Chapter 813 Choice (2/2)
They were fortunate because of either luck or destiny—none of the Evil Gods attacked them, and their home planet could stand against the assault of their minions alone.
Unfortunately, apart from their native system, billions of Sartrean colonists died of, their souls destroyed and their bodies decaying, becoming food and energy source for the minions of Chaos.
Therefore, they entered lockdown.
The Sartreans sealed their home planet, enclosing their civilization within a single world and trembled like an ostrich—they despaired, intending to weather the winter with an 'I can't see you, you can't see me' mindset.
In reality, they succeeded.
Thousands of years later, their reputation still lives, unlike other civilizations that were reduced to ashes.
***
Zessel closed the tome in his hand looked up at the conference table where the table was not ceasing.
”Stop.” It said with a deep voice, and there was silence at once when he spoke.
”If they did not come to us in the past out of disdain, they are not coming to us because they do not have the time.”
”We simply have no choice. The resurgence of the Mycroft civilization makes it a matter of time before they find us… whether they would come to us as equal or to extort resources, do you think we would have a choice?”
Zessel laughed quietly. ”The weak cannot choose, which is why it is better to choose the timing.”
Some of the Satreans nodded, just as others shook their heads. Even so, none of them protested—such was a little privilege Zessel enjoyed as the champion of their civilization.
”Would we really not be deliberately exposing ourselves?”
A voice with a hint of reluctance echoed quietly in the conference room. ”Why should we not keep hiding as Chaos reappears? We no longer have the power to fight those monsters once more.”
Those words were greeted by Zessel's icy stare. The Sartrean waved his hand, summoning a large screen at the center of the conference table. It flickered, and then displayed the current shape of their homeworld.
It was a small continental realm that was sixty percent seas and forty percent land, their conference room being at the top of a two thousand-meter tall skyscraper.
Similar towers stood densely adjacent to it, like a gathered strain of fungal or beehive and making up thirty percent of the continent, the other seventy being occupied by other similar grand scale buildings as well.
Pollution, industrial and from overpopulation had dyed the coastal seas ash-black, just as their clouds were gray-brown and terribly acidic. Millions of Sartreans were jammed into one small world, wearing tools similar to protective mask as they wiggled within skybridges and pipelines.
There was no hope in their eyes to speak of, only the most profound of stupors.
***
Sacrifice.
The Sartreans had sacrificed a great many things so that their civilization survived.
When the last of their Golden Fleet evacuated the last continents and retreated, everyone thought that it would be the final sacrifice—like the heroes who had stood out to protect their homes in ancient times, choosing to die for the many.
But it was only until the evacuation vessels reached their home planet, when billions were squeezed onto a little continent that they truly understood what sacrifice really meant.
When surviving itself became a torment and to cherish death was but a choice, if everything could not be worse than it was not, why not step out and choose a future with stronger possibilities?
”If we step out on our own accord, Sartreans could perhaps find a chance of survival.”
Zessel spoke helplessly, lifting its gaze at the starry skies that were immeasurably dim compared to thousands of years ago. ”If we keep staying in this world that is nearing its doom, we would have no future at all.”
And it was not only the Satreans who made that choice.