It’s an odd case that I allied with Kavaa and Iniri of all people. I wonder about it myself sometimes. I refuse to accept Maisara’s explanation by Foundational Theory. True, good health does breed love and true, the best way to one’s heart is through the stomach but her theory is so simple it is offensive to anyone with a hint of rationality. I am rather passionate, loud and crass with my opinions, Kavaa is tempered, stubborn and judgemental. Iniri is shy, people-pleasing, slow to anger and yet becomes a monster when she finally allows herself to be free.

Maisara’s Foundational Theory is a retroactive assessment of Divinity. The simple fact of the matter is that if the woman was actually so good at relationships, she would have more than her one friend in Fortia. This is not even a case that Order and Peace monopolize each other. Whereas Maisara shares time only with Fortia, Fortia at least gives the other members of the Pantheon a chance. This is not a case of Peace being a universal good, this is a case of Fortia being a strategist and realising that getting along with people is simply more beneficial for everyone.

At the end of the day, if I was friends with Allasaria, then Maisara’s Foundational Theory would explain that the Love sees the Light in people, so it is natural for us to get along. If I was friends with Irinika, then the explanation would become that true Love happens in the darkness of the bedsheets. If I was friends with Kassandora, then of course! What is more romantic than a soldier leaving his sweetheart for a noble goal? What about Fer? Well it’s just natural, we can conclude that Beasthood exhibits raw passion, which Love appreciates. If Elassa was bearable to spend time with, then naturally it would only be fate that we grow close because Love is magical in itself! Let us go to the extreme! Arascus! Well is it not simple? Only mad Pride can seek to tame Love and only Love can seek to tame Pride!

This is where Maisara’s Foundational Theory completely falls apart because anything can be rationalised once the benefit of hindsight is applied. We fought against Arascus, Maisara’s Foundational Theory worked then. If we joined with Arascus, then Maisara would retroactively apply her Foundational Theory as to why it made sense. At the end of the day, Maisara is smart enough to see and join patterns, and she is smart enough to twist logic as to suit her own reasoning. Maisara’s Foundational Theory is flawless, it has no exceptions and it can never be proved wrong. Compare it to a real Theory, such as the Theory of Gravity. Objects fall down, they do not fall up. There is no such thing as an apple falling towards to the sky. This simply is impossible.

A Theory is not made by what it describes but what it forbids. The Theory of Gravity explicitly forbids falling upwards and no one has managed to find a way to break that hard rule yet. This is why I will not give the credit to Foundational Theory, and why that is the only time in this entire text that I have referred to it in the singular.

It is Maisara’s Foundational Theory because it is not a scientific analysis, it is an ideological text.

– Excerpt from “Discussions of the Future.” A book written by all White Pantheon Divines. This segment is credited to Goddess Helenna, of Love.

The Battle of Aris was over.

Kassandora had indeed lived up to her reputation.

There was no way to describe or analyse the battle. There was nothing to gleam. There was nothing to learn. The only summation could be done in three words and three words alone.

Total Imperial Victory.

And yet Paida was not happy.

She was happy for Aris of course. Her heart swelled when she saw people run out of their homes. Husbands and wives with their families, or children without parents that finally saw their hopelessness’ sunset, or adults with no one that stalked out of doorways in pure awe, or ancient pensioners with creaking bones. When she heard them cheer, Paida became so happy she wanted to cry. Her face twisted into a smile. She smoothed her uniform, Kassandora’s Orchestra had made sure that there no a single scratch had landed on the cloth. Kavaa wiped her purple eyes, her felt her knees quiver, she took a deep breath, and she tried to stand tall. Not for herself, but for the crowd of people running out in a mad frenzy to swallow the Imperial Army whole with their praise. Paida’s eyes left the people, left the buildings that now seemed to stand twice as tall in their heroic pride. Her eyes left the shadow of the Grand Arch and did not even bother looking at the great monument behind her, she knew it would laugh at her. Instead, Paida just concentrated on the cloudy sky. The fact it was breaking into a sea of pristine light blue was crushing blow.

It was as if the whole world was cheering, from the people to the city to nature itself that Order had been restored. And yet when everyone cheered, Paida did not. She could not. It was not a case of over-active discipline, nor was it guilt at Rancais being sold away. Paida tried to rationalise it away as ineptitude on her hand but that excuse crumbled away. Likewise the winds of reason swept away the feeling that she, as the Goddess of Rancais, should have done it alone. There was no alone. She could not have done it alone. But it wasn’t that she did it with someone.

It was that she did nothing.

This wasn’t her victory. She had not even done any of the organisation. She had done a bare minimum of the fighting and her role was not so essential that she could not have been replaced by a few hundred men or another Divine. It had been Kassandora, Elassa and Maisara who went to kill Anarchia, it had been Iliyal who organized the campaign. It was Malam and Kavaa who were tasked with clearing out the remains of Anarchia’s taint in liberated terrain. It was Helenna who ran the propaganda war. It was the hundreds of thousands of mortals in the military that actually did the gruelling job of being boots on the ground to prove that the Empire had come.

