Chapter 2292: Sand
Chapter 2292: Sand
Somewhere within Mid Sector 97—
There were no sophisticated command bridges here.
No high-tech control rooms.
No magnificent halls filled with ancient relics capable of recording the rise and fall of entire civilizations.
There was only sand.
Endless seas of sand stretching beyond the horizon in every direction, uninterrupted by mountains, forests, or rivers...
And a single chair.
"Your Excellency," Saher, the eldest son of the Temporal Behemoth, stepped forward until he stood beside the solitary chair before bowing respectfully. "...The Syndicate’s reinforcements are approaching rapidly, and we have yet to take any countermeasures. Do you have any orders... or should we withdraw before they reach the battlefield?"
"...."
Arkaile of Time continued gazing across the endless sea of sand stretching before him. His pale eyes quietly reflected the scorching sunlight pouring down from the cloudless heavens, while his thick beard remained perfectly clean, as though even the countless grains of sand dancing endlessly through the desert feared settling upon him. The violent desert winds swept across the dunes without pause, yet not a single grain dared cling to his robes or touch his body.
As for his son’s question...
Arkaile remained silent for several long moments, seemingly allowing both the desert and the wind to answer first, before finally speaking in an unhurried voice.
"My son... why do you think sand has always been regarded as a symbol of time?"
"...?" Saher was visibly caught off guard by the unexpected question. He had spent much of his life standing beside his father, receiving commands, carrying them out without hesitation, and reporting the results afterward. Yet despite those countless years together, they had rarely exchanged words outside matters demanding immediate military attention.
"There isn’t anything within the Law itself that directly connects the two," he answered after gathering his thoughts, "but there are many theories attempting to explain why nearly every civilization eventually links them together."
He continued,
"For example, the hourglass. It has been a fundamental instrument throughout nearly every developing civilization. The steady descent of its grains represents the unstoppable passage of time itself, while the countless grains are often associated with the joyful and painful moments we experience throughout our lives before eventually leaving them forever behind us. They also symbolize the countless events still waiting somewhere ahead, hidden within the future until their appointed moment arrives."
"What else?" Arkaile asked calmly, never shifting his gaze away from the desert before him.
"Some ancient scholars associate sand with time because of erosion," Saher replied without hesitation. "The wind carries countless grains of sand that gradually wear down mountains and valleys over millions of years, reshaping continents so slowly that no individual can perceive the change during a single lifetime, even though the world itself is constantly being rewritten."
Yet he received the very same question once again.
"What else?"
"...."
Saher fell silent, realizing every answer he offered merely described a consequence rather than the essence his father sought.
Then he lowered his head once more.
"Please... Teach me."
"....."
Arkaile continued staring into the endless sea of sand without the slightest change in expression.
"To me... Those grains are the seal of the past, And the foundation of the future."
"...?"
Arkaile continued,
"If you dig beneath any desert on any planet, you will always uncover traces of civilizations long gone, the remains of marine creatures, or even coal—the remnants of ancient forests together with the intricate waterways that once sustained them. Every desert, without exception, conceals one of these beneath its surface, preserving silent evidence that an entirely different world once stood where endless dunes now stretch."
"...Sand is the inevitable end of every civilization, every beauty and every ugliness, every life and every landscape. It is the seal that closes the page of the past forever, burying both glory and disgrace beneath the same endless blanket... the seal that tells the past: ’You may rest in peace now.’"
His unblinking eyes remained fixed upon the distant horizon as he continued speaking with the same tranquil tone.
"And then what you see before you appears. A barren land. One that buries everything that once existed beneath layer after layer of silence... While patiently preparing itself for what has yet to come."
"...Millions of years from now, this very place may once again become fertile ground because of a meteor strike, shifting continents, or some overwhelming natural catastrophe. Rivers will carve new paths through the land. Forests will spread where dunes now stand. Life will flourish here once more. Beasts will roam these lands, and humanity will eventually build entirely new civilizations upon them...
"...Civilizations that unknowingly stand directly atop their predecessors, while those forgotten civilizations continue resting beneath them, separated only by layers of sand, as though silently gazing upward from below with unending resentment."
Then Arkaile added,
"That is why I love sand.
I love looking upon deserts.
I love sitting at their very center...
Between the past and the present.
Between ruin and prosperity.
I love being present during that silent hour which separates a place’s life from its death, where neither beginning nor ending truly dominates the land.
I love witnessing sand’s slow influence...
Its gentle advance that never stops no matter how insignificant it appears from one day to the next...
And its absolute dominion, beneath which every living thing eventually surrenders without exception."
"...."
Saher slowly turned his gaze back toward the endless desert before him. His father’s explanation continued echoing inside his mind, leaving him unable to look upon the boundless dunes the same way as before. What had once appeared to be nothing more than lifeless waves of sand now seemed to conceal countless forgotten histories buried beneath their surface, stretching endlessly toward the distant horizon.
After an unknown length of time had passed, he heard his father speak once again.
"A short while ago, you asked me how we should deal with the Syndicate’s fleets?"
"Ah, that’s right." Saher immediately straightened before bowing once more. "Five thousand fleets are currently being assembled and are advancing toward Mid Sector 96. Officially, they’ve announced that they’ll continue their advance until they reach Mid Sector 98, but regardless of what they claim publicly, we have to prepare ourselves for every possible scenario before it’s too late."
"...At their current pace, it’ll take them approximately ten years to reach Mid Sector 96. That means we’d have only seven years before we’d be forced to withdraw with all our forces to defend ourselves if they chose to attack us. But if we simply retreat and watch them pass unhindered through our territory in order to reinforce our enemy, then we’d effectively be abandoning Mid Sector 97 altogether... and abandoning our war against the Sorcerer Zargul altogether as well. We cannot possibly retreat, stand by while they cross our lands without resistance, and only afterward chase them from behind as though nothing had happened."
Arkaile remained silent for several moments, allowing the desert wind to continue sweeping across the dunes before finally speaking once more.
"Then we have only two choices.
Either we surrender...
Or we immediately head toward Mid Sector 95 on a journey that will require six full years, intercept them before they ever enter our territory, and keep this war alive. By doing so, we would be attacking the very fleet the Syndicate has publicly declared to be operating under its authority and direct supervision... In other words; We would be openly declaring war against the Syndicate itself."
"..." Saher slowly nodded, the weight of those words settling heavily upon his shoulders, "It’s one path or the other. I genuinely don’t see a third option remaining before us... And whatever decision we make, we have to make it quickly, before time itself forces the decision upon us."
"....."
Arkaile finally spoke again.
"What did Lord Robin say regarding all of this?"
"Nothing." Saher frowned deeply. "We’ve asked the Shadow Swords repeatedly over the past several days, yet every single time we received the same answer—that Lord Robin is currently occupied with matters of even greater importance."
His expression gradually became more puzzled than frustrated.
"I simply can’t imagine what could possibly take precedence over an entire fleet dispatched by the Syndicate. No matter how I think about it, I fail to see anything more urgent."
"...."
Arkaile slowly inclined his head.
"The sand is coming to bury us...
To erase everything that once belonged to us...
So that others may raise what belongs to them upon the very place where we once stood."
"...?"
"Up until this moment," Arkaile continued calmly, never once raising his voice, "our conflict has remained nothing more than a private war against the Sorcerer. Even after publicly announcing our partnership with Lord Robin, both sides still shared the same common enemy—Zargul. But the moment we intercept this fleet, our actions will become an official declaration of hostility against the Syndicate itself... Against Marlik."
His tone remained as tranquil as the endless desert surrounding him.
"And we will not stand against the Syndicate alone."
"My orders?" Saher asked quietly, already beginning to understand the direction his father’s thoughts were taking.
"Three years," Arkaile declared without the slightest hesitation. "If we do not receive a response—and meaningful, sufficient support—from Lord Robin within three years, then we will withdraw toward Mid Sector 96 and secure our own territory first.
At that point... We will withdraw completely from both this war and our partnership, leaving behind everything that has happened until now."
"Understood." Saher nodded firmly before lifting his eyes toward the endless horizon once more, his sharp gaze carrying neither hope nor despair.
"I don’t wish to be either optimistic or pessimistic...
But I can’t see any support anywhere on the horizon capable of encouraging us to stand against that fleet. Nor do I believe Lord Robin possesses enough determination to make a move against the Syndicate itself under the current circumstances.
Unfortunately... We’re alone. We’ve involved ourselves in something far greater than we originally anticipated, and it may ultimately—"
Wooooom.
At that exact moment...
A narrow golden door suddenly opened directly before them without the slightest warning, its appearance so abrupt that even the surrounding desert winds seemed momentarily insignificant beside it.
Robin stepped out through the doorway with both hands calmly clasped behind his back, his movements completely relaxed, as though he had merely walked through an ordinary doorway rather than crossing an immeasurable distance between sectors.
Then, wearing a faint, easygoing smile, he casually raised his right hand in greeting.
"Greetings. Am I interrupting something?"
"....?"
".......?!?!"