Chapter 1512
Can Chapter 1512 be considered a victory?
After a torrential downpour, the people of Atorica finally saw the light of day again. If measured by the most accurate clock in the world, the rain, from its chaotic beginning to its silent end, lasted only twelve hours and seven minutes. Yet, for the life that inhabited this land, they had never experienced such a long rain; it felt as if it had lasted a full twelve years and seven months. After the rain stopped, a brick-red sun shone on Atorica, its scorching, pale sunlight melting away the floodwaters, revealing fossilized plants washed up from the depths of the earth, and the remains of a thousand people who had drowned in the rain—both wild animals and humans, all reduced to bones.
Ovira saw a world ravaged by war. Ancient swamps held remnants of ruins, and once-vassal canyons had been flooded and turned into riverbeds. The oases where barbarian tribes had once nested, their sheepskin tents passed down from the ages of evil, were now bent and sunken by the heavy floodwaters, vines and weeds sprouting from the cracks, obscuring the tracks of the tribal warriors as they hunted. And in the farthest, most desolate, and most boundless depths of the Intersea, the creatures of salt and sand, though tormented by disease, still glimpsed the memories of their ancestors' first sinking to the bottom of the sea.
The faint traces of humanity left behind after this disaster were nothing more than the residents of the Feather Mine, eight thousand meters below, emerging from their homes, their skin and clothes still bearing the musty stench of evaporated water. As they looked up, their bewildered eyes reflected the intricate web of mine cart tracks and the sky between the rocks, and they suddenly realized that many years ago, a hero had led them upwards, from darkness to the sight of the sun. What difference was there between the sunlight then and now? All the events were merely to prove that Atorica was still exactly the same as before, unchanged.
Only Ovira knew that such thoughts were futile. She was certain that everyone had lost something in this war, some profoundly, others unknown to others. The origin and end of it all could be traced back to the witch's dying words. Even knowing her fate, having chosen her own, and accepting it with equanimity... she still wanted to do something.
That was her "last wish".
Lighter than air, more lingering than longing, more elusive than any disease that has ever ravaged this land, it is like a silent plague that neither causes high fever and cough, nor weakens or collapses you, nor even makes your body feel the slightest discomfort. It simply falls gently, tenderly, and irresistibly on every soul that has experienced despair, is experiencing despair, or will eventually experience despair, bringing down a terrible fate.
Ovira had foreseen that destiny, just as she had previously stated: humanity would be tested, the universe would descend into chaos, the conquered plagues would return, the burgeoning plagues would become uncontrollable, and even plagues that could never have existed in history, those only permitted to exist in delusional fantasies and wild ramblings, would be spawned. Civilizations would crumble, species would become extinct, all life of this generation would be eliminated, and the universe would return to desolation until the next generation of life ushered in the moment of evolution…
No one can stop this process. Isolation, protection, and treatment are all measures for ordinary epidemics, but they are powerless against the witch's dying wish. At this moment, they have crossed the borders of Atorica, crossed the mountains of the Eastern Empire, and crossed the waves of the chaotic seas, and are infiltrating every landmass, every island, and every corner of this planet where living beings breathe.
The mortal world is beyond our reach, destiny is unpredictable. The ignorant are still immersed in their own stories, unaware that the world is subtly changing. But to turn a blind eye is human nature, for living beings have an instinct to seek advantage and avoid harm. Only a transcendent soul can survey the whole picture, understanding its logic and reason. But as Ovira saw, everything was already set in stone. When Perec calmly admitted, "I cannot defeat you," she had already made that decision. Perhaps she knew from the beginning that she would die; one could even say that from the moment she stepped onto this battlefield, she had no intention of leaving alive. The battle was not for victory, but merely to make this death more meaningful, like a ritual.
A sacrificial ritual, where life is offered as a sacrifice to the silent will of the universe in exchange for the right to realize an ideal. But even in such a cruel ritual, not everyone is qualified to be a sacrifice, for the grander the ideal to be realized, the more noble the sacrifice is destined to be. If one wishes to change life, matter, time, space, and destiny, one must trace back to the origin of the universe, and only the souls of these young girls can bear the weight of the ritual.
Let the whole world hear this last wish, but whether or not it is answered does not matter. When you touch her memory and can't help but reflect, "Why am I the one who heard it?", the plague witch's goal has been achieved.
Of course, there are those who disagree with this ritual. Given her personality, she must feel that no ideal in the world is worth exchanging for such a cruel price, let alone disrupting the balance of the universe and dragging life and civilization into the vortex. So she desperately chases after it, fights desperately, and desperately eliminates those things that have been too deeply infected by the plague and are destined to be irreversible. The living are killed, the dead are burned, flesh and blood cannot escape, and even mud and rocks must be removed. Only by completely eliminating all potential threats can she ensure that this universe is not further polluted.
This is not because she is inherently cruel and takes killing and destruction for granted. On the contrary, Ovira knows her better than anyone else. She knows that this girl who bears the name of the victorious king is also soft-hearted than anyone else. She has lost a lot because of her kindness and compassion. Later, she vowed never to repeat the same mistakes in her life. She would rather go against her nature than turn a blind eye to the disaster in front of her.
That was precisely her mission, the original intention behind the creation of "Victory," this most unique form of royal power. When the balance collapsed and the universe was about to descend into chaos, the goddess hoped that someone would step forward to protect the weak and innocent in her place. She was the last barrier in the universe, and, moreover, should be the strongest barrier.
