Three thousand years have passed since the end of the Great War—the most titanic conflict this planet has ever seen, one into which almost every existing race was drawn, willingly or otherwise.
Three thousand years.
Just three words, but the time span they represent is an eternity beyond the imagination of short-lived races... I'm talking about you, humans.
My gaze swept from left to right, and back again. Everywhere I looked, it was as if a king had arrived. High and low, old and young, they all bowed their heads, not daring to meet my eyes for more than a second. They didn't have a fraction of their ancestors' courage.
Only the children, squirming in their parents' tight grips, peered through the gaps. Theirs were looks of curiosity, perhaps even admiration or longing.
Children are always bolder, but I know that when they grow up, they will act just like their parents. The process won't even take many years—three or four more years is all it takes for the change to appear.
I smiled at the brave little ones and continued walking down the street.
I say "an eternity beyond the imagination of short-lived races," but to be fair, few races can compare in age to the Flügel, beings composed purely of Elementals. The only difference is how many generations have passed for the others.
The race that "Weed" [Sū ěr] didn't care about, along with the Old Zeus, had established themselves according to the framework he left behind. They even followed the path he set, including that betrayal of that foolish, arrogant Old Zeus during a game, which finally stripped away their shackles... So foolish.
To be a Old Zeus and yet possess no common sense. Times have changed, haven't they?
Weaklings who can't keep up might as well die.
I sighed.
Honestly, why is it that even though that Weed has long since vanished, the "Long-Ears" [Elves] still use everything she [Think] laid out? For thousands of years, they haven't changed. And instead of falling behind because of their conservatism, they've developed rapidly, swallowing up the living space of other races.
Doesn't that just prove how impressive that Weed was? It's as if she's still hovering here like a ghost, never disappearing... It makes me angry every time I think about it.
If you're gone, just stay gone! Why linger!
I sighed again.
Three thousand years.
In my long life, with the unique perspective of a long-lived being, the events of those few years haven't turned into a mere symbol as I expected. Even after three millennia, they haven't faded into nothingness.
There are no tsunamis of emotion, no palpitations. It's more like a yellowed, old photograph, its edges charred black by fire, where the figures are blurry and the outlines indistinguishable.
That photograph—I thought I'd never see it again. But when I returned, lost, to my home in Avant Heim, I found it on my clean white pillow.
I don't know who put it there... Heh, who could it be?
The yellowed photo no longer smelled of anything, but when I held it to my nose, I could still dimly smell smoke.
The memories hadn't faded like the heads I kept as decorations, nor had I forgotten the details... Sometimes I find the memory brought by this powerful body a burden.
It's quite annoying.
But it's only like a faint itch on the arm. It doesn't cause a ripple.
I remember, but so many lives no longer do.
That era when strength was the only truth, when the strong could do as they pleased and destroy a city alone... the wails of the powerless were never tiresome to hear. Even that Great War, or the entire era of endless war, has become a myth in the legends of some races, or a bedtime story to coax children to sleep... Again, I'm talking about you, humans.
While other races are similar, seeing humans act this way makes me particularly... troubled?
Well, not "troubled," just—sigh.
And that's all. As for doing anything more... what would be the point?
The life of an Elf is only a thousand years or so; the Seirens [Sea Dwellers] live even less. The simpleton who once contributed to that man's plan and unilaterally declared the Seirens to be the eternal allies of humanity died thousands of years ago. Now, she's even hailed by her own people as a great queen.
Ugh, to be honest, when I curiously checked the seabed before, I found that the dimwitted folks in those pretty underwater cities had carved that idiot on a stone wall looking so dignified and wise... I can't really comment.
What was her name? Niya? Or Jasmine?
Whatever, it doesn't matter.
Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.
But at least the Seiren records are still somewhat factual; they haven't reached the level of myth. Humanity, however, has forgotten almost everything. Their legends and stories have been annihilated in three thousand years of retelling. Countless "truthful" and false statements have been manufactured by those with agendas; no one cares about the truth anymore.
To the Imanity [Humanity], the past is like a dream. When they wake up the next day, they only know they had a long dream, but they can't remember any of it. They are such a forgetful race; I'm not surprised.
They've even forgotten their alliance with the Seirens. Well, not quite—they've forgotten that they broke the alliance. Yes, a thousand years ago, the humans broke their ancient alliance with the Seirens.
The reason was simple: the Seirens are happy beings who live by the principle of ultimate hedonism and are famous for their lack of intellect. The humans, on the other hand, have too many clever people. Or rather, people who are too clever for their own good.