# Chapter 1: Roar Towards the Future
Siberia World, former No. 55 Wilderness Breeding Ground, now "War Chariot Plains."
The sun was rising, the dazzling light of the summer sun bright and warm.
Former superhuman, now farmer "War Chariot," watched the sunlight shine upon the swaying wheat fields on the plains. The robust old man raised his hand to block the light coming from the side, unable to suppress his smile.
As time passed, even those who once lived in endless panic and slaughter had mostly gradually accepted and adapted to the current state of the world. War Chariot had woken up early before dawn, using his superhuman physique to finish all the work in the dark.
Fertilizing, watering, pulling weeds, and driving away pests were no longer necessary. The newly reborn Siberia World did not yet have such things as pests. The old man stood with one hand on his hip, holding a sickle and gesturing toward the wheat field before him. To be honest, ever since the wheat seedlings had grown tall, he had been itching to cut something.
Although using enough strength to slice through Soul Puppet armor plates to cut wheat seedlings was a bit embarrassing, what did it matter? No matter how dull and boring peace was, it was a thousand times better than passionate war. Smelling the rich scent of vegetation mixed with the stench of fertilizer, War Chariot couldn't help but sneeze.
"Good grief, that's really stinky!"
The old man muttered softly, then laughed even more heartily.
This plain was named War Chariot Plains. The entire plain belonged to him, and he cultivated the entire plain. It sounded unbelievable, but in reality, it wasn't so. With the power of a strong superhuman, War Chariot could plow at subsonic speeds just by running at a relatively fast pace. His strength was greater than the agricultural machines recorded in history books. As long as the old man was willing, he alone could sow, plant, and harvest an entire plain.
In fact, that was exactly what he did.
And this was the case in almost every corner of the entire Siberia World.
When the battle that ended everything concluded, the Steel God from the outside left this world. From then on, there was no more oppression, no more slaughter. The resistance army and the Soul Puppets temporarily reconciled. Under the coordination of some mysterious will, both sides each occupied half of the world, living together on this continent.
Using superpowers to farm was not a shameful thing. On the contrary, it was extremely praiseworthy. The land that War Chariot cultivated alone could supply the entire resistance army's food rations with plenty left over, requiring at most a few weather-manipulating and earth-manipulating ability users to assist. This way, everyone else could focus their energy on the important task of rebuilding civilization.
That master of time had not burned all the books. In fact, he had preserved essentially the most essential ideological and technical texts of the former Siberia civilization, placing them in the underground library of the Central Spiral Tower. With these books put into use, all the younger superhumans with potential began to learn their ancestors' technologies from scratch, trying to build this world into a better place.
Compared to normal transcendent worlds, almost all of this generation of intelligent life in the Siberia World were superhumans. This meant that many things that required factories or cooperation among many people could be directly handled by those special superhumans. Metal processing could be left to metal and electromagnetic ability users, and energy sources could be left to fire and lightning-type ability users.
Several ability users working together could replace some of the small factories of the past, manufacturing high-precision industrial facilities. Beyond that, powerful superpowers could accomplish even more things, such as reasonably distributing rainfall and snowfall, providing the most suitable environment for resistance members to live in. And then there was War Chariot, who alone could cultivate an entire plain—something that over a thousand farmers in the past might not have been able to achieve.
Turning the power used for destruction and slaughter into power for creation and cultivation—he had to admit, this feeling brought the old man, who had fought his entire life, a sense of redemption.
Planting something, harvesting something, giving food to those in need, witnessing the new generation grow up on the ruins of the past, turning wastelands and deserts into lush green fields... It was a bit embarrassing to say, but even the old man who wouldn't say a word even when mortally wounded actually shed tears during the first harvest last year, startling his former combatants who rushed over to comfort him.
Of course, the old man's tears were not from sadness, but from pure joy.
"Speaking of which, we still have to thank those Soul Puppets. Without them... well, without *them*. Without their help, we wouldn't have been able to learn the language of the old Siberians from scratch, and then learn these technologies."
