"The fated races are the darlings of their era. Their civilizations grow rapidly and peacefully. No matter the danger, there will always be countless heroes and great figures who stand up.
They either bring forth technology that can change the entire age, or they ascend to become extraordinary beings.
And every brilliant civilization has its own area of mastery—something they refine and elevate—eventually becoming the foundation of their dominance over the continent."
"Why are there two of them? If there are two, they're bound to clash, aren't they?"
"Yes. It's like a cruel joke played by fate.
Each fated race gives rise to a 'child of destiny.' Every child of destiny seeks to rule the continent—yet none of them wish to be ruled.
Thus, war begins.
In our era, goblins and dwarves were the fated races.
The goblins, through alchemical technology and bloodline modification, conquered the skies, the seas, and the underground.
The dwarves, with their superb forging skills and runic enchantments, controlled the mountains, hills, and volcanoes.
We should have lived in peace, each race developing its own civilization in its own territory.
But resources on this continent are finite.
For the sake of progress, for the sake of our peoples' future—and for the sake of those limited resources—we could only fight each other.
From the mid-epoch to the end-epoch, and finally to the terminal age—over three thousand six hundred years—we fought until the very last battle.
The continent was left desolate; countless races were driven to extinction because of us.
And yet, we did not care.
Back then, there was only one thought in our hearts: to annihilate the other, to completely conquer this land.
Only by doing so, we believed, could our civilization advance; only by doing so could we break free from the shackles of fate.
Only by doing so could we avoid repeating the mistakes of the fated races of the last epoch—becoming dust in history.
But we were wrong.
After the final war, we reaped what we had sown.
The dwarves' cities, armies, and proud civilization were destroyed by us.
And we goblins suffered the most terrifying curse of all.
In a single night, every goblin met their end."
At this point, the Ascended Brain grew pensive.
Even though Hel had stripped away her loyalty to the Goblin Empire, she still couldn't forget the fall of her people and their empire.
"Oh, right," she continued, "I haven't explained what the Extinction Era is.
According to ancient records, each epoch can be divided into five stages: the Early Epoch, the Mid Epoch, and the Late Epoch—each lasting thirty thousand years.
Like a person's life: birth, growth, and old age.
During this time, the fated races truly live up to their name—born under destiny's favor, growing unhindered, quickly rising among the many races, and prospering…
At least, until they encounter the other fated race.
After this long period of development comes the Final Epoch—lasting thirty-six hundred years.
In this stage, the world-ending catastrophe destined for that epoch begins to take shape.
Even if the chosen races exhaust all means to stop it, even if they destroy the very source of the disaster in advance, fate ensures that the catastrophe will arrive right on time.
Every effort made beforehand only serves to hasten its arrival.
And so, no matter when it comes—the fated races perish all the same.
We proved this truth, as did the fated ones before us—and those before them.
When the end arrives, civilizations crumble, the fated races become dust, and the world enters the Extinction Era.
During this period, the land lies dead and silent.
The few remaining survivors cling desperately to life, seeking only to continue their species.
But even this is a process of natural selection—few creatures of the last epoch truly endure.
The Extinction Era is far too long—long enough to turn everything into dust.
It lasts thirty-six thousand years—longer than any of the epochs before it.
Only after this period passes does the continent awaken once more.
New species are born, new children of destiny awaken, and they build their own civilizations anew…
Only to repeat the same fate again.
That is the destiny of every civilization."
"Destiny, huh… endless war."
Hel murmured softly, head lowered.
"If I'm not mistaken, the current fated races must be humans and beastkin, right?"
"I'm sorry, I don't know," replied the Ascended Brain, shaking her large head.
"In truth, I've only just awakened. It's been over a hundred thousand years since we last had contact with the surface, so I know nothing of the world above.
But if humans and beastkin now dominate most of the continent in both numbers and territory,
then the chances of your guess being correct are very high."
"Then let's assume I'm right," Hel sighed. "Humans and beastkin… fated races, an oncoming apocalypse… this world just keeps getting more dangerous."
"But you've defeated me—a relic of the past epoch. That alone shows your strength.
Perhaps, in this era, your kind might truly break free from fate's chains."
"Maybe… I hope so," Hel whispered quietly.
"Relics of a bygone age, wanderers who don't belong to this epoch… but then again—
aren't we all wanderers? When have I ever truly belonged to this era?"
Her voice was so soft that even the Ascended Brain couldn't hear her words.
She only saw Hel mutter for a while, then stand up, brushing the dust from her clothes, and say with a faint smile:
"Well, that's enough story for today."
"You're not going to ask more?"
The Ascended Brain was surprised—Hel had clearly been very intrigued just moments ago.
"Stories can wait. We'll have time later.
What matters now is that you've awakened once more—no longer bound by your old loyalties or the chains of history.
So… do you want to see this new era with me?
It may not be as beautiful as you imagine, but you still have a long life ahead to explore its wonders, don't you?"
As she spoke, Hel extended her right hand toward her.
The Ascended Brain hesitated, then, after a brief moment of data calculation, slowly reached out a tentacle and clasped Hel's small hand.
"Welcome to this era," Hel said.
"Thank you, my master," replied the Ascended Brain.
She couldn't quite describe the feeling welling up inside her, but she didn't dislike it.
Since the day she was created, she had only ever been a tool.
No name. No emotions. No past or future.
Her existence was nothing but data and obedience to the empire.
Even though she once deceived herself into believing she was a goblin, she knew the truth—
the goblins had never seen her as one of their own.
The empire, the race, the so-called honor—those were merely settings forced upon her.
Even if goblin blood flowed through half her body, she had always been just a tool created by goblins.
But today, for the first time, she was acknowledged.
Recognized by someone from a new age—a powerful one who had defeated her.
For the first time, she felt seen as a living being.
She didn't understand why Hel did this—but she cherished it deeply.
It was like someone who had lived in darkness finally feeling the warmth of sunlight.
At this moment, she wanted nothing more than to dedicate everything she had.
"Alright, before anything else, let's clean up the battlefield," Hel said, walking toward the fallen light mechs with her hands behind her back.
But the Ascended Brain didn't move.
After a while, Hel turned back and called,
"Are you coming?"
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
And at that very moment, a black entry appeared silently on her status panel, unnoticed by anyone:
[Hel's Devout Follower]: Loyalty +340 — To find a true kindred spirit in life… you would gladly give your life for that person.