"Now then," the Prime Minister continued, "let us move on to the information provided to us by the System of Earth."
He took a slow breath, bracing himself.
"First, the System states that it is bound to the human race. It lives and dies with us. So, in theory, we don't need to fear it."
He paused. "Whether that's true… remains to be seen."
A murmur spread through the audience.
"Second. In one year's time, the Earth System will connect to the Universal System. At that moment, a battlefield will be generated, and we will be transported there. According to the information we've been given, a portal will open in each province. The exact locations will be chosen with assistance from the System."
He flipped a page.
"We will have seven days—only seven—to move all our supplies through the portals. Food. Weapons. Armor. Raw materials. Everything we'll need. After that, the portals close, and every human on Earth will be transported to the battlefield."
"Once there, each of you must choose:
Fight the goblins, or contribute in logistics—farming, mining, construction. The System assures us these tasks are possible and necessary on the battlefield."
A new panel appeared on-screen.
Goblin — Standard Status Panel
Status
Race: Goblin
Stage: Mortal
Class: N/A
Profession: N/A
HP: 30/30
MP: 0/0
Stamina: 40/40
Stats
Strength: 2
Agility: 3
Endurance: 4
Vitality: 3
Toughness: 1
Wisdom: 2
Intelligence: 3
Perception: 2
Willpower: 1
Free Points: 0
"As you can see," the Prime Minister said, "goblins are not particularly strong. Unfortunately… they make up for it in numbers. They outnumber us ten to one."
A cold silence fell.
"Earth has roughly ten billion humans. The goblins have one hundred billion."
He clenched the podium. "A difficult challenge awaits us."
The Rules of the Battlefield
"We will face the goblins on a prepared battlefield. The objectives are simple:
Capture all of the enemy's portals, or
Kill every member of the opposing race.
Each person has three lives.
After each death, there is a one-month respawn timer, which increases by one month every time you die. After losing your third life… you become a ghost. You can only spectate.
"And if we lose," he said grimly, "all ghosts die permanently. Those with remaining lives will return to a much smaller Earth."
He raised three fingers.
"Estimates suggest Earth will lose roughly 23% of its landmass. We will also be required to pay yearly tribute—food and resources—to the goblins. This continues until either:
The goblins fail their Guardian Trials, freeing us from tribute,
or
They become a Guardian Race, and we must pay tribute forever—but in return, they must defend us from external threats."
He paused, then:
"If we win, Earth gains 23% of the goblin planet—terraformed to fit our ecosystem. They will pay tribute to us."
The Preparedness Plan
"To face all of this, the European Union has finalized and ratified a unified strategy: the First Guardian Preparation Plan."
He held up a chart.
Step One: Breathing Technique
"Every citizen must practice the breathing technique. It extends lifespan by optimizing the human body. Early estimations suggest a potential lifespan of 150 years.
The technique works best in areas rich in mana. Our scientists are currently developing mana detectors; they expect to have a mass-producible prototype next week."
Step Two: Weapons Overhaul
"We will completely transform our arms industry. Cold weapons—swords, spears, bows, armor—will be our primary focus.
All smiths capable of forging weapons or armor will be contacted. Many of you will be visited by police today, who will invite you to a conference on how to restructure our production systems.
We will also reach out to all masters of ancient martial techniques. We need them to help instruct our elite forces.
The details of how the entire population will be trained will be revealed next week."
Step Three: Food Reserves
"We will heavily stockpile food. Farmers are urged to operate at full capacity—we will purchase everything that can be stored for at least two years in dried form.
Thank you for listening. The stock market will remain closed until next week, when we will announce the rest of our plans. Good night."
At Home
"Dad, do you think they'll come to the club?" I asked quietly. "We still practice what they call ancient techniques… or 'war archery,' at least."
Dad nodded. "They'll come, Arin. It makes no sense not to. We might end up training their elites. The average person might take years to train… unless the breathing technique really does strengthen the body that much."
He crossed his arms, thinking. "Either way, we should hold a club meeting tomorrow. I'll call everyone."
He looked to us.
"And the rest of you—begin practicing the breathing technique. If guns don't work anymore, then we are finally free from pressure."
"Johny," Mom added, "run to Grandpa and Grandma and ask them to come to the club tomorrow. They'd appreciate a visit in person."
"Yes, Mom. Yes, Dad."
"Big brother!" my little sister Tilly shouted. "Can I come with you to Grandpa and Grandma?"
Johny ruffled her hair. "Sure, Tilly. Come on."
"Yaaaay!"
While they left, I sat beside Mom to start the breathing technique.
Beginning the Technique
"Okay," Mom said gently. "Close your eyes. Focus on the mana in the air. Try to draw it in through your nose."
I sat still for half an hour, reaching out with senses I didn't understand.
Then—finally—I felt it. Mana. A faint shimmer in the air.
I inhaled, guiding it through my nose, letting it flow through my blood, circulating through my whole body. Then I exhaled it slowly through my mouth.
For an hour I repeated the cycle, breath after breath.
Then—
Ding.
A voice echoed in my mind.
Status Updated
Class: Archer has gained 1 Substage.
Stats allocated.
1 Free Point awarded.
Status
Race: Human
Stage: Mortal
Class: Archer (0.1)
Profession: N/A
HP: 100/100
MP: 0/0
Stamina: 80/80
Stats
Strength: 9
Agility: 8
Endurance: 8
Vitality: 10
Toughness: 10
Wisdom: 8
Intelligence: 8
Perception: 13
Willpower: 5
Free Points: 1
Breathing Technique: N/A
Physique: Son of the Forest
"…Okay," I muttered. "Not exactly what I expected. I thought the stages would look different."
I frowned at the panel.
"When can I choose a profession? And… what exactly is this 'Son of the Forest' physique?"
I had no idea.
But I was about to find out.