Thinking of this, War Chariot couldn't help but recall the negotiations years ago between the Soul Puppets and the resistance army, which at that time had no power to resist. Back then, the Soul Puppets occupied all the breeding and planting grounds of the entire world, possessing a complete soul-superhuman industrial structure. The two sides weren't even on the same level of strength, yet the other side still negotiated with them in the most sincere and genuine manner.
War Chariot still remembered the words of the Soul Puppet leader at that time—a rather petite girl-shaped Soul Puppet.
"Beings that slow down their own progress due to the feedback mechanism of emotion are what the Dominant calls defective products."
"We don't want to become finished products, but we don't want to become defective products either. We won't forget history, but it won't affect our judgment either. Siberians, the past is past. I know and understand that you have suffered greatly at our hands, so you can choose to take revenge on us—though it would be meaningless—and we would naturally resist."
"But if possible, as long as you are willing, we can walk toward the future together."
The future.
War Chariot chewed on this word. How luxurious it had once been, how unattainable.
But now, it was no longer a luxury. Every new Siberian could have it.
The old man sat down in a corner of the lush wheat field, on the steps at the entrance of his small house. He wiped his forehead with his hand, though there wasn't a single drop of sweat on it.
The current Siberia World was beautiful, peaceful, without any war or conflict. Everyone was working hard for the future. Although eighty percent of the continent's land was still barren desert and rocky plains, with the technology of the Soul Puppets and the old Siberians, restoring it to its most beautiful form was only a matter of time. Moreover, scouts had reported discovering several new continents or huge islands on the other side of the ocean.
If worst came to worst, they could just go to those new worlds. It couldn't possibly be worse than now, right?
War Chariot would rather spend his entire life like this—wasted away—in these golden wheat fields. He knew that all his strength would have no use, but that didn't matter at all. Rather than being a battalion commander of the resistance army, he would rather become an old farmer with sun-bronzed skin, using a sickle to cut weeds, occasionally going to the seaside to fish.
Thinking of such a calm and leisurely future, the old man squinted his eyes, a smile appearing on his wrinkled and scarred face. He lowered his head and looked at his glove.
On the glove was a gem.
A silver gem.
Before leaving, the Steel God had left behind six gems of different colors, each representing a superpower that could be cultivated later. Among them, silver represented control over metal and earth; cyan meant creating wind, fire, and lightning; white was high-speed vibration; red was radiation and explosion; the gold gem allowed instant teleportation; and black could create an energy-absorbing shield that could withstand anything.
These were not legacies left for them, but for their descendants. Their descendants, the offspring of superhumans, might not necessarily have superpowers themselves. In that case, those descendants without abilities could learn these superpowers to gain power.
Of course, among their descendants, there might also be some who couldn't even cultivate these superpowers... But that no longer mattered.
After experiencing so much, no one would discriminate against the powerless anymore.
Perhaps hundreds of years later, descendants who had forgotten the pain would repeat the painful cycle of "contradiction between superhumans and the powerless." But even if the contradiction erupted, they wouldn't destroy themselves.
Although humans were creatures that never learned from history, before the complete memory of destruction brought by the master of time disappeared from the civilization's history, they would also fear that sorrowful possibility.
"War Chariot, what are you daydreaming about?"
"Ah, Commander!"
The old man, lost in thought, suddenly heard a familiar voice. He quickly stood up and looked toward the path between the ridges not far away. There, a Soul Puppet was pushing a wheelchair carrying a bald old man with limited mobility.
War Chariot hurried to meet them. He knew that this old fellow, who looked at least twenty years older than him, with dense wrinkles and appearing as if he might die at any moment, was one of their former resistance army commanders—and the only one still alive.
War Chariot took the wheelchair from the Soul Puppet, who had the appearance of a young black-haired man. The Soul Puppet nodded, then teleported away and disappeared.
The old man pushed the other old man, strolling through the fields.
"This is it, isn't it?"
The former commander, who seemed to have completely entered retirement mode while sitting in the wheelchair, said this.
