Cards, dice, tortoiseshells, spirit-summoning, coins, crystals...
The former Oracle Sorcerer clan had excelled at divination and fortune-telling through various mediums.
Depending on their specialty, the Oracle Sorcerers were divided into different branches. Among them, the card sorcerers had been the strongest. Now, after the Central Civilization's purge, only an obscure branch of the dice sorcerers remained, barely clinging to life.
Just moments ago, a Superhuman officer had informed them of the invaders' whereabouts and ordered them to assist in killing them.
"Two fifth-level creatures. It seems the Central Civilization's modified warriors have caught up with us."
In the old snail's hands were fourteen-sided dice, identical to Hei'erwen's.
Unlike his, these dice were wrapped in a layer of slime, moving constantly as if they were underwater. There were five of them in all.
"Elder, they're closing in faster and faster. What should we do?"
Another snail asked.
Looking around, there were only a little over a thousand Oracle Sorcerers gathered here. Each carried one of these special fourteen-sided dice, though the number they had varied. Most had two or three.
"Alas..."
The old snail sighed deeply and murmured, "I believe the Grand Elder made the right choice back then. The mistake was being born into this world in the first place—that alone was an original sin. As the weaker side destined for destruction, we rational sorcerers, who foresaw the future and chose to avoid harm and seek benefit, faced an unsolvable future from the very beginning. The Derivatives are our only chance of survival, though even that chance is pitifully small."
Then it continued, "We have no chance in this war. Let's flee."
The other snail said bitterly, "But my divination tells me that the farther we flee, the slimmer our chances become."
"Better than having no hope at all!"
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