Chapter #16 — Onwards!

Pïer was a smart man, but more often than not, he would be blinded by tunnel-vision. The rebels were never going to win this fight, not only because they were the underdogs facing severe disadvantages—Earth was filled with tales of underdogs overcoming insurmountable odds and emerging victorious— but the main problem laid in their lack of direction.

Ideologies may have sparked many wars, that I would never deny, but they alone couldn’t win wars.

No matter how lofty one’s ideals were, nobody would willingly follow them into a doomed war, except for those desperate—those with nothing to lose, just hoping to make their ends a tiny bit more meaningful than their lives.

And how effective were those kinds of people in reality?

They lacked discipline, motivation… How could an army composed of such individuals ever hope to win a battle?

Another issue laid in the higher ranks, most of whom couldn’t even be considered strategists, let alone competent ones.

Their army consisted mainly of farmers, their generals were builders, and their objectives were driven purely by ego. If I were in charge of the Sharrï’s Council, the best course of action would be to wait until they depleted their resources.

Eventually, they would come crawling back, begging for mercy.

What the Sages truly should be concerned about are the consequences.

Yes, defeating one rebellion would indeed diminish the common Sharrï’s desire to fight, but it could just as easily sharpen the skills and resolve of the next wave.

If the Sages were wise, they would take proactive measures to suppress and quash any future rebellions before they could gain momentum.

Deep in thoughts, I was still able to feel the water bucket set above the door.

It’s the oldest trick in the book, ‘And these kids thought it’d work on me?’

As the Creator, even inanimate objects knew better than to inconvenience me.

The molecules themselves demanded it, hence, instead of hitting me directly, it spilled to the side, while the children reacted with curiosity. “How are you doing that, Uncle Sharru?” The youngest child asked.

Then the eldest, “Is it a spell?

And the middle. “Teach me!”

Perhaps it was because I finally caught up on sleep, but the sounds of children were no longer grating to my ears. It was strange, considering I used to despise the piercing screams of kids. It would trigger some primal, uncontrollable instincts within me, from what’s left of the lizard brain no doubt, activating the dreaded fight or flight response. “Maybe it’s because I no longer possess that part of my primitive brain,” I pondered.

“I was fortunate,” I lied, but the sharp-witted children saw through my deception instantaneously.

“Right…” The eldest, a girl of 35, responded disdainfully. It may sound absurd, but another drawback of being a Sharrï was their incredibly lengthy period of growth, similar to that of elves in a sense. For humans, a 35-year-old would not be considered a child, but for the Sharrï, who lived at a slow pace due to their extended lifespan, it was quite common. They would only reach physical maturity around 65 to 100 years old, a stage that Pïer’s children were far from.

“Don’t be stingy!” The middle girl continued, urging me to share my ‘arcane’ knowledge.

“Now, children!” Häel intervened, poking her head out of the pantry. “What did we say about being nice to others?”

“That some people will take advantage of your niceness?” The eldest girl promptly answered.

Feeling a pang of guilt, I covered my face in embarrassment and sighed. “I can’t help but think that maybe we’re setting a bad example for the children.”

“Nonsense,” Häel responded, brushing off the dust from the children’s clothes and adjusting their necklaces. “They need to learn about the harsh realities of life sooner rather than later, especially in times when circumstances could be even worse.”

I glanced at Häel, a bittersweet smile forming on my lips.

“I think I’ve had a negative influence on you as well.”

“Now, children,” Häel raised her voice, redirecting the attention back to the kids. “What is the right thing to do?”

“Apologize,” All three of them echoed in unison, shuffling uncomfortably on their feet.

The youngest boy chimed in resentfully, “But it’s not like it actually hurt him.”

It all began a few years ago when I first entered the Tower, disguised as a normal miner caste seeking better employment.

The children had caught glimpses of my innate miracles, and from that moment on, they were determined to uncover the truth behind my supposed ‘tricks’.

The youngest of the trio was convinced that I was a Mage in disguise, even though my metaphysical presence had been deliberately limited to that of an average Sharrï.

As for the two older sisters, they believed I possessed a magical artifact of great power or something along that line. ‘Oh, how limited their imaginations are,’ I thought to myself.

Little did they know that they were actually conversing with God himself.

