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Silence.
A deathly silence spread across the battlefield.
Above the carnage, the crystal ball floated, its golden vertical eye staring unblinking at the rout below. It had watched the entire conflict unfold: the proud Orc Empire, its half a million elite soldiers, collapsing in shame before a mere twenty thousand mortals.
The result was undeniable. The orcs had been crushed.
---
The Tower of the Central Magic Empire
Far away, in the City of Laws—the capital of the Central Magic Empire—the atmosphere inside the Central Magic Tower was equally suffocating.
Eleven magicians, cloaked in black robes and faceless masks, stood before the shimmering crystal mirror. The projection had shown every moment: the charge of the griffins, the collapse of the infantry, the annihilation of the orc wizards' formation, and finally, the insane breakdown of Emperor Longdan Gol himself.
Not a word was spoken for a long time.
An army of half a million… destroyed by twenty thousand mortals.
The arrogance of the magicians, their centuries of superiority over ordinary humans, cracked under the weight of that fact.
At last, a voice broke the silence. Beneath a mask patterned with black streaks, Tang Ke muttered:
"Five hundred thousand of the Orc Empire's finest. Tell me… how many troops would we need to defeat such a force ourselves?"
His words fell like a boulder into still water, shattering the quiet. The magicians stirred, voices rising in disbelief.
"Impossible! The most elite army of the Orc Empire—slaughtered by mortals?!"
"Did you see their weapons? Those strange cannons, those steel beasts! There was no fluctuation of magic at all, and yet they destroyed tens of thousands with each volley!"
The faceless masks turned back to the mirror, their hands trembling.
Then, without warning, the image flickered. The battlefield vanished.
"What?!"
"What happened to the feed?!"
One mage leapt to his feet, eyes wide.
"Could the mortals have… discovered our crystal ball?"
"Impossible!" another snapped. "The scrying orb floats a thousand meters high. No mortal weapon can reach it!"
But Cesár, calm even now, shook his head. His faceless mask tilted slightly.
"The data is clear. The crystal ball was destroyed—instantly."
The chamber fell silent again.
"A thousand meters in the air… struck down in one blow…" A trembling voice spoke what all were thinking. "Then even dragons would not be safe from them."
---
Calculation of Power
Tang Ke slammed his palm against the table, his voice sharp.
"Enough gawking! Calculate! I want to know how many troops we would need to achieve the same result—how many lives we would spend to match what these mortals have done!"
The others hesitated, then one stepped forward, drawing glowing runes across the floor. He began the calculation, weaving numbers with mana. Minutes passed.
Finally, he froze, his body trembling.
"Well? Speak!" the others demanded.
The mage swallowed hard. "It's… it's unthinkable. But the numbers are clear."
"Say it!"
"To destroy an army of five hundred thousand orcs as completely as those mortals just did, we would need…" His voice faltered.
"One thousand dragon knights to counter the fifty thousand griffins."
"Ten thousand unicorn beast riders to match their corrupted wolf cavalry."
"Two thousand battle-mages to unleash long-range devastation equal to their artillery."
"And at least fifty thousand rune-armored knights to break their heavy infantry."
The chamber shook with gasps.
"And even then," the mage whispered, "we would pay with half our forces."
---
The Unbearable Truth
The black-robed figures stared at him in horror.
"Sixty thousand of us… to do what twenty thousand mortals just accomplished?"
"And we'd still lose thirty thousand in the process?"
The implications were staggering.
By this measure, a single mortal soldier from the Ross Kingdom was worth more than three magicians in battle.
The thought was unbearable.
The magicians had always dismissed mortals as lesser beings—frail bodies, weak magical affinity, short lives. In the Central Territories, where magic was thick in the air, they had built an unshakable pride. To them, mortals were little better than children playing at war.
But today, that pride crumbled. The mortals had defeated what even the Tongsley Empire at its height could not break.
And they had done it without magic.
---
Panic and Denial
"No… no, it cannot be!" one mage cried out, his voice desperate. "They must be hiding their magic power somehow, cloaking it with strange artifacts. No mortals could wield such power unaided!"
"Yes, yes!" another shouted, seizing the lifeline. "Perhaps they are not mortals at all, but a secret army crafted by the Magic Empire or the United States of Locke!"
"That must be it!" others agreed quickly, clinging to denial. "It's impossible for a mere mortal kingdom to possess such weapons! If they are ours, then all is well!"
Their words tumbled over each other, self-deception thick in the chamber.
But Cesár's quiet voice cut through their noise.
"This army belongs to the Ross Kingdom. A mortal nation of the Western Regions."
The room froze.
"No…"
"That's impossible…"
"Ross? They're nothing but a speck on the map! A country of farmers and peasants!"
Cesár looked at the now-dark mirror, his faceless mask unreadable.
"Yet it is true. And if mortals can create weapons such as these… then perhaps they are about to overturn the world itself."
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A New Reality
The magicians stood in silence, their thoughts racing.
If mortals could slay dragons from the sky… what use were wizards?
If mortals could annihilate five hundred thousand orcs with twenty thousand men… what did that mean for empires built on magic?
The pride they had cherished for centuries now felt hollow.
For the first time, they felt fear.
Not of demons. Not of otherworldly gates. But of mortals—those they had dismissed as weak, fleeting things.
Mortals with steel weapons. Mortals with thunder in their hands. Mortals who no longer needed magic.
Perhaps, as Cesár whispered to himself:
"Mortals are about to turn the sky upside down."
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