Ch.355The Beginning of Extinction. City of Truth (3)

The changes in the city of Truth were radical and dogmatic.

From the sky, rockets descended, carrying mechanical dolls, blueprints filled with technology, and various rare resources. The Apostles of Wisdom dispatched from the Library began to visit the wealthy and influential figures within the city, providing them with “simple” explanations (by apostle standards) of how things would work, thus spearheading Truth’s redevelopment.

Industrial complexes expanded at an incredible pace. The slums and dilapidated rental apartment complexes that had been troublesome until now were replaced with apartment buildings dozens of stories high. Shabby commercial districts moved into massive department stores, enjoying their second heyday.

Pilgrims and adventurers who had previously been crammed into worn-out inns were now given choices: capsule hotels thousands of floors high, cost-effective business hotels hundreds of floors high, or luxury hotels dozens of floors high. Those who had operated inns until now were gifted completely remodeled establishments and relocated to the old downtown area, tasked with revitalizing the local economy.

As factories were built, jobs were created. Those who had scraped by with day labor found themselves (semi-forcibly) employed in factories, able to dream of a better future. The administrative system also underwent massive improvements, implementing overwhelming efficiency through machines and artificial intelligence, reforming outdated systems, and establishing laws befitting modern times.

The city’s territory expanded as well. The outskirts, previously inaccessible due to monster threats, were now protected by walls tens of meters high, securing an area exactly 13.42 times larger than before.

In truth, they could have expanded it more than 100 times if desired, but 13.42 times was determined to be the most efficient expansion plan for Truth’s current population plus future growth.

Everything was expanded, augmented, improved, and innovated.

However, all of this occurred without anyone’s particular consent.

It was the result of the Sun’s unilateral and dogmatic actions from the position of the strong, the position of the ruler.

People had to witness their homes being demolished and replaced with “better places” in an instant. Small local restaurants that had built loyal customer bases over decades transformed into modern establishments where the old charm was nowhere to be found.

The inevitable shadow of transformation—while the majority approved, the minority couldn’t help but dislike it. Unfortunately, the Sun’s radiance could not illuminate this shadow.

It was natural that where there is light, there must also be darkness—such is the way of the world.

Perhaps this city of Truth is the very cornerstone of the Victorian Empire.

Their lives will improve, their foundations will progress, and their future will brighten.

Only it isn’t by their own will.

Some rejoiced at being spoon-fed without having to lift a finger, while others despised it for exactly the same reason.

In a way, this could be seen as evidence of the Sun’s “growth.”

He had believed in humanity’s potential and freedom, which returned to him as the terrible and tragic days of the Empire’s downfall and the Age of Eclipse.

For Victor, who carried memories of 350,000 years of golden age and 50,000 years of darkness, it would be no exaggeration to say that his trust in humanity had vanished.

His joy at Ork Swamp was because it represented humans displaying their potential to the extreme—a truly commendable case. Had they been repeating the same foolish mistakes, forgetting their roots, he would have been furious.

He was still humanity’s god, but just as not all fathers love their children, he began to show a much stricter attitude toward human free will than before.

Because he had seen firsthand how much unfreedom that freedom could bring.

*

“This isn’t Truth City anymore.”

In a newly built café, sipping coffee made from imported premium beans, an old man muttered.

He was 70 years old. With a bit of exaggeration, it wouldn’t be strange if he passed away right then and there.

Of course, having earned his living as an adventurer in his prime, he possessed a remarkably healthy body for a civilian, and having undergone various procedures in his thirties, such a possibility was low.

And throughout those long years, he had lived as a citizen of Truth City.

The memories remained vivid: gathering wild herbs and medicinal plants from nearby forests, battling fish-people by the river, and wading through flooded residential areas with a bucket during heavy downpours.

But now, this was no longer Truth City.

The place where he stayed was no longer the street that remained in his memories, and even his bedding had become unfamiliar.

The paved roads seemed to reject his footsteps with their hardness, the monorail seemed to monitor him as it ran along its track, and the tram seemed to tell him he was no longer useful.

He knew this was merely an old man’s complaint about losing the familiar—a mild paranoia.

Once, his father had shown him the tables and chairs that gave Truth City its name, cutting through the procession of pilgrims.

He would never again see that sight, preserved with a faint smell of antiseptic.

He could no longer gaze endlessly at the columns of smoke belched by noisy factories, stand at the city’s edge watching fish-people bathing in the distant trickling river, or observe people passing by on dim night streets.

The city he once considered home had been completely replaced and gilded, mercilessly shattering the city of his memories.

He knew that eventually, memories would fade into oblivion, and he would forget the past while becoming accustomed to the convenience of civilized facilities.

Indeed, looking at people’s faces, weren’t they blooming with smiles?

The eyes of those who now drove taxis instead of rickshaws were curved with joy, and the old madams who had transformed from innkeepers to hotel managers wore kind smiles.

Workers who had exchanged shabby work clothes for neat company uniforms gathered in groups, sipping coffee instead of alcohol, and boys and girls who once played in the water wearing dirty clothes now streamed out of schools in uniforms.

The Sun had created a better city. The old man knew this was an objective fact beyond dispute.

“…The coffee tastes good.”

If one knows, further objection is unnecessary.

The old man also knew what he wanted—for the old city to sink into oblivion along with his aging self.

It was a selfish, conservative, and terribly dull thought, but that’s why he was called an old man. Fortunately, because he kept his thoughts to himself, he escaped the lynch mobs of one-month-aged Sun fanatics who had gone from poverty to prosperity in just a month.

Whether intentional or simply due to indifference, the Sun did not prevent his followers from lynching non-believers.

It had been a month since the Sun descended from the sky. The old man couldn’t tell whether it had been only a month or as long as a month.

Suddenly, the light in the sky changed strangely. As he looked up, he saw the Sky Warden slowly breaking through the clouds.

“Now it’s leaving.”

Muttering this, he turned his eyes away from the Sun, paid for his coffee, and returned to his “home.”

Clean, orderly, and new—his home did not carry his scent.

But since he had no other home, he forced himself to endure the smell of paint and concrete as he went to bed.

Though the sun was still high in the sky, he no longer wanted to face the Sun’s radiance. At least not today.

Lying in bed, he closed his eyes and prayed for that dazzling light to be enveloped in darkness and fade away.

In that light, there is no humanity. Only one-sided expectations and disappointments. And only obedience and loyalty.

One overwhelming four ultimately demands a greater price than four, so he said nothing. Silence was compliance, and compliance was obedience, so the Sun bestowed upon him a new home and a new hometown.

Before he knew it, the Sun’s flagship had departed into the distance, and a long sigh flowed through the streets.

And the old man, already old and burned to ashes, was simply reminiscing about the old days under the moonlight.

Incidentally, the Moon is the Sun’s wife.