As a Creator, I didn’t belong to the Sharrï’s Pantheon.

While the children were aware of the many Paradiseans who populated the world, they had compiled a list of Law-Bearers, or Deities, whose presence affected the metaphysical currents, since I existed outside of the Creation Seed itself, they had no way to record my existence.

As far as they cared, the Paradiseans created Paradis, and that was that.

The Paradiseans had also neglected to mention my existence, whether by choice or mindlessness, I wasn’t sure, but it suited me just fine.

Certainly, the Path of Faith had its strength, but it would bind me to a community of believers, when, as the Creator of the Universe, I should remain relatively uninvolved and impartial.

The youngest child eagerly pulled at my sleeve, calling out, "Sharru, Sharru! Can you tell us about that distant world again?"

The oldest child chimed in, declaring, "Yeah! I want to hear about Gaia!"

Only the middle child pretended not to be interested—the splitting image of her father, but even a blind person could see through the facade by how her ears perked up. "Okay, okay..." I agreed, "Let's move this discussion to the garden... I don't think your parents would appreciate you three inhaling all these harmful fumes."

The day progressed uneventfully, following its regular rhythm, yet my intuition, my 6th Sense, hinted at a juicy development taking place behind the scenes.

As expected, that evening when Pïer returned, he had been entrusted with a mission: To suppress the rebellion with minimal casualties, none if possible. “Those geezers have finally come to their senses!”

His excitement was palpable, to say the least.

Pïer seemed so elated that I half-expected him to burst into a dance, a behavior quite unlike his usual high and mighty demeanor.

Although, after centuries of stagnation in his efforts, it was only natural for him to respond with such uncharacteristic joy.

Given the severe toll the plague had taken on their population, they simply couldn’t afford to handle the situation aggressively, or there would be a shortage of laborers and builders.

“That’s excellent news, Milord!” His wife, far too forgettable for her own good, clapped her hands in excitement. “I’ve been given charge of 500 guards to suppress the rebellion.”

Instantly, tension spread through my arms. Although Sharrä was not a large settlement, its population exceeded 3,000.

Even if only a third of the population had revolted, they still outnumbered Pïer’s army by half. Additionally, this would be a siege… Even with the assistance of magic, victory seemed rather unlikely with just one company of troops. At the very least, significant losses would be inevitable. ‘Ah, I understand now…’

Pïer was sorely mistaken.

The Sages hadn’t granted him access to their army because they wished for his triumph, but rather because they desired his failure, knowing it would greatly impact his future prospects.

It’s the same on Earth, people were not concerned with one’s successes; they tended to dwell on their failures. If this endeavor went awry, the damage to Pïer's reputation would devastate his budding political career. “Milord, I have a few words I would like to share. Would you be willing to listen?”

With a smirk on his face, Pïer responded, “No need.”

‘The young calf doesn’t—’

“Because you’re coming with me!”

I shot him a disapproving look. “Milord, please have compassion for my old bones…”

“You’re hardly any older than I am.”

He retorted, and I had to suppress the urge to respond, ‘I’m older than your entire kind, young man.’

Instead, I settled for a simple, “What can I say? I have an old Soul…” And a shrug.

The shrug was important, an action divinely ordained… Any who did it would receive divine favor. “I pay for your food, housing, and all the luxuries you receive.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “To be a butler, Milord. Not a field strategist.”

“I’ll increase your payment.”

“I’m afraid that is not my calling,” I responded politely.

“I’ll petition the Council to grant you Lordship… Imagine being the first Non-Mage to receive such a prestigious title!”

He whispered enticingly, but my resolve remained strong in the face of temptation.

 

“I don’t harbor such lofty aspirations, Milord. You possess incredible leadership abilities, and I believe you can quell the rebellion," I said, offering him a false smile, and added. “On your own.”

His smile faded instantly. “You once told me that a true Lord understands that he doesn’t have to excel at everything, but he must know how to utilize people… Out of all my retainers, you are the wisest, Sharru. I can only entrust this to you.” I had to admit, he had charisma, at least when he wasn’t throwing tantrums.

To be fair, dealing with the opposition from the Sages in the Council Meeting must be real stressful business. I was sweating bullets every time I watched it.

“If this plan succeeds, I can guarantee that your name and mine will be renowned far and wide.”

