When Tartarus first came to Arda, they sent an overwhelming force of several million. This figure would eventually be called a “wave”. They engaged a few times, then charged blindly west, through Karaina, all the way the way to modern Doschia. What they saw were exposed fortresses, were Divines out of position, where Legions not in location. I remember warning Asmodeus not to overextend, that this was not how wars were fought on Arda, and I remember him just rolling his eyes at my advice.

They did not slaughter their prisoners in that first wave. Some fortresses even opened up their gates, others put up token fights. The White Pantheon was unanimous in their decision that this was a trap. The entire White Pantheon save for Allasaria, she was the original who proposed pulling other worlds into the war. They counted everyone else’s opinion, stacked them up together, and still found it lacking when compared to Allasaria’s.

Elassa is the youngest of the Pantheon, but at least she has her habit of studying history. If there is one thing that Arda does document, then its her own wars. For warfare on this world is not the warfare of Tartarus, if they came to us in the Age of Tyranny, their doctrines would still be outdated. Tartarus managed to carve out a tenth of Imperial land, it held that land for all of six months. Kassandora’s Legion cut off the rear from the north and south, Imperial Divines came onto the first Tartarian wave. Unlike the demons, the Empire did not take prisoners. That was the wake-up call for Tartarus. They did not argue with my strategies after that.

Working with the other worlds was beyond infuriating. Every decision had to be meticulously explained, Kassandora’s logic would have to be analysed in reverse and given to them in paper, else they would fight in a thoroughly primitive manner. Warfare on Arda will never be a solved art, but likewise, we have learned certain things that the other worlds simply do not understand. Why do we not kill Arascus in a strike? For the same reason that generally, the White Pantheon is safe. Because the populations on Arda will only galvanize if their leaders are killed. An Empire with Arascus at its helm is predictable at least, an Empire without Arascus only has to hold for two decades before a worse incarnation of their Emperor, forged in the fanaticism of holy war, re-emerges.

The Great War was a serious of violent outburst followed by months, if not years, of posturing. Kassandora would position her troops for a decapitating strike, I would answer not with a defence, but with a force that would very obviously crush hers in a counter attack, we would hold for a while, we would shift. Sometimes, it was Kassandora countering me, sometimes, it was me countering her. The battles largely came from disorganisation, from plans moving too quickly for the armies to keep up.

Ultimately though, it was the style of warfare both of us led that set the largest impression on Tartarus and Paraideisius. They would talk of my exposed fortresses and cities as if the whole reason for them being left exposed was not to function like bait. They would scoff at the utter lack of defensiveness within our grand strategies. They were aghast when they found out warfare in Arda was not measured in terms of territory but in terms of how many of your enemies are left standing at the end of it.

That was the biggest difference between our styles of warfare. They thought with some codes of… Whatever codes they possessed. We simply fight to be the last one standing, no matter the price. Everything can be rebuilt, regrown or reborn given enough time.

– Excerpt from “Peace after the Great War”, written by Goddess Fortia, of Peace.

Paida stood in the square of Arseille. The second largest city in all Rancais, if it was Aris, it would have been impossible to pull off in such a short span of time. If it was the republic, it still would have been impossible. But now she stood here, not as the Goddess of Rancais but as the foremost representative of the entire Empire that was coming here to move just over a million and a half people from Arseille, and then another half a million from the neighbouring towns. She stared at the masses in the crowd, the grey sky overhead, the cameras rolling for her. One take, it was being broadcast live to the city and to Rancais as a whole. She took a deep breath, and she began. At the very least, it was always easier to give an Imperial speech than a Republican one. The latter had always been a challenge in saying as little as possible with as many words as possible. In the former, the struggle was always to make it longer than a minute.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Arseille.” Paida began. “As we know, our precious Arda is being choked out by the hangman’s rope of ash that Tartarus is tying around her neck.” She stared at the cameras for a moment. This policy of radical honesty, which Arascus and Helenna and Kassandora seemed so talented at, always made her squirm. But there was no other way to say what was happening without simply telling the people about it. “The Demon Prince that is Legion has crossed the Ashfront and into Rancais territory. Legion has hit the nuclear plant of Bolfech, we have been unable to stop it, even with our soldiers putting up a brave defence. Legion, since then, has turned and is heading towards Arseille.” There was a hush amongst the crowd. No one panicked, no one cried, they just stared up at Paida and awaited her next words.

