Chapter 132: Chapter 125: The Tower of Stars (Part 1B)

The words lingered in the air.

And when it opens.....the demons return.

For several moments neither man spoke.

The crackling of the fireplace seemed unusually loud within the silence that followed.

Lucien remained seated while the Guardian stood before the massive continental map.

The old mage’s gaze remained fixed upon distant lands marked across the parchment.

His expression had changed.

Yet beneath something else existed too that remembered the losses.

Eventually Lucien broke the silence.

"How many times has it happened?"

The Guardian smiled faintly.

"A practical question."

He turned back toward Lucien.

"Not when or why or how many."

The old mage slowly returned to his chair.

"More than recorded history."

That answer immediately caught Lucien’s attention.

The Guardian noticed.

"Human civilization likes to believe it understands its own history."

A soft chuckle escaped him.

"It doesn’t."

He settled into his chair.

"The oldest surviving records describe six major invasions."

"Ancient elven records claim nine."

"Dwarven archives suggest eleven."

The old mage shrugged.

"The dragons as always disagree with everyone."

Lucien wasn’t surprised.

For some reason, that sounded exactly like dragons.

The Guardian smiled knowingly.

"Precisely."

The old mage leaned back comfortably.

"The truth?"

His shoulders lifted slightly.

"No one knows."

"Not even me."

That admission surprised Lucien.

The one of the strongest mage on the continent openly admitting ignorance wasn’t something he expected.

The Guardian laughed softly.

"You’ll discover something important as you grow older."

"What?"

"Knowledge expands."

The old mage gestured toward the thousands of books surrounding them.

"So does ignorance."

Lucien remained silent.

The Guardian pointed toward one shelf.

"When I was young, I believed that shelf contained most answers."

Then he pointed toward the rest of the room.

"When I became adult, I believed this room contained most answers."

Finally, he pointed toward the enormous tower surrounding them.

"Now I know the entire tower contains only questions and no answers because any answer given only leads to more questions"

A faint smile crossed Lucien’s face.

The Guardian immediately noticed.

"There."

The old mage pointed triumphantly.

"That was definitely a smile."

Lucien ignored him.

The Guardian looked absurdly pleased with himself.

Then, after a few moments, the humor gradually faded.

The old mage’s expression became thoughtful once more.

"The first mistake most people make is imagining demons as monsters."

Lucien raised an eyebrow.

"They aren’t?"

"Oh, they are,they very much are"

The Guardian nodded.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"But reducing them to monsters is dangerous."

The old mage folded his hands.

"Monsters are predictable."

"Animals are predictable."

His voice grew quieter.

"But demons are neither."

The room became still.

The Guardian’s gaze drifted toward the fire.

"They think,they learn and They adapt."

His expression darkened slightly.

"They hate us too to the bone."

That final word carried unexpected weight.

The old mage continued.

"The lower ranks behave like armies of beasts."

"The higher ranks..."

He shook his head slowly.

"The higher ranks behave like civilizations."

And that is what makes them dangerous.

The Guardian noticed Lucien’s reaction.

"Good."

The old mage nodded.

"It should concern you."

He rose from his chair again.

This time walking toward another shelf.

After a moment he removed an ancient leather-bound volume.

The book looked old enough to belong in a museum.

Carefully carrying it back to the table, he opened it.

Several pages contained detailed illustrations.

Battlefields,Cities and some strange creatures.

The drawings possessed remarkable detail.

The Guardian turned the book toward Lucien.

"This."

His finger rested upon one image.

"Was a Demon Lord."

Lucien examined the drawing.

The creature resembled a towering armored giant.

Physically imposing and intelligent.

Even the artist had somehow captured that impression.

The Guardian watched him closely.

"What do you see?"

Lucien studied the image.

"Discipline."

The old mage smiled.

"Exactly."

He turned another page.

Then another and another

The creatures changed.

Some possessed wings.

Others resembled walking fortresses.

A few looked completely alien.

Yet all shared one characteristic.

Purpose.

They didn’t look chaotic.

They looked organized.

The Guardian closed the book.

"That is why previous generations nearly lost."

He rested both hands upon the cover.

"They underestimated the enemy."

The old mage’s eyes hardened.

"People hear the word demon."

"They imagine mindless destruction."

His voice grew colder.

"The smart ones build empires."

That statement lingered heavily between them.

For several moments neither spoke.

Then Lucien asked:

"How close did humanity come to losing?"

The Guardian didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he stared into the fire.

His expression became distant.

When he finally spoke, his voice sounded quieter than before.

"Closer than most people realize."

The room fell silent.

The old mage slowly stood.

Then walked toward the window overlooking the capital.

Snow continued falling beyond the glass.

The city remained bright beneath the night sky.

It appeared peaceful and safe.

The Guardian watched it carefully.

"As children..."

His voice softened.

"...we imagine civilization as permanent."

He gestured toward the city.

"As we grow we believe cities will always exist."

"Then we believe kingdoms will always stand."

His eyes narrowed.

"The invasion taught us otherwise."

The old mage remained silent for several seconds.

Then continued.

"There were moments when entire continents believed humanity had already lost."

Lucien frowned slightly.

The Guardian nodded.

"Remember the word -Entire continents."

The magnitude of that statement was difficult to ignore.

The old mage slowly turned.

"Do you know what saved us?"

Lucien expected some legendary weapon.

Some ancient artifact or maybe forgotten magic.

Instead the Guardian smiled.

"Cooperation."

That answer surprised him.

The old mage returned to his chair.

"The heroes receive songs."

"The kings receive statues."

"The generals receive glory."

His smile faded.

"But at the end of day cooperation saved the world."

The Guardian leaned forward slightly.

