-25- Past Chronicles of Civilization

“Scared me to death, I almost lost my life!”

“Damn, there’s a real ‘mage’ here!”

Passing through the dark, damp, enormous drainage tunnel, they arrived at a concealed shoreline on the other side of Scrap Iron Avenue. The young survivors let out a long breath, relief washing over them, before turning their shocked and complex gazes toward Rosalind, who walked at the front.

They were all elite students from Black Tower High School and naturally understood how incredible such a level of spellcasting was. Even the seniors in their third year could never have led them in a direct escape under those circumstances.

“Let’s keep this a secret, okay?” Rosalind winked at them and made a shushing gesture.

Hans, Mary, and Brielle all nodded eagerly—today’s scare had been more than enough. Their only thought now was to immediately return to their safe houses.

“Damn those vicious Hound Gang brutes! They even destroyed my magic puppet—when I get home, I’m going to tell my parents and make them regret this…” Brielle muttered bitterly.

“What now?” a timid follower asked, nervously glancing along the dim coastline.

“Keep moving forward. This place is still too close; we need to lay low for a while,” Hans replied.

This path was a recent discovery by the trio’s small team, leading to an old seaside village. Almost no gangs or tourists ventured there; only a few scattered elderly residents awaited the end of their days in solitude.

To avoid gang pressure, the six of them ventured deeper and soon spotted a wooden cabin by the sea. An elderly man with graying hair was fishing nearby. Seeing them, he smiled and nodded.

“Grandpa Watt!” Rosalind waved, her voice and motion startling a few seagulls.

As they approached, the old man named Watt squinted and chuckled, “Oh, bringing new friends again? Here to catch fish or craving some ‘crispy grubs’?”

“No, no, no… no thanks,” Rosalind quickly declined. The “crispy grubs” Watt mentioned were actually large, plump white larvae native to the area—two fingers thick. When roasted, they shrink and become crispy with a salty flavor.

Aside from the elderly around Scrap Iron Avenue, few young people in the Blackwater District dared to eat such frankly intimidating delicacies—most lacked the courage to even try.

“Crispy grubs? Geez… old man, are you a native?” Brielle exclaimed in surprise.

Two centuries ago, Ish Island was home to the Ish Kingdom, a maritime polity inhabited by indigenous people. Their most distinct traits were slightly darker skin than mainlanders, the creation of local foods like “crispy grubs,” and unique cultures and beliefs.

However, with the colonization by the Greater Eden Empire, the natives were massacred mercilessly—only a fraction survived. Much of their history and culture vanished, ground to dust beneath the wheels of time.

Of course, the Greater Eden Empire was eventually overthrown in the course of civilization’s development. The current government is the New Eden Federation, at least ostensibly a democracy.

Watt smiled and nodded, unfazed by Brielle’s informal tone. “Here, and around Scrap Iron Avenue, you’ll find descendants of the kingdom. Some have moved to Gray Harbor City or Lure City behind Ish Mountain—I don’t know much about those places.”

Just then, one of Brielle’s followers pointed nervously in a direction. “What’s that?”

They looked and saw what appeared to be the entrance to a structure beneath a cliff.

“That’s the ‘Tide Church,’” Watt said.

“Tide Church?” Rosalind, Hans, and Mary showed surprise. Although they had been here two or three times before, this was their first time seeing it.

“It used to be a place for worshipping deities. When the tide rose, it was hidden; only during low tide could you enter. Now it’s a ruin—except for archaeology enthusiasts, hardly anyone visits,” Watt chuckled.

“What kind of god?” Mary asked. Most residents of Ish Island had little religious belief, but the Origin Civilization had many famous faiths, such as the Mind Sanctuary of Silver Mirror Continent and the Tree God Church of Emerald Continent.

“It’s called the ‘God of Dusk.’ In today’s mythology, it would be considered a demon god, but back then, the islanders saw it as the embodiment of death and rebirth. So from tribal times, they worshipped it—some history suggests this went on for thousands of years,” Watt explained. “But I don’t know the details, only saw it in documentaries. That was long ago.”

