The Ultimate Passive Paradigm [LitRPG Adventure, Epic Progression]

No one truly understood how Maelivar had fallen so completely.

PsiLink buzzed with speculation. Theories bloomed in the chaos: this was an elaborate deception, a shadow pact between the two nations designed to create a scenario that would terrorize their populations. Then, when independent organizations and spontaneous human rights groups attempted to investigate, they simply vanished. Either kidnapped or completely eliminated.

The only information that leaked came from intelligence sources within House Nyralith, indicating that this success stemmed from Arthur Merinor's actions.

In an instant, the entire nation scrambled to find information about this individual. But only one fact remained: Arthur Merinor had died while still very young. The enemy had apparently spent decades systematically erasing all traces of this person, leaving no possible clues that could lead to today's events.

High-tier cultivators dispatched alongside national leaders flew to Maelivar to assess the situation. They were met with an impenetrable barrier that could not be breached.

Maelivar was more than just a commercial hub and economic hotspot—it served as the premier defensive fortress. In comparison, no neighboring country possessed anything quite like Maelivar. The simple reason was its Artificers.

Only House Nyralith publicly revealed their resistance. However, even this information encountered significant obstacles in verification. Could this be a misdirection from a force specializing in Artificers? No one could answer. The only certainty was that Maelivar's defensive systems had fallen into enemy hands. The massive cannons along the city walls aimed directly at diplomatic envoys from the royal court. Cubic anti-air formations remained in constant activation, with soldiers and anti-gravity boots deployed for continuous aerial defense. When Tier 4 and 5 cultivators, insulted by the blatant display of force, attempted to breach the barrier, destructive energy beams answered their assault.

Videos recorded by witnesses flooded PsiLink as they observed from safe distances. The night sky became a canvas of searing light and concussive force. Shock waves reached even the surrounding villages and small towns. The protective formations defending these places proved no more substantial than paper before a blade, crumbling helplessly against the devastation. The following days brought news of refugees and evacuations as civilians were forced to relocate.

War descended upon Caelindor in the blink of an eye.

Blame fell first upon the aggressors. But soon, the fickle tide of public opinion turned against the victims themselves.

Criticism and condemnation of Caelindor's negligence grew increasingly vocal. The scale of this attack was too massive to ignore. Enemy preparations could be traced back to Arthur Merinor's disappearance, somewhere between twenty and thirty years ago. Yet no faction had detected or caught wind of their plans.

Gradually, sources posting on PsiLink only further enraged the population. Caelindor had possessed intelligence about House Merinor being the source of trouble before other factions even fell under suspicion. A timeline was constructed, and many believed that if Caelindor's government had acted decisively, they could have prevented this crisis.

From another perspective, representatives from the government and various organizations declared that their forces were insufficient to control the entire situation. Moreover, House Merinor could have executed their plan at any moment. General Axel Rourke's actions had merely accelerated a process already in motion. Mirothea's preparations had been extraordinarily secretive.

While Caelindor reeled, Mirothea played the diplomat. They prolonged the situation by sending envoys to neighboring countries, offering specific benefits. Their reasoning was that Maelivar now belonged to Mirothea, and even if other nations allied with Caelindor, they could not change the strategic reality. Rather than escalate matters further, they suggested discussing future economic benefits. Trade routes and import-export taxes would be extremely favorable for all involved parties.

Meanwhile, Caelindor could only issue appeals. The responses they received consisted of empty phrases like "Thyraden expresses deep concern about the political situation between the two nations," "Astenmoor calls for negotiations between the two countries with them serving as mediators," and "Kelthara expresses dissatisfaction that the Ehyrian Empire allowed this situation to occur." These diplomatic statements were tossed back and forth endlessly without producing any concrete results. Caelindor found itself completely isolated.

The chess game had been played for decades, and Mirothea now held an enviable checkmate. If Maelivar were still merely a target for conquest, Caelindor would have gained allies immediately. But now that it had fallen into enemy hands, it was considered irrecoverable. This was especially true given the labels attached to Caelindor's governance system: incompetent, naive, foolish.

Caelindor's only recourse was to seek support from various sects and organizations.

Verdant Spire Sect had never been as bustling as it was during these past days. Following calls from the elders, disciples who had been wandering or carrying out external missions returned swiftly. However, the large numbers operating outside the Empire could not or had not yet returned.