"Human kingdoms that hated one another shared supplies."

"Elven realms opened borders."

"Dwarven fortress-cities emptied their armories."

Even dragon clans abandoned centuries of isolation.

His gaze sharpened.

"The invasion forced everyone to understand a simple truth."

"What truth?"

The old mage smiled sadly.

"No one survives alone."

The room became quiet once more.

Lucien considered the statement.

The Guardian watched him.

Then nodded.

"You understand."

He sounded satisfied.

The old mage relaxed slightly afterward.

For several moments they simply sat beside the fire.

Two cups of tea rested upon the table.

Snow drifted beyond the windows.

The atmosphere felt strangely peaceful despite the subject matter.

Eventually Lucien asked another question.

"What happened afterward?"

The Guardian sighed.

A very old sigh.

The kind carried by someone who had repeated the same story countless times.

"Humanity won."

Then he shook his head.

"No."

His expression became more complicated.

"That’s not correct."

The old mage stared at the fire.

"Humanity survived yes it survived "

"There is a difference,a very small difference."

The room grew quiet.

The Guardian’s eyes reflected the dancing flames.

"Winning requires strength."

"Surviving requires sacrifice."

His voice softened.

"We survived."

Lucien remained silent.

The old mage continued.

"And then we did what people always do."

"What?"

The Guardian laughed.

A tired laugh.

"We forgot."

The answer came immediately.

Without any hesitation or doubt.

"We remembered the victory."

His smile became bitter.

"And forgot the lessons."

The old mage leaned back.

"The alliances dissolved."

"Old rivalries returned."

"Borders closed."

"Politics resumed."

His gaze shifted toward the map.

"The world healed."

Then his expression darkened.

"And once the wounds faded..."

He paused.

"...people convinced themselves they would never open again."

The fire crackled softly.

The Guardian’s voice lowered.

"That was nine hundred and fifty years ago."

His eyes met Lucien’s.

"And now another cycle approaches."

The room fell silent once more.

Outside, snow continued falling over the kingdom of Asterion.

Inside the Tower of Stars, one of the oldest men alive quietly watched the future drawing closer.

And for the first time since arriving in the capital, Lucien began to understand why the Guardian seemed concerned.

Because he had seen this before.

And he recognized the warning signs.

The question was no longer whether another invasion would come.

The question was whether the world would remember the lessons of the last one before it arrived.

The room remained quiet for several moments.

The fire crackled softly.

Outside, snow continued drifting across the capital.

Finally, Lucien asked the question that had been lingering in his mind since the conversation began.

"How do I fit into all of this?"

The Guardian’s eyes shifted toward him.

For a brief moment, the old mage simply studied him.

Then a faint smile appeared.

"I was wondering when you would ask."

The old mage rose from his chair.

Slowly walking toward the massive map once more.

His finger traced several regions across the continent.

Places where previous invasions had been fought.

"The strongest among us are not weak."

His voice remained calm.

"The Dragon Clans possess elders capable of shattering mountains."

"The elves maintain guardians older than many kingdoms."

"The dwarves possess fortress-cities that have survived for millennia."

"The Supreme Mage Council commands power beyond what most rulers can imagine."

The Guardian looked back toward Lucien.

"When the next invasion comes, we can match their champions."

Lucien frowned at champions.

"The Demon Lords."

The old mage nodded.

"The Abyssal Generals."

"The great horrors."

A faint smile appeared.

"The strongest among us are not weaker than the strongest among them."

Then his expression hardened.

"But that was never the problem."

The room fell silent.

The Guardian’s gaze became distant.

As though remembering battlefields from centuries ago.

"The problem is numbers."

The words carried unusual weight.

"When the Tear opens..."

His voice softened.

"...millions no billions emerge."

Not Demon Lords or legendary monsters.

Ordinary demons.

Endless ranks of ordinary demons.

The Guardian slowly turned toward the window.

"The kind that overwhelm villages, consume supply lines,exhaust armies through sheer attrition."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"History remembers heroes."

Then he looked directly at Lucien.

"It forgets logistics."

The statement struck immediately.

The old mage nodded.

"I thought you would appreciate that."

He returned to the table.

Then gestured toward the capital below.

"Every previous invasion nearly collapsed beneath the same problem."

"Not enough soldiers."

"Not enough weapons."

"Not enough armor."

"Not enough supplies."

His voice remained calm.

"But when I began receiving reports from Elarion..."

For the first time, genuine interest appeared within his eyes.

"...I saw something different."

Lucien remained silent.

The Guardian continued.

"A territory producing weapons in quantities previously considered impossible."

"A territory building factories instead of relying solely upon craftsmen."

"A territory where production increases every year."

The old mage smiled faintly.

"Then came the machine guns."

" the artillery."

"And the Warhound."

His gaze sharpened.

"And suddenly I realized something."

The room grew quiet.

The Guardian looked directly at Lucien.

"For centuries humanity has searched for a way to solve the numbers problem."

His voice lowered.

"Perhaps the answer was never a stronger hero."

"Perhaps it was a better factory."

Silence followed.

The old mage’s smile widened slightly.

"When I learned what you were building in Elarion..."

He paused.

"...I saw an opportunity."

Lucien’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"What kind of opportunity?"

The Guardian’s expression became serious.

"The opportunity to ensure that when the next invasion comes..."

His gaze shifted toward the dark horizon beyond the capital.

"...humanity finally possesses enough weapons."

The fire crackled softly.

The old mage looked back toward Lucien.

"If the next invasion arrives when expected, your factories may save tens of thousands."

Then his voice became quieter.

More serious.

"If it arrives earlier than expected..."

The Guardian’s ancient eyes met Lucien’s.

"...they may save millions."