They maintained a certain distance—not too common, yet not too rare. They were the kind of people you'd look at curiously on the street, but wouldn't turn back to stare at after passing.
For the Ex-Machina, the data uploaded to the cluster was merely a reference. Some chose to copy it to experience it themselves, while others chose to forge their own paths, relying on their unique logic to break through their limitations. Because of this, they roamed Disboard as practitioners, with impressive results so far.
The Seirens continued their hedonistic, carefree lives of play. The Elves continued their power struggles, enslavement, and being enslaved, which they hadn't put down since the war.
As for the humans...
When time is stretched to a length that makes short-lived races feel despair, even for those with long lives, in just two or three generations, the past is just the past. It stays on oil paintings, in thin text... until even those vanish.
Jibril hated that feeling.
Those people might have experienced storms, their hearts might have once raced, but under this stretched time, everything returned to peace. The past was gone; something had indeed been changed, but perhaps only slightly.
As the familiar faces faded away, only scraps remained of history.
Walking along this long red river felt like treading on a red carpet. The nose could catch that eternal fragrance—thick, yet never cloying. Always unique.
This was one of the "scraps," shattered as it was.
Body odor—the thought popped into her mind. Jibril covered her nose in disgust. Though the fragrance remained, it had become a scent caught between her palms.
The massive palace built of countless petals was now in sight. Every detailed eave, the outward-flying corners, the scattered pillars... mortals who couldn't approach could only use their imagination to depict this palace that existed only in fantasy.
From the ground, it was just a tiny dot. Even from the closest reachable distance, it was just a silhouette the size of a bottle cap. The more unreachable it was, the more curious they became; the more curious, the more they fantasized—The Palace of the One True God, the storage of the Star Grail, the burial site of the universe's secrets...
In three thousand years, countless legends had circulated. Even though the One True God appeared in various cities and wasn't cold or unapproachable, he only smiled whenever people asked about the palace.
The palace that Jibril was currently touching. Her palm brushed against the pillars and the windows along the corridor. Through the decorative patterns, she could glimpse a corner of the interior. In front of the main hall stood a massive flower-monument [Hana-hi].
[Dedicated to the heroes who gave their lives for peace, for the survival of humanity, and for humanity's future. May the Elementals of your souls live on in this beautiful world, forever free of worry.]
[Chardon, Anton, Alma, Corey, Delu, Sirius, Edo, Darrell, Devin, Lux, Wayne, Eric, Charlie, Thompson... Leni, Credo.]
The massive flower-monument stood at the main entrance of the palace, its body filled with countless crushed petals. It was a heavy, dark red, looking as if blood still flowed within, yet it didn't feel sinister. Anyone standing before it would feel the same solemnity, reverence, and unspoken grief.
Even with eyes closed, one could feel the fearless resolve and the determination of self-sacrifice.
No race could imagine that such a monument—starting with humans, and consisting mostly of human names—would stand in that mysterious palace. Even the humans wouldn't imagine such a thing.
Unable to feel Elementals, unable to use magic, lacking physical strength and short-lived... for such a race to occupy the largest piece of land in Disboard through sheer numbers and wisdom was enough to surprise other races. And that was considering many supernatural races had no need for territory.
From that perspective, the reason this monument sat at the entrance of an unreachable palace—rather than somewhere easily reached—was for protection.
He didn't want the names of the heroes who gave their lives to vanish into time. He didn't want them forgotten, yet he wanted to protect humanity... Just looking at the names, Jibril could feel the man's conflict. How much he wanted these heroes to be etched into the memory of every race.
The names on the monument weren't limited to humans, nor were they ranked by status, but by the time of their deaths. Elf, Seirens, Ex-Machina... the man had recorded the names of everyone who helped him fulfill his plan and achieve his feat.
When not mentioned, they were forgotten. Now, looking at the names, she suddenly remembered the owners of many names she had once met.
Three thousand years later, Jibril was finally this close to the Palace of Flowers.
It was also her first time stepping into the palace.
The pink-haired Flügel had thought she would never come here... at least not before the man returned.
Had she changed too?
Silently.
The things she once insisted on had wavered without her knowing.
"Want to go in?"
That annoying One True God was floating behind her. After the silent passage of time, he finally broke the silence with a suggestion.
"...Haven't you been in?" Without turning back, Jibril asked in a low voice, her finger tracing the text on the monument.
"In fact, aside from taking a few looks when I was born, I haven't been here once in these thousands of years~," Tet said easily, resting his head on his arms and crossing his legs. "After all, this isn't my home~. If the master isn't home, it's quite rude for a guest to sneak in~."