The number of Tier 2 and Tier 3 disciples overwhelmed Nathan. He had known Verdant Spire Sect was large, but seeing its true foundation laid bare was another matter entirely. Tier 2s numbered in the thousands, while Tier 3s hovered around fifty people. Tier 4s included only the inner sect elders of the nine mountains after Sai's death. Overall, this force could be considered apex among the organizations supporting Caelindor.

However, not everyone who returned would be deployed. Many had come back to defend the sect rather than enter battle. Graduates and those who could not advance further in cultivation had no desire to fight. They returned mostly out of loyalty to the sect, to protect the place they considered their second home.

Though the active force was smaller, the numbers were still sufficient. Over a thousand Tier 2s and ten Tier 3s were assigned to the front lines. A thousand Tier 2s and twenty Tier 3s established defensive perimeters. The remainder stayed within the sect as guards.

The next three days were a torrent. Nathan was swept from lectures in the main halls to pre-war ceremonies beneath the nine mountains, a leaf caught in the current of mobilization. Throughout the nine mountains, tall spires reaching to the clouds burned brilliantly from day to night.

"Green grows the spire, through blood and fire!" The chant rose day and night to boost the morale of every disciple.

Naturally, each session included rehearsals of formations and battle arrays for deployment. The protocols and methods of a soldier presented no major challenges for Nathan. Everything learned during his first two years at the sect included mandatory courses on these subjects. Back when he had been afraid of this new world, he had simply followed along without thinking too deeply. Only now did he clearly see that everyone knew what they were diving into from the moment they entered the sect. Training in violent exercises and methods of killing meant they would eventually need to use them.

For many, this was more than a battle for Caelindor; it was a battle for their own futures. Some even expressed willingness to accept wounds that could last a lifetime, preventing them from reaching higher Tiers. The benefits of such actions would be far greater when they received offers from various places, providing comfortable lives. Initially, these people had been fired up with enthusiasm when they first entered the sect, but after years of facing harsh realities, they had gradually sought alternatives to the constant struggle for every scrap of resources. In a sense, the war was a brutal branding campaign, where a heroic scar could be worth more than a decade of quiet cultivation.

Nathan could only shake his head in dismay watching young people barely sixteen to eighteen years old heading to war. Everyone here lived at an overwhelmingly frantic pace. Thinking of individuals on Earth who lived even more recklessly made him quietly realize that he was the one living slowly.

Verdant Spire Sect had not yet deployed troops because the war had not yet escalated to a level requiring immediate action.

One week after Maelivar's fall, Mirothea launched their first attack on Caelindor's borders.

Aerial assault formations were deployed. On the horizon where Caelindor's brown earth became an expansive desert, Mirothea's forces advanced with terrifying ferocity.

Sunstone Rocs with massive bird-like forms darkened the sky. Their wings stretched like mountain ranges, casting shadows over Caelindor's defense lines. On the backs of these creatures were Mirothea's first suicide troops. They leaped from the massive wingspans of these monstrous birds, plummeting like missiles while roaring, "For King and Country!" Chaotic energy fields surrounded them.

Caelindor responded with superior science and technology. Though Maelivar's forges were lost, the nation's core armory was far from depleted. Reverse rainfall in every color shot straight up into the atmosphere. Anti-air vehicles were deployed to eliminate threats and reduce the burden on ground troops.

Only then did the Sunstone Rocs reveal their strategic purpose by using their signature Solar Flare ability to obscure the surrounding space. Even video recordings encountered difficulties with direct filming due to this technique.

Caelindor had anticipated this situation by providing specially crafted goggles to their forces. Amid the chaos, one could still see Caelindor cultivators taking flight with anti-gravity boots to attack the enemy.

In the next wave, Mirothea had their soldiers ride Dune Falcons to attack. They dove down even more fiercely than their comrades who had deployed with Sunstone Roc assistance. These falcons with their gold-plated beaks became like crazed lunatics when they struck; both beast and rider were dangerous enough to make Caelindor troops tremble. All attacks were deflected by the aura emanating from the Dune Falcons and the mana of their riders. Even if they penetrated the defenses, they continued advancing with mangled bodies, showing no fear.

Following this force came a Glass-Winged Locust Swarm controlled by masked cultivators. They were lifted by the assistance of these finger-sized creatures. The locusts brought terror to the front lines because they could gnaw through anything, including established mana barriers. Their speed was slow, but they made constant progress.

Stuttering gunfire and roaring gouts of flame erupted from Caelindor's trenches, a desperate reply to the horrors hurled at them. Various monsters were released to join the attack and defense. But one truth became increasingly clear: Mirothea approached this war with superior determination. Not only were the allied forces tightly coordinated, but even individual soldiers were far more skilled in combat. The desert cultivators seemed born to wield swords and fight, their blood forged to be stained with enemy blood, their psychology hard as stone, as harsh as their birthplace. Without Caelindor's technological superiority and advantageous position, they would have been unable to withstand such a frenzied assault.

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But all of this was merely a greeting from Mirothea. Despite attacks on this scale, Caelindor held firm. The monsters Mirothea deployed became weakened in Caelindor's natural environment. Yet Mirothea had sent their message: everything had begun.

Caelindor needed to make a move.

Immediately after casualties from both sides reached ten thousand, the sects began dividing disciples for deployment to various locations.

The very day after Mirothea's first major offensive, Verdant Spire Sect proceeded to teach its disciples the forbidden technique: Self-Explosion. Under Alaric's principles, sect disciples were never taught to use this final life-ending attack. Anyone possessing a mana core could detonate the most important thing to a cultivator as a last resort, against both enemy and ally. But with war approaching, the sect could not avoid teaching the method to disciples. Better to die while dragging others along than to be captured and tortured, adding heavy burdens to their own side.

Only during these sessions did Nathan see hesitation among the young people around him. The hot blood and enthusiasm of everyone had gradually diminished as the conflict escalated. The initial fervor to swing a sword and claim glory began to curdle into a sobering truth: a killer must also be prepared to die. A portion of the disciples showed clear reluctance.

Contrary to Nathan's expectations, the sect had measures to retain these people. He watched outer sect elders, senior brothers, and fellow disciples make veiled references to honor and cowardice. They would plan for discussions about desertion or retreat to be overheard by disciples whose resolve was wavering. Keywords about contempt and assessments that they would be cowardly and never trusted again were guaranteed to spread. Even those whose resolve wavered became more determined.

"A cheap manipulation trick," Zeryn remarked. "This certainly wasn't Sect Leader Alaric's idea. In previous wars, he allowed disciples to withdraw if they didn't want to participate."

"Doesn't he care about the harm this causes?" Nathan asked. "Though I don't agree with it, the fact that their withdrawal would weaken our forces is true, isn't it?"

Zeryn looked at him with a curious expression he'd never seen before. "You must be feeling so overwhelmed that you can't see what Alaric sees. First, Verdant Spire Sect bows to no one. So overall, if we're missing a few people, it won't have too great an impact. Second, looking at the long term. Disciples who withdraw now aren't necessarily cowards; they're just not ready. Throwing someone who isn't ready onto the battlefield will only result in them sacrificing their lives without achieving anything. True, they need to mature through extreme situations like war, but in this world, there are many such opportunities. There's no need to force them. Everyone has different rates of maturation. That's Alaric's philosophy. Whether it's right or wrong, I can't say clearly. The future will have to decide that. Currently, because he's participating in the War Council, the elders are making decisions and managing on their own. I wonder what events this will lead to later."

Nathan nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. History was written by the victors. Right or wrong could currently only be viewed as faith from one side. Even the reasons for starting the war were based on this weak foundation.

Along with House Merinor's public revelation as the mastermind, the system finally reached the settlement point for Nathan.

Quest 'Layers of Secret' Complete!

You are rewarded with 5000 credits.

Proceed as you wish...

Combined with the credits he had accumulated over time, the ten thousand threshold had been surpassed.

Without hesitation, he purchased Personal Space from the system's store. This gave him three slots to use. As long as items were of the same type, he could store unlimited quantities according to the description, though he hadn't tested this yet.

His encounter with Big Ben had shown him how terrifying enemy preparation could be. Information that he was a Physical Cultivator was no longer secret. Therefore, he could not use it as a hidden attack like he had for so long, especially during The Shifting Trials. Someone like Big Ben only needed to control essence and mana suppression abilities to possess a nearly absolute advantage. His only salvation had relied solely on nora. Even this bizarre energy, he believed, still had specific methods of suppression.