That was the moment she understood the beast that Arascus had built. Standing in the centre of Arseille, thousands around her, peering from the windows and from the ground to look up at the Goddess of the nation they lived in, and all in a devouring silence that clamoured for the next word. Any advisor would have told her it was suicide, that it would cause panic, that it would cause running and a human crush. And it did nothing of the sort. Thousands of eyes stayed fixed on her, awaiting in total silence. “Legion will arrive in five days, we plan to get everyone out of the city in four!”

There is no price on survival.

Louise pulled her brother Raphael up onto the stool so that he could stand and watch the horses too. Men in dark uniforms and in modern armour, with rifles on their backs and helmets over the heads were moving through the streets in a single file line. They had come in from the neighbouring towns, Louise didn’t really know why, she had heard the Goddess talk about how everyone should leave the city, and that the Empire would organize evacuations, but then why were more people coming here?

A pair of police officers walked along the road, a bucket of paint in one man’s hand. It had splattered over the dark uniform. Every block and every junction, he would bend down, look at a map and then paint an arrow on the street. “Wow!” Little Raphael cried and pointed up to the sky. Up above, mages and sorcerers in long coats were making rounds around the city. Streaks of crimson energy began to appear to above the roads. The ground rumbled and shifted, signposts were slowly swallowed into the ground. The tarmac was raised, maybe the pavement was lowered, Louise did not know which, but it made a smooth surface on the ground.

Supposedly, people were already leaving from the city. Louise had talked with her friend over the phone, a police officer had knocked on their door to tell them to leave. They were going block-by-block. The Goddess of Rancais kept on giving speeches in Arseille’s square, right by its port. Supposedly, Paida had declared that she would not leave the city whilst there was a single soul still remaining here, that was how confident she was in following Imperial instructions. “Look! Doggies!” Raphael pointed at a team of officers making their way down the street, huge brown dogs, their dogs rolling out of their mouths. They sniffed at bins and whined and doors.

Louise smiled to herself as her parents packed. Cute doggies indeed.

What has been destroyed can be rebuilt.

Helenna stared at Malam, then at the proposition the Goddess of Hatred had just handed, then Malam again. She leaned forward, slowly grabbed the piece of paper, pinched it at the top. Helenna’s bright eyes never left Malam’s pitch-black ones as she slowly tore the sheet in half. “That is not a priority anymore.” Helenna said. Malam had submitted yet another plan on how to deal with the Succubi infestation plaguing this city.

“You know what we are doing here.”

“I do indeed.” Helenna said. “Do you?”

“We are taking a tumour, cutting it open, and the spilling cancerous blood into every wound.” Malam replied. Her voice wasn’t cold, it wasn’t teasing. She was simply stating how things where going. Arascus had given Helenna total command of the evacuations, not Malam. And now, Helenna understood why.

“We are taking an army and scattering it to the wind.” Helenna replied. Malam stared at the piece of paper, then at Helenna, then at the two sheets where her plan had just been. The Goddess of Hatred had actually proposed locking the city down, not allowing a single soul to flee, and then just nuking the problem out of existence. Helenna had disagreed: The Empire was stretched, but it was not that stretched. And then, Malam’s lips curled upwards.

“What a devilish little girl you are Helenna, I should have realised you would be when you seduced my father.” Helenna just stared at her Malam dryly. Even if her hair wasn’t coated black, she would not respond. They were in crisis mode right now, this was no time for games.

“That means what?”

“You will scatter them to the wind.” Malam’s fist landed on her hips. “You will create your IBI.” She licked her lips. “And you will steal the SIS’ spot as number one intelligence agency in the Empire.” Helenna leaned back in her seat, her own smile proud of herself. She honestly had not thought of that whatsoever, her mind had been focused on getting everyone out of Arseille. But Malam saw that line, she had voiced that line, Helenna had heard that line. And now she drew the connection.

“So what if I will?”

What has been lost can be rediscovered.

Marianne, geomancer from the Arisian College of Magic slowly raised her hands. She was not top of her class, she had not been put on the advanced program that would quickly promote her to battlemage, nor did she even consider herself all that intelligent. The teacher, a grizzled mage who had been in the Second Expedition, had long since beaten any such fanciful idea out of her. But now she stood, her stave raised, a mere fifteen minutes after arriving in Arseille on the high-speed train from Aris.

