Pantheon Peace, somewhat paradoxically, has been easiest to implement in the Epan states. Our initial predictions have always considered that Guguo, with its ancient history of unity and the freshly formed Arikan nations, still in their infancy, would be most resilient to Pantheon Peace. That they would have to go through the same trials that Epa has to learn the cost of bloodshed.

We thought that Epa would be a sore-spot for the Pantheon, we thought that we would need to spend centuries beating the Epans into submission. Yet there has been no great rebellions, no angry voices, apart from Helenna’s propaganda war, there has been almost no resistance to our project in Epa. We always thought it would be the weak link in the chain, but the whole-hearted embracement of Pantheon Peace has left us honestly stunned.

Still though, I have my reservations. As has been proven through the trials of history: Epans make very good subjects. Until they don’t.

– Excerpts from ‘Thoughts on the Post-War World’ in the White Pantheon’s Closed Library, written by Goddess Maisara.

“FIRE!” Kassandora pulled her blade out of the wooden platform and swung it in the air. War’s Orchestra flared up in an effort to tear down the entire theatre. Drums beat in sync to the thunderous roar of artillery, smoke whisked up from the barrels supported by stringing violins, rifles shot to the tune of frantic trumpets, each one trying to outcompete the other in how much lead it could unleash. Men silently turned to the chorus, as they picked out targets among the mages around the fortress, where shields formed, they quickly changed targets under Kassandora’s guidance, going from one magician to the next, firing at the groups that powered the ritual circles which fed that mining beam above CR. The blue laser penetrated through a centre tree and burst deep into the ground. There was no need to worry about that spell, Kassandora had already seen its effectiveness when the first barrier had been swapped out for the second.

Iniri raised her hands, she rose into the air, the living wood of her dress spiralled into the ground, disappearing as if it was a workman’s shovel about to dig up dirt. Roots touched roots and Iniri felt the singular structure that made up her fortress. The trees interjoining with bridges, the tickling of boots on bark, the gentle vibrations of guns against parapets and barriers., the creaking shakes as Kassandora’s heavy artillery on their raised platforms dug into the wood from the recoil of their cannons. She wouldn’t let the Goddess of War take all the glory. There was a reputation to maintain, Mother Nature was as cruel and capricious as she was benign and benevolent.

In one instant, Iniri’s fortress that had been grown to protect the men within Central Requisitions changed from a cowardly tortoise hiding within its shell to a frenzied leopard. It struck out in all directions as the mages around it raised barriers in surprise to the sudden onslaught. Whistling artillery shells fell down upon them. Shells burst like brilliant fireworks on magical barriers. They splashed onto condensed shields of ice and into cloaks of stone that covered a dozen men at a time. Fires sprouted around them in mid-air and tried to ignite them pre-emptively as magicians waved their staves and tried to put up a frantic defence.

And from the sides, the gunfire of men hidden between the trees cut them down. Branches moved to reveal squads of men who opened fire immediately. Iniri clapped her hands together, and the woods sprung forwards. Where magicians put up barriers that blocked the hailstone of lead, heavy oaks swooped in like battering rams. One shield cracked, her flora moved forwards. It spread out, branches grabbed magicians in colourful clothes as a counterattack was mounted. Columns of flame out around her attack, columns of stone were dragged from the earth to make blades that split bark and wood, that severed man-ripping vine and blocked the hail of razor leaves which shook from Iniri’s fortress.

The Goddess of Nature flicked a finger. This wasn’t the brunt of her attack, this was a mere taster. Her roots hit the stone that Elassa had pulled up to coat the ground. Iniri smiled to herself, her emerald eyes green as the wood on her dress grew thicker and stretched and tore the fabric. A root hit stone and cracked it. A branch filled the crack and pressed in. The branch grew to the size of an arm, a torso, a human, a horse, a truck, a car. It turned crumbled and pushed the stone away as fresh oak beat against the stone.

The ground started to rumble, and the forest roared as Fer’s troops engaged from the rear. No beastman would get close to engage mages in melee, but they didn’t have to. Gunfire cut into mages from behind as beastmen unleashed the heavy weaponry they had. Minotaurs hefted heavy machines as wolfmen prowled and dived into the ground to get a shot. Bright red eyes found their prey, beastly jaws spilling over with teeth snarled, thick fur-clad fingers topped with claws pressed on triggers, and mages fell.

