At the heart of the capital of the Slane Theocracy, inside the Six Gods' Council Chamber, the representatives of the Six Gods and the High Priest sat around a circular stone table.
Their expressions were as heavy as storm clouds that refused to disperse.
"The world we inhabit is a fragile ship cast into a vast ocean. And every century, a storm may descend without warning."
The elderly High Priest—supreme leader of the Theocracy—stood in his solemn, weighty ceremonial robes. Under the soft glow of magical illumination, his aged voice carried both gravity and restraint.
"From the divine revelations of the Six Great Gods whom humanity worships… to the Eight Greed Kings… to the Thirteen Heroes… and now, the shinobi of the Ninja World."
"Whether foreign invaders… or heteromorphic races who slaughter our kind from within…"
He exhaled deeply, as though expelling centuries of accumulated pressure.
"The Theocracy has endured countless tempests. And from this day forward—we shall continue to endure."
"Well spoken, Your Eminence."
Among the upper echelon, one of only two women present—the Fire High Priestess—smiled maternally. Though past fifty and somewhat plump, her warm presence brought reassurance.
But her tone sharpened.
"Yet as everyone knows, our enemies have stationed powerful forces within the Council State, the Kingdom, the Empire… and now within our Theocracy."
"Even handling one front strains us. Should the Empire or Council State fall, we will inevitably follow."
In the Magic Continent, stepping into the Hero Realm was equivalent to jōnin level.
At its peak, Iwagakure had stationed sixty jōnin-level shinobi along the continent's frontlines.
After assassinations and mind-control incidents carried out by the Black Scripture, that number had dropped to forty-five.
Even so, that remained a figure the Theocracy could not match.
At most, the Theocracy could muster fewer than thirty Hero-level combatants.
And reports from elsewhere painted an even darker picture: the Ninja World possessed a terrifying number of Hero-level warriors—and not a few who had surpassed that realm entirely.
"If we cannot defeat them… we may as well join them."
The Water High Priest, a withered elder whose age could no longer be determined, spoke calmly. His skin bore an earthen hue, yet none could rival his wisdom.
"The Theocracy exists for the sake of humanity. If humans from beyond this world can uphold humanity's sky and establish supremacy… submission is not shameful."
Murmurs rippled across the chamber—agreement, hesitation, displeasure.
"With the Black Scripture intact, our generation—and perhaps the next—may live cautiously. But after several decades… all will blend as one."
"Blend as one?" the Wind High Priest echoed thoughtfully.
"If that is so, our bloodlines would be strengthened. Even if not divine-level, Hero-class individuals would become far more common."
Though he appeared a gentle elder, the Wind High Priest had once belonged to the Sunlight Scripture and personally exterminated countless heteromorphs.
He mourned the Scripture's destruction. Yet if it meant strengthening humanity's foundation, the loss—even annihilation—of every Scripture except the Black Scripture was acceptable.
"Your ideas are admirable," the Earth High Priest interjected sharply.
The youngest among them at just over forty, his eyes were piercing. Formerly the Third Seat of the Black Scripture, he was a battlefield veteran of over fifteen years and regarded as a likely successor to the High Priest.
"But have you considered whether they would accept such terms?"
He paused.
"The moment they entered, they began dismantling our centuries-old faith. They seek to erase our culture—our spirit."
"In a few decades, the Six Gods of Slane may not even remain in books."
"Our existence—our achievements—will be erased."
"Erased?" the Light High Priest chuckled softly.
With narrow eyes and gaunt features, he carried an air of unsettling honesty.
"Our hands are hardly clean. For humanity's survival and supremacy, we have drenched the statues of the Six Gods in our own kin's blood."
"Let history judge merits and sins. We will likely die defending this nation."
"What comes after is for those who remain."
His blunt words cast the room into silence.
Then the Dark High Priest, a man with round spectacles and several floating tomes behind him, broke the quiet.
"Victory and defeat remain uncertain."
Once a high official within the judicial system, his voice was steady.
"The True Dragon Lords of the Council State are beings who have surpassed the Hero Realm—especially the Platinum Dragon Lord."
"They are enemies of humanity."
"The shinobi are also enemies of the Theocracy."
"Now… they clash."
He stroked his beard.
"If the Council State gains the upper hand, the shinobi of Iwagakure may be redeployed. That will be our opportunity."
"If the Council State teeters on collapse… then we surrender cleanly. At worst, we offer our aged heads."
They were all elderly.
Life and death no longer frightened them.
After his analysis, nods followed.
With three awakened God-kin within the Black Scripture and multiple divine-tier relics, none believed they would fare worse than the Empire.
If the Empire could stand toe-to-toe with Amegakure—one of the three great shinobi villages—how could the strongest human nation fall to a mere Blood Emperor?
"Then it is settled."
The High Priest's aged voice rang out.
"We fortify our defenses."
"The Black Scripture will continue assassination and capture operations."
"And instruct the head of magical research—"
"Study the power system of the Ninja World with utmost urgency."
"If nothing else, our warriors must understand what they face."
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