In the dark multiverse, killing was not a sin. Weakness was.
The Great Summoning had taken place fifty years ago, forcibly elevating a world that had been nearly magicless. It had brought endless disasters and sacrifices, but without that day, the catastrophe of this year might have been an insurmountable death trial.
Eight-Clawed's invasion might have happened even without the Great Summoning or the Nirvana Plan, and even without that disaster, there would have been other world-ending catastrophes.
To use a rather inappropriate analogy, the Great Summoning had activated the world's immune system, while the Nirvana Plan had brought in vaccines, viruses, and medicine from beyond. Setting aside whether there would be hidden dangers, without going through all that and building up an immune system, a single serious illness might have ended everything. They had survived this time, but they might not survive the next.
Lu PingAn did not judge the accomplishments and risks taken by his predecessors. Born into an era that rested upon the fruits of their labor, he felt that, from his position as a beneficiary of that age, he had no right to judge the choices those predecessors had made.
To him, understanding and accepting the past was enough.
The point had never been what happened in the past or why it had happened. Since the era had reached the point where modern people like them had to take over, all they needed to do was respond according to the current situation, predict the future, and make long-term plans.
"...This social upheaval probably won't be any less significant than the Great Summoning. What will people in the future call it? The Great Pitfall? The Age of Gods? The New God Era? Or the Dark Ages?"
It was now the fourteenth day since the trap had taken