The Goddess of Magic—Mithril—held herself high above all others, absolutely confident in how events would unfold!
Karsus, with the development of his new spell progressing without a hitch, still believed victory was already in his grasp and the greater trend had been set, even as the war situation rotted away!
The Felin Demon Sunflowers had already gained the upper hand in the war, and their advantage was continuing to expand. They too harbored exceedingly beautiful fantasies about the final outcome, believing the Kingdom of Netheril was already a salted fish on their chopping block.
Though there had been no verbal exchange.
All three sides believed they had already won.
As for the fourth party, the Lord of the Blazing Hell—Orsaga—who was merely there to make up the numbers, he had silently played dead like a corpse from beginning to end, his condition exceptionally stable.
He had no intention whatsoever of interfering!
At most, he had his nominal lackeys—the Felin Demon Sunflowers—collect the souls of the fallen.
They could serve as his rations, a little extra meal for himself.
After all, the so-called outcome had been decided from the very beginning...
Another twelve years passed.
The Kingdom of Netheril's decline in the war had become painfully apparent.
The entire situation gave the impression that they had the will but not the strength.
The Felin Demon Sunflowers' offensive, in contrast, grew increasingly fierce, like an unstoppable tidal wave.
At this moment.
Standing atop the Magic Tower within the Floating City.
An Grand Arcanist who was on very good terms with Karsus looked at the somewhat crazed expression on Karsus's face in the distance. After some hesitation, he could not help but advise him:
"If it truly comes down to it, we should just relocate the entire kingdom."
"That spell of yours