but the result will greatly enhance your reputation. It’s all about time and framing.”
And just like that, the fear was back, oozing from every pore of his.
“Sinister doesn’t even cover it anymore.”
Pïer whispered, then added hastily. “It seems the Gods are fair… In exchange for your inability to study the Great Current, they have granted you a wisdom beyond Sages and the ruthlessness of beasts.”
“You wound me.”
Suddenly, the High Lord revealed a meaningful smile—it's stiff. “It’s a good thing we’re not enemies then.”
I bowed deeply, and responded with something I believed satisfactory. “Paradis will be yours, Milord.”
“Yes…” Pïer turned to stare at the setting Sun, “It will be.”
Then, in a resounding voice, the High Lord barked, “Pitch the tents, soldiers! Tonight, we rest, but keep your weapons within reach. One can never be too sure what is lurking within the uncivilized lands.”
With an expectant gaze, he turned to me.
Sensing the awkwardness in the air, I offered. “Milord, I shall assist the soldiers.”
Almost breathing a sigh of relief, Pïer nodded. “You do so.”
