A quiet piano room, its windows adorned with fabric curtains. A clear sky, and the wind drifting through the room.
Slender fingers danced across the piano keys, pressing out notes that struck against the taut steel strings, producing a series of crisp metallic tones, which then converged into a continuous melody.
The music started gently, grew somber in the middle, then built to an explosive climax. The final, tightly woven notes surged like a mighty river, until the very last sound was struck—abruptly cutting off, leaving only lingering echoes in the air.
Silence returned to the room. The figure seated by the piano stood up. She had long black hair, styled into an intricate and elegant arrangement, adorned with pearl hair ornaments. She wore a black dress with layered lace trims—somewhat reserved yet refined—accentuating her graceful figure.
"Dolores, your playing was incredible. Listening to it felt like being at sea in the midst of a storm—gradually rising tension and exhilaration."
The speaker was a girl seated on the other side of the room. She, too, had long black hair and wore a deep blue dress.
The two of them stood by the window, gazing at the early autumn scenery outside. In the southern district, February marked the autumn season. The landscape was dotted with leaves in shades of orange-red, emerald green, and pale yellow, interwoven beneath the blue sky.
"Thilan, have you studied music? You seem quite familiar with sheet music." Dolores asked.
"A bit of violin, but I didn’t bring it with me today." The girl shook her head, and the two quietly enjoyed this rare, leisurely afternoon.
"Tonight, the Hat and Dagger club is going up against the Meteor Spear club from Thunder Edge Academy. Will you be watching, Thilan?"
"I will. President Amorth already spoke to me. Even if we lose, we have to learn from the experience—we can’t waste this opportunity."
"Looks like he’s set on pushing you into leadership, not even considering any other candidates." Dolores turned her head, studying the girl beside her—familiar, yet in some ways still a mystery to her.
"I can’t shake the feeling that you’re hiding quite a few secrets from me, Thilan."
"That... is true." The girl admitted helplessly, lightly shaking the strands of hair at the back of her head.
"And rather troublesome secrets. Sometimes, they weigh on me. At times, I feel like giving up entirely—it all seems so distant, that goal I’m striving toward."
"Do you feel like you're lacking in ability?" Dolores asked with interest.
"Yes. This isn’t the romantic era of heroism anymore. No matter how strong an individual may be, there are many greater forces at play—social issues, broader trends—that cannot be easily resolved."
"You’re concerned about economic and systemic matters? That’s rare—most high schoolers wouldn’t even think about these things."
"I am. If I said it out loud, people might laugh at me. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m just worrying over nothing. But both logic and instinct keep warning me—I need to grow stronger, and quickly. I need to find a way to change things, or there will be irreversible consequences in the future."
The girl stood quietly in the breeze, her hair and dress fluttering gently.
After inheriting the will of Isanisha and Amuraline, she had gradually come to understand that, sooner or later, she would follow a path similar to theirs.
Fate had bestowed upon her such generous gifts. If she thought only of herself—hiding away in the hollow of a tree as the setting sun cast long shadows—she would feel a deep unease. From a simple, earnest desire, she wished to repay the trust placed in her. To honor the beautiful dreams that had been left behind.
Though the Federation still appeared prosperous and vast on the surface, beneath it, many problems had already begun to fester beyond repair. The only reason these issues remained suppressed was the Federation’s overwhelming military power.
The development model of capitalist financial conglomerates naturally favored profitability. They would always have greater means to accumulate wealth and resist risks compared to the lower classes. Over time, the gap between rich and poor would inevitably widen—the rich growing richer, the poor growing poorer.
Yet, business profits—regardless of their nature—ultimately relied on consumer spending. And all forms of consumption depended on a large, financially stable population. But when the lower classes earned less and their lives became increasingly difficult, their spending power would inevitably decline.
As consumption fell and demand for goods decreased, it might seem that only the upper-class capitalists would suffer losses. But in reality, the impact on the lower classes would be even more severe—unemployment would rise, and job prospects would become even more grim.
The more people lost their jobs, the more wages for those still employed would decline. After all, as the well-known saying goes: "If you won’t do it, plenty of others will."
