Tonight, Alice joins the hunt.

The Imp worked hard for decades, and Aegean also launched several large-scale battles with great effort. Meanwhile, in the palace, Alice looked at the entire timeline dozens of times—just looking, without changing it—but ultimately failed to find the outcome she hoped for.

There was no conspiracy, no trap; she truly found nothing. Yet, the more she found nothing, the more vigilant she became.

Time, therefore, flows by meaninglessly.

One day, Patchouli finally couldn't help but ask, "How about... we go for a walk?"

"What's the point of doing that? We can observe all the changes in the universe without even leaving our homes," Alice retorted casually. "Besides, didn't we decide before that we'd leave everything to the little devil and just watch without doing anything?"

“Going out for a walk doesn’t mean we have to take action, Alice. And even if we don’t go out, what’s the point of staying here?”

"Of course it's meaningful, we can..."

"What can I do?"

Alice opened her mouth, then suddenly realized she was doing something wrong. Arguing with her lover over such an unresolved trivial matter was the real mistake. And what she should be doing now was…

“…Alright then.” She sighed, took Patchouli’s hand, and stood up from her seat. “Let’s go for a walk.”

"Go...get closer to see this world." — [And see if this can spark any interesting conversation.]

Alice thought to herself.

She felt very uncomfortable because this was perhaps the first time she had not achieved a 90% or higher chance of success in her operation.

She felt very uncomfortable.

Section Sixteen: Signs of Ascension

Now that she had decided to take action, there was no need to linger in one place. For her first stop, Alice decided to go somewhere relatively close by.

Choosing from near to far aligns well with the logic of how things work.

And her first stop was...

Earth.

Although Earth has endured wars, its overall framework remains largely unchanged from hundreds of years ago. When Alice and Patchouli arrived on Earth and landed atop the giant industrial city at the South Pole, they easily recalled a similar scene from their memories.

The fragmentation of the oligarchic system, the collapse of the Nest City Alliance, and the subsequent fighting among themselves—this was supposed to happen 60,000 years from now. By then, Earth's resources would have been exploited to a dangerous limit. And before successful exploration of extraterrestrial life, war would naturally break out on the inner land.

This war should have occurred 60,000 years later, but it has erupted prematurely due to the influence of the two spokespeople—resource shortages have arrived early because the imps' war requires a sufficient number of factories and resources. The split of the hive cities has occurred early, and this is due to the end-times worship initiated by Aika. Now, nearly a quarter of the hive cities on Earth are controlled by Aika and the descending angels she dispatched—and just as matter gains reinforcement in the spiritual world, when the extraterrestrial entities formed from the spirit materialize in the material world, they also gain more or less advantages.

There's no need to go into the specifics; all you need to know is that the angels can fight on Earth with heavily armed regular legions, but on the other side of the world, they face the complete opposite situation—it's strange, they seem to have an even greater advantage than on home ground when they're fighting away from home. I wonder what kind of mechanism is at play here.

But that doesn't matter. What matters is the war, the stalemate. And when the two witches—for now, for the time being, they are witches—landed lightly atop the hive city, a war had just ended on this land.

War, a bloody and brutal war.

Enormous steel beasts tore at each other, their overflowing light and heat of destruction washing over the earth. Dark red blood and carbonized organ remains smeared the broken walls, while hot winds surged with the explosions, violently washing over the gloomy, leaden clouds that seemed to want to embrace the entire nest. At the same time, shimmering white feathers pierced down from the top of the sky.

—But that war is over, and everything described above is merely a record that can only exist in video recordings and in the eyes of witches. When time returns to the normal timeline, what comes into the viewer's sight is only a desolate wilderness that is gradually cooling down, and a hive city that is damaged in many ways and is being repaired with the help of automated machinery.

This was a failed siege, and the Angel Legion of Love Song suffered only minor setbacks at the foot of the South Pole Nest City before easily retreating unscathed. The number of casualties was—26,401.

Alice shook her head and corrected the number. Why should mortals be listed separately as a loss while others are ignored? Don't other lives count?

Then, a new statistic appeared before her eyes. Including all livestock, insects, and microorganisms, bacteria, and viruses that ceased functioning before reaching their natural lifespan limits, the total reduction was approximately 304 *rang* (rang: 10 to the power of 28).

Ah… that’s a huge number. She couldn’t help but reach out and touch the earth, and as her fingertips left the warm soil, she picked up a feather of light that was slowly dissipating.

An angel, a battle-worn angel, an angel captured after being wounded in battle.

She gazed at the feather of light, and a wealth of information was revealed in her eyes—

She saw a radiant light born from the sunrise in the highest heavens. Light is formless, yet it coalesces in the morning breeze. Light is without shape, yet it takes form on the midday water. And as the sun gradually sets, and the songs of little angels rise from the trees by the lake, a new being is finally born into the world.

It joined the chorus of little angels singing together, and they happily accepted it. She was given a name, a name without any meaning, simply a string of syllables pieced together to distinguish her from the others. In human language, the pronunciation would be—'Zhi Sapoin'.