This seemingly ancient old man was one of the few great superhumans in the entire resistance army. His power was enough to contend with an entire squad of ability-using Soul Puppets.
In fact, if he were willing to continue fighting and maintain his peak condition, this commander could still keep a youthful body and one hundred percent combat effectiveness for another five years.
But once he stopped fighting, his gathered power would relax, and due to various injuries, he could only live for another ten-plus years in pain and weakness.
This former commander originally didn't want to live on so cowardly. The civilization had new hope; he felt he should die. But many people, including War Chariot, earnestly advised him.
"You should see it! At least you should see the new beginning of our civilization!"
"You once said that death is just an easy farewell, but only persevering to live is the greatest courage!"
Countless sincere pleas filled the commander with courage. He persisted in living—though it was indeed painful and weak—but he knew everyone was right. After all, who wouldn't want to witness the future? And who had the right to casually give up their right to exist, causing all the efforts of those who fought for it to come to nothing?
Survival was not an inherent right, but a trophy that forgotten heroes had forcibly taken from an indifferent world.
Even if the giant god from beyond the heavens descended and defeated the master of time, it was because the resistance had persisted through endless cycles. If they hadn't waited for the Steel God, they would have continued to resist until they were destroyed or hope arrived.
"This is it, isn't it."
Pushing the small wheelchair, War Chariot gazed at the golden light and wheat fields ahead. He said softly, "Everything we wanted to see—it's truly beautiful."
"Ah, you brat, don't say that."
The former commander, who had just come to visit an old friend, slowly squinted his eyes. He smiled, speaking insincerely: "A wheat field that stinks? You think this measly field looks good? This isn't what I wanted to see! I want to see the scenery ten years from now. I want to see them build a huge city, taller than that tower before... Ouch!"
"What are you thinking? Instead of daydreaming about that, why not practice the legacy left by that Steel God more and live a few hundred more years!"
War Chariot unhesitatingly patted the other's bald head, and immediately, the two old men burst into laughter.
The laughter was filled with joy, happiness, and after all the bitterness had passed, infinitely complex emotions and tears.
And at the same time.
At the center of the world.
Deep within the ruins of the Spiral Tower, which had become a forbidden zone.
A petite Soul Puppet walked slowly on the gray ground covered in fine dust. But no matter how soft the sand was, not a speck of dust touched her feet.
Soon, this Soul Puppet arrived at the center of the forbidden zone—the battlefield of the decisive battle, filled with violent energy radiation.
Here, the Steel God from the outside had fought the master of time. The former had won; the latter had been annihilated here.
Approaching the very center of the former decisive battle step by step, the Soul Puppet, appearing as a girl, kept a blank expression, but her heart was surging with waves.
"Dominant."
Looking at the constantly fluctuating energy spectrum before her, the petite Soul Puppet thought: "I think we know the meaning of our existence now."
Soul Puppets were born to exist for you, to sacrifice for you. But whether for faith or for other reasons, you did not sacrifice us, did not abandon us. You cycled through time again and again, never treating us as burdens to discard.
Some thought it was just because you needed our faith. But was that really the case? You would rather die yourself, calling us defective products, than sever the connection between us and you.
This shouldn't be.
Your sins rightfully include a share for us. If you were to be destroyed because of them, we should also return with you. You gave us life, and we should use our lives to gain the greatest benefit for you. Even if my existence could only provide the most insignificant progress for your plan, that would still be meaningful.
But you... you didn't.
The Soul Puppet arrived at the very center of the decisive battle. The girl-like puppet looked up at the noon sun. The gray dust and abnormal radiation scattered the sunlight, turning it into somewhat gloomy gray light.
"You... longed for a world without sorrow, without war."
The Soul Puppet, who had once accompanied Fatlervi through three hundred and twenty world-line changes, whispered to herself: "What you longed for was merely that—merely a peaceful, happy everything."
But this most simple longing was twisted by extreme hatred. You forgot your original intention, fell into madness. You tortured for the sake of torture, unable to escape from this sorrowful vortex.