When the economic climate worsened and competition intensified, anxiety would spread throughout society. This widespread anxiety would erode the mental space needed for quiet reflection—for immersing oneself in a story or deeply studying a field of knowledge. Instead, people would constantly seek out fleeting distractions to numb themselves. They would become more obsessed with appearances, more sensitive, and more prone to emotional outbursts.
And as this anxiety spread, all sorts of unscrupulous profit-making schemes would emerge. People would grow more materialistic, more fixated on power. Even the most unethical tactics would find admirers—some would see them as "natural selection" or "just the way things are."
Once such attitudes became widespread, the moral constraints that once held society together would begin to dissolve. More and more people would abandon morality altogether. The result? A society plagued by suspicion and distrust, which would only further fuel the cycle of anxiety.
Meanwhile, the children of the wealthy—sheltered by their privileged backgrounds—would be immune to such struggles. They would remain secure, emotionally stable, and have far greater opportunities to rise in various fields. This would only further widen the social divide.
The study of the transcendent sequence follows the same principle. When a person is constantly troubled by the trivialities of life and their mind is restless with anxiety, it may not seem like a major issue in everyday life. However, when it comes to advancing—a process that requires intense concentration and a calm state of mind—the outcome will be vastly different.
Geniuses and a small fraction of individuals with unwavering willpower may not need to worry about this. But the vast majority of people are not geniuses. Under these conditions, even the path of transcendent power—originally a relatively equalizing force that could alter one's fate—gradually becomes influenced by wealth. Better resources, superior mentors, and a more stable mindset—what was once a power meant to break shackles has now become a new kind of shackle, leaving many stranded before they can take their first step.
As she listened to Thilan slowly articulate her observations, thoughts, and beliefs, Dolores walked up to her and gently embraced her.
"Thinking about all these issues... it must be exhausting."
"We are merely mortals. There's no need to agonize over problems that only the gods can solve." She softly stroked the other girl's back and hair.
...
"Yes! That’s right! Only the gods can resolve the situation we are in!"
In an underground assembly hall, tens of thousands had gathered. The only lights illuminated the high stage where a man stood, shouting with fervor, his expression both frenzied and enraptured.
"We cannot continue sinking like this! Countless people are suffering, Isanisha’s ideals are being defiled, Amuraline’s legacy is being forgotten, and human civilization is nearing its end!"
"We—you—every single one of us is a victim of this world! Why do we not change this? Why do we not pray for the arrival of the true gods?"
The atmosphere grew increasingly feverish. Among the crowd, some screamed and shouted in response.
"Remember! Recall that great sage—the Morning Star who descended upon the world, the guiding light of humanity, the eternal Wing of the Cradle, the miraculous Crown of ages past!"
"We need a new Throne of the Gods! A divine crown that shall rise from the end of that throne!"
"The Federation has deceived us. They have all deceived us! They fabricate lies to blind us, to make us fear touching the Miracle Crown that once elevated humanity to its pinnacle! What 'Black Sun'? What 'Dark Past of the Fifth Epoch'? Those are nothing more than scare tactics, meant to keep us from even daring to dream of the divine power that once reshaped the entire galaxy!"
"Yes, I despise blind religious worship. I despise mindlessly echoing the voice of the masses just to fit in. But what choice do we, in our weakness, have against their oppression?"
"We must unite! We have to unite! For our future! For humanity’s future! For the future of the entire world!"
"That’s right! We shall restore the forgotten Throne of the Gods! We shall defy the taboos set by the Federation and the Pan-Human Alliance! We shall rebuild our own Miracle Star! We shall change everything!!"
"Rise, O Divine Throne! Stand and sing in unison! Beneath its brilliant radiance, whether you, or I, or anyone—we shall all be bound by that sacred resonance! Our voices, our will, our prayers shall be heard! They shall echo across the galaxy!"
"Crush this decayed system beneath our feet! Overthrow the greedy corporate giants! Strike down those arrogant elites who scorn us! And if the world refuses to accept us—then we shall destroy this world!!!"
By the end, his voice had turned hoarse, like a blood-choked cry. And from the crowd below erupted a roar that threatened to tear through the very ceiling.
"Throne of the Gods!"
"Crown of the Gods!"
"Throne of the Gods!"
"Crown of the Gods!"
"Throne of the Gods!"
"Crown of the Gods!"
The voices echoed endlessly—so persistent, so frenzied, and yet, so sorrowful.