Paida could not replace any of them, not even the last one. She was but one Goddess, and she knew that even if she saw herself as talented, there was no way to delude herself as to be on the same level of exceptionality as Arascus’ Daughter Goddesses or the members of the White Pantheon. Frankly, she should be grateful that the Empire had given her this opportunity in the first place. The entire Liberation of Aris could have been done without Paida at the helm and nothing would have changed. It was not that she was not integral to the plans. The plans featured her because she was a Divine and Divines had to be worked around, but it could have been Olonia, or Agrita, or Aliana or Saksma. Not once in this entire campaign had there been a situation where Paida and not the Goddess of Rancais had excelled.

Paida looked at the celebrations. Soldiers were climbing out of tanks as men were climbing onto them. Planes above were flying slow and low to make sure that the public could snap photos of them. Helicopters were circling the scene, banners of Empire and of Rancais hung from them. The soldiers had immediately burst out into cheer when War’s Orchestra had finally played a final note. Paida had been there to hear it. It was a single drum and it beat victory. Paida had never heard a more brilliant sound. She wanted to hear it again after being there just once.

And once that drum had finished and the city exploded into cheer, all of Aris had suddenly spilled out onto the streets. The floodgates opened and each drop of water was a man clutching his daughter, a woman holding her son’s hand, a child looking up at Imperial soldiers in awe, a decrepit grandpa smiling down from a window at the tanks driving by him. To Paida it was not just Aris cheering, it was all Rancais united in victory.

And Paida saw the actual Imperial troops. Soldiers in armour unbloodied but dirtied by dust were talking to the crowd. Tank crew were patting their steel chariots in pride. Tank commanders were claiming that it was their team that was second to none. Men pointed up at the sky to talk of Raptor One and Raptor Two. Men pointed up at the sky to talk of helicopter support. Men pointed up at the sky to talk of the Imperial airforce suddenly diving down out of clouds. And men talked of their Divines. Paida heard her own name mentioned several times but it did not matter. They talked of the true hero of this battle.

Kassandora the Great. Kassandora the Omnipotent. Kassandora the proper Divine of a proper concept. Kassandora. Not a Goddess of some nation or some object that could be limited but of a universal experience. Geography and society and nature simply did not matter. Goddess Kassandora, of War.

Paida saw Kassandora walk into Aris’ central square. The feeling was not awe nor fear nor glory nor want to worship. It was definite confidence: that was how a Goddess should look like. Kassandora, standing more than half-again the height of men around her, standing just slightly taller than the tank. In a black uniform that hug down to her calves. She walked forwards and the crowd parted for her swift steps. The cape formed by her crimson red hair only served to silhouette and make her stand out even more. Paida stood there, she did not even care about her own lacking vanity compared to Kassandora. Frankly, the professional dress and the way the woman carried herself did not matter. It was the smile and the blood-red eyes. They said all that needed to be said: satisfaction.

Not once in her entire life had Paida seen such a soul satisfied. It was as if Kassandora had seen all the world had to give her and finally was able to declare that now was the time to put her feet up. It was a smile so terrible that Paida instinctively recoiled. She could not look away yet every moment spent looking at that smile was another moment were a dagger sliced Paida’s heart apart.

Paida had to turn her entire body away to pull her gaze from Kassandora and looked up at the Grand Arch of Rancais. It was a monolith of sandstone, the pillars themselves were carve as to resemble men lifting up the ceiling of the Arch. Even now, the flowers around it had refused to die. Through the arch, the Modern Arch in Aris’ business district was visible. It was on a long road flanked by tall sandstone buildings on either side. Across the bridge, the traditional tall city blocks that made up Aris’ beautiful city centre suddenly became great skyscrapers that tried to claw at clouds. In between them, lined up perfectly so that one could see one of the city’s great Arches from the other, stood the flat, sharp angled, square that was the Modern Arch.

And on it all, the red-white-black tricolour of Arascus’ Empire. On the Arches themselves and blowing in the wind from skyscrapers. On bridges and on homes. From balconies and from windows. People cheered at the entry of Imperial troops, hats and flowers were thrown from above and people finally left their homes to inspect the force that had finally wiped out Anarchia’s supporters. It was only now that the battle had concluded that the red-blue-white of Rancais was starting to appear. Only now. Only when the battle was over. Only when the Imperial Army had come in to actually save the day.

Paida could never be a mother in the way mortal women could, she did not even pretend to be able to understand the feeling of a parent leaving their child finally leave home. That combination of fear and excitement and sorrow and awe. And just like that parent, she would be here for Rancais, and while she was the sole Goddess of this land, this land obviously did not look to her for guidance.

Paida took a step back as she watched her own countrymen clamour around Imperial soldiers and Imperial tanks and Imperial Divines. Kassandora herself was practically swarmed by civilians as if she was a cake thrown into an ants nest. Either Paida herself was surrounded by cheers and tears and cries of gratitude, but she knew it wasn’t for her.

And all the Goddess of Rancais could do was smile. She smiled as her countrymen praised her with so much gratitude that it beat any worship she had ever received. She knew she should bask in the moment. In the glory of this victory. But Paida simply stood there and smiled as the city shook with cheers and applause.

It hurt to smile.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep