After obtaining the Gnosis, Elliot did not head straight for Celestia. Instead, he ran toward Khaenri'ah.
He knew that Khaenri'ah's destruction was not only because its technology had advanced too far.
Another reason was that they had studied something they never should have touched—
The Abyss.
Khaenri'ah was like a magnified version of Orobashi.
Orobashi had lost the Archon War, and death was the only road seemingly left to him. But that didn't mean he was doomed. He could have chosen compromise—given up his pride, lived quietly within his own domain. After all, Zebul hadn't pursued him to extinction or insisted on killing him outright.
Likewise, Khaenri'ah's advanced technology did not mean inevitable annihilation. If they destroyed their most dangerous inventions and preserved only part of their progress, they could still have survived in this world.
The reason Orobashi was doomed was because he had looked upon the forbidden text Before Sun and Moon.
And the reason Khaenri'ah was fated to fall was because they recklessly delved into the power of the Abyss.
But no matter the cause, the ordinary civilians of Khaenri'ah should not have had to suffer such meaningless disaster. They were just people—living their lives, knowing nothing of the Abyss or alchemy.
...
Elliot finally reached the underground kingdom of Khaenri'ah after a long journey.
Its prosperity far exceeded anything he had imagined. Robots—though more politely called alchemical constructs—filled the streets.
They were almost indistinguishable from humans, with a resemblance so precise it reached 99.9%. They were so lifelike that they completely bypassed the uncanny valley.
The only way to tell them apart was the mechanical switch on the back of their necks. If it was hidden, they were indistinguishable from real people.
As an underground kingdom, the city glowed with constant, brilliant light.
Elliot handed stacks of notes he had prepared to passing constructs. Since the items were not dangerous, they accepted them without question.
On each slip of paper was a warning, his final attempt to give the common people of Khaenri'ah a chance:
"In three days, disaster will strike. Please leave Khaenri'ah at once."
He had written hundreds of these notes by hand during his time resting on Narukami Island.
Writing with only his right hand was troublesome. If he still had both arms, he might have been able to write thousands.
Elliot knew most would dismiss the notes as nothing but a prank. But that didn't matter. If even one person believed him and fled, it would already be worth it.
This was the last thing he could do for Khaenri'ah. Their destruction was destined, but the innocent did not deserve to be branded with the Curse of Immortality—to be twisted into monsters and suffer endless torment of body and soul.
And he had only given them three days. That was precious little time, enough only for ordinary civilians to escape alone.
Those who studied the Abyss or alchemy, even if they believed the notes, could not leave. Their research required equipment, and three days was nowhere near enough to take it all.
Even if they abandoned their equipment and fled with only their notes, continuing their research later would be nearly impossible. And if they ever tried again, the Heavenly Principles would inevitably discover them—bringing about another calamity.
Of course, the chances were slim.
Khaenri'ah was vast, its population immense. Elliot had only a few hundred notes, each carrying a single cryptic warning. Fewer than one percent of people might believe him.
It was like living peacefully in a city for over ten years, only to receive a slip of paper saying your city would be destroyed in three days and you had to leave everything behind.
Most people's first reaction would naturally be—"a prank."
Elliot knew this all too well. But still, he had to try. If even one family believed him, that was enough.
To save even a single life—this was the last thing he could do for Khaenri'ah.
The reason he chose notes instead of shouting in the streets was because he feared the Gnosis might be under surveillance.
If the Heavenly Principles overheard him, he'd be doomed.
Notes were far safer.
Besides, calling out might not even work. Khaenri'ah did not believe in gods, and Elliot was marked as a servant of the gods. Notes might be more effective than his voice ever could be.
"Next..."
"It's time to make my final preparations."
After distributing all the notes, Elliot left Khaenri'ah immediately.
He settled cross-legged atop a mountain peak, quietly circulating his Meditation Mantra.
In these three days, he had to push his spirit to its absolute peak.
His physical training was already complete. Now, only his spirit remained.
He had to be at his full strength to face the coming war—he could not afford a single moment of carelessness.