The teachers and more magicians taken from the garrisons, proper battlemages these, were sinking an entire city block into the ground. Her job was to catch dust so that it would not spill over onto the cars being guided by police officers just a few feet behind her. From their engines, she could tell they were trundling slowly. One block had already been submerged, they would make a huge, ten-street highway through the city to ease traffic problems.

The process was not the efficient display of careful power she had anticipated. Glass windows cracked, doors bent and creaked and were slowly by the earth. A spiderweb of breaking ran across the walls, every few seconds, a roof tile would slip and fall, ready to crack someone’s head. Marianne had to catch them too. She just threw them back into the courtyard of the building. And so she stood, and so she worked. Her staff swaying from side to side, whenever she channelled her power, the topaz on its tip would spark up with light. An endless trail of cars would spill behind her, they were moving again, spilling out into the ultra-wide road that the mages were creating through burying the city blocks. On the other side of the road, another team of fifty mages worked. Sorcerers hovered overhead.

Supposedly, they were here to enforce order. Marianne had even heard of a rumour that Arseille had been a hotspot of succubi. She didn’t know how much she believed that. Still though, it wouldn’t matter if they were a hotspot of Succubi or not. The She-Devil of Rancais was somewhere up above them, that woman had supposedly fought in Kirinyaa, against Arika’s Jungle, in the Second Expedition, now in Arseille. A few succubi wouldn’t be a threat against the elite of the Empire.

What is barren can be made bountiful again.

Edith rolled open the window looked over her husband as he pressed the button that slid the window to his car. The police checks were being done a mile out of the city, where the traffic was congested. A young officer, early twenties, leaned in. He wore a blue uniform, not from Arseille then, the man must have come back from a different town. Maybe from a different country even. He had dark rings under his eyes. “Good day.” He said, he pulled the brown satchel around his bag. “This is for you.”

It was an envelope. Edith’s husband took it and passed it to her immediately. “Thank you.” He replied.

As Edith opened it, the officer proceeded to explain. “Inside is some money to assist with the immediate future and an Arseille Card.” Edith looked through the bills, it was a good few months of wages. Her nimble fingers found a black and silver card.

“This?” She asked and pulled it out.

“Yes. Don’t lose, it can be linked to your identity card at the nearest passport hall.” He said. “I’ve been asked to advise everyone to do it.”

“What does it do?” Edith leaned across the handbrake to ask.

“I cannot say.” The officer replied in a gentle tone. “Rumours are it will be traded in for a house, but we’ve not gotten information either. Do you have a place to stay?”

“We have family in northern Rancais.” The officer nodded and pulled out another sheet. This time, Edith just grabbed it. It was a map of the local region with a list of locations, all further east, towards Rilia.

“I’d advise that then.” He said. “These are the temporary camps we’re setting up but again, I’ve been asked to tell everyone it’s a last resort, for the most needy. If you have family elsewhere, the Empire would appreciate if you stayed with them for the immediate while.” He stood up. “Apologies, that’s all, safe travels.” He clapped the top of the car and waved them through.

How many times have we been reduced to near extinction?

Captain Sharpe of the High Peak brought out his packet of Missem of pills and swallowed one, then quickly killed the bitter taste of laboratory with a swig of orange juice that had been distributed to the ships. The heavy cruisers, the battleships, everything that could be outfitted with FSS shielding had been sent into the Ashfront on a scouting mission, the light cruisers, destroyers, frigates, those had to stay behind. The men had joked they were staying on the Hotel High Peak.

It wasn’t a hotel anymore. Another eight hundred people would be crammed into a ship meant to carry a quarter of that number. They would be ten to a cabin, they would be crowded into the now-emptied ammunition depots, the unlucky ones would have to stay on the deck of the ship. The only locations which were barred form civilians was the engines and the control room. Even Sharpe’s captain quarter currently held fifteen souls safe. The High-Peak had made the Arseille-Meice route five times today, it was scheduled for another five routes, a full twenty hours of running, as a replacement crew was being assembled to take over. Floodlights from the dock and spotlights from the ships docked in Arseille gave enough light for everyone to bring about an artificial, bright-white parody of daytime. Organizers on the docks separated the crowds into blocks of two hundred each.

