The elven messenger spoke first, his voice flowing like a clear spring:
"Her Majesty Elisia has expressed concern over the recent excessive logging of ancient border forests by human kingdoms in order to obtain 'magic wood'."
This violates the charter's provisions regarding the protection of natural sanctuaries.
The orc liaison immediately retorted in a gruff voice:
"Hmph! Those forests are unclaimed land! According to the agreement, our orc tribe has the right to hunt and awaken our bloodlines there! Humans cut down their trees, we hunt our beasts, what's wrong with that? Do the elves have to interfere so much?"
The envoy of the Human Empire defended himself by saying:
"The Empire needs resources to rebuild order and develop new magical industries. Those timbers are important strategic materials. We are willing to pay reasonable compensation, but we cannot stop development."
The dwarf representative interrupted in a muffled voice:
"We need deeper data on the mineral veins. Those newly emerging 'geological disturbances' are affecting our excavation safety. Does the Xinghuo Base have a more detailed exploration report?"
The Naga messenger then spoke in a voice with a strange echo:
"The ocean is not without its owners. Recently, several human fleets have entered our clan's designated no-fishing zone without permission to catch rare fish species affected by magic. The Lord of the Tides has limited patience."
Arguments, explanations, and excuses... Allen listened quietly, his brows furrowing slightly.
Is this the new order established by the Father and those supreme beings?
While it may seem that boundaries have been drawn to prevent the gods from directly intervening and breaking off relations, the friction, competition for resources, and racial conflicts beneath the surface have not decreased at all. On the contrary, with the popularization of magic, they have become more intense and complex due to the increased power of all parties.
He noticed that his father, Lind, mostly listened silently and rarely spoke.
Only when the argument became too heated and almost escalated into personal attacks would Astaire step in to mediate at Lind's behest, calmly and authoritatively bringing the issue back within the framework.
His father was like an iceberg; the part above the water was calm and still, but what was the vast part underwater thinking? Allen looked at his father's expressionless profile, his heart filled with questions.
Why should a father, who possesses such immense power that he can even kill gods, tolerate these “trivial” arguments?
Why not just forcefully enforce his will?
The meeting ended in an atmosphere that was not exactly harmonious, but at least superficially restrained.
The liaisons from all sides left with varying emotions.
Feeling bored? Or feeling powerless?
A calm voice sounded beside Allen.
Allen snapped back to reality and realized that his father had somehow walked up to him. Alice and Eileen had already left.
"Father."
Allen bowed respectfully, then carefully chose his words, "I just... feel that the problem they are arguing about doesn't seem unsolvable, but why is it so difficult?"
Linde looked at his son, his deep purple eyes seeming to see right through his thoughts.
"The significance of rules lies not in eliminating contradictions, but in providing a framework for resolving contradictions that does not destroy everything."
Military force can conquer, but it cannot bring lasting stability, especially when the opponent is not a single entity, but countless wills scattered throughout the world.
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the empty council hall:
“Theolandis failed because he tried to bind everything with a ‘net,’ which ultimately led to the most intense backlash. What we are doing now is building a ‘platform’ where different voices can collide and compromise. This process is slow and noisy, but it is the only way for the new order to truly take root.”
"But this is too slow!"
Allen couldn't help but say, "The continent is still in chaos, new monsters are emerging, and those who have gained power are still fighting... We clearly have the technology and the ability..."
"What we have are 'seeds' and 'tools'."
Linde interrupted him, his tone still calm, "But how to sow the seeds, how to get this land to accept and nurture them, takes time, and also... people like you to find a more suitable way."
Linde's gaze fell on Allen, carrying an expectation that Allen couldn't fully comprehend:
"Your workshop, the constructs you research, your understanding of the combination of light vein energy and matter... these may have a greater impact on the future than a hundred meetings like this."
Allen was stunned. His father had never so directly affirmed his research direction.
“Power takes many forms, Allen.”
Linde's voice lowered, "Destroying the old gods is one thing, establishing rules is another, but creating things that can improve life and elevate the entire civilization is yet another, perhaps... a more profound one."
After saying that, Linde patted his son on the shoulder, turned and left, leaving Allen alone in the empty hall, pondering his father's words.
Is creation more profound than destruction?
Allen looked down at his hands.
These hands may not be able to wield the God-Slaying Spear like their father, nor to unleash elemental turmoil like their sister, but they can create constructs for exploring the unknown, optimize the efficiency of energy cores, and create automated defense devices to help civilians resist monsters.
He recalled the "Tunneler Type III" he had just completed, the simple light pulse filter he had previously designed for purifying water, and the agricultural structure he was still conceiving that could assist farmers in precision planting...
Perhaps, Father was right.
In this new era where the gods have retreated into the background, the rules are just beginning to be established, but the lower levels are still full of chaos and opportunities, there is a need for someone to "build," to "fill" the gaps, and to use tangible technology and creation to transform the lofty rules into a better life that ordinary people can touch.
An unprecedented sense of clarity and mission welled up in Allen's heart.
He raised his head, his gaze passing through the glass windows of the hall, looking towards the sky outside the base, which was forever changing due to the magical tides.
The father's story is one of slaying gods and establishing rules; it is an epic saga.
His story may begin in this workshop, with the cold metal and warm energy in his hands, and with how to use creative wisdom to respond to the most subtle yet universal cries of this wild age.
A new era needs new heroes, in new ways.
Allen Truk took a deep breath, turned around, and strode towards his workshop. There lay his battlefield, his cosmos.
Unbeknownst to him, deep within the core of the "Tunneler Type III," which had just been tested in the corner of his workshop, an extremely faint, undesigned, anomalous energy signal flickered briefly, like a dormant insect, before returning to stillness. Whether this insignificant ripple would become the butterfly wing that ignites a new storm, no one knew.
The wheels of time are slowly turning, carrying hope, but also hiding reefs.
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