Chapter 382: Lightning Didn’t Fall From the Sky (3)
by Afuhfuihgs
The recently transformed wall of cards fluttered down, revealing a narrow, dimly lit room.
Inside the First Thunderarch’s secret vault, a small bookshelf stood connected to a desk.
The bookshelf was crammed with various books, their worn-out spines suggesting they had been frequently read.
Meanwhile, a single notebook lay on the desk, illuminated by a lone lightning lamp.
A notebook holding the secrets of the First Thunderarch.
I had already gleaned some of its contents from reading the Thunderarch’s thoughts.
But all I had accessed was what she had read from it.
Humans process information based on their own knowledge, altering it however they understand it.
If I wanted to know the absolute truth, I needed to read the notebook directly.
What secrets had the First Thunderarch left behind?
If my guess was correct…
I flipped open the first page.
And there it was.
Today, just like yesterday, guarantees a tomorrow that will continue unchanged.
Not even trying to hide it, huh?
That confirmed it.*
**
*The creator of Claudia… was the Sanctum.
The Golden Lord has meddled with the world made by the Creator. Because of that cursed Divine, the world has lost its stability. One thing can easily become another, and the ironclad promises that once bound the world together have turned to scraps of paper. A world where today can never be the same as yesterday. The irreversible changes wrought by that Divine will turn humans into something different.
However, the current Golden Lord is no longer a rational being. He is a fearsome, yet mindless beast.
If I stand on this hill, watching over him, and prevent the changes he brings, we can still endure.
We shall reclaim the lost order.
Permanence, order—it was unmistakably the Sanctum ideology.
The Thunderarch likely didn’t realize it, given that there was no formal theology training in this region.
I clicked my tongue and flipped to the next pages.
What followed were methods to distinguish fake gold created by the Golden Lord, the limits of alchemy, and dangerous techniques to be wary of.
He can even create food? The blessings of the Sky God and Mother Earth?
At some point, the notebook became obsessed with the crops produced by the Golden Lord.
Below the hastily scribbled words of shock were more calmly written observations.
The crops created by the Golden Lord are unnatural. When humans consume them, serious issues arise. The effects are especially severe in children, whose bodies are still developing.
A fortunate fact. Or rather, an inevitable one. There is no way artificially simulated crops could be truly healthy.
The writer had initially scribbled wildly in excitement but gradually wrote less and less.
Toward the end, there was only a single, small note.
According to Franc, the side effects of the Golden Lord’s crops diminish the more they are fermented or altered. If starvation becomes unavoidable… I wouldn’t recommend it, but at the very least, process the food as much as possible before consuming it.
Be wary of the homunculi. This land must never become like the Duchy beyond the mountains.
Then came detailed strategies on food processing and how to collect and dispose of the Golden Lord’s crops.
Following the Golden Lord’s path, harvesting and processing his crops in bulk—it was clear.
The position of Dominarch was modeled after this very system.
The writer must have begrudgingly accepted reality at some point because the topic of crops faded after that.
Instead, they had turned their focus elsewhere.
Alchemy is certainly dangerous, but when used properly, it is highly efficient. The ability to process steel at will has revolutionized metallurgy, drastically reducing the resources and facilities required for smelting. By shortening the trial-and-error process to mere moments, it has also eased the burden on the sages.
Sage Franc argues that we should actively utilize alchemy. Since it has already been revealed to the world, it cannot be hidden. I agree with him, but we must always be cautious in its use.
If alchemy can turn imagination into reality, perhaps it can also turn our ideals into reality.
The Sanctum doesn’t outright reject the Divine.
They fear irreversible changes that disrupt existing order—but when it comes to using the Divine’s power, they are more skilled than anyone else.
They have gathered and utilized more of the Divine’s power than any other faction in the world.
Guided by this blessing of fate, they steadily developed Claudia.
An alarm system to predict incoming lightning.
The Lightning Tower was designed to block and absorb the strikes.
The Thundermill made it possible for humans to harness the power of lightning.
