Miori Shiba did not reply right away.
Her icon in the chat flickered… then fell silent.
Takumi leaned back in his floating chair, watching the empty world outside his window. The forest he had cultivated with Herrscher-level precision swayed softly beneath a blue sky he had restored. It looked peaceful—beautiful, even.
And yet the weight of this conversation pressed down on him.
He wasn't recruiting people.
He was recruiting the abandoned children of another world.
Children whose only crime was being born.
The chat suddenly pinged.
Miori Shiba:
[Cursed Children… You're serious?]
[Do you even know what that would mean?]
Takumi:
[I know very well.]
[Children with high compatibility with Varanium, infected by Gastrea—discriminated against by an entire world.]
[You think I'm unaware?]
[I want them precisely because your world threw them away.]
A long pause.
Then:
Miori Shiba:
[You want… all of them?]
Takumi smiled faintly.
Takumi:
[Yes.]
[All of them.]
[Bring them, and I'll raise them in a safe world.]
[I'll give them a home. Education. Protection. Life.]
Chika's icon lit up in excitement.
Fujiwara Chika:
[Takumi is becoming a principal…? Principal Takumi!?]
[Should we start a school? Should we get uniforms??]
Sagiri:
[Takumi-nii as a principal… that's kinda cool…]
[But scary… (◔◡◔;;)]
Akeno:
[Ara~ an entire orphanage of superpowered children. That's ambitious.]
[Don't spoil them too much.]
Zhongli:
[A wise investment. Children are the seeds of civilization.]
Megumi Kato:
[I can help design textbooks if needed.]
Takumi exhaled.
This was good.
If he let group chatter lighten the atmosphere, Miori might feel less pressure.
Miori Shiba's Perspective
In another world—
Miori sat alone at her desk, fingers trembling slightly.
Takumi's confidence was unnerving.
He spoke so casually about things that would require political upheaval, global negotiation, military deployment, and risking extinction in her own world.
She understood his intentions.
They weren't malicious.
But—
Miori Shiba:
[You want to take responsibility for tens of thousands of Cursed Children?]
[Feed them? Shelter them? Educate them?]
[They're not houseplants. They're not pets.]
[They're girls who have been abandoned, hunted, treated like weapons—]
Takumi interrupted.
Takumi:
[Don't misunderstand.]
[I'm not "saving" them.]
[I'm giving them a world where they don't have to survive by killing.]
Miori froze.
That was the one thing her world had never even considered.
Takumi:
[No discrimination. No Gastrea.]
[A stable environment where they can grow.]
Takumi:
[If they want power? I'll give them power.]
[If they want school? I'll give them school.]
[If they want a normal childhood… I can give them that too.]
The chat exploded.
Fujiwara Chika:
[Principal Takumi!!!]
[PRINCIPAL TAKUMI!!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧]
Sagiri:
[I'll teach art… maybe…]
Akeno:
[I'll teach lightning safety.]
Bronya:
[I'll teach robotics and coding.]
Zhongli:
[I shall teach history and principles.]
Megumi:
[I can teach reading comprehension.]
Miori stared at the flood of supportive comments.
This wasn't a trap.
This wasn't manipulation.
These people were genuinely planning out a school.
And Takumi—alone in a ruined world—wanted students.
Not soldiers.
Not weapons.
Students.
Takumi's World — The Authority Test
Before replying again, Takumi stood up.
He needed clarity.
And he needed to make sure he could actually support thousands of children.
He stepped into the open air, the world bending as he accessed his Herrscher of Reason authority.
The surrounding forest shifted as gears, sigils, construction nodes, invisible blueprint lines, and molecular diagrams unfolded in the sky—like a symphony written in mathematics.
Takumi raised his hand.
A massive city-scale hologram expanded over the treeline:
• Housing Blocks
• Schools
• Underground transit
• Agriculture domes
• Medical facilities
• Recreation zones
• Industrial support sectors
• Solar arrays and fusion nodes
• Dormitories
• Libraries
His brain ran simulations faster than any supercomputer.
He visualized 100,000 children.
Then 300,000.
Then 1 million.
Food output scales.
Energy intake.
Sanitation cycles.
AI caretaker networks.
Emergency response protocols.
Mental health programs.
Cultural integration.
He wasn't testing whether he could do it.
He was testing how safely he could do it.
His eyes glowed with Cognition Authority.
