Why Did You Summon Me？

Chapter 605: The Beginning

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

From a strategic, objective, and self-serving standpoint, taking other tribes as one's bondmen was the best solution to the human population deficit. However, for an educated man like Baiyi, this method was repulsive.

"There's no need to be concerned with annoying details," the Archmage said reassuringly; it was as though he had read his apprentice's mind. "We can strive for an equal, humane, democratic, and slavery-supporting society…"

'What sort of civilization do you think we are… Ancient Greeks? [1] Why the hell should our progress regress? It's like you don't know the tragedy faced by every society that encouraged slavery!' Baiyi retorted inwardly.

"Oh, damn it. We can debate policies for human resource management next time, alright? Right now, our priority is to fight this war, and unite the decentralized factions and guilds so that they could help achieve our goal," the Archmage said. "Okay! Now is the time to ride out!"

The Archmage began to push the buttons on his controller so fast, his fingers turned blurry. His marionette was currently standing at the outskirt of the city, close enough to see the silhouettes of a large fleet of enemy ships among the clouds. The war was about to begin.

Unfortunately for the Archmage, his marionette did not move; its eye remained dull. The locals, who had been kneeling for so long that their knees hurt, watched the approaching enemies with apprehension.

"What in tarnation is going on?! Move, The-O! Move! Why aren't you moving?!" The Archmage bellowed.

"Dude, why are you so frantic when you have this?" Baiyi said, pointing at a big red button with the inscription 'Auto-battle.' "The Engineer Walker prepared everything you would need for this fight."

"Take that know-it-all attitude and shove it somewhere else, punk! Do I look like someone who needs something like that?!" The Archmage retorted. "If I don't fight without help in this war, then a win would not seem like conquest to me! The stupid button is an eyesore, and I just want to… pull it out!"

'The real problem is that you're terrible at computing commands! You're so terrible at that, the marionette is better off fighting on autopilot! Do you really have no idea of how bad you are at gaming?!'

"Remember, Son! This is my final moment. This is not a battle against external enemies; it's a battle against an internal one: my limitations and inner demons! This is my life! It is a lifelong battle to conquer myself!" The Archmage exclaimed with passion. While the First Walker was engrossed with his speech, the enemy fleet got near to the city and began to dispatch smaller aircraft.

'Holy crap! Stop being a stubborn mule! This "fight to conquer yourself" is a shift from reality; just admit that you're a noob in every game you play! Your followers are still disorganized, while the enemies and their ski-skis are about to whoop their as*es! Stop using a phony sense of self-empowerment to justify your denial and do something!'

Many were about to descend into a panic when a silhouette shouted, "Calm down! Calm your lungs down! Do none of you understand that this is only the Lord's trial? If we panic now and discard our faith, how then would we earn our passage into the Lord's gorgeous, holy heaven, huh!?"

The speaker was Lear, the first convert. Holding a gun that resembled a two-pronged fork, Lear tried to restore order. "We were gifted these tremendous weapons by the Lord, guys. If we can't, by ourselves, resist enemy attacks, how could we dare pray for our Lord's protection?"

A group of young men bringing with zeal and armed with Brown Bess walked over to Lear's back. Unlike the locals, these young men, who were brimming with confidence, glared at the approaching enemies.

"Join me to eradicate our foes, as honor and recognition from the Lord are to be earned!" Lear shouted, raising his gun really high, after which he leaped into a sky-ski that was passing by. Lear planned to lead the brave young men into battle!

'Just what the hell did the Old Geezer do in half a month? How did he manage to form a cult of crazy followers?! And, where exactly is this 'heaven' they mentioned? Don't tell me it's the new world that is still under construction!' Baiyi felt like pulling his hair. 'The ocean and land have only recently formed, and incubation of some plants and microbes are underway, but there aren't any biomes yet! It's technically a wasteland no better than this place!'

"Look at him; such a good lad. Do you really want him to die like that?" Baiyi said to the Archmage, who was still fumbling with his the controllers in front of him. To illustrate his point, Baiyi toggled his control to get a much better view of the war, which he then showed to the stubborn old man.

Two hundred hostile sky-skis moved like dark clouds towards their opponents. The Voidwalker's people, however, only had about thirty sky-skis. This difference was not something superior firepower and advanced gear could make up for.

"Isn't Treasure Bay a city? Why is a frickin' city so damn ill-equipped in defense?" Baiyi could not help but probe.

The Archmage faked a few coughs. "Well, as this is an entrepôt focusing more on mercantile activities, it's not big on military power. But fear not! Once my The-O is finally activated, I'll slay all of these enemies!"