Elassa stared down in horror at what was happening below. Forty thousand she had brought, forty thousand that she had trained herself for six months. Each one was worthy to be called a battlemage in theory. But this is how they fared? Her face twisted in disgust and rage. What a pathetic show of feebleness. Arcadia was an utter failure. She would not retreat to the Pantheon after this, Allasaria was gone! Gone! There was no reason to abide by the Decrees of a Pantheon that was nothing but a rotting corpse letting out its final death-spasms.

Magic had been contained for the good of all Arda. But sometimes, the good of all Arda required a little reminder as to what powers still existed upon it.

Kassandora smiled to herself as she watched Elassa’s failure of an army start to crumble. Mages crafted defences around themselves in a desperate effort to save their own lives, shields of sand and hardened air, bubbles of water and the most talented among the magicians managed to bring out the blue shells of pure mana as shells and gunfire rained down upon them. The ground started to shift as the layer of stone shattered and cracked like broken bones and Iniri’s trees sprung forth. Mages lifted off into the air, or turned and ran, flames surged around them, both controlled fires from the pyromancers themselves and the terrible blaze of napalm that painted the sky black.

Even her music could not drown the battle out. Frantic trumpets tried to match sharp bursts of gunfire, deafening drums played to the tune of artillery, violins tried to overwhelm the crackling of flames and a choir failed to suppress the litany of orders, shouts and screams that the mages were issuing to each other. Fer’s beastmen roared from behind and Kassandora’s army remained silent, each man guided by War’s Orchestra playing in his head.

Kassandora had thought it would happen, she had wanted it to happen, if she wasn’t the Goddess of War, she would have prayed for it to happen, but she planned around Elassa’s army summoning a barrier immediately. On needing to move herself to crush defences, on splitting her attention between the army on the ground and the Divine in the air. She allowed herself a smile. Was it the lack of Leona? No. Kassandora would not let that Goddess take the credit for it. It was herself. She did it, a sudden escalation of violence. Taken from Anassa’s own thinking, not from zero to a hundred in a second, but from null to a thousand in an instant. An escalation so brutal it crushed morale and so utterly destroyed any hope of victory that this battle would only exist in nightmares.

She had overprepared, she had thought they would be better. She thought there’d be a reaction, that the morale would hold. That she would be saving the lives of her men in a desperate last stand, and salvaging what remained of Central Requisitions once the battle was over. She had planned on them acting like the great magicians of the past did.

For once in her life, things actually went to plan.

But whereas the mages on the ground were a new species of failure. There was still one problem. One issue that could singlehandedly destroy the beautiful tune her orchestra was playing. A mage in the air, from the old breed, not even the Great War but before, the greatest of them all.

Maybe a mortal would take a breath to calm their senses. Maybe they would need a tune out the roar of battle. Maybe they would need to push away the heat of flames, the shards from explosions, the rains of iron and lead. Maybe a mage lesser would need to raise a shield, maybe a mage weaker would think of fleeing, maybe a mage uncertain would need to think.

But Elassa was not that type of mage. No, she was not even a Great War mage, she had come from an era long before it, one where magic decided all. She waved her white-wood staff. The crystal become eye-searingly bright, like the sparking nucleus of a burning welding rod rather than the glow of the Sun, and the skies opened up with powers that once broke the world.

Fer roared as Elassa’s winds sent her hurtling downwards again. Anassa wasn’t there to save her this time, and she smashed into branches and trees, claw caught bark and shards of wood sprayed in all directions as she slid one of the massive trunks that made up the fortress of Central Requisitions. She grit her teeth, as branches ripped and tore at her skin. Once again, she was glad that Kassandora had hoisted this thick and heavy vest on her. It saved her chest and back from being torn apart by the rugged bark.

Her arms and legs and face did not have the same protection, she slid down the tree, muscles tearing themselves apart as her claws slowed her down, and being cut apart by the woods. With a heavy thud, she slammed onto one of the wooden platforms. A soldier turned to see her as Fer merely groaned and rolled over from her back to her front. She brought herself to her knees and the soldier spoke. “Kavaa is coming.” He immediately turned back around and started picking out targets with his rifle, his own gunshots

Fer collapsed onto her hands and knees and rolled onto her back, taking deep breathes as her body angrily closed wounds. It was almost pleasant, she looked through the hole she made in the branches above straight at Elassa. The skies above her were going dark, the clouds set themselves ablaze as they melted under her fury.

