“Are there other ways of evolving?” I asked.
“No. All miniature worlds go through this process of evolution. As led by the order of the Sacred Silverwater Sea,” Ottolulu replied immediately.
So our world was the exception then. The people of Pablohetra didn’t think it was possible to evolve without a ruler or chief god.
“On the other hand, ephemeral worlds that don’t evolve will continuously release their firedew. The receptacles of this firedew end up being the evolved miniature worlds. As magic flows from the shallows to the depths, so does firedew.”
That was pretty much what I had expected. Before we had our world reincarnate, the firedew in our world had crossed to other worlds. Elenesia was included in that—and maybe, also, even my subordinates that rested on the hill overlooking Midhaze.
“The firedew released by ephemeral worlds brings miniature worlds closer to the depths. This is why all rulers desire firedew—firedew is power. The more of it there is, the deeper the world is, and the stronger the people of the world will become.”
It was easy to imagine what happened next.
“This is why war occurs frequently across the Sacred Silverwater Sea. It is common for entire miniature worlds to be irreversibly damaged as a result of these conflicts. There have even been cases where both sides in a war were completely exterminated. The academic alliance of Pablohetra was formed by the chief gods of each world to stop these conflicts from getting out of hand to begin with.”
Ottolulu then wrote “Silverwater Ranking Skirmish.”
“All firedew released in Pablohetra’s territorial waters is collected by the academic alliance. It is then distributed based on the results of the ranking contest held internally within Pablohetra—the Silverwater Ranking Skirmish.”
If the wars over firedew intensified to the point of entire worlds being destroyed, no one would benefit. They could avoid all-out annihilation over firedew by forming a treaty and dividing the firedew peacefully through the Silverwater Ranking Skirmish. It was essentially a war by proxy—exactly as Loncruz had mentioned.
“Pablohetra was founded on the principle of lull. In other words, the peace of the Sacred Silverwater Sea.”
Peace, hmm? It’d be great if that were true.
“When ephemeral worlds lose their firedew, all the lives of their world are lost too. So any residents meant for reincarnation within that world end up born in other worlds, correct?”
“That is true, Ruler Anos,” Ottolulu replied in an indifferent tone.
“Why don’t you just give the firedew back? Those people don’t have to reincarnate elsewhere; they have their own lives to live.”
“What do you mean? Their lives ended with their deaths, and so their new lives begin in other worlds. By then, they are entirely different people who just happen to have the same origins.”
“What happens if you use Syrica magic?”
Ottolulu looked confused. “I’m sorry, I do not know of that magic. It is not a spell that exists amongst the academic alliance.”
Syrica didn’t exist? The magic the Two-Law Usurper—or rather, Loncruz—had used was clearly superior to the magic of our world. Although Syrica was the highest grade of source magic in our world, they should have at least heard of reincarnation magic before.
“This is the spell formula,” I said, drawing the magic circle for Syrica—when it promptly exploded in the air. “Oh?”
“Judging from the reaction of your drawing the spell formula just now, Syrica is restricted magic—a spell that can only exist by using the order of your specific world. It cannot be cast outside of Militia’s World, Ruler Anos.”
I see. Loncruz had asked me if reincarnation was normal in my world. He had also said that Radoplica wouldn’t erase memories, unlike regular reincarnation magic.
“What happens to one’s memories in the reincarnation process?” I asked.
“There are several means of retaining them, but all pose a high risk to the source. Simply continuing your current life does not count as a true reincarnation.”
So basically as they understood it, there was no way of reincarnating while also inheriting one’s memories without risk. That was why reincarnation in the Sacred Silverwater Sea meant beginning an entirely new, separate life than the one lived before. It was a fundamentally different way of thinking about reincarnation than from how people in our world thought of it.
“Returning the firedew to the ephemeral worlds would be a foolish act of erasing life. All the bubbles are destined to vanish someday. Throwing life back at them would be like moving a fish that had just reached the sea back to the land. It may be different from the teachings of your world, but this is the way of the silver seas,” Ottolulu said gently. She wasn’t denying my values, just explaining how different they were to what the people here thought. “It is considered good fortune for life to cross worlds through firedew, as it is proof they have been blessed by the sea.”
If most ephemeral worlds were doomed to perish, then it made sense for them to think that way.
“What if the ephemeral worlds could avoid their doom if you just returned their firedew?” I pointed out.
“That’s—”
“What more is there to go on about? Empty-headed ruler. This is why the shallows are so worthless,” a somewhat familiar voice rudely interrupted. It was the Immovable King Kaltinas, if I recalled correctly. He was the one who had bumped into the Demon King Express last night.
