chsdbacks Chapter 362 Harvest and Death from Old Age
Chapter 362 Harvest and Death from Old Age
Chapter 362 Harvest and Death from Old Age
Inside Clark's mentor's laboratory, Jemin was engrossed in processing a set of complex energy rheology data.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Viola sighing over a pile of rune structure diagrams. Her usually pretty face, which always carried a hint of playfulness or laziness, was now wrinkled up like a bitter gourd.
"Senior, what's wrong with you again? Isn't the war over?" Jemin couldn't help but stop what he was doing and ask curiously.
Viola abruptly raised her head, glaring at him fiercely, as if she had found an outlet for her emotions: "It's over? Yes, it's over! But what did I get from this trip?! Nothing!"
She grew angrier as she spoke, jabbing the data on the virtual screen with her finger as if it were her enemy: "Besides wasting years in that godforsaken place, living in fear, and being forced to take a break! I even sacrificed a lot of high-level military merits to shorten that damned break period! And what did I get? Resources? Knowledge? The little bit I brought back wasn't even enough to fill a tooth gap! What's most infuriating is that I was already drowning in debt!"
This is just adding insult to injury; they're completely bankrupt!
She became more and more agitated as she spoke, and in the end she was almost roaring, completely losing her usual elegant and composed demeanor.
Nearby, Professor Clark was carefully adding some kind of shimmering starlight powder into a miniature reaction core.
Without even looking up, he casually interjected, "Unstable foundation, eager for quick success. I told you long ago to accumulate more knowledge before taking any action. If you had accumulated enough, you wouldn't be in this situation."
These words were like precise needle pricks, instantly puncturing Viola's arrogance.
Her momentum faltered, and she muttered a defense: "But—but even a bunch of level seven wizards have fallen this time—can you blame me entirely for being unprepared—"
Mentor Clark finally stopped his meticulous work, slowly turned his head, and calmly looked at Viola with his unwavering eyes.
Although he did not speak or exude any aura.
But Viola instantly stiffened, like a cat caught by the scruff of its neck, and immediately fell silent. She forced a smile that looked more like a grimace, quickly changed the subject, and turned to Jemin: "By the way! Jemin! You little rascal! The expeditionary force's rewards should have been issued by now, right? You deserve the most credit! Take a look, let me see it, and soothe my wounded heart!"
Jemin was taken aback.
He's been so busy these days, constantly helping his supervisor with the backlog of experimental projects, that he completely forgot about the reward.
Under Viola's repeated urging and curious gaze, Jemin opened the magic network terminal, connected to his personal account, and found the post-war summary and merit reward notification regarding the "Justice" plane incident, which was directly issued by the Supreme Command of the Expeditionary Force.
The first thing that catches the eye is his separately listed reward, marked as "Priority intelligence contribution and key to breaking the deadlock":
Advanced Military Merit: 1,000,000 units "One million?! Advanced Military Merit?!" Viola's eyes widened instantly, and her voice suddenly rose eight octaves.
She first looked at the string of numbers in disbelief, then at Jemin, and then it was as if all her strength had been drained away, or as if all her grievances had been ignited.
With a "thud," she collapsed to the ground, utterly disheveled, even pounding her heels on the smooth floor while wailing in a tearful voice: "Aaaaah—this is outrageous! Why?! I worked so hard, almost lost my life, and got nothing! And you, you just went in, died once, and came back with a million high-level military merits?! A million!! And high-level ones at that!! I can't live anymore—!"
Looking at Viola throwing a tantrum on the ground, completely lacking any manners, Jemin rubbed his temples helplessly. "Senior, calm down. The scapegoat I used was worth far more than that. This reward doesn't even cover a fraction of it; I'm the one who's truly lost everything, okay?"
He ignored Viola, who continued to feign tears and make a scene, and turned his attention back to the post-war summary report.
The intelligence analysis section was largely accurate to what he knew, but when his gaze swept over the "Personnel Losses and Regression Statistics" section, he couldn't help but pause.
"Return rate of those trapped: approximately 87%"
"Eighty-seven percent returned?" Jemin looked at Viola, who had finally been stopped by a glance from Instructor Clark and was scrambling to her feet, with some doubt. "This percentage—did the casualties get very high? Wasn't it said there was no fighting? Why didn't they all return?"
Viola dusted off non-existent dust, leaned closer to glance at the light screen, and a cold smile, a mixture of mockery and understanding, appeared on her face: "Casualties? Only three unlucky guys are confirmed dead this time. The rest—hmph, they chose not to come back."
"Willing to stay voluntarily?" Jemin was taken aback. "The Star Ring Federation—allows that?"
"Why not?" Viola retorted, her tone carrying a detached indifference that suggested she had seen through the world. "The Star Ring Federation, or rather the higher-ups of the wizarding civilization, have never cared about the specific choices of individual wizards."
"All the hardships and adventures we've experienced are essentially brutal selection processes, designed to forge out the elite who can truly shoulder the future of civilization. Those who cannot bear the pressure and risks of the wizarding path, and prefer to indulge in a false but 'happy' life, have shown that their will has reached its limit."
She paused, a cold smile curving her lips: "What's wrong with letting them stay there? Those with excellent wizarding aptitude can be used as 'high-quality stallions' to reproduce in large numbers in that modified plane, increasing the probability of future wizarding apprentices being born in that plane. For the civilization as a whole, it might not be a bad thing."
It's about making use of waste.
Jemin remained silent for a moment, processing this cold logic.
He continued flipping through the summary report and suddenly noticed a brief entry in the "Supplementary Background Information" section of the appendix:
[Regarding the "Justice" Creator Civilization: The "Enlightenment Era" civilization has been confirmed to have completely perished for unknown reasons 730,000 standard years ago, with no direct successors found.]
Upon seeing this message, Jemin's heart skipped a beat. He looked up at Viola: "What about that sage? The ninth-level sage who created 'Justice,' is his whereabouts—any news?"
Upon hearing this, Viola's mocking expression vanished.
She paused for a moment before speaking in a slightly complicated tone: "Before I came back, I heard some unverified rumors circulating from headquarters—it's said that the sage has died of old age."
"Died of old age?" Jemin asked in astonishment.
This method of death seems too ordinary, even absurd, for a level nine being.
Even Clark, who had been focused on his own experiment, paused slightly, clearly drawn in by the news.
Viola nodded, confirming, "Yes, he died of old age. I heard that he resolutely adhered to his ideals from beginning to end. In the world created by 'Justice' that suppressed all supernatural powers, he never unleashed his own power. He just lived like an ordinary mortal, experiencing birth, aging, sickness, and death, and finally—peacefully reached the end of his life."
A brief silence fell over the laboratory.
Jemin opened his mouth, but found his throat was dry and he didn't know what to say for a moment.
That sage, who cherished utopian ideals and spared no effort in creating "justice" to establish an absolutely fair world, ultimately met such an ordinary end in the "ideal state" he created.
This ending is filled with an indescribable irony and sorrow, yet it also seems to carry a strange, consistent harmony throughout.
Upon hearing this, the instructor Clark slowly shook his head, seemingly wanting to deny something, but then he nodded slightly.
In the end, he made no comment, but simply lowered his head again, focusing all his attention on the faintly glowing reaction core in his hand, and continued his unfinished alchemy experiment.