"It looks… peaceful," Valeria whispered, sheathing her claymore. The tension in her shoulders, which had been tight since the battle with Kincaid, relaxed slightly. "Maybe the intel was wrong? Maybe this Vicar really is protecting people."
Alvian stood on the precipice, his [Vestments of the Void Monarch] absorbing the sunlight, making him look like a tear in the bright landscape. He adjusted his gloves, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the idyllic scene below.
"Look closer," Alvian said, his voice flat. "Peace is inefficient in a mana-rich environment. Nature demands growth, conflict, and evolution. Silence is not peace, Valeria. Silence is suppression."
He pointed to the fields.
Valeria squinted. From this distance, the farmers looked industrious. But as she focused, she realized something was wrong. They moved in perfect unison. They didn't speak to one another. They didn't pause to wipe sweat from their brows. They swung their hoes with the mechanical rhythm of automatons.