Fer couldn’t tear her eyes away from that scene. But Kavaa’s face suddenly obscured the image as the Goddess jumped down a series of branches and placed her hands on Fer’s bare stomach. “I’ve got you.” She whispered, pale eyes looking down, framed by pale hair and paler skin. Fer felt tiny little beetles pinch her muscles and drag them back together, ants tickled her arms and legs as they dragged fresh skin out of her flesh. Further regrew itself.

“I need blood.” Fer said and Kavaa nodded. Fer opened her jaws, fangs exposed, and the Goddess of Health placed her forearm into Fer’s mouth. The blood came, with it came thicker fur, with it came the burning sensation inside Fer’s stomach as Kavaa’s blood was set ablaze, with it came the endless hunger of a predator, with it came the enhanced eyesight and hearing of perfect health. The blood came, and with it came power.

Elassa swung her staff downwards. The burning clouds around her gave way to a rain of fire. Winds howled and hurled themselves around her as they picked up speeds. The horizon, the jungle towards the north, the mountain past it, the plains to the south, it all faded away as dusts started to obscure it.

Lightning flared upwards from those winds as Elassa rose higher. Dusts swirled above her as they smashed into each other, tiny specks of dirt became pebbles, then stones, rocks, boulders. Elassa’s eyes widened with manic glee as she saw the scene below her stop.

Mages let go of staves, shields popped, the few spells flung in self-defence fizzled out. Kassandora’s army stopped too. There was only so much awe and fear even the most grandiose of War’s Orchestra could overcome, and Elassa had long surpassed that pitiful level of power.

Anassa and her sorceries? Kassandora and her armies? Iniri and her trees? Kavaa and her healing? Fer and her what? Her animals? They all paled before the glory of the finest art, the greatest craft, the highest profession humanity had ever created.

Fortia couldn’t tear her eyes away from the feed coming to her screen. It came directly from a satellite requisitioned from the UNN. In a mere few seconds, a storm that was visible from space had started to swirl over Kirinyaa. Clouds that blazed orange with flames, fires burst out over Kirinyaa’s natural jungle. Even the Great War had only rarely seen this display of power, and then only in the greatest times of crisis, when Olephia herself needed to be chased away. But there was an era before that saw it every day. The blood drained from Fortia’s face as she recounted those memories, her arms grew weak, her legs shook, grabbed hold of the Guardian next to her to keep herself standing at the sight of it. That era should have been forgotten for the good of all Arda.

Elassa hung in the air, arms outstretched as she gazed at Fer, at Anassa, at Kassandora rallying her men, trying to at least. The winds picked up, lightning shot out from all sides and a thousand men were fried on the spot. The boulders above her set alight as they started to melt into magma. Rocks became liquid as Elassa set fires as hot as Arda’s molten core within them.

Elassa’s eyes set ablaze with blue flames as the stars of the night sky seemed to retreat. The moon paled in horror. Arda quivered in terror as the mountains to the north started to collapse. A blast of lightning descended from the heavens and arced from side to side. It touched Iniri’s pathetic little tree,a mere child’s attempt at building a castle of sand to be washed away by the ocean that was the Goddess of Magic. One instant wood and bark and leaves, the next merely a pile of ash and molten metal where Kassandora’s artillery had once been.

And the lightning continued, it touched the ground and the world of Arda began to weep. A spiderweb of fire shot out from that point. And Arda started to rumble. Ravines opened up from those fires. Beastman and soldier and magician, dirt and ash and bark and leaf all fell into that ravine, bubbling with molten magma that surged upwards upon finding a release of pressure.

The world gave birth to nature, and nature conquered the world. Then nature gave birth to magic, and magic had conquered the world. It was simply the cycle of these things.

It was over Kassandora. What should have come long ago was here now. The world would be free of War. Whatever her next incarnation would be, Elassa would make sure it would never reach the same level that this pestering little insect had reached. War may be embedded deep into humanity, but Was merely an abstract to be used and molded into whatever the situation demanded. What could War do against the incarnation of Arda’s most potent Force? Abstractions were fun, abstractions were grand ideals, abstractions were precious thoughts, but abstractions stopped mattering when reality set in.

Elassa swung her staff downwards, and the molten meteors began to descend.

Worldbreaking had come, and Worldbreaking was here.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep