Chapter 2292

2292 – Sand

Somewhere in Middle Sector 97—

There were no precise command cabins here, no high-tech control rooms, nor even grand halls filled with relics.

Here, there was only sand.

Seas upon seas of sand… and a seat.

"Your Excellency," Sahir, the eldest son of the Behemoth of Time, stepped forward two paces beside the seat and bowed slightly. "…Syndicate reinforcements are approaching rapidly, and we have yet to take any measures. Do you have any orders, or shall we withdraw?"

"…." Arkail the Temporal continued staring at the endless sand before him, his pale eyes reflecting the scorching sunlight, his thick beard immaculate, as if the swirling sand around him feared to touch him.

As for his son's question, Arkail remained silent for a few moments, then finally decided to speak: "My son, why do you think… sand is always considered a symbol associated with time?"

"…?" Sahir was taken aback by the question. He had spent much of his life by his father's side, receiving and executing orders, but rarely had they exchanged words beyond urgent matters. "There is nothing specific in the Law itself that links the two, but there are conjectures as to why."

Sahir continued: "For example, the hourglass is a fundamental part of all developing civilizations. The sequential fall of sand within it is a sign of the unstoppable progression of time. The countless grains of sand are often associated with the sweet and bitter moments we experience in our lives, which we leave behind us irrevocably. They also represent the events yet to come."

"What else?" Arkail asked calmly.

"Some ancients link sand to time due to the forces of erosion. The wind carries grains of sand that collide with mountains and valleys, altering their features over millions of years!" Sahir replied quickly.

But he was met with the same question: "What else?"

"..." Sahir was silent for a moment, then bowed slightly: "Please, teach me."

"..." Arkail stared at the sea of sand. "For me, those grains are the seal of the past, and the foundation of the future."

"...?"

Arkail continued: "If you search beneath any desert on any planet, you will always find traces of bygone civilizations, the remains of marine creatures, or even coal representing the remnants of an ancient forest and its intricate waterways. Every desert, without exception, hides one of these."

“…Sand is the inevitable end of every civilization, of every beauty and every ugliness, of every life and every nature. It is the seal that closes the page of the past without return, the seal that tells the past… you may die in peace now.”

Then he continued with unblinking eyes: “Then appears what you see now—a barren land, burying what was, preparing for what will be. Millions of years from now, this spot will turn into fertile land again, by a meteor or a natural storm, for life to rise upon it once more, where beasts live and humans build new civilizations… civilizations built directly atop their predecessors, which gaze up from below with resentment.”

Then Arkail added: “That is why I love sand. I love gazing at deserts. I love always sitting in the middle—between past and present, ruin and construction. I love being present in the hour of silence that separates a place’s life from its death… I love watching sand’s slow effect, its smooth advance, and its absolute authority.”

“….” Sahir turned to look ahead again. He no longer knew how to feel as he gazed at those sprawling dunes.

After an unknown time, he heard his father again: “You asked me earlier how to deal with the Syndicate’s swarms?”

"Ah, right." Sahir bowed quickly again: "Five thousand fleets are being assembled and advancing toward Middle Sector 96 at this moment. It's announced that they will continue advancing until they reach Middle Sector 98, but we must secure ourselves in any case."

"...Based on their current progress, they have approximately ten years until they reach Middle Sector 96. This means we will have to retreat within only seven years with all our forces to defend in case they attempt to attack us. But also, if we retreat just to watch them cross to reinforce our enemy, that means abandoning Middle Sector 97 entirely and our war against the Sorcerer Zargul altogether. We will not retreat and watch them cross our territories only to chase after them later!"

Arkail remained silent for a moment: "So either we surrender, or we head to Middle Sector 95 now on a journey that will take six years, stop them before they enter our territories, and keep the war burning... We fight the squadron that the Syndicate declared belongs to them and is under their supervision, meaning we enter a direct war against the Syndicate."

"..." Sahir nodded with difficulty: "It's either this or that. I see no third solution, and we must decide quickly."

"....." Arkail opened his mouth: "What did Lord Robin say about this?"

"Nothing. We asked the Shadow Swords repeatedly, and they said he is currently occupied with larger matters." Sahir furrowed his brow. "I cannot imagine what matters could be more important than a squadron coming from the Syndicate."

"…." Arkail nodded. "The sand is coming to cover us, to erase what was ours, so that others may establish what is theirs in our place."

"…?"

"Until this moment, we are in a private battle against the Sorcerer. Even with the declaration of our partnership with Lord Robin, we still share the common enemy, Zargul… But confronting this squadron will be an official act of hostility against the Syndicate, against Marlik." Arkail spoke calmly. "And we will not fight the Syndicate alone."

"Your orders." Sahir understood partially.

"Three years." Arkail declared. "If we do not receive a response and fair, strong support from Lord Robin within three years, we will withdraw towards Middle Sector 96 to secure it, and we will withdraw from the war and the partnership entirely."

"Understood." Sahir nodded firmly, then looked ahead with piercing eyes. "I don't want to be optimistic or pessimistic, but I see no support on the horizon that would encourage us to stand against that squadron… Nor do I see that Lord Robin has enough resolve to do anything either. Unfortunately, we are alone. We have entangled ourselves in something huge that may—"

Huummm.

At this moment, a narrow golden door opened before them.

Robin stepped out with his hands behind his back, then with a faint smile, waved his right hand: "Hello, did I interrupt something?"

"....?"

".........?!"