The notebook meticulously listed inventions—all the ideas that formed the foundation of modern Claudia.
Under the blessing of the Sanctum, Claudia had thrived.
Franc… I warned you so many times. Why did you…
A sentence filled with bleak despair suddenly appeared.
Sage Franc—the most frequently mentioned name in this notebook.
A key architect of Claudia’s infrastructure.
He was likely a sage dispatched to assist the notebook’s author.
But why had they written this?
Perhaps it is for the best. Lightning, after all, belongs to the Sky God. If it was destined to appear someday… then all that has changed is that I now have one more thing to protect. I will become the Thunderarch and guard the lightning.
From this point onward, there were noticeably fewer mentions of humans or technology.
The rest was merely a timeline.
There was no further information.
Tch.
If this were a person, I could have read their mind effortlessly, but I’m not the King of Notebooks.
But one thing was now clear.
Like many other gods, the Thunder God had been absorbed into the Sky God’s domain.
Perhaps it wasn’t always this way, but now, the Thunder God was part of the Sky God—no different from a vassal serving its master.
The Sanctum had stolen the lightning for themselves.
As I idly flipped through the last pages, nothing else stood out—except for one final passage at the bottom of the notebook.
…A successor is needed. A powerful and exceptional being, one who will inherit and safeguard all these secrets through the generations.
I paused, letting the words sink in.
Then—
– BANG!
The basement door burst open.
Lightning crackled as the Thunderarch forced the iron door open, her gaze sharp with restrained anger as she locked eyes with me.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to come here. How did you get here?”
– Tch.
A quick response as always.
I hastily turned around and said,
“I snuck in, but how did you even know I was here? Everyone’s busy hunting the Thunder God outside. Logically, there’s no way I could have been caught.”
“It felt like a parasite gnawing away inside me. An unbearably itchy, irritating sensation. I came to check… and never expected to find a thief lurking in my absence.”
Come on, the Thunder God hunt is happening outside right now!
Would you really drop everything and come down here just because of some itch?
You should have held out and dealt with it later!
However, complaining wouldn’t change anything.
This proved a simple fact.
The Thunderarch should not have been able to notice me—neither objectively nor subjectively.
With a battle between the Regressor and the Thunder God raging above, how could she spare even a fraction of her attention for me?
She shouldn’t have had the leeway to focus on anything else.
She wouldn’t have even imagined someone would dare to sneak in.
Yet, despite these impossible conditions, she found me incredibly quickly.
Was it pure coincidence?
Animalistic intuition?
No, that never happens.
Not for me.
Not for anyone.
If I were to draw the best possible hand and go all-in, but my opponent somehow pulled a Joker to counter it, that wouldn’t be bad luck.
That would be a rigged game.
This wasn’t instinct.
This was a revelation.
Like a priest receiving a Saintess’ summons, or a messenger receiving a secret directive—someone or something told her to come.
There was no other way to explain this impossible sequence of events.
But in the end, I was caught red-handed.
There was no use denying it now.
So I spoke.
“Thunderarch. I’ve uncovered the truth.”
The Thunderarch dismissed it immediately.
“The truth obtained through dishonorable means has no legitimacy.”
“But it’s still the truth, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you at least hear it?”
I was stalling, trying to buy time by talking, but she had no intention of listening.
Radiating clear hostility, she stepped forward with measured, deliberate strides.
But just before she reached me—she ran into a small obstacle.
“Th-Thunderarch….”
A trembling voice.
The small hands of Jerry, the young Thunder Disciple, clung to her robes.
Tears welled in his eyes as he whimpered,
“Th-That man… said terrible things. That y-you are hurting the children….”
The Thunderarch froze.
She couldn’t bring herself to shake off the child’s grip.
Turning, she gently comforted him.
“Jerry. Do not listen to his words. We are not wrong.”
“R-Right? That man… he was lying, right?”
“That is….”
“It’s not a lie, is it? Oh mighty Thunderarch! You could have saved these children.”
