Even the Wood Stone Clan that brought "chanical Book" had not been purged; they had been so arrogant and overbearing during the King’s lifeti, causing the whole city to resent them, yet Aler only imprisoned their Clan Leader in the prison, and the others were not retaliated against or punished.
And individuals closely related to the King, such as Belvan, were rely placed under house arrest in the Palace and ordered to stop their research.
"It is foreseeable that, before they take control of everything, we will not be in danger of losing our lives."
Belvan said this to the other scholars.
"Is that true? May God protect us... I always feel that it’s not that simple."
A scholar said worriedly.
"I think it’s probably true."
Belvan reassured, and then sighed in his heart.
The fact that they were not in imdiate danger of losing their lives did not an they were safe forever.
Their lives were in the hands of others.
Thinking of this, Belvan couldn’t help but clench his fists, hating his own powerlessness.
He had devoted himself to the study of the Path of Divine Creation, precisely to obtain more power, the power to control his own fate.
But the more he researched, the more insignificant he felt, and he realized he would never in his lifeti be able to grasp enough power.
It was like climbing an unknown, very high mountain, where he had exhausted all his strength just reaching the foothills.
After all, weren’t they Pioneers?
Every path had its Pioneers, so of whom were praised by people, others forgotten, and almost all the Pioneers never reached the end of their path in their lifeti.
Those Pioneers laid the foundations for future generations.
And this was precisely what saddened Belvan the most.
A voice of despair cried out in his heart:
"We can’t climb the peak, everything we do is just a stepping stone for those who co after!"
In this precarious situation, this despair grew more intense.
Sotis, Belvan couldn’t even face this despair and thought of committing suicide, to escape through death.
Yet sotis, he felt fortunate to have not taken his own life, to continue living, and continue his research on Divine Creation.
"How long will the Royal City continue to be under martial law? We might as well escape if this continues."
A scholar suggested.
"That’s what Xilan also said."
Another scholar concurred.
"Don’t act rashly!"
Seeing the restlessness among the scholars, Belvan couldn’t help saying:
"If one person escapes and Aler’s people find out, then all the others will suffer.
If everyone tries to escape together, who can guarantee that so many of us will get away?
Rather than that, it’d be better to wait here for the arrangent of the Gods!"
The previously restless scholars all cooled down, carefully considering his words, found Belvan’s reasoning very sensible.
"It seems... we were agitated by Xilan, seeing him disappear so calmly, we thought escaping would be easy."
A steady scholar comnted.
Several scholars nodded in agreent.
Seeing this, Belvan involuntarily sighed with relief and pressed his forehead, trying to relax his furrowed brows.
The scholars slowly regained their composure, and the research room quieted down; everyone prepared to return to their respective places, being stationary as if awaiting their fate like stone sculptures, while Belvan slowly sat at his desk, ready to contemplate sothing.
Suddenly, a burst of hurried noise ca from the hallway, a fearful breath seeping into the study through the crack of the door, followed by knocking. The scholars looked puzzled, and a scholar quickly opened the door, only to see a servant with a pale face shouting:
"Hiris! It’s on fire! It’s on fire! The Royal City is burning!"
The scholars were baffled, yet expressions spread like contagion, and in monts, all faces had drained of color as thick smoke appeared outside the window.
"What in the world is going on?" Belvan asked in a panic.
And the servant replied even more frantically, "The Lower City District is on fire! There is smoke everywhere, and it’s quickly spreading to the Upper City. I’ve heard people say that countless people have already suffocated!
Thankfully, we Dwarves are short enough that many of us have made it out of collapsing hos, but as for the humans and the Three-eyed Ape People, it’s hard to tell. In short, the Royal City is on fire, Kaelonde is on the brink of destruction!"
............
Many years later, a renowned Dwarf bard dedicated a poem to this city of suffering.
The most famous line in the poem reads:
Kao Calendar, year 318,
Misfortune fell like fire from the sky.
On the twelfth of September, Kaelonde faced destruction.
For the dwarves in the years to co, this was rely a poignant stanza.
But for those dwarves at the ti, it was a firsthand experience of annihilation.
The fire started from an unknown cause, and in a short ti, it consud half the city, the proud City of King, City of Dominance, as if it was rolling in the hellish fires of the Netherworld.
The Lower City District, mostly built of wood, provided the best fuel for the flas, nurturing them until they were strong enough to lt the stone structures of the Upper City.
This city-wide fire was not just a simple disaster, its arrival was accompanied by chaos. As the blaze grew, violence erupted everywhere, the worst of humanity erged amid the catastrophe, martial law was already ineffective, and people in large numbers started fleeing from the inferno, seeking a glimpse of life.
So Dwarf troops had arrived to fight the fire, but so poverty-stricken soldiers took advantage of the chaos to ransack every house they could, even their commanders leading the looting, completely ignoring the spreading flas.
Fire, rioting, looting, suppression... all these elents combined into a disaster, everyone was at risk, everyone was caught in the whirlpool of disaster, none could control their fate.
Belvan and other scholars hid inside the Palace, from where they could see through the windows, the thick smoke of the fire spreading over the city, destruction step by step drawing nearer, but what was more terrifying than destruction was the madness that would follow it.
So scholars could already foresee, after the great fire, the ruthlessness with which people like Aler would resort to extre asures to counteract violence, just as Kafu the Sixth had bloodily suppressed rebellious civilians.
By then, revenge and slaughter would take center stage.
But...
they were powerless.
Belvan thought sorrowfully,
Not a single person had enough strength to stop this fire.
This fire, like the harbinger of Kaelonde’s demise, this kingdom had angered the Gods, it was long due for destruction.
Gusts of hot air buffeted the windows, although the Palace itself was yet unscorched, far from the fire scene, and unlikely to catch fire, yet everyone could sll the stench of smoke that the wind carried.
Several scholars could not bear it, and bent over to vomit.
The entire Royal City was shrouded in thick smoke, the burning land visible to all, its once-great splendor now disappearing, like the world itself was ablaze, about to be buried under a thick black smoke.
The catastrophe ca without warning, the raging destruction burning through desires, with new desires reigniting from the ashes, endlessly repeating.
Even hidden in the Palace, one could seemingly hear distant wails and shouts.
Belvan watched the scene before him, the voice of despair in his heart growing louder and more intense, as if about to devour him, a thick sense of helplessness clutching his throat, immobilizing him.
How he wished there could be a torrential downpour to quench these fierce flas, to quiet the monstrous engulfing the city; and if not enough, then let a hurricane co to sweep away the roaring fiery glow, granting Kaelonde peace.
If only he had had enough power...
"None of this would have happened..."
Belvan nearly knelt on the ground, his eyes wide, throat emitting a painful moan,
"Why...
am I called a Pioneer?"
The fire continued to burn, the soaring flas pitilessly drowning out such questions and cries.
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