But my Dominant.
"I will realize it for you. Even if you can no longer see it, can no longer confirm it, I will do it. I will turn this world you once hated and once loved into the most praiseworthy star in the river of stars."
"I hope that then, you can forget all of this, and as an ordinary person, on this beautiful world, live a life without hatred, without sorrow, filled with love and hope."
The Soul Puppet slowly crouched down.
At the center of the former battlefield, on the earth illuminated by gray light.
There, there was a small, inconspicuous grave.
On it was an epitaph inscribed in neat old Siberian script.
Father, Mother, Little Sister, Me.
A small, multicolored spiritual crystal was embedded in it.
During the negotiations, the resistance army did not demand the destruction of this inconspicuous tombstone.
"Is this enough?" a resistance member had once asked in confusion.
The answer was that it was already enough.
This sorrowful grave would become the most hated, most despised, most sorrowful end and beginning of their new civilization... Want to be forgotten? No way! Fatlervi, you will become the most sorrowful eternity, recorded on the first page of the history books of the new Siberia civilization, an eternal warning for future generations!
And just as War Chariot and the former commander were moving through the golden wheat fields.
Just as the petite Soul Puppet reached out her hand, wanting to touch the multicolored spiritual crystal.
With a faint hum that seemed to pierce through the entire world, accompanied by the entire world beginning to tremble slightly.
A silver pillar of light descended from the sky.
One by one, crystal obelisks, with the tacit permission of the Steel Serpent, crossed the boundaries through a medium left by some existence, descending into this world!
It could be seen that above the Siberia continent, six gems flickered with infinite light. They were like six transmitters, providing the most accurate coordinates for the appearance of those obelisks.
"Wha, what is this!?!"
In the fields, War Chariot and the former commander were dumbfounded. They watched as the silver gem on War Chariot's hand suddenly burst forth with a beam of light, and then this light materialized a silver crystal obelisk hundreds of meters tall in the wheat field not far away!
If it were just that, it wouldn't be a big deal. After all, both old men had experienced countless battlefields and were well-traveled. But then, from these obelisks, projections of strange creatures suddenly appeared, manifesting in the empty spaces around them.
All these projections were in the form of beasts. Somehow, War Chariot and the former commander knew that these were not intelligent life forms, but creatures beneficial to the ecological cycle and capable of adapting to the local environment. The Siberia World had been a wasteland for a thousand years; almost all wild animals had long gone extinct, and the remaining farmed creatures had no power beneficial to the natural environment. But the creatures in these projections could exactly do this—they could open up wilderness, spread seeds, promote plant growth, and purify air and water.
And at the same time, not only War Chariot and the commander, but other resistance members, other Soul Puppets, and the girl puppet at the center of the former battlefield also stood up. They heard it.
They all heard it.
In the river of stars spanning across the void and countless worlds, a desolate horn sounded. It passed through the darkest turbulent currents, through all the dead ruins and silent dreams. It could be heard—a voice filled with anger, also filled with encouragement—echoing throughout the entire river of stars.
"Awaken, you long-dead failures!"
"Now is the time to reclaim glory!"
They heard it.
In the deserts and farmlands of the Siberia World, they heard it.
The survivors and strong ones of the Carlis World, and the silver fairies drifting in the flower fields, pricked up their ears. The dragonmen and thunderous ancient dragons of the Chronos World also awakened. They heard it.
In the silence of the Bloodmoon Abyss, the huge Light Humanoid heard it.
Standing alone in the shadow of the Sixth Abyss, the Demon King of Ten Thousand Demons, Goliath, also heard it.
In a hundred other silent places, in thousands upon thousands of other silent places, in the deepest part of the Extreme Dark Abyss, all the former failures heard this voice, this war cry, this inspiring encouragement.
Then, one by one, accompanied by scorching bright light, accompanied by shining silver radiance, the crystal obelisks began to glow, to brighten. All the projections began to fill in.
They began to awaken, to make sounds.
And then, responding to the call of that desolate horn, toward the future, they let out unwilling roars.