But it was no use.
No matter how many lives are killed, no matter how much matter is destroyed, it will not be enough to save the universe from this catastrophe. This is not a problem that can be solved through battle. How can one defeat an invisible enemy? How can one even defeat someone who never sees oneself as an enemy? Are all living beings inevitably enemies simply because they are infected? Even the victorious monarchy probably doesn't have the right to define that. Therefore, her cruelty is nothing more than self-comfort.
The only one who can truly bring salvation is... me.
Ovira couldn't help but think.
This was not arrogance, nor was it a clinging to past failures; it was a conclusion drawn solely from factual evidence. At this very moment, the creatures of this land were under her protection. Even though the battle was over, the Arcane King had not yet relinquished its awakened form. A gigantic star-like butterfly hovered in the sky above Atorica, its shimmering wings fluttering slightly, weaving an invisible net. The creatures within this net were protected, separated from the witch's dying wish—the very promise Ovira made when she borrowed their faith: she would bring hope.
Unfortunately, as we've emphasized many times before, only in the land of Atoliga can Ovira be considered an omniscient and omnipotent deity. Therefore, the butterfly's protection cannot extend beyond the boundaries of the eight-thousand-meter-deep underground vein, nor can it overcome the prison of the abyss's mist and the long waves of the interspersed sea. What about those outside this land? This is an unsolvable problem, and perhaps Perec saw through this contradiction, which is why she made this choice.
After all, she had always been forced to make choices amidst contradictions in the past. So, on the verge of death, to throw the world's greatest contradiction to her enemy and force her to make a choice might not be a bad thing at all. Ovira even had a vague feeling that she hadn't actually died, or rather, hadn't completely died, and was watching her from the shadows, wanting to see what choice the omniscient and omnipotent Mysterious King would make.
The post-rain wind blew from afar, carrying the scent of earth, the scent of creatures just emerging from despair, and the scent of wavering souls. A gigantic butterfly looked down upon the mortal world, its wings quietly growing on the other side of the sky, its scale surpassing even the most expansive cumulus rain that had shrouded this land for twenty centuries, the latter having only recently died. But at this moment, no one would notice its existence, just as creatures grow like moss clinging to the great tree of fate. Those who see the tree will not see the moss; this has nothing to do with pride or humility. From birth, creatures are destined to have only one choice: when they raise their heads to gaze at the treetops, they cannot look down to find the moss.
This principle applies to the rule of young female monarchs as well. In fact, because of their unique status, it is often enforced even more strictly, to the point of being harsh. Whether it's Xia, Carabosse, or Perec not long ago, they were all essentially driven down a path of no return by these harsh standards, weren't they?
if--
Ovira couldn't help but think that if she turned and left now, pretending that Perec's dying wish was merely the resentment of a defeated person, pretending that the infected souls had nothing to do with her, pretending that she had won—no, it couldn't be called pretending, she had already won, killed the invading witch, saved lives in danger, and even become an omniscient and omnipotent god. At least in this land, she possessed incredible power; with just a thought, she could easily drive away the invaders and help the Holy War Army reclaim their homeland.
By then, she will surely receive unimaginable honors, far surpassing those of the hero who slew the evil dragon ten thousand years ago, the hero who fought for freedom three hundred years ago, and the hero who has remained steadfast for a hundred years. She will be praised, followed, and revered, and even temporary faith will be solidified, because people will find no other god greater than her.
Even if she wasn't interested in the title of hero, nor did she want to become a deity worshipped on an altar, at least... at least she still had the approval of her companions. She could return to her companions' side, to Ling's gaze, to Medien's embrace, to hear Alice's excited shouts saying, "You did well, but next time the genius player will definitely do even better"; or to face Ietta's adoring gaze. She had always felt that Ovira, or rather, all her sisters, were remarkable, and this was simply a reaffirmation of that idea.
Praise, care, recognition, cheering for her victory, and rejoicing for her safety—what genuine emotions those are! Besides… Xia Xia's sister would surely say the same.
“That’s wonderful, Ovira.” If she were still alive, she would gently stroke her sister’s hair and say tenderly, “You did a great job. It seems that even if I’m not around anymore, you can definitely take my place and continue on with everyone, right? I’m entrusting Ling and everyone to you. But sometimes when you feel tired, don’t push yourself too hard. Talk to everyone and let them comfort you. Be a strong, brave person, but one who won’t make everyone worry, Ovira…”
I already am!
Ovira almost wanted to say it, even shout it out in a cathartic way, to tell Xia, "I've become that kind of person!" Only in this way could she suppress the urge to cry, a lump in her throat. Was it excitement? Perhaps it was also resentment. From the moment she stepped into Atorica, she had been calculating, plotting, and bearing the burden of this battle. She had calculated the faith of every inch of land, planned every opportunity for redemption, and carried the expectations of every soul she had traded for. She had betrayed her own heart, treating the world with cold rationality. She was no longer the princess who, when she first left the castle, would cast curious and bewildered glances at the parading circus, the pigeons on the bridge, and the cats on the street corners. If that was the price of growth, if that was the necessary path to a happy ending, if doing so was the only way to replace the departed Xia and become everyone's new support and pillar, then Ovira felt she could bear it.
If someone can persevere on a path they dislike, accomplishing things they could never have done before, and saving countless lives, then shouldn't they be able to return to their companions with a clear conscience and have a happy ending?
At least, I can go back to that young man and tell him, "I did it, I won, and we can move on." (End of Chapter)