What am I supposed to live for now?
My people have been swallowed by that pitch-black sea.
Once, those waters were our cradle, a place where we sang freely and shared our joy.
Now they have become a land of disaster.
I left the homeland where I had spent my life and came to the surface.
I warned the people of the land that a crisis was spreading through the sea and told them to prepare.
But almost no one listened.
Those two-legged humans continued fighting and slaughtering one another.
It was as though every ruler was determined to prove that they alone were the chosen one.
Every city-state claimed that the gods had guided them.
Every king insisted that the Titans had chosen them to become the rightful ruler.
And so they continued waging war against one another.
Again and again, people died amid blood, fire, and steel.
Perhaps this war will finally be forced to end once the Black Tide spreads farther inland.
Perhaps only after more people lose their homes and lives to it will they finally understand.
Otherwise, they will keep fighting until a single victor remains, leaving nothing behind but a devastated continent.
They are the same people.
Yet they continue slaughtering one another with such desperation.
Not because they lack the resources necessary to survive.
Not because they have no other choice.
They fight merely for the title of the one chosen by the Titans.
For some hollow idea of glory.
And for that, they willingly throw themselves into war after war.
If people continue dying one after another, then when the Black Tide finally arrives in full force...
Who will be left to resist it?
I once thought that uniting the people of the surface against the Black Tide that consumed my homeland would become the purpose of my remaining life.
Yet the entire land is now engulfed in war, while the disaster already approaching their shores is being ignored.
So what am I supposed to do now?
What am I supposed to keep living for?
A figure wrapped entirely in a black cloak leaned against a quiet corner of the Grove of Epiphany.
She stared blankly at the colossal tree that represented Cerces, the Titan of Reason.
She had come here in search of an answer.
She wanted to discover what she should live for.
She wanted to understand the meaning of her continued existence.
Of course, she could simply choose death.
She could end her own life and be done with everything.
But her people had paid with their own lives and blood to give her the chance to survive.
How could she casually throw that life away?
Still, she needed something.
Some purpose strong enough to support her.
Something that could keep the loneliness and isolation in her heart from consuming her completely and dragging her into an endless emptiness.
She needed a belief strong enough to hold onto.
But right now, she had nothing.
Her entire existence was trapped in confusion.
The Grove of Epiphany gathered scholars from across Amphoreus.
Perhaps among all these brilliant minds, someone could provide the answer she needed.
Unfortunately, none of the answers she received satisfied her.
One scholar suggested that she find someone she loved.
Perhaps love would give her life meaning.
Another recommended learning something she genuinely enjoyed.
Painting.
Music.
Anything that allowed her to create.
Another scholar believed her emptiness existed only because she had too much time to think.
If she simply made herself busy enough, she would eventually stop dwelling on such questions.
He even invited her to study mathematics with him.
But none of those answers satisfied her.
She could not accept any of them as the purpose of her life.
She already knew that keeping herself busy could temporarily drive away the loneliness and emptiness gnawing at her heart.
But if she merely repeated meaningless tasks for the sake of distraction, then the loneliness would only return more violently once she stopped.
"Why?"
She finally asked aloud.
"Why is there not a single ruler in this world willing to confront the danger of the Black Tide?"
"Because immediate gratification is far more intoxicating than a disaster that still feels distant."
Someone answered.
The cloaked woman turned.
A gray-haired young man in a black coat had approached without her noticing and was now sitting beside her.
"But what could possibly matter more than the land you live on being consumed?"
She looked at him in confusion.
"What could matter more than your own life being threatened?"
"Because the crisis has not truly appeared before their eyes yet."
The young man answered calmly.
"Many people are already warning them about how terrible the Black Tide is."
"Several smaller coastal city-states have already been threatened by it."
"Some are on the verge of destruction."
"Others may already be gone."
"But the powerful city-states in the heart of the continent still haven't experienced the Black Tide themselves."
"They have never personally witnessed how terrifying it truly is."
"So instead of mobilizing their forces and sacrificing their own interests to confront a threat they still consider distant, they would rather use the Titans' oracle as a convenient justification to wage war against their neighbors."
"If they can conquer the other city-states, absorb their territories, and bring their populations under one banner, they could create a single unified nation."
"At that point, the combined strength of the entire continent would far exceed that of any city-state today."
"And when the Black Tide finally arrives, those rulers believe the power of an entire united civilization will be enough to resist it."
He paused.
"Besides, far too many people on this land place absolute faith in the Titans."
"Even though the oracle has already been given, they still believe that if the disaster truly becomes unavoidable, all they need to do is pray sincerely."
"And the Titans will descend with divine power and erase the crisis for them."
"Phagousa couldn't stop that disaster."
The woman lowered her voice.
"But if all the Titans on the continent joined forces... perhaps they really could."
The confusion beneath her hood only deepened.
The emptiness inside her seemed to grow even larger.
"You're trying to find a reason to keep living, aren't you?"
"Yes."
She looked at him.
"Can you give me an answer?"
"No."
The gray-haired young man shook his head.
"Because everyone has a different answer to that question."
Then, from somewhere, he produced a storybook.
Its title was The Adventurer.
He handed it to the black-robed woman.
"This book records how different people confronted the emptiness inside themselves."
"How they tried to fill that void."
"How they searched for a reason to keep living."
"Everyone found a different answer."
"And everyone had to search for that answer themselves."
"Your question is the same."
"No one else can give you the meaning of your life."
"You have to find the answer that belongs to you."
The woman extended her hands.
Her skin was so pale that it barely looked human.
She accepted the book and opened it to the first page.
A passage had been written there.
[When you no longer know the meaning or purpose of your life, raise your head and look toward the stars that have always hung above you.]
[Then believe, with all your heart, that somewhere among that endless sea of stars, the answer you seek must exist.]
[And then, set out to find it.]
Omaris, an adventurer.
The woman softly read the passage aloud.
Then she suddenly raised her head toward the sky.
Night had already fallen.
Countless stars glittered overhead.
"So the sea of stars..."
She stared upward.
"Was it always this beautiful?"
When she turned back, intending to ask something else, the gray-haired young man was already gone.
Just as quietly as he had arrived.
(To be continued.)
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