Chapter 362 Harvest and Death from Old Age

Inside Professor Clark's laboratory, Jemin was engrossed in processing a set of complex energy rheology data.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Viola sighing over a pile of rune structure diagrams. Her usually pretty face, which always carried a hint of playfulness or laziness, was now wrinkled up like a bitter gourd.

"Senior, what's wrong with you again? Isn't the war over?" Jemin couldn't help but stop what he was doing and ask curiously.

Viola abruptly raised her head, glaring at him fiercely, as if she had found an outlet for her emotions: "It's over? Yes, it's over! But what did I get from this trip?! Nothing!"

She grew angrier as she spoke, jabbing the data on the virtual screen with her finger as if it were her enemy: "Besides wasting years in that godforsaken place, living in fear, and being forced to take a break! I even sacrificed a lot of high-level military merits to shorten that damn break period! And what did I get? Resources? Knowledge? The little stuff I brought back wasn't even enough to fill a tooth gap! What's most infuriating is that I was already drowning in debt! Now, it's like adding insult to injury, I'm completely bankrupt!"

She became more and more agitated as she spoke, and in the end she was almost roaring, completely losing her usual elegant and composed demeanor.

Nearby, Professor Clark was carefully adding some kind of shimmering starlight powder into a miniature reaction core.

Without even looking up, he casually interjected, "Unstable foundation, eager for quick success. I told you long ago to accumulate more knowledge before taking any action. If you had accumulated enough, you wouldn't be in this situation."

These words were like precise needle pricks, instantly puncturing Viola's arrogance.

Her momentum faltered, and she muttered a defense: "But...but even a bunch of level seven wizards have fallen this time...Can you blame me for not being prepared enough...?"

Mentor Clark finally stopped his meticulous work, slowly turned his head, and calmly looked at Viola with his unwavering eyes.

Although he did not speak or exude any aura.

But Viola instantly stiffened, like a cat caught by the scruff of its neck, and immediately fell silent. She forced a smile that looked more like a grimace, quickly changed the subject, and turned to look at Jemin:

"By the way! Jemin! You little rascal! The rewards from the expeditionary force should have been issued by now, right? You deserve the most credit! Take a look, let me see them, and soothe my wounded heart!"

Jemin was taken aback.

He's been so busy these days, constantly helping his supervisor with the backlog of experimental projects, that he completely forgot about the reward.

Under Viola's repeated urging and curious gaze, Jemin opened the magic network terminal, connected to his personal account, and found the post-war summary and merit reward notice regarding the "Justice" plane incident, which was directly issued by the Supreme Command of the Expeditionary Force.

The first thing that catches the eye is his separately listed reward, marked as "Prioritized intelligence contribution and key to breaking the deadlock":

Advanced military merit: 1,000,000 units

"One million?! A high-ranking military merit?!" Viola's eyes widened instantly, and her voice rose eight octaves.

She first looked at the string of numbers in disbelief, then at Jemin, and then it was as if all her strength had been drained away, or as if all her grievances had been ignited.

With a "thud," she collapsed to the ground, utterly disheveled, and even began pounding her heels on the smooth floor, letting out a wailing sound that sounded like crying:

"Aaaaah—this is outrageous! How could this be?! I worked so hard, almost lost my life, and lost everything! And you, you went in, died once, and came back with a million high-level military merits?! A million!! And high-level ones at that!! I can't live anymore—!"

Looking at Viola throwing a tantrum on the ground, completely lacking any decorum, Jemin rubbed his temples helplessly: "Senior, calm down. The sacrificial doll I used was worth far more than this. This reward won't even cover a fraction of it; I'm the one who's truly lost everything, okay?"

He ignored Viola, who continued to feign tears and make a scene, and turned his attention back to the post-war summary report.

The intelligence analysis section was largely as he knew, but when his gaze swept over the "Personnel Losses and Regression Statistics" section, he couldn't help but pause.

"The return rate of those trapped in this incident is approximately 87%."

"Eighty-seven percent returned?" Jemin looked at Viola, who had finally been stopped by a look from Instructor Clark and was getting up from the ground dejectedly, with some doubt. "This percentage... does that mean the casualties were very high? Didn't they say there was no battle? Why didn't they all come back?"

Viola dusted off non-existent dust, leaned closer to glance at the light screen, and a cold smile mixed with mockery and understanding appeared on her face: "Casualties? The only two unlucky ones confirmed to have died in battle this time are... Hmph, they chose not to come back."

"Willing to stay voluntarily?" Jemin was taken aback. "The Star Ring Federation... allows this?"

“Why not?” Viola retorted, her tone carrying a detached indifference that suggested she had seen through the world. “The Star Ring Federation, or rather the higher-ups of the wizarding civilization, have never cared about the specific choices of individual wizards.”

"All the hardships and adventures we have experienced are essentially a series of brutal selections, designed to refine the elites who can truly carry the future of civilization. Those who cannot bear the pressure and risks of the wizarding path and prefer to immerse themselves in a false but 'happy' life show that their will has reached its limit."

She paused, a cold smile curving her lips: "What's wrong with letting them stay there? Those with excellent wizarding potential can be used as 'high-quality stallions' to reproduce in large numbers in that modified plane, increasing the probability of future wizarding apprentices being born in that plane. It might not be a bad thing for the civilization as a whole. It's making use of waste."

Jemin remained silent for a moment, processing this cold logic.

He continued flipping through the summary report and suddenly noticed a brief entry in the "Supplementary Background Information" section of the appendix:

[Regarding the civilization that created 'Justice': The 'Enlightenment Era' civilization has been confirmed to have completely perished for unknown reasons 730,000 standard years ago, with no direct successors found.]

Upon seeing this message, Jemin's heart skipped a beat. He looked up at Viola:

"What about that sage? The ninth-level sage who created 'justice', is there any news about his whereabouts?"

Upon hearing this, Viola's mocking expression vanished.

She paused for a moment before speaking in a slightly complicated tone: "Before I came back, I heard some unverified rumors circulating from headquarters... It is said that the sage has died of old age."

"Died of old age?" Jemin asked in astonishment.

This method of death seems too ordinary, even absurd, for a level nine being.

Even Clark, who had been focused on his own experiment, paused slightly, clearly drawn in by the news.

Viola nodded, confirming, "Yes, he died of old age. I heard that he resolutely adhered to his ideals from beginning to end. In the world created by 'Justice' that suppressed all supernatural powers, he never unleashed his own power. He just went through birth, aging, sickness and death like an ordinary mortal, and finally... peacefully walked to the end of his life."

A brief silence fell over the laboratory.

Jemin opened his mouth, but found his throat was dry and he didn't know what to say for a moment.

That sage, who cherished utopian ideals and spared no effort in creating "justice" to establish an absolutely fair world, ultimately met such an ordinary end in the "ideal state" he created.

This ending is filled with an indescribable irony and sorrow, yet it also seems to carry a strange, consistent harmony throughout.

Upon hearing this, the instructor Clark slowly shook his head, seemingly wanting to deny something, but then he nodded slightly.

In the end, he made no comment, but simply lowered his head again, focusing all his attention on the faintly glowing reaction core in his hand, and continued his unfinished alchemical experiment.

(End of this chapter)