Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 195 - 30: Starting a New Era_3

Chapter 195: Chapter 30: Starting a New Era_3

"The Conqueror assembled a formidable army and built tall, sturdy ships, on the brink of launching an expedition. He claimed, as he set out, that he would fight to the ends of the world, win it all, and when he returned, he would save his people, shatter all the shackles, and lift humanity from the quagmire of suffering, unburdened and advancing forward—yet those grand visions and lofty declarations ultimately dissipated into the winds over the Nether Sea..."

The memories, squandered with time, began to blur and fade over the decades that followed.

...

"Alster! Alster! Open your eyes! Your era has come! Embrace the age that awaits you! The Witch needs you! The grand undertakings you once yearned for are now before your eyes!"

He heard such words in the Void.

"My time has come... the time I’ve waited for my whole life... no, I didn’t wait, I gave up halfway through... because that period was too long..."

...

Alster truly opened his eyes.

His gaze reflected all things, much like the Magic Mirror.

He saw a horde of pirates feasting, ten thousand pirates crowding around a chosen Pirate King, who, with a raised War Axe, led the charge; the ocean’s waves roared, and the warships, dense as shuttles, surged manically towards land.

His view shifted to the vast Northern Land, rivers frozen, forests blanketed with snow. The Winter King sat alone on a high throne amidst the eye of the blizzard, where violent forces seemed to tear him apart.

Further north, in the terrifying plains of ice—which served as the end of the world—there was no sign of life, only the cold and desolate silence. An immense wall of ice stood erected, and behind it, monstrous non-humans bred, waiting for the blizzards’ spread.

Looking east, the Barbarian king of the Royal Court roared that the plateau could have but one King, tens of thousands of horses galloping across the plains; their Riders excelled in horsemanship, their movements unrestrained, pillaging and killing in bloody brutality.

Turning southward, a myriad of mountains and ravines concealed dark shadows, hence Monsters abounded, waiting for the earth to quake, lava to erupt, so that they might return to the surface.

In the southeast fjords, remnants of the ancient empire resided, with Stargazers intently observing the trajectories of the stars in the sky, calculating the correct positions and timing, believing that when the stars realigned, the All Gods would unleash their Divine Power, and the earth would encounter a drastic upheaval.

Proudly standing at the tail of the serpent was a castle, alone against the towering waves; deep in the ocean, colossal beings stirred from their slumber, their bodies like mountain ranges beneath the sea.

In the lands overseas, the Dragon Clan soared through the skies, few in number; Dwarves clung on for life, staunchly defending their fortresses; while the mythical Ancestor Tree fell ill, Elves were driven to leave their homes, venturing across the ocean.

Venture toward those directions, and there lay vast collapsed ruins; magnificent Architecture destroyed in an instant, traces of man’s works eroded by nature.

The Grand Duke of Oak kept watch over mountains and seas, his dominion’s dark waters churning like the Underworld, with billions of Dead Souls howling within.

Beyond the sea, dense clouds gathered, Thunder and lightning weaving together, boundless and out of sight, concealing immense terror.

The entire world lay exposed before him, everything too majestic and too vast.

Suddenly, he remembered something and turned to look.

He looked toward an inconspicuous part of the land.

In that remote, wild River Valley, a young man swung a hoe, bent to sow seeds, and beside him tender green wheat sprouts instantly broke through the earth.

The vast fields brimmed with endless vitality.

The wheat sprouts grew robustly, swelling rapidly, quickly leafing, jointing, heading, flowering, filling grain, maturing...

In the time it took for him to stand, they transformed in the blink of an eye.

An endless golden wheat field had taken shape.

It glimmered under the sunlight, swaying waves of wheat rustling in the wind.

He wore a laurel crown, his physique beautiful and robust, his expression serene, each movement relaxed and graceful.

He stood still, his gaze upon countless wheat ears, his humble farmer’s attire belied a nobility and a towering presence.

Circled by sun and wheatfield reflections, a faint halo encircled him, as if a Divine Ring hovered at his side, seemingly illuminating the whole world.

...

Those vast visions, seemingly infinite, finally settled.

Click!

The world in Alster’s eyes shattered like a mirror.

He had an epiphany.

A new era had been steadily approaching him.

The way to inaugurate that era was the end of his life.