What is a right?

I ask this from the perspective of material reality and not philosophy. Most abstracts, as much as they pretend they are some grand concept that can be stretched outwards to cover all of reality, are in fact very defined when applied to material rules. Maisara’s Order for example, it is some great, unattainable utopia of transformation humanity into a factory, or is it simply organisation that ignores all morality? Kassandora can describe her abstract of War as a disagreement between two people, but is she correct? Is an argument truly warfare? Or is the woman simply aggrandizing herself? In the same way that everyone knows what a horse is, everyone knows what a war is. Kassandora’s statement is revolutionary, only because it is confident in its own wrongness. Even my Hatred, I can describe it as a great many things, yet likewise I can reduce it to the basest material reality: an intense disdain for one-another.

This material description is what I wish to ascribe to rights of man, and in that case, I see only natural laws: Might makes Right and Survival of the Fittest. Yet if natural law was the be-all, end-all to thinking, then a figure such as Maisara or Kassandora would have never come around. This issue compounds upon itself even more when rights directly counter-act each other. The right to freedom, brought unto its extremity, would override every other right, yet we understand such things as property or self-determination also exist.

It is not until one inverts the way they look. Rights are not an addition to life, rights are a subtraction from the governing state. Rights exist to safeguard mankind from tyrannical rulership, yet they also exist to safeguard tyrannical rulership from mankind. Those tyrannies can only exist because of the limitations cast upon them by rights. Monarchs that overstepped their demesnes int the rights of man had a tendency of finding themselves under the executioner’s axe.

However, if we take this approach to be wrong and rights need to be an addition to humanity rather than a negative limitation imposed on the rulers of mankind, then there is only one real right that exists. Only one right we can call forever permanent and truly Divine. Only one right that we can be assured of, no matter what situation we are in.

The Divine Right to Die.

‘A treatise on toppling Epan Dominos and a guide to building Fifth Columns.’ Written by Malam, Goddess of Hatred

Elassa looked down at Arcadia. At an Arcadia cold and desolate. At an Arcadia abandoned. At an Arcadia that had faced disgrace after disgrace. Elassa hovered in the air as the wind spiralled around her to avoid whipping about her black suit. It left the hat on top of her still too, the white emblem of three lightning bolts striking a shattering world in white on the black fabric. Elassa sighed as she looked down at Arcadia, the almost-empty fields and gardens that now lacked all signs of life, the only sounds being of wind swaying leaves and the fountains that were still running.

Elassa looked down upon her Arcadia.

She had failed those who still remained here, there was no other way to describe what had happened. She had failed terribly. She saw a small group of boys looking up at her from under the shadow of a tree. A pair of girls that were sitting at a bench, now they had stalled their conversation and were watching the Goddess who was supposed to represent them. Teachers were coming out too.

And as Elassa lowered herself down to the ground, as she glanced across the ocean of faces that were all looking up at her, Elassa realised that flame of anger growing within her stomach. She knew it shouldn’t exist, it wasn’t their fault that the Goddess who represented them had gone, cracked a continent and killed several hundred million worldwide.

Yet…

And Elassa realised what the issue was. She looked at those ashamed faces, and she knew she was the odd-one out. The mages of the past would have cheered. The mages of the past would have sung a song. The mages of the past would have seen the example that Elassa had just set, and then proceeded to rush forwards in an attempt to imitate even a slither of the power she had just wielded. And these people? They lowered their gazes as if afraid of the very strength that made them who they were.

That, Elassa was the issue.

The magicians still remaining in Arcadia felt terrible about what just happened, yet Elassa?

Elassa did not feel bad at all. She had been kicked out of the Pantheon true, she was working for Malam now, true. She had betrayed each and every allegiance with Divines she had made over the past thousand years, true. Yet… did it matter?

Elassa set her black boots onto the ground as she saw waved the closest group of students, a trio of three boys, over. They were all tall and skinny, and in their own casual clothes rather than Arcadia’s formal dress. Elassa did not particularly mind or care, mages wore what mages wished to wear at the end of the day. The issue was so terribly simple that Elassa did not even know what to say. Complicated problems, she could sit down and rationalize out. It had always been the simplest questions that had been the hardest to find answers to.

And today, the question was terribly simple. Her magicians felt shame for what just happened, she did not. Why did they feel shame? She had proved a single soul could crack a continent, she had re-written the march of history in one move. The crack she had made would outlast any kingdom and any era. It would be studied and studied until humanity forgot what had created that crack. And then it would be studied some more.

She had cracked a continent.

Who else could lay claim to a feat so magnificent?

Elassa set off at a brisk walk as more and more magicians were starting to from the doorways of the great dorms. A dozen here, a pair there, a couple out of a door. A witch opened her window to watch the Goddess of Magic return to her kingdom. Elassa looked at the magicians who remained. She tried to pick out faculty she had known. Faculty or top-ranking students. Faculty or top-ranking students or the few workers she knew in Arcadia.

Not a single face she recognised remained. The few who still carried the teacher’s shawl were all professors or assistants. Not a single member of the administration revealed themselves, not a single head-of-year, no one. Elassa walked through the great gardens as the crowd grew and grew. She made a full circle to her own palace, a great stone porcupine of towers topped off with high peaks or golden domes. Interconnecting them was a spiderweb of walkways adorned with stone and brick and gargoyle.

The path to the building was lined with statues dedicated to the Great War Archmages, the pinnacle of what humans had achieved so far. Witches in extravagant hats and brilliant dresses of stone enchanted to glimmer in the sunlight, and wizards in full battle armour, their staves replaced for enchanted swords. A few magicians left the grand palace in a line. Elassa examined them and Elassa realised that not a single soul she knew remained here either.

