Whereas it is naturally impossible to document each and every unique viewpoint, the most prominent camps of thoughts can be documented and classified as the following: Exterminationists, Near-Exterminationists, Integrators (split further into cultural and familial) and Relocationists.

Exterminationists, although prominent in older ages, have gradually shrunk in number. The idea of a total extermination of monsters is hard to argue for when their bodies are on display. Cases such as the aforementioned Aris Terror, although we could also look at the Wolfman of Allia or the Piper Spottings throughout western Doschia, prove that the monsters of the ancient ages are still alive. Near-Exterminationism is the natural evolution to the Exterminationism theory, arguing that during the struggles when humanity conquered the world, their victory was whole yet not total. Monster numbers have shrunk to levels beyond recovery. The most basic critique of Near-Exterminationism remains that numbers have remained relatively stable and that they do not exhibit symptoms of inbreeding, which would naturally happen if their numbers fell to only a few dozen per nation. Nevertheless, this assumes their biology is congruent with our understanding of it. This may be a stretch, these creatures can devour human essence after all.

Integrators argue that monsters live amongst us. Whereas the theory is unpopular within the circles of Olympiada and Divinity at large, it has seem to found an audience within various eccentric scholarly circles. Integrators state that monsters, which were once known to take on a near-perfect human form, have managed to complete this evolution and now live amongst us. The only difference between them is that members of the Cultural circles argue that monsters have learned and adapted by themselves how to mimic human emotion, whereas familial integrators state that the assimilation was done through interbreeding. Whereas this in itself is a stretch, it does lend credence to the spontaneous sightings throughout the civilized world. From the cultural angle, it could be that certain monsters simply give up and revert to their natural ways, and from the familial angle, one could argue that monstrous genes are extremely recessive and only come up in certain scenarios.

Relocationists are possibly the most radical camp. With the main proponents being Imperial and Dwarven scholars, they have secured a foothold in certain circles during the Great War. The Dwarven Highway Network, covered earlier, is said to be the grandest structure within all Arda. Certainly if we assume it to be one structure, then it, to use the term of phrase, dwarfs everything else ever built and possibly everything that will be built on the planet.

The largest issue with Relocationism is not inherent to the theory, monsters survived on Arda before humanity came about, it must be assumed that life is not their only food source. Rather, the biggest roadblock is the dwarfs themselves. They are infamously paranoid about their own ways of life. Even the dwarves who switched sides near the end of the Great War shared little save for the fact that one should keep the lights on in the dark.

– Excerpt from “The Archive of Arda”, a historical text written by Goddess Elassa, of Magic.

“T-MINUS THIRTY SECONDS TO LAUNCH!” Commander Von Bron shouted at everyone and at no one in particular. Olephia had invited herself to the test flight of the Korona I. The men of the Imperial Bureau of Space Aeronautics stood had welcomed her into the control room, although she herself had only gotten the message that the first launch would be tested because Helenna had taken the time to message her.

“TWENTY-FIVE!” Olephia couldn’t help stop the smile crawling onto her face. Around her were the sleek machinations that made up the IBSA Mundepen facility in northern Doschia. The location was originally meant to be in Rancais but the Anarchian Crisis had changed plans. All white panels and fine high-definition computers sat in rows before her as technicians monitored the situation both through their screens and through the great glass window ahead of them.

“TWENTY-TWO!” Commander Von Bron stood by Olephia’s side in his IBSA uniform, pure white akin to the stars of the night sky. The rest of the men were dressed in similar uniform, if there was one thing that the Empire did not take half-measures on it was style. Bottles of champagne had been prepared, cigarettes were resting on keyboards, headphones were fastened tightly onto ears although the hour-long clicking and checks had been ran through.

“EIGHTEEN!” Olephia’s smile grew further. Today, humanity would breach the atmosphere. Today, the final frontier that all men merely dreamed of even touching with a fingertip would be shattered. Today, they would take a leap so great for all of humanity that tomorrow, construction of the Ad-Luna would begin. Soon enough, whatever had changed the moon would reveal itself. And even if it was nothing, then it simply did not make it right for humanity to sit on Arda for all eternity. To the moon. To the planets. To the stars. To it all. That great expanse which Olephia had painted a thousand times already would finally be painted from another angle.

“SIXTEEN!” Olephia looked at the grey flower of a spacecraft in front of her. A beautiful Iris Florentina with two fat orange spears strapped onto either side and a shuttle that was huge, but looked tiny compared to the stem of the grey flower it rested upon.

“FIFTEEN!” Those orange rocket boosters would carry the ship halfway and then drop down. Olephia already knew how to show the picture of humanity throwing the great spears that would pierce the heavens.

“FOURTEEN!” And then the main tank of liquid oxygen, painted grey. That would serve as another painting as the little grey flower that sprawled out into the garden of space.

