The More Rabbits You Catch, the Better (5)
The old diary I used to write in has vanished, so I had to get a new one. Where the hell did it go? This is exactly why I hate alcohol. I’m sure I moved of my own free will, yet I don’t remember a single thing about it. If that bastard Pauli hadn’t dragged me off to some commemorative meeting or whatever it was, this never would have happened. Damn muscle-brained oaf—his strength is just disgustingly overpowered, that’s the problem. I can only pray that my old diary isn’t one of the logs burning in that brazier right now.
It has already been a full year since I was assigned to this research facility. All I do is observe the stars, record their movements, organize the resulting environmental changes, and submit reports to the higher-ups. Aren’t I the third-highest ranking person here? Yet the work feels no different from my days as a chore boy under my master. The clueless ones envy me for only doing paperwork, but from my position I’d gladly take physical labor any day if it meant I could actually go outside and live a little.
Lately the manager’s hysterics have been getting worse. For fuck’s sake, the decline in the stars’ power on the surface isn’t some overnight event. She kept nagging me over every trivial thing until I finally snapped back at her and got physically hit. I couldn’t bring myself to strike a woman who barely reaches my shoulder, so I had no choice but to raise the white flag. It’s not that I was scared of losing a contest of strength. Absolutely not.
When you spend your days observing and investigating, you start to see the changing face of society with painful clarity. It has been three hundred years since the power of the stars began to weaken on the ground. The mood among people is slowly but surely sinking in a bad direction, like being submerged in water. Every time the power of Tushin (War God) spread across the surface drops by ten percent, the number of sick patients rises. Every time Yugu (Eternity) withholds its grace, average lifespan shrinks another notch. My grandfather used to say that during his childhood, countless floating cities drifted through the sky on the magic power of Maok (Demonic Jade), but I’ve only ever seen them in crystal orb recordings. Famous scholars everywhere are flailing desperately to solve this crisis, yet nothing works. Those who insisted we should abandon our dependence on the stars and seek a new path were branded heretics and driven out. The truly absurd part is that the very light of the stars causing all this chaos is actually growing stronger. The stars haven’t lost their power or grown weak. They’ve simply stopped handing out their grace so recklessly.
Some call it divine punishment on humanity for leeching off the stars’ power for centuries without offering anything in return. Others analyze it as a rest period while the stars recover the energy they’ve expended. Still others insist there must be thieves siphoning the stars’ power midway and that we must destroy them immediately. In my opinion the third theory is nothing but conspiracy nonsense, yet surprisingly there are quite a few who agree with it. The atmosphere is foul.
It feels like quite a while since I last wrote. I’ve been swamped with the aftermath and investigation of that recent major incident. The weakening of the Star’s Blessing scattered across the ground remains unchanged. However, separately from that, certain “individuals” who receive the stars’ power with exceptional strength have begun to appear. There were always people whose wavelengths matched a particular star or who could draw its power more easily, but these new ones are on a completely different level. They display physical strength equal to or greater than enhanced humans without any mana-assisted bodily reinforcement, and in some cases their mana capacity has tripled. The academic society has named this phenomenon Star’s Blessing, and after investigating these “blessed holders” we have identified the following characteristics.
1. A Star’s Blessing can be inborn or acquired later when certain conditions are met and a star chooses the individual.
2. The number of humans who can receive a Star’s Blessing is extremely small. Even five years after the first recorded case, the total number has yet to reach double digits.
3. The abilities granted through a Star’s Blessing appear to be an enhancement or evolved form of the widely known stellar powers. Further research is required to determine exactly what ability each star will bestow.
4. A blessed holder cannot use the power of any star other than the one whose Star’s Blessing they already possess. By the same principle, it is impossible to receive the choice of two or more stars simultaneously.
The stars were supposed to be withdrawing their power from humanity, weren’t they? If they ever return, perhaps this dark atmosphere will finally turn around.
Damn it, everything’s gone to hell. At first people rejoiced that the stars were granting new power, but the moment they realized it was a privilege allowed to only an extremely small number of humans, they flipped their attitude completely. Those who felt betrayed by the stars and threw themselves into mana research are the better sort. Now we have fanatics screaming that we must shut down every social facility operated by stellar power and beg forgiveness from the Star Gods. We have warmongers claiming that if we don’t exterminate the demon race soon, all of humanity will become slaves before we grow any weaker. And then there are the lunatics who label the blessed holders as thieves hoarding the stars’ grace that should be shared equally by everyone, insisting we must kill them or perform live experiments to extract their power. If a large number of the acquired blessed holders hadn’t already possessed immense influence and power in society—the so-called heroes—then the few children just beginning to bloom would have suffered horrific fates without even being able to resist. Everyone seems to be losing their minds from fear and anxiety.