Every element of nature, from the smallest molecules to the largest rocks and bodies of water, bore my name.

As the Creator of All, I had no need to prove myself or seek greatness in mortal lands. It’s quite distasteful, in fact, beating species eons your junior, or so Lysara had told me.

“I’m sorry, Milord, but my answer remains no. You must find someone else to help you.”

“I am your Lord!” He bellowed, trying to assert his authority.

My reaction was a look of utter indifference. We both knew he would never dare attack me or attempt to force orders on me.

He held too much respect for me.

We locked eyes, both devoid of emotion, until his pleading gaze took over. “Please… Help me. We’re friends, aren’t we? You know as well as I do that I cannot win this siege, no matter how superior our weaponry may be.”

After all, the structures constructed by the ancient Sharrï were built to withstand the test of time, unlike the flimsy paper and tofu buildings of the modern era.

Given their impressive durability, I had absolute confidence that they could endure multiple nuclear strikes on the heart of their settlements without flinching. I let out a weary sigh, begrudgingly agreeing, “Since you insist… But please take this as a learning experience. While I do think a Lord doesn’t have to excel at everything, it is still best if he is.”

That night, Pïer and I wasted no time in swiftly reorganizing our orders.

Rumors circulated among whispers, saying that we were making preparations in case we met our demise on the battlefield.

However, my primary focus was on delegating tasks to different wings of the Tower, ensuring its stability and functionality even in our brief absence.

“We will march to war tomorrow,” I calmly informed Häel, who merely tilted her head in curiosity. “Do you anticipate any complications?”

“For us, none should arise,” I assured her, not the slightest bit bothered. “If worst comes to worse, try your best to preserve the children and the Lady. Wealth can be rebuilt, but people can’t rise from the graves… Not the way they were at least.”

That’s all it took for me to make her understand. After all, we had been together for many decades, and were far too familiar with each other’s personalities as if they were the back of our hand.

“Do you think the Sages will actually take action against him?” She asked, her voice tinged with doubt.

A derisive chuckle escaped my lips. “Will the Sages move against Pïer’s family? What a foolish question.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head at the sheer absurdity of her inquiry. If the Sages didn’t intervene, I would gladly eat my own shoes. The Sages were the epitome of rationality, the pinnacle of their species’ logical thinking.

They harbored no sense of honor, nor any loyalty towards anything other than their own interests, and perhaps the wellbeing of their entire species.

An up and coming High Lord who aligned with the ordinary Sharrï by his wife, made greater by his feats in battles… They would be foolish to not isolate him.

Given the opportunity, they would undoubtedly use his wife and gaggle of children as leverage.

Despite his stubborn façade, Pïer was a good person at heart.

If he possessed a crueler and more ruthless nature, I wouldn’t have been concerned about setting up safeguards in our absence.

Then again, we probably wouldn’t have chosen to work under his leadership if that were the case. “Once Pïer comes back, they’re going to spit out everything they take,” I remarked.

The Lich silently agreed, neatly folding a piece of clothing and placing it inside a wooden chest. A heavy silence hung between us, a silence that neither of us had any desire to rupture. Finally, Häel mustered the courage to voice what she had been dreading. “You don’t plan on returning, do you?”

I shook my head in response, my voice detached. “Sharru will ‘die’ valiantly on the battlefield,” To a stray arrow, probably. “This will be my final favor to Pïer as a friend.”

Häel, with their unwavering gaze, stared directly into my Soul. “Is it because of your stupid non-intervention rule?” She asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

“It’s not stupid,” I countered. “It’s rational.”

In my eyes, all the Paradiseans were my own children, and thus, thus everything in Creation was my grandchild. I had a responsibility towards them, to guide and protect them. However, if I fought all their battles for them, they would never learn and grow. Even Orion’s imprisonment was not a decision I made lightly. Paradis needed a period of development. Once I deemed it appropriate, all restraints would be released and it would be a free-for-all.

The powerful would inherit Paradis… Temporarily, until the Cycle would repeat itself again.

Victory, Decline… “What logic is there in witnessing a chaotic world?”

I looked her, truly looked.