A name without meaning, a name without significance. The style of the High Heavens differs from that of Earth; angels do not bestow superfluous attributes upon anything. Buckets are only used to hold water, weapons are only used for fighting, ranks never fall apart, and duties never change. And this 'Sapion' has existed as the Planter since its birth.

It loves planting flowers, and it loves cultivating flowers of all colors. It especially loves placing beautiful and neatly arranged flowers on the shore of the highest lake. In this way, when newborn angels are born in the lake, they can see these beautiful flowers the moment they open their eyes.

It was a very interesting lifestyle, and it lasted for a million days and nights. Until recently—

—The steel legion descending from the sky, along with the iron rain and fiery winds, dried up its lake and burned its vast fields of flowers. It lashed out at the newborn angels, both those it knew and those it didn't, reducing them to fragments of light. And by the time its kind was restored from its ravaged state by its own kind, its lake, its flowers, its land—everything about it—had vanished.

Thus, one of the planters became a warrior—one of the worst warriors among the angels, for it had never learned how to use a weapon. Its comrades, however, had survived countless bloody battles.

This was its first war, and perhaps its last—for it was defeated before achieving much, becoming one of the few angels captured by the hive. And it was clear that its remaining, short life was unlikely to be filled with happiness.

Alice looked away.

She frowned, seemingly lost in thought. After a while, she suddenly stepped forward and entered the central hub of this South Pole Nest City, the place where scholars among the mortals disassembled angels and used them as experimental subjects for analysis.

Patchouli followed her, while the other mortals continued to ignore her—and in the two witches' lodging, in a large laboratory colder than iron, they saw the winged beings bound in transparent containers, broken and dilapidated, yet still exuding a sense of sacred nobility.

Its condition was not good—as an experimental prop, it was being subjected to dozens of tubes that were somewhere between solid and ethereal, and the constant stimulation from various strange energies or substances was certainly unpleasant. Witnessing this situation, Alice, standing before the transparent container, fell into deep thought.

"You pity it, so you're planning to save it, Alice?" Patchouli's voice rang in her ears as she asked.

However, Alice simply shook her head.

“No, there’s no need.” Alice shook her head, stretched out her hand, and presented what should have been a scene three months from now to herself and Patchouli.

Three months later, this weakest of the angels, having endured excessive amounts of alien energy and some unspeakable experiences, underwent a phenomenon akin to corruption. Its pristine white wings turned pitch black, and annihilation phenomena from the collision of matter and antimatter emerged from the surface of its wings—it remained the worst warrior among the angels, but it now wielded a deadly weapon. When it flapped its wings, the entire nest turned to ash within seconds due to annihilation. This wretched warrior returned to the ranks of the angelic legion, and every so often, its power began to be mass-produced.

Is this a good thing for it?

Perhaps so, after all, it gained fighting power after only three months of suffering. But...

Alice reached out again and swatted away the images of 'Zipoin's' past and future. Instead, she brought to view the past and future of the busy scholars and researchers beside her.

A scholar walking past her, of humble origins from the upper echelons of Hive City, was a natural-born hard worker. His surname was Luo, and his given name was Andrew, a blend of Eastern and Western influences. From a young age, he had access to the best resources. He had lived amidst the war between the two worlds since he was born, and from childhood, he had been taught to contribute to Hive City and to the human unity.

He wasn't rebellious because he genuinely loved the goal and the work it led to. Just like his parents, who died in the afterlife shortly after his birth, and his brother, who collapsed on the lab bench and made a major breakthrough in human armor technology before his death.

So he arrived here in his early twenties and made many achievements, the most outstanding of which was a healing elixir that could be effectively used on the battlefields of the Mind Realm. This elixir and its subspecies would save billions of dying mortal warriors over the next six hundred years, until a more effective new product replaced it.

This potion was the result of using a thousand captured angels as experimental subjects. Most of them died painfully during the experiments. Only a few survived—the angel before him, who would bring destruction in three months, was the 997th of the subjects, and the last of the survivors. And he would produce the first batch of the finished potion in five weeks.

Was he wrong? Should he die here?

"Do you pity him and intend to change his fate?" Patchouli asked for the second time.

But Alice shook her head a second time, dispelling the timeline, and then turned her gaze to the other side.

A warrior's past and future unfolded before them—a woman, a beautiful woman with a robust physique, a veritable "muscle Barbie." She was forty-four years old, her body covered in hundreds of healed scars, and nearly a sixth of her body tissue, including a large portion of her brain, had been replaced with mechanical parts. And now, she was arguably the most decorated general among the many generals in this nest city.

Her name was Li Qing, an ordinary person of East Asian descent, born in a typical incubation chamber in the middle level. She was one of the results of artificial insemination. And like Suzuki Satoru in another distant nest city, she lived like a cog in a machine until she was twenty years old.

Until war suddenly broke out, until war suddenly shattered the tranquility around her—the moment when the pure light falling from the sky vaporized the building in front of her and one of her hands, what rose in her heart was not confusion or fear. Instead, it was a sudden, uncontrollable rage.

