Hesta suddenly recalled a passage she had once read in Headmistress Elma's study—an anthropology volume mentioning Mina Delyd and the femoral fossils she discussed. It dawned on her that she had already glimpsed the doorway to the pre–Great Blackout era back at the monastery, though at the time she had overlooked that crucial term.
"The legacy of the Golden Age… does that mean books?" Hesta asked.
"Not even close," Liz replied, sitting casually on the nearby desk. "Our current world is divided into sixteen major districts. Do you know why it's sixteen?"
Hesta shook her head. Liz began to explain, her voice soft but compelling.
"At the end of the Golden Age, war drove the entire world toward ruin. Resources became scarce, populations plummeted. When the Great Blackout came, within a century, all public infrastructure was destroyed—schools, hospitals, churches—everything burned or was bombed to rubble.
"There were no antibiotics, no vaccines. A sudden epidemic could wipe out nearly every newborn in a settlement. The maternal mortality rate during childbirth reached fifteen percent, and less than forty percent of children survived infancy.
"Without an education system, literacy collapsed within just a few generations. Books in libraries soon lost their meaning to most people. One by one, they were burned for warmth through the winters. And when summer came, humanity had no defense against the heat—temperatures of forty degrees Celsius lasting just two weeks were enough to annihilate every elder over seventy in a community.
"Everyone believed the world was ending. The old clung to the memory of civilization, calling for order to be rebuilt. But those who grew up amid the ruins no longer cared—they followed the law of the jungle, obsessed with carving out new territories. In less than two centuries, human technology regressed all the way back to agrarian levels.
"Until the first Mother City appeared."
"…Mother City?" Hesta echoed.
"Yes," Liz said, her voice filled with a kind of reverent warmth, as if she were speaking of her homeland. "It was like a dream—a city covering 34.12 square kilometers, as if a seed had sprouted from beneath the earth. A vast city, completely empty of people… yet perfectly ordered."
"It was a relic of the old civilization," Liz continued softly. "Powered by both nuclear and solar energy, its entire system maintained itself flawlessly. About two thousand robots were constantly at work, repairing and monitoring every corner of the city. From the intact buildings of the Mother City, people finally realized that the legends of the Golden Age weren't fantasies—it had truly existed, and had reappeared among us like a miracle."
"After that, within a single year, sixteen Mother Cities appeared across the world, one after another. Relying on the libraries, research institutes, and automated factories within them, humanity began to rebuild. Although much of the technology inside these cities remains a mystery to us—black boxes we can only operate, not comprehend, let alone recreate—humanity still managed to rekindle the flame of civilization.
"It was through these sixteen Mother Cities that we came this far. From District One to District Fourteen, they're named according to the order in which the cities appeared. Districts Fifteen and Sixteen are… unique. Humanity has yet to discover a way to enter them without causing damage, so for now, they remain sealed."
Liz turned to Hesta. "The Great Blackout Era began in the year 3812, with the Night of the Captured Stars incident, and ended in the spring of 4001, when the first Mother City emerged. It was the darkest, yet most defining century in human history. Even now, every major district is racing to decipher the technology of their respective Mother Cities—but their focus is always on energy and weaponry. Literature, in comparison, is merely a decorative afterthought…"
Her explanation ended with a long, wistful sigh. Then she led Hesta toward a large world map mounted on the wall.
The first thing Hesta noticed was District Three. The map rendered it in raised relief, its mountain ranges sculpted with visible ridges. She reached out, gently brushing her fingers over the terrain before shifting her gaze to a nearby area.
"What's this blue region? Why is it so huge?" she asked.
Liz chuckled. "That's the sea, Jane."
Looking at the map fondly, she added, "We're not far from the coast—about an hour's drive. It's just that the travel permit process is annoyingly complicated. But if I ever get an external assignment, I'll take you to see it."
She then began pointing out the different districts on the map, explaining each one in turn. Hesta remained silent, listening intently, as if she were discovering the world for the very first time.
District Three, she learned, covered an immense 11.47 million square kilometers—making it the second largest district on Earth. Yet only about 640,000 square kilometers were actually habitable. The rest was designated as undeveloped wasteland.
According to Liz, population distribution in District Three was extremely uneven. The city of Tanyi—the fourth largest city in the district—was home to nearly one-third of its entire population.
As for District Fourteen—Hesta had imagined it would be far away, separated from District Three by ten other territories. But no—District Fourteen bordered District Three directly.
Even so, it was enormous. Its total land area reached a staggering 24.73 million square kilometers, spanning nearly the entire continental plate from north to south. About 1.86 million square kilometers were habitable—almost three times the livable area of District Three.
She saw the endless white tundra in the north of District Fourteen, a land of eternal frost where no towns or roads were marked at all.
The map hung silently on the wall, yet standing before it, Hesta felt as if a great wave had struck through her soul.
At first, she tried to locate Shortwhistle Alley or Saint Annie Monastery, but Liz told her those places were far too small to appear on a world map.
So Hesta searched for Severn Hill instead—and found an entire mountain range named Severn Mountains, beginning from the northern coast of District Three and stretching deep inland, so long it made her breath catch.
Liz smiled again, explaining that their Severn Hill merely shared the same name by coincidence. The hill outside Tanyi City was far too small to be marked on this map. If Hesta really wanted to see it, she could later check the digital maps.
Hesta froze. Earlier, when Liz spoke of literature's purpose, she had only half-understood. When Liz described the cosmic explorations of the Golden Age, she remained quietly detached.
But now—facing the map's continents and oceans in silence—Hesta felt something inside her collapse.
She thought of her old home, of the towering ridgelines beyond the monastery walls, of those endless chains of mountains that once seemed vast beyond measure.
Was Severn Hill really small?
Then… how immense was this world?
Hesta slowly lifted her head.
As she gazed at the map of the world, she felt, for the first time, her own smallness.
( End of Chapter )