Häel had embraced much of my cynical and pessimistic mindset, but this was the one belief she had always argued with me on. ‘War isn’t essential’

But it was, as long as Voidspawns and Deviants still exist, and I doubted that was an issue anyone could resolve, else they would have been already. “And I can’t come with you?”

“No, you cannot.”

“Why?” She asked curtly,

‘Why are you abandoning me?’

Her thoughts and feelings echoed through the currents…

Grief.

“I have nothing to teach you anymore.” I said honestly… I had watched that girl mature mentally, from the lost Lich to the person she was now—someone eerily similar to me. She must set forth on her own Path, or she would stagnate, dragging the Law of Undeath with her. As for Magic, I had realized I could not teach anyone… Controlling the Mana covering the whole of Paradis felt like breathing to me. How would someone even begin to teach another how to breath?

I could have implanted Spells in her head, but Häel had rejected my offers previously… There was no lesson in store anymore.

“Will we see each other again?” Sensing the disparity in our abilities, Häel didn’t push for an answer. Exhaling, I gave a nod. “Certainly.”

“When?”

I grinned, “When it’s meant to be.”

Collecting my belongings, I gently tapped her head twice before heading towards the rendezvous point, but Häel grabbed my wrist. I expected her attempt to halt me, but instead, the Lich simply clasped my hand and used it to ruffle her head once more.

Seconds ticked into minutes…

Minutes stretched into hours. “There… There,” I reassured her, “It’s alright.”

 

Without any regard for the atmosphere, the Universal Will interjected, interrupting my thoughts on the upcoming course of events. ‘The Cataclysmic Cycle?’

“Hmm,”

I murmured, diverting a fragment of my consciousness to examine the plan, but keeping my focus primarily on Häel.

“On a positive note, you are no longer bound by my commands… You are free, Häel. Take solace in that, at the very least.”

“What am I to do without you?”

“Whatever you want,” I replied, a smile playing at my lips. “You can take my suggestion and seek out Obsession,”

However, I’d prefer it if Häel did not pursue that option, considering that Lilianna, the First Murderer, had recently encountered Tzæch and been claimed by Besotte soon after. If the Lady of Desire were to come across another Law-Bearer, it’d upset the equilibrium of power in Paradis.

“Alternatively, you could seek out one of its adversaries—Detachment… Although I imagine Death would find you quite intriguing.”

The Lich shuddered at the last’s mention, chuckling weakly, “Death is…” Mind flooded with the faded echoes of Häel the Sharrï who lost her life to one of Orion’s, she added. “It’s scary.”

“It’s just a suggestion.”

I gave a casual shrug, shifting my gaze towards the faint glimmers peeking through the veil. “It’s time for me to go, Häel. Farewell.”

Making halfway through the exit, the Lich finally retorted, her voice filled with a muted exasperation and affection. “It’s not ‘farewell,’ you fool. It’s ‘see you later.’”

“Right!”

I waved cheerfully, hoping the girl would be a bit less gloomy…

When we next cross paths, our encounter would no longer be within our present roles, but rather that of a Creator and his Creation. ‘Although, knowing her…’ I mused to myself, ‘She would probably act the same.’

Making my way down the Tower, my belongings haphazardly secured to a stick—an oversized stick made from the toughest wood in Paradis perhaps, but a stick nonetheless—I quickly reached the square where over 500 soldiers, clad in the barest leather armors already waiting. “I thought you’d not come.”

“I gave you my words, Milord, and I intend to keep it.”

Pïer nodded, fighting a smile to appear stern in front of his troops.

“Now that everyone’s here,”

His piercing gaze swept the company, silently telling them to straighten up, then, “At the moment, our society itself is at risk. March onwards, brave men and women of Shatia! To protect our home—” Dramatically, he paused. “WAR!”

Around us, thousands more stood as observers, but there was no joyous cheers, just gloomy faces of people who still remembered the losses they had suffered.

Even our troop didn’t seem too enthused.

‘How quick they are to decline…’

The Sharrï’s fate was already set in stone;

Pïer could only prolong the standstill, but the tension would always be there, growing–simmering under their society, rotting all they had built until, eventually, it all collapsed on its own weight.

“Come, Sharru! I’ve prepared you a fine steed to match your Wisdom!”

I watched as a thread floated to me—the Law of Wisdom, and blew it away, muttering, ‘Seek out another.’