At least the waters were safe. They had been unsteady at the start, a storm was brewing. Someone, somewhere, made the call and now pairs of magicians floated in the air every mile or so, calming the waters and blowing back the wind to ensure that the ships could travel through waters so smooth they may as well have been a lake. Sharpe blew the horn of the High Peak and gave the order. “Prepare for sail.” He said into the radio, the crew did not cheer this time. They just got to work.

Slowly, the small frigate pulled away from the docks, another came to fill its spot almost immediately. Sharpe’s mind once again to the waters. He believed Paida when she said Legion was approaching, he trusted the Empire that the city would be lost and could not be held. How could he not, this obviously was not a display of skill. The entirety of the Rancais, the North Rilian and the South Doschian garrisons had been mobilized.

They would not go through all that effort if this was not an emergency.

How many times have we rebounded?

Jude stepped off the high-speed train that had taken her and her two children from Arseille to Illes. It wasn’t the closest station, but the lines had been cleared out, the ride usually took an hour with all the stops on the way, today, it had taken twenty minutes. The train had been utterly packed, she had to stand and sweat in the heat. But now she looked at the train and at the modern station. Police and local garrison troops were funnelling everyone onto fields. She saw people walking off the grass with envelopes in their hands. “If you have anyone to call!” A loud voice shouted, too loud for a human. It was the local Divine. “Please hold off unless its urgent. The roads are filled up! Tents and food will be provided for tonight!”

Jude took a deep breath as she walked through the station, guided by soldiers and police towards the field. There were… how many? Thousands? Tens of thousands? She couldn’t even count everyone here. The field was full. As was the one next to it. And the one next to that. Mages and sorcerers hovered in the air. Soldiers made a perimeter. Signs led to toilets. A line led several food trucks, more were rolling in, being through the heavy grass by a heavy bulldozer which ripped up the dirt. She looked up at the sky were the mages stood, between them, a line of ice spelled out: Wait here for your Arseille Card. She took her children in either hand, her a simple backpack on her back, another on each of theirs. And sat down on the grass. “Are we sleeping outside today?”

“I think so.” Jude replied, smiling to her son. “Don’t worry, it’ll be like camping.” She pointed to the food truck. “Look, they have pizza.”

Arda is not a treasure to plundered.

Samuel stepped off the bus in mountainous Deine at the station. There had been a redirection. Illes was filled up. Meice was exclusively for the ships. Sisteron had supposedly reported that it was nearing capacity, Gap was full, Manosque they had just driven through, that was too close to Arseille. So they had landed in Deine. A small town in the mountains, the police were already here with a desk and a stack of envelopes. Samuel was one of the first, with just his backpack on him, his laptop and a spare change of clothes within it, there was a certain sense of… was it freedom? He supposed it was. He took the envelope, received an explanation of the money and the Arseille card. Got shocked when he heard that it could supposedly be traded in for a house. Got even more shocked at the amount of money within the envelope and quickly put it into a pocket on the inside of his coat.

And then came the most important question. “Can I leave?” He asked.

The police officer looked to him, then at his sergeant. The man shrugged. “Honestly.” He said. “We’d prefer you to, can you organise transport?”

“I’m pretty sure my father would pick me up.” Samuel answered, of that, he was more than sure. His family was in northern Rancais, but he had no doubt that the old man would make cross country trip. “I was just in Arseille university.”

The sergeant seemed to have no opinion on it. “What did you study?”

“Engineering.”

The man thought for a moment and sighed. “Roads are closed for the immediate while bar for public transport.” He turned and pointed towards the city. “The buses are running still though, catch one to Oulx, then from there, to Greble. That’s the best route out.” Samuel took a deep breath to himself, honestly…

What an adventure. Cross-country routes, he’d be operating on hostels and caffeine the entire route. What a story to tell. “Thanks.” He even bobbed his respectfully to the officer.

“Our pleasure. Safe travels.” The officer replied as Samuel pulled out his phone and texted the family group-chat: ‘Safe, don’t worry about me. Making way back home.’

Nor is it a reward to be earned.

“Halt!” Fer heard the shout long after she was sure she had been spotted. The trains to Arseille were not running, nor was any train in the area, it was all being used for evacuations. An Imperial Princess had sway but she supposed there was a limit to that sway. She looked towards the path. There were people here? On a hike? Her eyes quickly scanned the group, from the mid-point to the edge and then double. Forty-four of them. What? She approached the group, realising that the command had been more for them than for her.