And Elassa cracked a smile. When she got the news from Arascus, it was a struggle to believe it. Then it had been denial. Then she had lied to herself about how Allasaria was in fact not talented whatsoever. Then, she had told herself how her mages were loyal. And if they weren’t loyal, then they had a thirst for knowledge. How could you successfully bribe those who valued nothing but the intangible pursuit for new information the most?

And now, as Elassa turned and saw what had happened, she realised that it had been worse than she thought.

Allasaria had come in, she had ransacked Arcadia of its greatest resource: the manpower itself, and she had left. Elassa pushed Malam’s task out of her mind. The Goddess of Hatred had told her to hurry, but that she had a few days either way. Elassa wondered if Malam had realised what happened and had given Elassa a day to recover, or if it was just mere nicety. Whatever the case, Malam’s issue was not pressing and it could be solved quickly too. The woman merely wanted a few gemstones enchanted to make a beam-array. Gem-stones that had been fashioned in such a way that it was obviously human hands, and not Elassa’s own. They could be made and sent off quickly enough. Those could be made quickly, and Elassa was in no mood to make them now. Not after the puzzles in her mind had clicked together when she realised that most of her faculty were mere cowards and swine.

Elassa realised what had happened. Arcadia had been on a disgusting foundation that would have made it a despicable joke in the Great War. The mages from her administration finally got to her, Elassa stopped and looked down on them. But there was a difference between these people and back when she had declared the change of flag to the red and purple. Those war banners, at the very least, fluttered gently in the fresh Arcadian breeze.

She turned around at the crowd, at the faces that were all chaotic mixtures of worry and fear and excitement and relief. “How many remain?” Elassa asked the mages next to her, no one in particular, but an older man did answer.

“Across the whole scho-“

“Just the number.”

“About sixty-two thousand.” Elassa made a grim nod. From more than five million to sixty-two thousand. That was the reason as to why the place had felt so empty.

“Return to the ranks.” Elassa replied and the man nodded. The entire team of administrators followed as Elassa thought on what to say to the mages behind her. Although…

There was no thinking. For once, she knew exactly what to say. This was not a rallying speech to bring together a shattered people, nor was it a call to action against some opponent in a faraway land. This… It was a proclamation, it was the first lesson she would give with her entire heart. The Kirinyaan Invasion had been mere drilling, it was running through the motions. That hadn’t been teaching, that had been running through the motions. There was no philosophy, no actual knowledge or skills gained in that. She had merely been programming her students with the magical arts in the same way that Theosius would program his stupid little robots with various tasks or whatever it was that he did.

In a way though, Elassa had to thank Allasaria. She had humbled Arcadia so greatly, she had stolen most of the members, and she had expelled Elassa from the White Pantheon.

So now, what actually bound Arcadia?

The coffers of the White Pantheon? Allasaria had fixed the problem for Elassa. She had removed all the wasteful expenses, what was Elassa supposed to spend money on now? There was no faculty to pay, no wasteful projects to be done, no meandering research grants…

Arcadia had been destroyed.

And in a way that Elassa could have never imagined. Fer’s warherds had not come to defile and raze and pillage, Kassandora’s legions had not ran a campaign of extermination, even Neneria’s ghosts did not come to draft what remained into her forces. It wasn’t through Olephia’s words or through Baalka’s disease. Not a single one of Arascus’ daughters was responsible for what had happened here. Nor Arascus himself, the man had merely pulled back the curtain to reveal the rotten wood that was holding up the theatre.

And it wasn’t really Allasaria either. The woman had stolen what she could, but how could Elassa blame the Goddess of Light? She wasn’t going to run from responsibility. Arcadia had allowed itself to be stolen, if Arascus had come forwards to expose the rotten structure, then Allasaria had come to give it a great kick. It was Elassa herself, for choosing scaffolding of wood instead of hardy, rigid stone to build her kingdom out of.

And if those two had destroyed what Arcadia stood for, Elassa would set fire to the refuse that still remained. Anyone who still had any qualms should be expelled, because they were no longer welcome in the Arcadia that Elassa was building. She cast her hands into the air, the dirt from her sides rose by her to create a silhouette of the continent of Arika. “This is Arika!” Elassa shouted as she looked at the faces of the mages.

Elassa snapped her fingers. Arika above her cracked, just as it did in the real world. “This is what I did.” Elassa saw a few of the magicians look at Arika in awe, and a few take a step back in horror. Maybe they had deluded themselves that Elassa was not actually the great destroyer that everyone said she was.

“I am Elassa, Goddess of Magic.” Elassa shouted. “I formed in the chaos of World-Breaking, whilst I exist, this is what magic is.” And the Arika behind her cracked into a hundred different pieces. “There is no discussion we will have on this, there is no debate. Magic is my demesne; Arcadia is my land.”

And Elassa watched the faces, she saw the excitement spiral into lustful passion on some, the worry descend down into the worst of horrors. And Elassa continued. “Allasaria has set up her own schools, you are welcome to leave and go join them. I do not care, I will not keep you here.” A few took a step back. Elassa raised an eyebrow in taunt. Did they think this era of open magic would exist forever? Did they actually delude themselves into thinking that this art somehow lacked elitism?

Anassa only existed because of the elitism inherent in magic. “I will not give a grand speech.” Elassa shouted. “I will simply say this. Arcadia is a war college, Arcadia has always been a war college, it will always be a war college. If you have any qualms, leave. If you have any moral stipulations about this, leave. If you wish to slow down, or if you think you won’t be able to keep up, leave. If you wish for money, leave. If you wish for fame, leave. If you wish for pleasures, leave.”

Elassa saw the men who were smiling in excitement, she saw their grins become wolfish. She knew her own mirrored theirs. “I can promise one thing and one thing only.” The Arika behind her dropped and silence once again filled the world. “Power. Nothing less, nothing more.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep