The Extreme Cold Icefield.
Once, a modest cabin stood alone, but now, a small plaza graced its exterior. During their breaks from work, the Rize people often gathered there, sharing tales and experiences.
Once isolated, the villagers now possessed a vast wealth of knowledge. Not just because they had learned to read and calculate but also due to their travels to various cities across the continent, they set up shops and mingled with locals. Yet, at day's end, they always returned to this tranquil village – their true home.
Climate shifts had rendered the winter months less harsh. As a token of gratitude for their work, the homes of the Rize underwent renovations. Thick insulation was added to the walls, and the once frail wooden windows were replaced with bright double-pane glass. Their stoves and fuel, enhanced by alchemists, now emitted heat far surpassing their previous capabilities. When snowstorms raged outside, the Rize could sip hot beverages made from snow pears and oranges while admiring the falling snow from their warm homes.
The phrase "It's snowing" had become as casual as asking if it was mealtime, whereas years before, snowfall brought them only dread and despair.
The newest grocery store opened near Soma City, the closest major city to the Extreme Cold Icefield. Maya recounted a humorous anecdote during a chat about new ventures: "In the spring, traders came for our furs. Approaching our village, they thought they were lost. Our new walls barred their entry, forcing them to camp outside. All day, they saw no one entering or exiting. But come nightfall, voices echoed, and lights shimmered within. Terrified, the traders fled, dubbing our place the 'Ghost Village.'"
This tale sent the Rize into fits of laughter.
Rize individuals worked throughout the continent, traveling via teleportation crystals. They weren't in the village during the day, returning only at night, which explained the traders' confusion.
"After all, we no longer live as before, bartering furs for food to survive," a villager remarked with a nostalgic sigh.
"Indeed," echoed the crowd.
---
Neranka.
Of late, Neranka's maritime activities surged. Massive quantities of grain were loaded onto ships for transportation. Amidst the sweltering heat of summer, countless dockworkers toiled, their sweat pouring onto the sun-baked planks.
Thankfully, Dragonflame Restaurant was offering an abundance of low-cost iced treats. Today, they even had a special promotion: one could get a mystery meal box and a serving of iced slush for just one copper coin.
Adam, a dockworker, had recently married his fiancée Bella. As it turned out, Bella's uncle traveled from another city to attend their wedding and relocate his entire family to Neranka.
"Times are tough. Food prices are skyrocketing, the weather's gone unpredictable, and from what traders tell me, there's a plague spreading in several regions," the uncle explained. "Since we don't have much holding us back, we decided to move to Neranka, where food is plentiful. If chaos ensues elsewhere, at least we'll have something to eat here."
Adam introduced his uncle to his job at the docks. They decided to have lunch together at Dragonflame restaurant.
"If I'd known food was this cheap here, I'd have moved ages ago!" the uncle exclaimed.
"It's not this affordable every day," Adam hastily clarified.
"Is that so?" The uncle's expression grew serious. "I must hurry home and inform the family to dine here."
Finishing his meal quickly, the uncle inhaled his partially melted slush with satisfaction and departed. As Adam ate, he recalled hearing about job openings for tractor drivers. The salary was reportedly several times higher than he earned as a dockworker.
He decided, after this meal, he'd check it out.
---
Silver Imperial City.
Enrollment in the Stars Academy's Magic Machinery course had surged this year. Students realized that although the subject might burn through funds faster than other majors, its earning potential was unmatched.
These scholars could work with alchemists, serving as mechanical consultants for business guilds and advising on machine designs for workshops. Independent ventures, like Professor Eulanda's, who designed a high-speed transport tool called "Moto," resulted in an overwhelming influx of orders. For those not yet ready for large-scale innovations, there were opportunities to refine existing magical machinery or start with practical small inventions. Promising designs could even lead to collaborations with the Dragonflame Corporation.
An added perk was a discount on food deliveries. Owing to the deep connections between the Dragonflame Corporation's owner, Lady Ina, and two of the academy's departments, Magic Machinery and Potion Science students enjoyed a 10% discount.
This was perhaps the most tangible benefit for many new students in the major. After all, who could resist Dragonflame Restaurant's delectable offerings?
--
Silverleaf Forest.
High Priest Lofir walked from the royal court to the Dragonflame Restaurant at the Silverscript Treehouse. Along the way, he spotted at least five griffins, each at different stages of growth. The forest was teeming with life from the visibly newly hatched ones, wobbly on their feet, to the sleek and agile adult griffins.
Lofir, with a hint of grievance in his voice, said to Atelika, an elven waitress at the restaurant who seemed entirely unbothered, "All the elves are helping Ina care for the griffins. At this rate, there might be a Griffin Kingdom someday."
Atelika didn't mince her words. "Jealousy is unbecoming of a noble High Priest like you. "
Among elves, Lofir was known for his extraordinary beauty, astounding talent, and impeccable leadership skills. However, while most elves had a natural affinity with animals, Lofir was the exception.
With the surge of new griffin eggs in their nests, Ina could only manage to provide food for the growing griffins. The elves had to help care for the mischievous griffin chicks running rampant in the Silverleaf Forest. Over time, many elves bonded with the griffins. With the griffins' assistance, they were promptly contained even when forest fires occasionally broke out.
Lofir would swear that he never had any inclination to help Ina with these naughty chicks, but the fact that not a single griffin approached him always made him feel a tad forlorn.
"I don't have the time to play with griffins," he said with a hint of cold detachment, slightly tilting his head. "I'll have a serving of jasmine milk pudding."
Atelika, who had greatly improved over the years (especially in arithmetic), pulled out a thick ledger. She quickly turned to the page dedicated to Lofir. "You owe a debt of 445 points. Clear that first, then we can serve you."
Lofir paused, a tad surprised. It wasn't that he lacked the money; he often forgot to carry it. However, he had something valuable on him this time. Swiftly, Lofir presented a piece of fine gold ore to Atelika. She deftly pocketed the ore and fetched the food Lofir requested.
As the payment was received, the experience points that had been pending due to the debt were instantly credited.
After Lofir left, Atelika flipped the wooden sign at the restaurant entrance to "Closed for Business." Today was a day for debt collection, not serving food.
Hopping on a nearby griffin with her ledger in tow, she went around the forest collecting debts.
---
Experience Points: 1,000,000/1,000,000!
[Congratulations! Your restaurant has reached Level 10! Reward: Supreme Authority!]
In front of Ina, a dazzling orb of light emerged, hinting at the ultimate answer. She reached out, eager to touch the luminescence.
Ina stepped into a magical current, surrounded by brilliant flashes of light. The colorful mosaic beneath her was both perilous and enchanting. She stood on a fragile sheet of ice that started to crack, sending her plummeting downwards.
It felt like she had crossed an invisible barrier, swept up by the winds of change.
Ina had entered the game silently, awakening in the Mist Town. But this journey felt more like crossing dimensions than just mere teleportation.
From the icy depths, she found herself perched atop a colossal tree. The immense white poplar, reaching both the heavens and the earth, made Ina seem as insignificant as a speck of dust.
Though the World Tree's leaves had fallen, fruits still hung from its branches. Some withered and shrank, their skin cracking. To Ina, these symbolized the orcs, goblins, and dragons who had left the Moro Continent. Others remained ripe, yet all ripe fruit would eventually rot—these symbolized humans.
She began to fall from the treetop at a dizzying speed. In this vast space around the World Tree, Ina could neither see the ground nor the sky. It was endless, mirroring her own descent.
Yet, this feeling of endless falling was an illusion. Soon, everything went dark for Ina.
The vastness, the void, and the indescribable scenes faded, leaving only darkness.
She tried to focus, but then two orbs of light appeared.
One was a fervent red with a brilliant core, surrounded by a subtle grey mist. The other was a deep blue, and Ina recognized it instantly. The familiar link and sensation—it was the system she had lost touch with.
"You might have guessed, I'm here to tell a story," the space seemed to convey without words.
In the same silent manner, Ina replied, "I'm ready to listen."
The story began when a game world became self-aware. It cherished every creature, plant, and visitor—especially the enthusiastic players.
After a major in-game event, where the black dragon trying to devour the World Tree was defeated, the game went offline for an update. The game's creators planned for the next chapter: the followers of the Plague God were set to wreak havoc, and players had to thwart their schemes to save all the races affected.
However, the world's consciousness foresaw their plans and couldn't bear the impending doom. The digital deaths represented real lives to it.
It intervened, changing their fates time and again.
A strange virus emerged in the game, causing multiple rollbacks. The more the game company tried to regain control, the less power they seemed to have. With the high immersion level of the holographic game posing serious mental risks to players, the company didn't dare take further risks and shut down the game.
The native inhabitants of the Moro Continent continued their lives, unaware of the crisis they had averted.
But the world's consciousness grew restless, for no player ever returned to the Moro Continent.
The world's consciousness had split.
One side believed the world existed solely for the players, reasoning that if the players vanished, the continent of Moro would lose its purpose. The other cherished everything beyond the players: the sunrises and sunsets, the natural proliferation of magical beasts, the ebb and flow of plant life, and every individual of every species, believing none should exist merely for someone else.
Yet, it couldn't prevent the self-destruction of its counterpart. Signs of impending catastrophe emerged; the World Tree fell into slumber. The actions of the natives ironically demonstrated that even without a guiding hand from the shadows, the swelling ambitions under the weight of power, deceptions born from selfishness, and cruelties birthed from ignorance were as damaging as any plague.
It exerted every ounce of its power, but the end seemed predetermined.
In desperation, it compromised, making a final, valiant effort.
And so, Ina found herself in a fog-laden town, pushing open the doors to a diner.
Every diner's satisfaction and every smile was a reflection of energy, rejuvenating its depleted strength. It gave the entity the might to pull its counterpart back from the brink of insanity to sit with Ina at the negotiation table.
"I want players to return to Moro," Ina addressed the red orb, which flickered twice in agreement.
"You want the players to avoid harming the natives," she said to the blue orb.
Ina was the perfect mediator, understanding both the players' perspectives and not viewing Moro's inhabitants as mere data. A balanced resolution was what both fractured consciousnesses could accept.
"I promise to usher as many players back to Moro as possible and ensure they minimize harm to its original inhabitants."
The term 'as possible' wasn't a clever evasion. Facing the will of the world, a promise had to be effective. Ina would do her utmost, but the outcome was uncertain.
From the moment both fractured consciousnesses observed Ina's every move on Moro, they'd awaited this day.
The first choice had been nonexistent from the system's selection of Ina.
Yet, it believed it was the best choice.
The two orbs, drawn together by an unseen force, began to rotate, merging and resisting each other.
Ina extended her hand, "I'll be the one." The one to establish order, guard the rules, judge the wicked, and be the silent observer.
The orbs drew closer. From her bag, the gray items named Soil of Silence, Eye of the Realm, Mind Web, and Realm Breach activated and shattered sequentially. Golden specks swirled around Ina, merging with the orbs and flowing into her fingertips.
It felt like a droplet joining the ocean.
She could feel all across Moro, every mountain, lake, cloud, and radiant beam, from the thunderbolts in the clouds to the dew on grass blades. The sincere smile of a child, the numb gaze of a wanderer, the withered face of the sick, and the spirited eyes of the young flashed before Ina. From that day on, she acted on the world's will yet retained her soul.
This was what Ina had attained - the supreme authority.