Just A Reincarnation Story (Summoning Japan Edition)

Chapter 83: Shades of Blue

The time inched closer to midnight, and it was the end of Meteos' break. From his perch, he saw a Philadean clipper that was unfurling its sails and gliding out of the moorings on the inky Great Sumter River, juxtaposed with the luminous backdrop of the Lambert District. Aboard were a good number of recently joined collaborators of the White Lotus, who in two, maybe three weeks, with favorable winds and tides, would reach their destination and establish a new node in the Far Eastern network.

Only a week ago Meteos had spoken to Princess Lugiel about the White Lotus' present limitations, stemming from its still relatively small pool of international collaborators, which restricts its influence in proportion to its ambitious stated goal. Nevertheless, given the White Lotus' nature as a group founded based on something that wasn't normal by any stretch of this world's imagination, the White Lotus has the greater potential to rapidly correct its weakness by double or even triple digits within a single day, contingent upon the time and energy Meteos can allocate to meet every single one new member. The shortcomings of having Meteos as the only one capable (and actively willing) to accomplish such a feat were offset by the outlandish ease of the recruitment phase and impeccable coordination from even the greenest of White Lotus members. Even if these partners remain passive in instigating change, their role in providing intel on the events unfolding in their countries contributes significantly to the cause.

Still, there was a line that Meteos hadn't crossed, that being none of the close friends of his age are seeing the Temple of Heaven. This wasn't a game of tag or a clubhouse they could build in his backyard. This was a growing world-spanning conspiracy with lessening the damage from the Apocalypse as a stake. Meteos wouldn't dream of subjecting his friends to that kind of pressure. They were actual kids, unlike himself. They deserved to enjoy their youth and live happy life. As he reminded himself, the adults were already proving incredibly useful. The network was already making a difference. And maybe, by the time his friends were old enough to understand, the world he was chasing after would already taking shape.

Besides, casting Temple of Heaven on underage children to fulfill this selfish ambition would probably be a surefire way to earn him an instant death from the Harbinger of Apocalypse and the Grim Reaper himself anyway. Meteos was greedy and spiteful, yes, but he is sure not stooping to that level. Had it not for the Apocalypse and its effects on his being, this boring, peaceful life might be Meteos' ideal world as well. But apparently it was not to be.

Grin and bear it. Otherwise, Pestilence will relish in his small victories before the main act.

Checking at his mental clock, Meteos mumbled, "Still a good three hours left." There's still time to continue prepping for the next wave of collaborators before he himself needs to take a good night's rest. That was the promise he made before his caretakers—bless their weary souls—relented to let him operate solo on certain nights.

Reaching into his sling bag, Meteos retrieved a thermos and took a long sip of richly flavored hot chocolate within. As he finished the last drop, a contented grin tugged at the corner of his lips. He couldn't help but take a moment to indulge in savoring the fleeting sweetness that this simple pleasure had given him. And when he was done, Overhaul was cast to send the metal case in his hand dissolved into oblivion.

And the moment he donned his mask, Meteos became Amon again. He had three hours to meet with the would-be collaborators, give them orders, and tip the scales a little further in this world's favor. Every second counted.

Amon leaned forward... and leaped down.

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Augustusmens 7, 1616 Central Calendar, 09:00

Northeastern Neldorand District, Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire

Kaios shuffled slightly behind the de facto leader of their entourage as they walked along the sidewalk, casting a nostalgic gaze across the designated harbor for the Third Civilization Area and peripheral region ships in Runepolis. The morning sunlight, golden and unfiltered by pollution, danced on the river that lapped against the docks where an armada of vessels was tethered. Even for a place used to handle matters of commerce with barbarians, their presence isolated in the city to a single place not unlike the treatment for Mu's black smoke-spewing steamships, the Milishians didn't spare any effort in building this place to their own level of sophistication. However, the jutting wooden masts of the ships laden with intricate ropework reminded him of how out of place this enclave of his home country civilization's activity compared to the rest of the Sleepless Magical City.