Position

The conference room fell silent because of Tierra's words.

Tierra's plan sounded simple, straightforward, and unbelievably cold.

This disregard for life, bloodlines, ethics, and the outdated rules among wizards left every wizard present deeply uneasy. Once again, they were reminded of Tierra's identity—

He was a god, a four-dimensional being who had passed through the Three-Dimensional Origin.

His power stood above everyone else's, and so did his spirit and his thoughts.

In the silence, everyone considered the feasibility of Tierra's plan.

By increasing Muggle birth rates and selecting populations with potential wizarding genes, they could increase the number of wizards and gain an advantage in future wars.

However, the premise of this plan was that "talent related to the Spiritual Dimension was indeed controlled by genes."

If that connection was not controlled by genes, then Tierra's plan might fail.

And even if the number of wizards increased, how much could it increase by? Several million? Tens of millions? Hundreds of millions? Or how many more wizards would be enough to contend with the Muggle World?

To grow from the current two million or so wizards to several hundred million—how many ethical and moral restraints would they have to break through? How many rules they had once taken for granted would they have to abandon?

Tierra offered no convincing answer to that question—

No, more than that, Tierra did not even address it directly, as though such sacrifices were no more significant than dust.

"But you are a god," Vinda Rosier said tremulously. Unable to stop herself, she reached up with a smooth, pale hand and touched the crown floating above her head. "No one understands your greatness better than I do. You will surely lead us to revival."

"Hmph." Tierra sneered. "Fine words cannot save those determined to die."

Tierra