"Tell , what do you think humanity needs to survive the next few years?" asked Protheus.
Priam took a mont to consider the question before answering. “Cohesion. We’re scattered across a sector larger than a galaxy. Most people are left to fend for themselves, selling their freedom just to survive.”
Protheus and his advisors winced. “True, but we have no way to change that. The System entrusted us with a few million humans to carry the torch of our civilization, and I plan to focus on Proxima. For now.”
‘Entrusted us?’ This guy thinks he’s the protagonist—or a king.
Priam decided to keep his thoughts to himself. If Protheus had the charisma, the vision, and the shoulders broad enough to bear humanity’s burden, Priam was content to let him carry it.
“If we’re talking about Proxima alone, then you need to give people a chance to thrive. Humanity can adapt to anything, but it needs resources—and ti.” His brow furrowed. “To survive the next few years, they need ti. It’s a vicious cycle.”
“Exactly!” Protheus slamd his palm against the table, sending a tremor through the stone slab. From that, Priam estimated the king’s strength to be between five and six hundred. “The System provides resources, but humanity needs ti to turn them into weapons and knowledge. The Industrial and Digital Revolutions may have been quick by historical standards, but they still took decades. Arkanians and Empyreans won’t wait for us to initiate a Magical Revolution.”
“So far, I agree. I assu you’re telling this because you have an idea to ensure humanity’s survival?”
“I don’t have a silver bullet,” Protheus admitted, “only two partial—and complentary—solutions. The first is to cultivate an elite group here on Proxima, then scatter them across the sector. A few hundred humans to keep our fla alive.” Despite the myth tied to his na, Protheus didn’t seem satisfied. “It only takes one of them reaching Tier 5 to create a secure inner world. From there, humanity would survive through their descendants. Who knows? You might end up as the ancestor of the next generation.”
Priam grimaced. For the first ti, he truly understood what it ant to live thousands of years. Over ti, his direct family would inevitably grow too large for him to know everyone. The thought pained him. If the death of one of my descendants ever leaves indifferent, I’ll know I’ve turned into a heartless bastard.
“With a birthrate above three children per woman and monogamous couples, thirty generations could be enough to exceed a million people,” Eloïse interjected.
“So humanity’s survivors would split into clans, each backed by a mid-Tier,” Priam analyzed. “Rivalries between patriarchs and matriarchs would lead to tensions, then schisms. It wouldn’t be our civilization anymore.” He frowned. “And that’s ignoring the issue of genetic diversity.”
Markus nodded in agreent. “Even if the System or technology mitigates the dangers of inbreeding, we’d lose most of humanity’s genetic material.”
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Cecilia added. “Millions of traditions, works, oeuvres, and dreams would vanish without a functioning society.”
“Social and societal progress, technological advancents, the history of our civilization—everything humanity has built would be lost,” Protheus said, his voice intense enough to surprise Priam.
Either he’s the best actor in the universe, or he genuinely believes it’s a tragedy.
“A solution that preserves embers but fails to ignite a new fire. Humanity would survive in na only, its identity irreparably altered,” Priam summarized. “I hope the second solution is more palatable.”
Protheus nodded. “It involves elevating all humans on Proxima at once… even if it ans reforging them in fire.”
Priam narrowed his eyes. “The phrasing is poetic, but I’m afraid I understand your intent.”
The king remained silent for a few seconds before explaining. “I won’t settle for a handful of humans tending the grave of our civilization. I want a united civilization, proud of its history and ready to fight for its future!” His gaze locked onto Priam’s, his voice vibrating with conviction. “Tutorial, Reunions, Proxima… The System is preparing terrible events, but there’s a chance to use them as catalysts to evolve, to withstand the test of ti, and spread our wings.
Priam felt a chill run through him as he realized the truth. “You don’t want to avoid conflict with the Arkanians. That’s why you’re against using my Tribulations to cripple their army. You want a war,” he accused.
“Don’t tell you beca who you are today by avoiding your enemies,” the king countered.
“Conflict has accelerated my growth, sure, but—” Priam hesitated. He could dodge death once a day. Most people didn’t have that luxury. “There will be casualties,” he finished.
Protheus let the silence hang before responding. “There are always casualties. I see no other path.”
The three advisors looked down at the table under the Champion’s scrutiny, but the king didn’t avert his gaze. He’s serious.
Priam swallowed hard. What could he say? He had chosen not to ddle in humanity’s politics. So called him crazy for being willing to mutilate himself for progress, but that was a personal choice. Deciding the fate of humanity, of millions of lives, was infinitely harder—at least for soone with a shred of empathy.
“Do your army and the inhabitants of this city share your vision?” he asked after nearly a minute of silence. “Are they ready to use the Arkanians as a whetstone, knowing death will always loom?”
“The majority of them do.” Protheus’s gaze was steady. Priam resolved to visit the city and verify, but for now, he would give the king the benefit of the doubt. “With the exception of criminals, no one here was conscripted. Every soldier knows what they’ve signed up for. Rember, everyone here chose at least a Hard Tutorial. They are humanity’s elite, determined to take their destiny into their own hands. On Proxima, no one needs a savior. You can be a figurehead—like —but you must let them climb the mountain themselves. If you carry them now, they’ll crumble once you’re gone.”
Protheus’s words gave Priam pause. Was he right? If his help wasn’t wanted, was it worth forcing? Since the Tutorial began, I’ve taken countless reckless risks. If soone had tried to stop , thinking they knew better, I’d have been furious. On the other hand, rival civilizations won’t play nice. If I stand by and humanity’s elite falls, the rest is dood.
Despite his Champion Title, Priam didn’t see himself as humanity’s savior. That didn’t an he was ready to ignore its demise.
“You’re hesitating,” Markus observed.
“I don’t want to undermine the free will of the n and won here, but this concerns all of humanity. I’m questioning whether war is truly the answer.”
The doctor sighed. “I swore the Hippocratic Oath. I will never take a life willingly, nor do I encourage it. However, I wouldn’t counsel Protheus if I thought he was a monster. The Arkanians have chosen to exterminate us. If we don’t respond today, if we rely on your help, then you’ll have to help us tomorrow and the day after. The day will co when you’re absent, and humanity will perish. I hate this violence, but I recognize it as inevitable.”
“It’s necessary for our civilization’s growth,” Cecilia added. “Even without the System rewarding risk and territorial wars, history shows conflict drives progress. Many everyday items have military origins: microwaves, freeze-dried products, canned goods, GPS… Other discoveries were accelerated by war, such as advancents in surgery, radiology, the space program, and atomic energy.”
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“War may be fertile ground,” Priam acknowledged, “but it’s watered with blood.”
“No one’s saying otherwise,” Protheus said with a heavy sigh. “But we can’t avoid it. Hard tis are coming, and only those hardened by them will survive. Before we face the rest of this universe, humanity must adapt. My army includes engineers, doctors, drivers, workers, rchants, and students. To beco warriors, they need the Arkanians. Ending this war for them would steal their chance to adapt to this new reality.”
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