I immediately threw a sharp verbal thrust—striking at the cracks in her armor.
For the first time, a visible fracture appeared on the Thunderarch’s perfect expression.
“The disabilities in the Fallen Dominion arise because the Golden Lord’s artificial food merges with the bodies of its citizens. As their bodies grow, they twist and break because of the artificial material inside of them. You knew that. That’s why you grow food in the Lightning Tower, isn’t it?”
If you were to categorize her, the Thunderarch was a righteous person.
Her sense of duty and actions were all for this city.
She was undoubtedly a good person.
She cared for these children out of kindness.
“But you knew, didn’t you? The problem was in the mixing.”
Yet, despite her good intentions, something had gone horribly wrong—simply by following the notes of the First Thunderarch.
“Someone deliberately gathered newlywed couples and their children, offering them food, all to ensure the cycle of disabilities in the Fallen Dominion never ends.”
The people of the Fallen Dominion may not have known.
But one person—the Thunderarch of Claudia—absolutely did.
She knew the truth.
She was both a benefactor and a perpetrator.
When two opposing forces are bound to separate, they should naturally stay apart.
But someone forced them together—and so, for centuries, the curse of the Fallen Dominion persisted.
“Humans can do anything they want, but was this really what you wanted? To curse future generations with this cycle of suffering?”
“… Silence.”
“Of course, it wasn’t. If it were, you wouldn’t have taken in these children.”
The wails of infants swelled around us.
A living monument to the suffering of the nation.
The Thunderarch, who had both permitted and protected this system, glared at me like I was her enemy.
Under the weight of her accusatory stare, I asked a single question.
“Don’t misunderstand. I’m not blaming you. I just want you to ask yourself— Does this notebook’s ‘order’ sit right with you?”
“The First Thunderarch built Claudia’s order. It is because of their efforts that Claudia thrives.”
“Do you really believe that? Even though, under this so-called order, the Fallen Dominion’s tragedy continues?”
“That is because the Golden Lord exists. It is neither the responsibility of the First Thunderarch, nor of Claudia.”
“Fine, let’s assume that’s true. I won’t bother with pointless debates over responsibility. After all, it is true that the Golden Lord’s existence caused this, but if you are so blameless, why do you still feel guilty? Why did you hide these suffering children underground?”
There was no need to hide them.
The Fallen Dominion had an established birth pattern.
One-third of children die. One-third are born disabled. Only one-third “appear” normal.
Everyone knew how dangerous childbirth was in this land.
That was why so many mothers and children fled to Claudia.
If anything, the Thunderarch’s efforts to care for these children should have earned her nothing but praise.
But instead—
“You just didn’t want to look at them, did you? Can you really call yourself righteous, then?”
The Thunderarch’s expression darkened.
Unable to watch her mentor be tormented, Jerry suddenly shouted in protest.
“D-Don’t say such mean things to her! She protected us…! She’s—Thunderarch?”
The Thunderarch quietly let go of Jerry’s hand.
She gazed at the child—a reflection of what she once was.
A Thunder Disciple who had not been chosen.
For a moment, she was lost in thought.
｢I am the chosen one. I have followed the teachings of the First Thunderarch, protecting Claudia with my strength, but still… It is also true that there is suffering in Claudia. If I said I felt no dissonance, it would be a lie.｣
—I read her thoughts.
As a person, the Thunderarch pitied these children.
She had tried to protect them.
A righteous but arrogant person.
Yet—
｢One cannot live in this world solely by following their heart.｣
Another voice inside her drowned it out like a flood, washing away her hesitation.
She was the leader of Claudia, the guardian of the Fallen Dominion, and a chosen agent of the Sanctum.
Such titles came with mountains of duty and responsibility.
Her actions could dictate the fate of Claudia.
So, she had to be more than just human.
“To preserve today as an unchanging yesterday— this order must be maintained. If suffering is the price. then it is the original sin of those born in this land.”
With unwavering resolve, she declared.
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