Perhaps it was the disruption to her peaceful but carefree life, or perhaps it was witnessing the battlefield outside the building's fault line that stirred a sense of shared hatred. In any case, by the time she came to her senses, she had already picked up a dead soldier's weapon and personally killed a servant soldier who was attacking in coordination with the angelic legion.

This brought her to the attention of the authorities in the city. Several months later, she was able to participate in the city's defense as a private. Over the next twenty-four years, she fought in at least a thousand battles, slaying countless enemies, making countless contributions, and protecting countless people.

Her name was high on the kill list compiled by the interdimensional alliance in the Mind Universe. Even in this era, she was worshipped as a hero in Nest City. And even the recent war was only managed to maintain a slight victory thanks to her command and valiant efforts.

She was powerful, powerful enough that even the annihilation eruption three months later wouldn't be enough to kill her. But in that moment, she would lose all her comrades, the city and people she protected. She would lose everything, leaving only herself to eke out a living amidst the ruins, barely escaping with her life.

Thus, Earth lost a highly decorated general. The battlefield of the psychic universe gained a lonely, nameless avenger. And a hundred years later, in a bloody battle, the first dark angel, who bore the name 'Zhi Sapoin,' perished along with the nameless avenger.

Fate brought them to a close, and this time, Patchouli did not ask a third question.

“Patch,” Alice spoke first. “Tell me, which of them is wrong?”

Patchouli shrugged. "From their own perspectives, they are all right, of course. And life forms with different perspectives are naturally wrong even when they breathe."

"So that's how it is. Neither of them is wrong? Then who is at fault?"

Patchouli didn't answer, she just looked at her.

What is the origin of all these destinies? — It is the war between the two realms.

What was the origin of the war between these two realms? — It was between the little devil and Satori Aika.

Why do these two fight on the world stage? — It is the will of Alice, Patchouli, and Loyal.

So……

Alice suddenly stretched out her hand and slashed forward.

The next moment, in the primordial era etched in the previous age, and the age before that—going back twelve ages—to the time when the witches first intervened in the world, her eyes once again witnessed the fates of these three living beings within that distant, ancient era.

The angel remained an angel, the Planter's angel, yet its fate was even shorter than that of the angels on this side—it was summoned from other planes of existence shortly after its birth. And when it appeared before evil in accordance with the covenant between the High Heavens and these planes of existence, it was confronted by a skeletal mage wearing a strange mask.

The most inept warrior of the High Heavens met Ainz Ooal Gown, who had just descended to another world. The outcome was predictable. Its fate ended there, but going back countless ages, its fate also ended there.

Ordinary people remained ordinary, but their destinies diverged. There was no war, no motivation. Scholars destined for historical fame became hedonistic upper-class nobles. Former powerful generals lived uneventful lives as ordinary office workers—Andrew Lowe died at twenty-one from brain cell lysis caused by a drug overdose. Li Qing died at twenty-five from overwork. And then… nothing more.

Alice blinked.

She suddenly felt that she had figured something out, that she had seen through something. Something was about to emerge, echoing in her heart, but it was still lacking that one opportunity.

She couldn't help but turn her head and ask.

"Patch, do you think their fate has improved or worsened?"

Patchouli raised an eyebrow slightly, looked at her, and thought for a moment.

“I don’t know,” Patchouli finally answered honestly. “Good and bad are subjective things, and I can’t define them…” She suddenly frowned: “…Why would I think I can’t define them?”

She suddenly heard Alice's laughter, a genuine laugh that comes from the heart when a problem is truly solved.

"Because your beliefs don't support doing this, because your path doesn't support the idea that 'I am the only one who matters in heaven and on earth.' Patchouli, my companion, my spiritual partner, my mirror and guide. You've done me a great favor."

"???" Patchouli looked puzzled, but the next moment, she felt a warm sensation as Alice gave her a firm kiss on the lips.

"I've come to understand a principle, a principle of 'I' being the only one who matters. Although it's not complete yet, it should be the right path."

She held Patchouli, whose cheeks were slightly flushed, and cheerfully drew a conclusion.

"Fools are short-sighted because they can only concern themselves with temporary gains and losses."

"All things are short-sighted because they can only concern themselves with the gains and losses of this lifetime."

"Extraordinary shortsightedness is because it can only concern itself with gains and losses over a hundred generations."

"Gods and demons are short-sighted, because they can only concern themselves with the gains and losses of eras!"

"They are all short-sighted, they are all wrong, because their understanding of 'correctness' is not at a sufficiently profound level. Above all, below all the saints, the only correct one is 'I,' who looks down upon all of this, who looks down upon the changes of eras and the transformation of all things! Only 'I' am right! Only 'I' can measure what is truly right and wrong!"

"Let's go, Patchouli." She took Patchouli's hand and was about to lead her away.

"Where, where are we going?" Patchouli was still confused, feeling somewhat... unable to understand.

"Go to the universe on the other side of the mind, to the point where the script takes place, to that planet where Ainz Ooal Gown is located, where the flow of time was deliberately slowed down by Imp and Ayaka Sasaki, thus freezing it in the early stages of the script. I will go there to complete the theories I have acquired. And then..."