War is breaking out everywhere. Factions that say we must kill the blessed holders clash with those gathering around powerful blessed holders to dream of new kingdoms. Those who abandon the stars to pursue mana fight those who cling to the stars as gods. Those trying to maintain order somehow battle those seeking only personal gain amid the chaos. No matter who wins or how it ends, the nation called Asteros will soon disappear. I wonder how much longer this research facility can last.
The suffocating mood finally drove me to be the one to suggest drinking to Pauli for the first time. He looked shocked and asked what had gotten into me, but true to his inability to refuse a drinking party, he didn’t turn me down. Wait, I meant just the two of us—why the hell did you invite every single person, you stupid bastard? The manager, usually so sharp-tongued, was crying and wailing. The subordinates were grabbing each other by the collar and fighting. There was shouting, vomiting, the whole mess. I must have gone completely insane. Alcohol really is a curse.
It’s been a long time since we received proper support from above, but now even contact has been cut off. Congratulations on the liberation of the slaves. After eating enough to age this much and finally being freed from labor, the feeling is refreshingly novel. The problem is figuring out where to work now. Every organization with even a little name for itself is busy swinging swords and spellbooks, killing and being killed in a slaughterhouse. A desk worker like me who has never properly swung a weapon in his life would probably skip the interview and be handed the title of “meat shield” the moment he walked in. What a ridiculously fast promotion. I’ve never seen a better case of parachuting straight into hell.
It seems I wasn’t the only one agonizing over finding a new job, because quite a few of the people who worked here decided to stay. The problem is that these former slaves of endless work suddenly gained freedom and, unable to break old habits, began creating work for themselves and running wild. Each person claimed an entire floor as their territory and started all kinds of crazy modifications. One poured mana into food crops for smoother supply and ended up spawning some kind of monster. Another mass-produced golems to fight off invaders. One tried to build a maze for the concept of it and got himself trapped, sending out rescue requests. I swear I will never set foot on any other floor.
An external intrusion occurred. We drastically altered the surrounding environment to increase concealment. Casualties: one death. The deceased’s name is Pauli Grucaia. That damn fool. Why did you have to play hero? Damn it, damn it, fucking hell. You died protecting your juniors and now you’ve hammered a nail into their hearts—is that what you wanted? A real hero has arrived. Damn it, rotten, dog-like bastard. In a fit of rage I drank every last bottle of that secret liquor he’d been hiding. Tastes like absolute shit. What? You don’t like the taste? Then come back alive and complain!
I hadn’t seen her face in so long that I risked my life to visit, only to find the manager dead. What drives me even more insane is that I have no idea why she died. Illness? Injury? Or something mental? The final floor she was responsible for was extremely bleak, with no signs of daily life. The only trace of anything resembling a hobby was an unfinished imitation of the sky she’d been making. Given her profession she must have seen such things endlessly, yet she never grew tired of them.
Lately I’ve been spending more and more time on the final floor. At first I simply had nothing else to do, so I thought I’d finish the deceased’s work as a sort of memorial offering. Before I knew it, the others began drifting over one by one. They each brought random objects from their own floors and hid them here because “it felt empty with only the stars.” On top of that, there are seven spots but fewer people, so these damn bastards shoved three whole spots onto me. With neither Pauli nor the manager left, I’m now technically the person in charge, but is “person in charge” in your heads just a synonym for “odd-job servant who handles all the annoying chores instead of you”?
I intimidated the remaining people into coughing up their emergency funds for one spot. For the second I used the cubes that had become useless—back when Maok was active anyone could conveniently store items with artificial magic stones, but now they can’t even be opened without natural mana crystals or high-purity mana. Somehow I managed to fill two spots, but one remains. I was worrying what to put there when my eyes fell on this very diary I’m holding. Yeah… this should do.
Will the day ever come when someone reads these words? If you do, I’m curious what you’ll think. Hey, friend. How is it over there? Has it become a little more livable? If you haven’t gone to the other floors yet, I recommend you avoid them if possible. If you’ve already been, then I suppose it was simply your fate. Feel free to take anything here, but please don’t destroy this place. We made it with limited resources and did the best we could. Whoever you are, however many years from now, you can at least do this much for your predecessors and successors, can’t you? Written by Zarak Tarius, Intermediate Manager of the Hwanye (Illusionary Vision) Branch, National Observatory of the Asteros Kingdom.