It took Baiyi a while, but the truth behind the city's low defense was soon revealed. As it turned out, Treasure Bay was once an extremely well-guarded floating city outfitted with a well-rounded defense system. On top of that, due to the city's neutral stance, many guilds were willing to provide it with military aid and backup troops. It was essentially an impregnable haven, until the Archmage's forceful break-in.

His non-peaceful entry had eliminated half of the city's defenders and almost all of its defensive system. Not only that, the Archmage's glaring desire to "take over the world!" had alienated all of Treasure Bay's allies, which caused the city in a pickle this time. Honestly, had it not been the marionette's unscalable firepower, a majority of those kneeling before him would love to knee the Archmage instead.

Lear and the riders were already locked in a deadly clash with their enemies. Due to their cutting-edge technology, they possessed some advantages in firepower and ballistic range, yet the gap of numbers between the two factions proved to be irreparable. The hostile forces braved themselves through the admittedly thin line of defense despite their attacks, and by the time the battle devolved into chaos, several sky-skis on the Archmage's side had been destroyed.

Seeing the Archmage stubbornly in denial of his incompetence at the cost of their allies spurred Baiyi into action. "The people who joined our side are too important to be sacrificed like cannon-fodders, so stop… being such a pain!"He snapped and lunged into the cockpit. With his left elbow shoving against the Old Geezer's chin to stop him from reaching the controls, Baiyi slammed his fist down on the "Auto-battle" button.

The eyes of the five inactive marionettes suddenly lit up. They slowly rose into the sky before zeroing into the neck of the battle.

At this moment, Lear and whoever was left were locked in a very perilous situation. Although his unique gun — personally bequeathed to him by the Archmage himself some time ago — had the ultimate advantage in range and power, it was still just one gun. Worse, it quickly attracted the eyes of his enemies enough that the poor young man had now become the target of group onslaughts.

He and his uncle only managed to stay a hair away from being killed because the latter was a seasoned biker. Even so, it was only a matter of time before a critical hit catches up.

"S***, no… Can't hold on any longer!" Lear's uncle murmured frantically as green puffs of smoke escaped from their vehicle. Their sky-ski's engine was overheating from the exertion, and soon it would plunge with or without the enemy's fire.

Lear, however, had lost his control to the adrenaline rush. In a transport of fervid ecstasy, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "Fight! Fight for the Lord!"

It was an opening one of the enemy riders was keen to seize. He carefully piloted his sky-ski into taking a massive turn before creeping behind the duo, his cutlass ready. At the moment Lear and his uncle made a dive, he would deftly sever the loudmouthed brat's head before snatching his big-boy-gun!

In his fervor, Lear failed to notice the danger lurking behind him. His mind was lost in the fight, his gun aimed at one of his foes over a distance.

That was when the enemy struck.

Lear heard a cold, biting whoosh behind his and reflexively turned just in time to catch a snowy-white blade swiping toward his neck. He could feel its chill pressing onto his skin. It was over for him, and Lear gave up.

Then, suddenly, the blinding light burst into orange flames. Just as abruptly, it turned into a mist of scattering ashes splattering all over his face.

"Pfftt! Pwaaahhh! What the f — cough!" Suddenly smeared with ashes, Lear sputtered, trying to soothe his choking throat while struggling to open one of his irritated eyes.

Upon recovery, he found himself staring at the enemies' flaming sky-skis plunging in droves. What was once a messy battlefield had now become a storm of plummeting fireballs, its thundering booms akin to celebratory fireworks to the victors.

Then Lear caught a golden ball-like silhouette equipped with an abundance of cannon-resembling objects zipping past him. In the distance, the enemies' ships were frantically turning away from his direction like a flock of frightened birds trying to flee.

Many, many years later, Lear — now so old he could barely walk on his own two feet — would always be in tears and mucus whenever he remembered that heart-throbbing day during media interviews. "At that moment, all I saw were our future, our tomorrow," He would insist with a sob. "It was the promise of a bright beginning for our people! Not some f**king origin of slavery like you moronic pundits and talking heads kept spouting! Human rights? 'Men are all born equal?' Shove those up your burgeois a**!" [2]

All in all, "the battle that laid down the world's foundation"— as dubbed by many future historians — was never as epic as history, with its rose-tinted glasses, described. The reason the war was started was hardly as noble and upstanding as future generations knew it to be. It was especially never intended as a grand test of faith, mettle, and character; the truth was that it was a mess-up because an old man was stubborn. [3]

There was one thing the historians managed to get right, though: this was indeed the war that had kickstarted a series of battles waged for human capital.