This was the World Graveyard.
When the Wizards at the very pinnacle of the Conqueror ranks abandoned conquest, halted their advance, and began quietly building a great ship at home, something had to be wrong with this world-and terribly wrong at that. For the other Conquerors, the truly clever ones, perhaps the wisest choice was to remain in their own worlds and enjoy their final glory in peace.
To raise a wine cup at the instant the world went out.
A perfect full stop.
As Ruger thought this, a trace of compassion unconsciously entered his gaze as he looked at the Invader.
But to the other party, it might have looked more like pity.
In the lingering aftermath of their mental power collision, his emotions naturally spilled out with his outwardly projected mental power, making that compassionate gaze all the more unmistakable.
A minor Wizard from a civilization whose own fate was unknown sighed compassionately over a band of vicious fools engaged in futile efforts, while seeming to see all the living beings of the Underground Caverns in them. Whether everything the Wizards were doing was futile remained unanswered for now, but in the end, there would inevitably be a lone great ship. The Wizards could not save those countless other worlds. Letting some part of them become the driving force behind their own advance was already a form of loving remembrance.
It seemed that, from a certain perspective, the Child of the World, the Otherworld Invader, and the Wizards were much alike, all moving toward a predetermined fate.
Only the Wizards understood that fate more clearly. They knew whether it smelled sweet or foul, whether it stood tall or short, and they were earnestly resisting it, turning over every possibility and exhausting the lifetimes of countless generations.
The others,