Watching Hawthorne on the stage, Saya couldn't quite describe his own emotions.
His heart was undoubtedly conflicted: 'I don't know if my luck is good or bad—how did I end up encountering the first world war in over a hundred thousand years? And I'm not even a full-fledged Wizard yet. What am I supposed to do?'
This unexpected turn of events had disrupted ninety percent of his plans.
He had no idea what to do now.
In despair, he realized: 'With my current abilities, it seems like all I can do is stand by and watch...'
Who am I? Where am I? What should I do?
It wasn't just him—these three questions became the confusion of the vast majority in the Wizarding World.
As for the mortal nations that had just received the notice, they had no concept of it at all. What even was a world war?
Something that hadn't happened in over a hundred thousand years had caught them completely off guard.
To them, it was something far too distant—like an ancient myth suddenly thrust before their eyes, making it hard to comprehend.
[Spare no cost to increase the population.]
Reading this simple command, many kings scratched their heads in bewilderment.
It wasn't until the next day, when another order followed:
[Within three days, all eligible men and women must marry if there are sufficient partners of the opposite sex. Those who refuse will be hanged on the spot.]
Only then did they grasp the true severity of "spare no cost."
Chaos erupted among the populace—countless singles were suddenly faced with the choice of either marrying or dying on the spot.
It was all rather abrupt.
Fifth Day.
Several kilometers beneath the Silent Heart.
Within a vast Extradimensional Space created by Wizardry and numerous Magical Artifacts, Saya was directing servants to transport food and nutrients to the Beast Pen.
A large number of Magical Beasts, freshly unsealed, were in a period of inevitable weakness after their revival. These supplies were meant to restore their strength.
Saya had been assigned this post on the second day after the War Proclamation was issued.
It was only then that he discovered the sheer number of extradimensional spaces beneath the academy where he had spent the past few years.
Thirty-six layers of Beast Pen spaces.
Each layer housed hundreds of millions of Magical Beasts, their Bloodlines and souls controlled by Wizardry from the time of their ancestors.
Their intelligence and strength were restricted—their minds contained nothing but killing, reproduction, and obedience to orders!
Their originally near-human intellect had been reduced to that of cats and dogs.
Once they reached a certain stage of growth, they would be sealed away.
This not only saved space and resources in the Beast Pen but also prevented them from aging and dying uselessly, serving as a reserve force.
If even the reserve spaces were full, the excess Magical Beasts would be systematically culled, starting from the weakest to the strongest, and their remains transported to other parts of the academy for use by faculty and students.
This was also the source of the materials consumed day and night by the Silent Heart.
Saya was now responsible for a small section of the 11th layer of the Beast Pen, overseeing roughly a million newly revived Magical Beasts.
These Magical Beasts ranged from the weakest at peak level 2 to the strongest at peak level 3, with none reaching level 4. At that level of power, even Bloodline and soul-based Wizardry had a significant chance of being broken through, so those were considered beyond the safety line.
Watching cart after cart of supplies being transported away, Saya couldn't quite describe what he was feeling.
Just a few days ago, he would never have dreamed that a mere Wizard Apprentice like himself could be managing so many powerful Magical Beasts!
Even the weakest one among them could kill him with a single breath.
And with millions of them packed together, just the aura automatically radiating from their bodies was enough to make him unsteady on his feet, feeling like he might faint at any moment.
If not for the robe he wore that shielded him from their presence, he wouldn't have been able to do this job at all.
'I wonder how Charles is doing. He seems to be taking care of those ancient Wizards who just woke up. I just hope their temperaments aren't too difficult...'
A white-haired old man with bulging muscles roared at the skinny, short figure beside him: "Take this punch!"
"Bam!"
Not dodging or evading, the short Wizard took the punch directly to his head without even swaying, then sneered mockingly: "Hehehe~ Useless! Did you skip breakfast?"
Seeing the other party still daring to mock him, the white-haired old man flew into a rage: "You bastard! My Celtic Style Fighting Technique is no joke!"
The shorty retorted disdainfully: "Just trash. All worthless before my Ersla Style Body Tempering Wizardry!"
"I'll hit..."
"Idiot..."
The two started fighting again amid their mutual insults.
The onlookers could only watch helplessly as a two-headed old man nearby urgently tried to mediate: "Stop fighting, please stop! You're both Wizards - you can't possibly kill each other like this!"
"Hit him! What's the point of Wizards using Wizardry? Wizardry is for weaklings! Only fists make it exciting!"
"Fight! Harder! Nice! That's the left hook!"
"Who ate my flatbread?!"
"Anyone want to go whoring..."
"What! My kingdom fell tens of thousands of years ago!"
"What! The kingdom that destroyed mine also fell tens of thousands of years ago!"
"What! That land has changed hands 985 times since then!"
"I'll hit you..."
Hiding in a corner, young Charles watched the chaotic scene of howling and wild dancing nearby with complete bewilderment.
'Do these big shots even need anyone to take care of them? They can drink, whore, gamble, fight - full of energy!'
These guys had been quite normal when they first woke up - all serious expressions and imposing auras, every one of them proper gentlemen!
But within two or three days they'd turned into this mess, like they'd lost their minds. Indulging wildly was one thing, but spitting everywhere and ruining sanitation? Completely different from their initial image.
According to the information he'd received, the two fighting at the center - the muscular old man and the stunted-looking short one - had slept for over forty thousand and ninety thousand years respectively. The shorter one had even participated in the last world war.
Excluding him, who was just there for the ride, and the servants responsible for serving tea and water, the Wizards present all possessed at least fourth-level strength!
Although these individuals were all in the twilight of their lives with no more than a few centuries left to live, they were exceptionally skilled in combat. That was precisely why they had chosen to be sealed away as the Wizarding World's hidden reserves.
Charles couldn't help but wonder, 'Isn't a few hundred years quite a long time? Why do they talk about it as if they're on death's doorstep? Maybe this is just how the strong think...'