“Hello!?” She shouted. “Hello? Who are you?” Was it actually a group of succubi making its way via trek? Couldn’t they fly? What unfortunate luck they had! She giggled to herself, licking her lips and smelling the air. Nature, earth, grass, faint ash in the air, human. A distinct lack of the sour sulphur that demons always carried on them as she approached.

“Goddess Fer!” The lead man shouted, in his forties from the smell, although in his thirties from the looks. Weathered, lean, not tired though. He carried a pack on his back. A water bottle hung on his belt. His boots were dirty, his shirt was ridden with sweat. But… Well, the man looked healthy enough. She inspected the rest of the group. Bright shirts, mostly with buttons. Men, women, no children though. Someone had brought a dog that sat on the ground and looked at Fer with that submissive gaze all animals gave her.

Fer stared at them, her eyes somewhat puzzled. “Hello?” She asked. “What are you doing?” She smelled the air. Not a single scent of demon amongst them. Then they really were trekkers?

“We’re leaving Arseille.” Fer raised eyebrows, the ears on top of her head bounced, her tail swished from side to side.

“On foot?” She asked, chuckling to herself. It was one thing for her to be told walk the route, she could cover the distance in the span of a day. This lot though?

“We’re the Arseille Hiking Club.” The lead man said. Fer looked past him towards the rest of the group. They did indeed look like hikers, all of them.

“Did you get Arseille Cards?” She asked. The man pulled out his wallet and then brought out a black and silver card to show it off.

“We asked on whether to leave on foot and explained…” He trailed off, Fer just shrugged. Well that was that then. She smiled at them then turned around, pointing down the way she had walked up. Her tail moved with her, pointing in along with her hand.

“Down there is a cottage if you want to know. The hunter there has water if you need to stock up. There’s a lake, it’s about-” It was ten minutes at her pace. “An hour’s hike if you can push it. Good spot to camp though. Highly romantic, I would recommend it.” She looked up and smelled the air. No seaside salt here yet. From the hilly terrain. Oh, she knew that peak… She turned back to the men. “Did you actually cross seventy miles in three days?” The man nodded excitedly.

“We did Goddess!” He said. Fer smiled at the lot of them. What a group of adventurers, she was sure this lot had knights in their blood. Definitely.

“Arseille Hiking Club?” She asked again and pulled out her phone, then turned around, flipped her phone, made a smile and took a picture. She searched them up online, bursting out in laughter, sending the image to the email. “Haha! Well done! What a trek!” She patted her own sides and then made an empty gesture. “If I had treats to share, I’d give you something but I have nothing.” And then she thought of a way how to make their day. “Do you want to take your own pictures? That’s a nice good you have by the way, what’s he called?”

Arda is a graveyard.

Paida stood in the empty city square, where she had been placed exactly four days ago. She looked around at the empty city, at its ports, at the yachts that had been towed and left behind on the nearby beaches. Left she turned, towards an empty ten-lane highway that did not exist four days ago. Right, towards city blocks. The only movement in them were empty curtains swaying in the breeze from windows which had been left open. Arascus had told her he would not kill her city, but that the structures themselves were lost already. She had honestly not believed him back then. Not whatsoever, it was impossible. No one would attempt such a task. No one would think it possible. No one would try in the first place. Her immediate idea had been how to rally the population and hold, how to mount a defence against Legion.

They would give up ground and supposedly, they would not spill a single drop of blood. She looked at the pair of ancient fortresses on either side of the city’s bay and smiled to herself. Rocks and bricks were a fine price to pay for blood. And what blood it was. Half a million souls a day. She stared at the empty city square in sheer wonder and awe. Five hundred thousand people. She took another step, trying to picture a ground that large. It just became such a mass of bodies that it was borderline incomprehensible to her. Just under two million souls moved in the span of four days.

She stared up at the sky, now and filled with stars from the lack of light in the city and the sheer amount of weather engineering which had temporarily cleaned out the ash in the area.

What a beast Arascus had built.

It was time for her to leave.

And we are its gravekeepers.

– “Our Precious Arda.” Written by Goddess Neneria, of Death, published across the Empire.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep