Duke of the East, White Sand Region.
The torrential winds and rain finally ceased; the apocalyptic darkness and the rain curtain, along with the deep-sea creatures that erged, had departed.
In the final act of "feeding," the swirling clouds opened a massive rift in the sky, and a shimring light like an inverted ocean flickered within that rift. The Deep Sea Allies returned to their realm through this rift, taking most of the Giant Stag’s remains and leaving only so "bones" at the site.
Those bones now lie quietly several kiloters from the iron throne, between the White Sand Dunes and the White River. It was once a flat open ground, but now a massive pit has appeared, filled with crushed rocks and lifeless soil, as if a piece had been forcibly removed.
Maryland led a group of officers and soldiers to the edge of the pit, looking at the bone fragnts and remnants of flesh at the bottom, still exuding a strong magical surge, tangled and twisted. The commander couldn’t help but feel many emotions.
A powerful "Artificial God," even imbued with a certain divine power, perished just like that.
Perished in a grand feast.
A rustling sound ca from nearby, and Maryland turned to see the sea demon Miss Tiel, who had temporarily stayed in Cecil. Tiel had been hiding sowhere, and now she erged as the dust settled.
"Did you really... eat it?" Maryland couldn’t help but ask.
"Actually, not entirely for eating..." Tiel scratched her head but suddenly found explaining too troubleso, so she waved her hand, "But you wouldn’t be wrong to think that. They’re definitely going to have a big feast when they return."
What a terrifying race.
Maryland thought with a hint of awe, then couldn’t help but glance at the huge pit again.
Not only frightening in power but also in their bite and appetite.
"It’s truly astounding how you even managed to gnaw such a big pit in the ground..."
Tiel was startled at first, then quickly waved her hand upon realizing: "This pit wasn’t gnawed out—it’s the result of intense magical reactions and the energy field disturbances from the warp fields pulling people back, causing such a pit."
Maryland felt embarrassed, a noble by birth, and quickly apologized for his rudeness: "Ah, I did not an to offend."
"No worries, it’s normal for misunderstandings between different races. We sea demons often suspect that living in dry places might affect your intelligence," Tiel said carelessly, waving her hand. "Let’s not talk about this—the energy surge in this place has subsided. When do you plan to start researching the remains?"
She pointed to the "bones" left at the pit bottom by the sea demons Expeditionary Army. Despite their loss of activity, the fragnts still held imasurable value, a treasure for any researcher, those bones and flesh.
"The ssage has been sent back to the southern borders, and soon, professionals will co to take over," Maryland said, curious, "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, I was wondering if you aren’t starting the research soon, I might go down and have a bite..." Tiel said matter-of-factly, "I was guiding the beacon, so I missed the sisters’ banquet..."
Maryland: "..."
This noble-born commander has interacted with various people throughout his life but never thought dealing with sea demons would be so challenging!
This race, with a casual comnt, can exceed your knowledge and leave even the most erudite and wise people speechless, at a loss for words—not knowing what to say. Truly, he wondered how Duke Cecil had established contact with this group of deep-sea aliens!
After struggling to organize his thoughts for so ti, Maryland finally found the right words: "Well... I’m sorry, Miss Tiel, I need to report to the higher-ups about this, as these remains are considered experintal samples and war prizes."
Tiel displayed a look of disappointnt: "Oh, I figured it would be like that. Why is being a sea demon so hard? Just a small bite, and it’s a hassle..."
Maryland: "..."
...
It all ended.
The news of victory from the eastern front quickly reached the southern borders and was delivered to the public via newspapers and Magic Web broadcasts within hours.
Although the governnt had yet to release detailed information involving the truth of the matter or hold official celebrations, an atmosphere of joy and excitent began to spread throughout Cecil City.
Although there are still large tracts of wasteland in the eastern Plains of the Holy Spirits, and although the nearby Typhon Empire may erupt into another crisis at any ti, at least for this mont, everyone sighed in relief.
At the edge of the main city’s industrial zone, at the Magic Train station, a train preparing to head to the eastern area was parked next to the platform. The holographic barrier indicating standby status rose from both sides of the track, standing between the train and the platform. Inside the barrier, the new train carriages bore Cecil Clan’s emblem and nurical markings. The surface of the propulsion generators arrayed along the train’s body glimred with a light blue runic light. Outside the barrier, people preparing to board gathered on the platform, queuing under the guidance of staff and waiting for the barrier to open.
Among those waiting to board, so were Cecil soldiers dressed in uniform or armor, ready to travel on this train to the Duke of the East, to maintain order and strengthen the border defenses. Others were civilians in ordinary clothing, so traveling to the Gran Region, others to the White Sand Mine. So were factory or Administrative Office employees, others were doing business between these areas.
Although several experintal railway lines have officially co into operation, given the short ti of developnt, ticket prices are still relatively high, and many ordinary people have no urgent need for long-distance travel in the short term. Therefore, those who can or are willing to take the Magic Train still make up only a small part of the population. They are usually tasked Administrative Office employees or rchants with higher economic strength.
These people mostly wore the newly fashionable short jackets or "simple" dresses, combining aesthetics and practicality, carrying similar-looking small cases. Ladies usually wore sunhats with veils, while n carried black or dark brown umbrellas.
These items recently beca popular in Cecil City, priced neither too high nor too low, affordable for everyone. When people suddenly realized that their extra money could buy items not strictly necessary for life but could make life more comfortable and convenient, such "new gadgets" quickly beca props for so Cecil Citizens to "decorate" themselves. In so sense, these items even served as a dium for certain new citizens to convey a signal:
I’ve had enough to eat, and I still have the energy to live a decent life.
Apart from these garnts and daily items, almost everyone also carried a newspaper or magazine to alleviate boredom during the journey. Discussing the newspaper’s content in the station’s waiting area or on the train with neighbors was a sign of being "in touch with trends," "knowledgeable and cultured,".
Of course, not everyone pursued such "symbols of decency."
Many new immigrants who had just filled their stomachs and recently escaped a predicant couldn’t change their mindset in a short ti. They preferred saving money and food, retaining the "hunger anxiety" from hard tis. However, at least among those who had so economic strength and were closer to the "citizen class" even in the old days, these "symbols" held aningful significance. It was these individuals, through their acceptance and utilization of new items, who gradually shaped the "Cecil Style" social mood, forming a new "Cecil Citizen" group outside the concepts of old aristocratic, serf, and freen.
People were discussing the newspaper’s content, talking about the victory on the eastern front. There hadn’t been a more detailed news release yet, and the latest newspaper only briefly published a piece of news—the Oblivion Association’s most powerful Evil Creation has been destroyed, and the Holy Spirit Plain has entered its final cleanup stage. But even such a simple ssage was enough to relax everyone’s tense nerves and start discussing this victory in a relaxed and proud tone.
In a corner of the platform, Pittman, wearing a black short robe, was directing a few new apprentices to move several large boxes of luggage to the baggage car. He observed the cheerful atmosphere around and muttered quietly to Kal beside him, "To be honest, when I first found out what kind of thing those Oblivion Association lunatics had created, I considered running away."
Having interacted with Pittman for quite so ti, Kal was quite accurate in his judgnt, and he casually said, "I don’t believe it."
"Hey, how can you be so sure..."
"With your personality, if you really considered running away, you would already be on the road."
"... Talking to you is getting less interesting."
Pittman waved his hand, while Kal curiously glanced up and down at the old Druid’s attire, "By the way, you’re always wearing that old-style magic robe. Have you considered trying out the currently popular simplified formal jacket or short trench coats? I heard they’re quite nice, more practical and comfortable than old-style clothes."
"I’ve gotten used to wearing this," Pittman rolled his eyes and glanced at Kal’s body full of rune armor plates, "When you figure out a way to replace all those armor plates on yourself, co talk to about fashion."
A peculiar buzzing sound emanated from within Kal, seemingly expressing helplessness, while almost simultaneously a loud ringing resounded on the platform.
"The train is ready," Pittman looked at the Magic Train not far away and saw the barrier at the edge of the platform gradually disappearing, so he turned to wave his hand, "I have to go now—to see what those Oblivion lunatics have managed to concoct. With Cecil’s power now, isn’t it sizeable enough? We’ve recruited and registered plenty of Druids, yet I still feel like everything needs , these old bones, to personally handle. My salary should increase... "
The old Druid grumbled, seeming to carry a belly full of complaints, yet his steps were brisk as he led a few apprentices toward the train not far away—he was tasked to go to the White Sand Dunes to investigate the remaining fragnts after the "Artificial God" perished. As the oldest Druid in the territory, and as the only expert knowledgeable about the inner workings of the Oblivion Association, he couldn’t escape this task.
Kal, who ca to see him off, watched Pittman get on the train and saw the passengers on the platform board the train in batches.
Soon after, the massive magic-conducting machinery began to emit a low hum, the power spine charged, the magic circle lit up, and the train slowly accelerated along the track, heading towards the distance.
Not far away, on the streets and several empty areas outside the platform, groups of kids chasing the spectacle ran alongside the train, exclaiming in awe from behind the barrier fences. So passersby on the road also stopped, so waving to the train and so scrutinizing the appearance of this advanced machinery in operation.
The ergence of magical industry was beginning to change this world from the levels of daily life, cultural customs, and social order.
"Magical industry...," Kal muttered, the light on his body slowly flickering, "it seems this is indeed a good path..."
An arc swept across his surface, illuminating the rune armor plates on his chest. On those ancient tal plates, the emblem of the old Gondor Empire was faintly visible.
"It seems I really can see the day when humanity returns to glory...Princess Ophelia, I hope you too have been waiting until now to see this day."
This nascent magic industry empire may still be far from matching the Gondor Empire of yesteryears, but one day it will catch up and even surpass it.
Having once experienced humanity’s most glorious era and witnessed the advanced society, Kal now eagerly anticipated the arrival of that day.
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