“There’s no point in explaining things to this dimwit, Ottolulu. He won’t fulfill the conditions for joining the alliance anyway. It’s a waste of time.”
A short man with a mustache stepped up onto the teacher’s podium. On his fancy clothes was an insignia of foam and ripples, and a school insignia of a castle.
“We are Kaltinas Ilbena, Immovable King and Ruler of the Silvercastle World Balandias. We will be in charge of the lecture today. You dimwits with little magic and brains should shut your mouths and listen carefully, for that is the etiquette of the silver seas.”
“What were you saying, Ottolulu?” I asked.
“You!” Kaltinas raged, glaring at me with a red face. He pointed at me menacingly. “You may be a ruler, but do not make the mistake of considering us equals. We are the Immovable King that governs a world on the twenty-first level. You, who have just arrived at Pablohetra, are clearly a resident from the shallows. What level are you from? Go on, let’s hear it.”
“Your world may be a little heavier than the others, but I see it hasn’t stopped your head from being light enough to float away,” I replied.
He turned even redder before pausing to think, then smirked. “Aha. You don’t even know what level your world’s from, do you? How pitiful. The investigation should be done by now, right? Tell him, Ottolulu.”
“The firedew volume of Militia’s World was measured this morning,” Ottolulu replied.
She sure worked fast. We had only just arrived last night.
“However, the judgment is currently on hold due to an impossible value. Based on the current results, Militia’s World has been temporarily assigned a level of zero. Unlikely as it is, there is a possibility the world is unevolved.”
At her words, the students who hadn’t paid us any attention to the lecture until now all stirred at once.
“What does that mean?” one student asked.
“The value was too low to be measured? Impossible,” another said.
“That’s far too little firedew...”
“But how did they get all the way here then? Unevolved worlds can’t reach the silver seas. They must have had some firedew.”
“They didn’t even have enough firedew to be considered first-level. How could they have evolved like that? They should have perished...”
Just then, their murmurs were drowned out by a loud, hearty laugh.
“Level zero?! Ha ha ha! Wa ha ha ha!” Kaltinas clutched his stomach, face twisted in a sneer. “What even is that? We’ve been with Pablohetra for quite some time, and we’ve never heard of such a thing. A zero-level world may as well be considered an ephemeral world! The chief god who chose you must be terribly superficial for there to be a possibility of being unevolved.”
“I won’t deny their flaws, but I don’t recall them ever choosing me. They kept forcing their pointless order on me, so I dismantled them into a more useful tool,” I replied.
“You weren’t chosen? What nonsense are you on about?”
“It’s only nonsense by your standards—but if I were to put it in a way you would understand, I’m a misfit.”
Kaltinas blinked in surprise. His face then warped in another sneer. “First, you weren’t chosen by the chief god, and now you’re a misfit?! Wa ha ha! Did you all hear that? This one’s truly a fine piece of work!”
He addressed the other students in the auditorium with a dramatic wave.
“A misfit as a ruler is absolutely unprecedented! We can’t believe it—we have actually lived to see the day an absolutely worthless world arrives at Pablohetra!”
The other students looked at me skeptically, like they were observing an animal so rare its very existence was a point of contention. The rulers in the room began to chat among themselves.
“The Immovable King has a point. Misfits were never even born in our worlds.”
“That’s the name of the people who defy order, right? If so, our chief god has destroyed dozens of them before.”
“Does that mean the chief god of Militia’s World is so weak it has to obey the misfit?”
“Our world had a lot of misfits, but I killed all of them with my own hands. Just a bunch of eccentrics that had the gall to try to stand before our chief god. They were no match for us purists.”
The rulers were all saying similar things.
Kaltinas laughed again. “Well? Do you get it yet? All the rulers here have snapped the necks of countless misfits like you. Of course, we have as well.” He gave me a threatening smirk and released his magic power. The entire auditorium shook from the force of it. “You have three seconds to bow at our feet. That is the proper etiquette you should show to a ruler of the depths.”
“Hmm. I’m not used to things like this, but if it’s the etiquette of the silver seas, then it can’t be helped.”
I got to my feet calmly.
Kaltinas smiled, appeased, their anger gradually subsiding. “Hmph. That’s more like it. A mere misfit shouldn’t be so full of himself. We hope you’ve learned your lesson— Gwoh!”
The shoe I had kicked off my foot soared across the room and landed in his mouth.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Hurry up and bow, lowlife. Dimwits with little magic and even less brains should shut their mouths and listen carefully, no?”
His hair rose on end in anger.