Experience had shown him that his previous armor layers were rather laughable. Most important was having resources available for emergency situations. Therefore, he placed three important items in his Personal Space slots: Standard Mana Stones, Thunder Embrace, and healing medicine.

If he could extract Standard Mana Stones and crush them, the mana released into the air would help somewhat even when he was restricted.

Thunder Embrace helped him replenish essence. The improved formula for this alcohol had been applied through upgrading [Cooking] to level 3. At level 2, the [Cooking] foundation was insufficient when introducing variables. Only at level 3 had he found the necessary knowledge to solve the problem he had set himself. By combining essence water, Blood Moss, and Crimson Lotus, the alcohol he created promoted blood flow even when suppressed, accelerated nutritional exchange, and somewhat helped essence function.

The healing medicine was multipurpose—not specifically strong in any one aspect but capable of providing assistance across the board. After much deliberation, he felt this was necessary because enemy attacks came in countless forms, and he currently lacked enough slots for every situation. Even an assassin from Carrion Creed considered low-level had given him endless trouble with various types of damage.

He completed preparations for his journey.

The day Caelindor issued a nationwide proclamation about Duke Kael Voss and House Merinor's betrayal was also the day Nathan departed. He walked toward the outer sect assembly area while reading an article just published by the central government. According to it, Duke Kael Voss had rebelled after multiple sources confirmed it. House Merinor's assistance in this process was certain, while the other three great houses remained unclear. House Nyralith alone claimed fierce resistance against Duke Kael Voss's oppression. Other peripheral information like military campaigns and victory announcements didn't interest Nathan.

For him, only when the war ended would there be true victory. These articles only made him feel the government was trying to pacify the population. Unlike ordinary citizens, disciples from organizations like Nathan had direct footage of the war. It was clear that Mirothea held the advantage. Caelindor was simply resisting. This further confirmed that high-tier forces of Tier 4 and 5 were either insufficient or disorganized to pressure Mirothea.

In the latest developments, Nathan observed a giant scorpion monster being deployed. Reliable sources estimated this entity to be Tier 4 or 5. It attacked Caelindor's front lines directly, covering the entire area with poison released from its massive tail. Only through mana domes could Caelindor forces defend themselves. Simultaneously, gaps in military positions became impassable terrain because the poison could kill someone instantly. Mirothea also ceased attacks after the scorpion withdrew to the golden sand dunes. They seemed to be waiting for some moment.

This was why skilled disciples like those from Verdant Spire Sect would participate in the war.

The strange thing was that when Nathan reached the outer sect courtyard, the numbers weren't as large as he'd expected. Disciples wearing the sect's bright red uniforms only reached a few hundred.

Nathan approached where Xander and Zahra were standing. The young man was armed to the teeth, wearing silver-gleaming armor that fit close to his body, looking heavy and formidable but still maintaining quick mobility. Zahra appeared simpler with leather armor and the boots gifted from the tournament. Her gloves emanated a powerful energy field, signaling a formidable weapon.

"Yo, chef!" Zahra cheerfully waved at Nathan.

"Yo, Catwoman!" Nathan teased.

"Catwoman?" Zahra narrowed her eyes. "My bloodline has nothing to do with cats. Oh wait, maybe it does."

"You don't look normal," Xander observed.

"How do I look?" Nathan smirked. "Like I could flatten you at any moment?"

"No." Xander seriously shook his head. "You look like those people I hate. Gloomy and dark."

Nathan was stunned. He knew he had become quite haggard recently but hadn't thought others saw him this way.

Zahra curiously lifted her nose, sniffing a few times. "You're stronger," she said, her eyes sharp as knives. "But as Xander said, you have some strange smell. Something foul."

Ignoring Nathan's discomfort, she moved closer, her nostrils flaring. "That fragrance! It's still there. Just faint, but still there. Didn't you say your bloodline was lost?"

Nathan was forced to raise both hands forward, placing them on his friend's shoulders and pushing her back a distance. Then he pointed at her, saying, "You should stop that habit of smelling other people. Your nose is too sensitive!"

