40 Farewell Ostria (1/2)
He had less than three years left.
Kilian never planned to kill Klaus. His death couldn't sate his appetite. Only by ruining all his goals, hopes, and aspirations then forcing him to endure the result across centuries, could his soul find peace. At least, those were his initial thoughts.
But now, it all appeared so meaningless. Could he even complete the miniature star before Klaus' predetermined death? And if he did, so what?
What an irritating situation.
For a second, Kilian wondered what use his revenge even held. Was it nothing more than a duty unto himself? A proof of his failings? The culmination of his rage and hatred, perhaps. Good to satisfy a brief fehl high. Yet, though his mind could see through the truth, his heart couldn't let go. Why should it?
Pulling in a deep breath, Kilian shut his eyes and formed a mental picture of Klaus' deeds. Did Klaus raise him to destroy him? Would shattering all of his plans and aspirations turn into his salvation gate? Or did more lie buried?
Who cast the curse?
”The eldars.” The answer came nigh instantaneously. Almost 50 years ago, Niklas genocided the eldars. Though the most arcane gifted race of Arcadia, a dwindling population added to a lack of interests in the pursuit of power, weakened the eldars across generations.
However, masters of the arcane they remained. If not for Niklas' sudden and unexpected assault, they could have never perished so easily. And even then, the Divine Glory suffered non-negligible casualties. Knowing that only destruction awaited them, did the Eldar Exarchs gather their tribesmen for one final stand, and in their grief, hexed Niklas' very lineage?
That being the case, why did none of the three princes show those symptoms? The youngest, Ayden, currently was 21. How did they survive? Did the hex only affect one? Where were the lesser souls? All the questions and hypotheses swirled in Kilian's mind and finally united in a single answer.
His eyes opened wide, and he stood up.
”Pack your things, we're almost late for the Academy,” Kilian stated and stood up.
Before his departure, there were still many things he had to organize, many instructions Olaf and his clones needed to follow. All along, Jezebel silently observed the fluctuations in Kilian's face and emotions, wondering when he'd inquire about her relationship with Niklas. However, he never did.
Did he care so little? Or, like he previously said, it just wasn't relevant? But then she remembered that he quietly took care of her for a week, and the rest became irrelevant.
…
Back in his study, Kilian faced Olaf, who bowed in silence.
”The creation of the miniature star, the venandi and the boyars' progress, all rely on my clones. However, the production of battle armors, aircraft, anti-tank weapons, and the missile defense system will still depend on you.
From now on, our subordinate dukes and marquises will provide you with various resources. I will also put six million qraftas at your disposal, and let you handle the revenues of the Celestial Garden.”
Though inwardly, Kilian planned to make the miniature star the driving force behind all his energy weapons and armors, in the outside, he still needed to establish a robust ”military state” to ensure Ostria could handle all challenges within Orloth. Based on the resources at their current disposal, in half a year, Ostria's modernization should be complete. At the very least, it wouldn't lose out to the capital of an imperial duchy.
”As you command, master!” Olaf replied. Having suffered extensive modifications across the past months, although in magical powers, he remained at Core Emissary level, just like the boyars, Olaf could now compare to a top-level High Emissary in battle prowess. However, there still was one problem left.
”In your last checkup, I had the clones implant you with a nanochip; activate it,” Kilian ordered and, without delay, Olaf pressed his thumb on his right eyelid, squeezing it with mild pressure.
As if hit by a jolt of electricity, he staggered, teetering on several steps while confusion filled his blue eyes. In three seconds, the confusion vanished, replaced first by jitters, then waves of elations. Olaf's lips curved into a broad grin, and spinning 180, he wiggled his hips, waved his hands, screaming for all to hear:
”I AM BACK! I'm back, I, I, I'm back! I AM BACK! I'm back, I, I, I'm back! I AM BACK!”
Seeing this, Kilian shook his head. Because in the following months, Olaf would have to deal with many old faces, Kilian had his clones implant him with a chip that'd rearrange his neurons to mirror his previous behavioral styles. The result now stood before him.