As he spoke, a trace of nostalgia flickered in the old man’s eyes, as if recalling the countless years past when people entered and exited the Tide Church for orderly masses. That was before the “Magic Revolution” led by mage technology, before Ish Island was invaded—when ancestors lived peacefully on this island, generation after generation, like a secluded paradise.

…

Rosalind and the others stayed with Grandpa Watt until evening. They nearly got discovered by the gang but, thanks to Watt’s deliberate misdirection, the gang never found the hidden youths in the woods and soon left.

That evening, after arriving home with Hans and Mary, Rosalind returned to Room 1809 and recounted every detail of the day to her teacher. At the end, she eagerly asked, “So… how did I do, Teacher?”

“Reckless, impulsive, and irresponsible,” Yvette said bluntly. “Also, next time notify me immediately. Even if it’s in a dream, I can’t guarantee your safety in reality if something goes wrong.”

“But I think I did perfectly, Teacher,” Rosalind protested. She really didn’t believe anyone else could have handled the situation better.

“Yet if you had informed me, I could have used you as a bridge to hack the chips inside their bodies through the network port, disrupting them in all sorts of ways, or even commandeering nearby vehicles to ram into them… wouldn’t that be safer than you dodging bullets on a skateboard?” Yvette countered, her tone sharper than usual.

Rosalind fell silent, opening her mouth but unable to retort—undeniably, the teacher was right. She knew Yvette possessed such abilities but had been too caught up in showing off to consider the hidden risks and foolishness.

What embarrassed and shamed her even more was that on the way back, she had been anticipating the teacher’s reaction, fantasizing about shocking her with her growth. But it turned out all of that was just her own arrogance.

After a long moment, she finally regained composure and stammered, “I’m sorry, Teacher… I was wrong…”

Yvette gave a soft hum and said no more. As someone who maintained a cool exterior, she had already spoken enough to impress upon this twelve-year-old girl that she shouldn’t rush into rebellion.

…

After dinner, thinking about the stories Rosalind had told her about the Tide Church, Yvette once again opened her holographic screen and began gathering information.

Since her search on the Silent War had been unsuccessful, she shifted her focus, speculating that the apocalypse might not have been caused by the Origin Civilization itself. In a world with magic, gods might indeed exist.

What if a deity simply fell out of favor and decided to bring about the apocalypse?

After surveying mainstream religions and mythological studies, Yvette suddenly made a discovery.

She found a free research paper explaining that deities similar to the “God of Dusk” appeared across various cultures on the Origin Star.

For example, the “Lord of Twilight’s End,” the apocalyptic demon god in mainstream mythology; the “Source of Destruction,” the “God of the End,” and the “Doomsday Requiem” in some foreign continent myths—all shared similar concepts.

A striking similarity is that these demon gods singlehandedly destroyed the divine paradise “Eden,” forcing newly born humanity to hide and struggle in the harsh earthly world.

Though the accounts differ in wording, the overarching narrative is much the same.

Experts in history and mythology largely agree that these legends are closely connected to the ancient civilization from thirty thousand years ago.

Regarding that prehistoric civilization, the Origin Civilization knows very little—only fragments unearthed from fossils suggest it was a time rich in magical elements, with enormous dragons soaring the skies and terrifying beasts roaming the lands.

Humans then became powerful mages through mere meditation, protecting tribes and founding kingdoms by individual strength.

But later, for unknown reasons, much like Earth’s dinosaur era, all creatures of that time perished at some point, and the world entered the Age of Decline.

This vast, mysterious, and eerie historical turning point gave rise to the demon god figure known as the “Lord of Twilight’s End.”

The so-called paradise “Eden” symbolizes the highest aspiration and most beautiful spiritual refuge for the people of the Age of Decline—a longing for the high-magic era abundant in elemental power.

“A turning point… could it be that the ancient civilization of thirty thousand years ago was also destroyed by a mysterious ‘apocalypse’?” Yvette murmured to herself, sensing a fateful cycle unfolding.