Avoiding the scrutiny of these two overly perceptive individuals, he patted the shoulder of someone who had just arrived. An opponent he had once defeated.

"Roran!"

The two greeted each other by throwing punches at each other. Roran's punch had to be twice the size of Nathan's thanks to his large frame. The shock waves shot outward, making both their clothes flutter.

"Haha!" Roran laughed loudly, pulling his hand back and shaking it from the pain. "You bastard are still a bronze-bodied, iron-skinned fellow."

"You've gotten stronger too," Nathan said.

Roran possessed Blood Aspect. But his usage was quite different from the rest. He channeled blood inward, making his body stronger. This was also the foundation that initially made Roran a potential disciple to follow Darkan.

"Well," Roran exclaimed, "I still remember that fight with you. Absolutely amazing! Just trading punches. After that, someone even came to collect your blood. I was planning to use it for research."

Hearing this, Nathan frowned. He pulled Roran aside, turning to remind Zahra and Xander not to eavesdrop. He trusted his friends wouldn't ignore his warning.

"What do you mean?" Nathan asked.

"Well, back then I had already suspected I possessed Blood Aspect," Roran honestly replied, scratching his bald head. "So I wanted to research your blood to see. Actually, I also want to apologize for this. If I really had kept your blood, I would return it to you immediately. You know, after the incident in Maelivar."

Nathan lowered his eyelids, his eyes becoming cold as ice. Roran seemed to sense the threat and immediately waved his hands, hurriedly continuing, "After that, a stranger came and collected your blood with mana. They did it quite thoroughly and quickly, then left."

"Do you remember who they were?"

Roran suddenly fell silent. He struggled for a while before answering.

"Now that you mention it, I remember. That person's face was like an illusion."

"An illusion?"

"Like multiple faces layered together. I don't know how else to describe it."

"Are you sure it wasn't medical staff or Elder Darkan?" Nathan found himself speaking quickly.

"I'm sure."

A chill ran from the top of Nathan's head to his toes. He knew Darkan had worked to resolve complications regarding his bloodline after accepting him as a disciple. But what if something had leaked out? And this was right when [Titan's Descendant] had just been granted to him by the system.

Damn it! he cursed loudly in his head. Why does this keep dragging on?

"Assemble!" an outer sect elder called loudly, awakening him from his meandering thoughts.

Now wasn't the time to think about this problem. Before him, he needed to protect himself from those lurking from Mirothea's side.

He lined up according to prior arrangements. His group also included Frank, the young man who had sparred with him the day the system appeared. And there was Elen too. The kid who had once admired him, then turned to hatred, bullying him for a long time. Both had entered the inner sect and were both Tier 2.

When Nathan glanced over, Elen immediately bowed his head, not daring to look directly.

"You are being sent after the previous teams because of orders from above," the outer sect elder announced. "Regarding your missions or destinations, follow your team leader. Remember one thing! Make Verdant Spire Sect proud."

"Green grows the spire, through blood and fire!" the disciples chanted in unison.

Zeryn was designated as their team leader. The sword genius would lead this team of twenty until the war's end.

Everyone gathered around a large flying sword the sect had given Zeryn. Other Tier 2 disciples eagerly came to greet this most famous disciple in the sect. But Zeryn only pushed them away to reach Nathan.

"Nathan will be the deputy leader in case of emergencies," Zeryn said. "Anyone who doubts him should settle it here before we depart. Otherwise, don't blame me for being ruthless if you disobey orders."

The eighteen others who had been discussing suddenly fell silent. This team didn't include people like Erza, Silas, or Tianyue—the faction leaders—to speak up. That made sense; the sect wouldn't concentrate all geniuses in one group. Surface strength might be superior, but internal instability would be excessive. More importantly, Zeryn alone equaled three or four such people.

"Good," Zeryn nodded, saying, "everyone seems to have eyes. I hope this awareness will be maintained until the day we return. And I hope it's a full twenty people."

Nathan smiled at his friend's display of authority. When all members had mounted the flying sword's surface, Zeryn approached Nathan with a twisted expression.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?" Nathan joked.

"I really wish I had the mood to joke," Zeryn said wearily. "We've been assigned to serve under a Major's command."

"Who?"

"Lachlan Rourke."