Whole arcs of theoretical infrastructure snapped into functional form.
He compressed the entire blueprint into a seed—a conceptual city core.
Inside the blueprint?
A functional multiverse-grade education super-campus.
He hadn't even realized he was smiling.
"I can do this."
Back in the Chat
Takumi returned to the chat, typing with an uncharacteristic seriousness.
Takumi:
[Miori.]
[I ran full simulations using my Authority.]
[I can safely house and educate up to 3 million Cursed Children with zero strain.]
[So yes. I'm serious.]
The chat froze.
Fujiwara Chika was the first to react.
Fujiwara Chika:
[3… MILLION??]
Sagiri:
[Takumi-nii is terrifying… but reliable!]
Bronya:
[That's not a school. That's a megacity.]
Zhongli:
[A proper nation.]
Akeno:
[Ara~ a whole generation raised by a god.]
Megumi's typing bubble appeared.
Megumi:
[We need a name for the school.]
Takumi almost laughed.
The chat was chaotic, ridiculous—yet comforting.
But Miori hadn't spoken yet.
She was thinking.
Hard.
Miori Shiba — Decision
In her room, she leaned back in her chair.
Cursed Children.
Her world's unwanted daughters.
She had money.
Influence.
A weapons industry.
But those couldn't protect them forever.
Gastrea evolution rates were increasing.
Varanium supplies decreasing.
Internal politics rotten.
Humanity was losing.
If Takumi could take the children… then she could free them from becoming weapons.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she sent the next message.
Miori Shiba:
[Takumi.]
[You want the Cursed Children.]
Takumi:
[Yes.]
Miori Shiba:
[Then I'll gather as many as I can.]
[But I want something in return.]
Takumi's eyes narrowed.
Takumi:
[What is it?]
Miori Shiba:
[Help me build a sanctuary in my world.]
[Not for the adults.]
[For the surviving human children.]
[A temporary fort, until we evacuate.]
Takumi blinked.
He had been expecting money, weapons, influence—something selfish.
He did not expect:
Save the children of my world too.
He suppressed the strange tightness in his chest.
Takumi:
[Done.]
[I'll build you the safest fortress on Earth.]
A Pause — The Godhood Edge
The chat cheered.
But Takumi didn't type.
His heart rate spiked for the first time in ages.
This was important.
Not mechanically.
Not strategically.
Psychologically.
He realized something sharp:
He didn't want to save her world.
But he wanted to save the children.
He was becoming… selective.
Dangerously selective.
"I need to be careful."
Power makes preference easy.
Preference makes cruelty easy.
Cruelty makes gods monsters.
He forced himself to breathe.
Then typed slowly.
Takumi:
[But understand, Miori.]
[I won't save your world's adults.]
[Only children. Cursed or normal.]
[Anyone over 16 gets screened individually.]
Miori didn't argue.
Miori Shiba:
[That's fair.]
[Honestly? That's generous.]
Then—An Unexpected Ping
Just as Takumi prepared to close the chat—
System:
[MISSION UNLOCKED — "Salvation of Scarlet Will."]
[Objective: Rescue Cursed Children globally.]
[Reward: Massive points, world-travel privileges, system upgrade.]
The whole chat exploded.
Chika:
[A main quest!? MAIN QUEST!?]
Sagiri:
[Takumi-nii got a world-saving mission!]
Akeno:
[Ara, the system is really leaning into godhood arcs.]
Zhongli:
[Your path becomes clearer, Takumi.]
Bronya:
[I want in. Send me if you need recon.]
Megumi:
[Do we get a group uniform?]
Takumi inhaled deeply.
So this was it.
The first real multiversal mission.
A rescue mission.
A civilization mission.
A founding mission.
His world would no longer be empty.
It would become a sanctuary.
A school.
A city.
A home.
And he—
He would become its guardian.
Not a god.
Not a tyrant.
Something more human.
A protector.
Takumi:
[Everyone—prepare.]
[We're going to start the largest rescue operation across worlds.]
[Chapter one of the New Civilization begins now.]
The group erupted in cheers, jokes, and mission planning.
Takumi closed his eyes.
He knew what came next.
Planning.
Teleport gates.
Talisman regulation.
Screenings.
Sanctuary blueprints.
Population scaling.
Ethics council meetings.
Cross-world diplomatic stealth.
He smiled faintly.
Finally—
His empty world would no longer be silent.