“THIRTEEN!” And after that? Olephia could just imagine the possibilities. Father no doubt had ideas already, as would Kassie, those would probably come first, but Olephia wanted to put a telescope in space. Where better to take images from?

“TWELVE!” Or maybe Olephia could travel up there herself? And then paint the entire world.

“ELEVEN!” What a thought. Painting the world. What would it look like? Surely it must a lot of blue for the oceans. Maybe they had a difference from above? Maybe they were just pitch black like the depths of the ocean? Surely not. That was an egregious thought. Maybe she would buildings from up there? Probably not. But at night? Olephia’s smile grew even wider. What a feast for the eyes that would be.

“TEN!” It honestly made Olephia feel dirty. What a greedy girl she was to try and achieve such artistic glory! Just downright shameless!

The countdown was stopped. The voice of one of the pilots came through on the speakers. “We have an error on my end.” Captain Garin said.

And just like that, the mood crashed.

Olephia looked at the blue sky behind the Korona I. They had waited forty hours for a perfect, cloudless launch, they had cameras prepared to record it, they had done everything that needed to be checked. Olephia took looked over at the various members of IBSA begin to collapse. Arms fell loose as heads tipped back, or chest slammed onto keyboards as fists slammed into the table in a choir of drums. It was over quickly. Commander Von Bron got them under control. “ORDER!” He shouted. “ORDER!” He waved his arms and pointed to one of the nearby men that was staring into a microphone as if preparing to bash his own head in with it. “Call them, what’s wrong?”

The man leaned forwards and asked as much in just a prompt manner. “Report problem Korona.”

Captain Shepard answered this time, the second man that they were planning to send into space. “There’s an error with engine two. It’s flashing red.” If the captain had given everyone in the room, Olephia included, a blow that ended fight, then Captain Shepard had come in to knock them out. Even the Goddess of Chaos who knew practically nothing about the machination on that launchpad could figure out that a problem with the engine meant at least a week of delay. That was at least how long the preparations for this flight had taken.

Olephia made sure to keep track of everything in the room and that wilted flower that was the Korona I. The grey, which had been magnificent just moments before, was now a dour colour that fit the mood of everyone here. This would become a painting. In that infinite moment of flooding, collective disappointment, Olephia wished she had her brush so that she could paint and get the drowning essence of this viscous air down. A painting definitely, something with a depressing name too: The Flower that wasn’t meant to be. No. That didn’t fit: The Sky’s the limit. There. That was better. There was something cold and ironic in that.

Commander Von Bron got everyone moving. “CALL IT OFF! CALL IT OFF!”

And so, they called it off. The huge engines of the Korona never began to smoke. Champagne was never opened. Cigarettes were never lit. Hats were not thrown. Cheers were never held. That ocean of pristine light blue was not breached by human touch.

The sky was the limit on that day.

How long they stood there. Olephia did not know. After she had learned of the great satellites that humanity sent into space, she had almost been disappointed that she would not see the breaching of Humanity’s most eternal limit. Now, she was disappointed they had failed. No one said a word.

No one said a word until a messenger came in. The door to the command slid open and a man in a blue stepped in. His eyes instantly fixed on the Goddess of Chaos and he took tentative steps to approach. Olephia did not turn around until she heard the usual rustle of cloth that she had grown familiar with. It had a distinctive sound, a quick swipe followed by a settling cloak. Olephia turned around. A messenger with a circular cap, a man of the post office. Both the brown leather bag and the cap on his head had the emblem of a raven carrying a piece of paper.

A post office that had strong been influenced by her sister Kassandora. Olephia returned the military salute, otherwise the man would hold his posture like that until he passed out. “Goddess Olephia, a letter to be delivered.”

“Who is it from?” Olephia asked.

The man did not answer, he just pulled out the letter from his bag and handed it over. Olephia took the pale envelope and looked at the seal of red wax. As much as she liked the changes the new world brought along, some parts like these seals were timeless. It would be a sad time once they were made entirely redundant. This one was of a great oak with a thousand different leaves.

Olephia cracked the seal and pulled the letter out.

Dear Olephia.

I am unsure of what to say here. In the White Pantheon, we had a formal office for requesting other’s assistance which was always tremendously slow. I understand that the Imperial Bureau of Divine Affairs exists, however I’ve learned that they largely deal with the domestic affairs and complaints regarding minor entities rather than… well, us. I have to admit, I don’t really know how to contact you. If one of your sisters was about, I would ask them and I assume that they would ask you.

Apologies if I am skipping hierarchy or procedure, I simply don’t know what else to do. We have come across a new theory to break down the toxins in the waters flooding the World Core. Small scale attempts from the Royal University of Hallin have confirmed that our theory works, the real block we have on our progress is sheer power.

So what I wish is that we need some help down below. It should not be long, and you would be in Klavdiv and not any near frontlines, if that helps calm your mind.

Yours sincerely,

Iniri.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep