The Buddha's final assessment—"You aim for a ruthless survival, I see"—settled over the Repository, confirming the dark, pragmatic intent of the human vanguard.
Loki, the Trickster, stepped forward, his wild, unruly aura focusing on Cao Cao. A chilling smile spread across his face.
"Survival, yes," Loki sneered. "And the price? Tell me, Chief Minister, does your memory of eighty thousans surrendered soldiers after the Battle of Guandu weigh heavily? A strategy of total war—using the heads of your enemies as a psychological weapon, committing wartime atrocities to seize power."
Gaia moved instantly to shield her chosen leader, her voice ringing with the defense of necessity. "He was a unifying force in a broken age! His legacy is not just the slaughter; it is the foundation of the great Wei kingdom—the administrative systems, the agricultural reform, the stability that lasted for centuries. He built structure where others merely looted!"
The Buddha nodded slowly, his eyes lowered in profound sorrow. "The Mother speaks truly of the structure, but structure is often built on blood. I recall the Xu Province masacres." He looked directly at Cao Cao. "After your father was killed, you retaliated by killing tens of thousands of civilians. The scale of the slaughter was so great that the nearby Si River was dammed with the corpse of your victims. Even a filial son took his ambition to a place of unforgivable darkness."
The Buddha looked directly at Cao Cao, the clarity of his gaze demanding honest introspection. "You are stripped of the power you once held, Chief Minister. Tell us now, why did you commit these atrocities? Was it the malice of the man, or the requirement of the age?"
Cao Cao did not meet the gaze of the gods; he looked instead at the assembled civilians—the fragile resources of his new Kingdom. His voice, when he spoke, was cold, steady, and entirely without apology.
"I was not fighting men; I was fighting chaos," Cao Cao stated. "The endless cycle of anarchy would have killed millions through famine and decentralization. My atrocities were not born of malice, but of necessity. The massacres were the accelerant—the shock required to force shattered regions to submit to a singular, stable authority. I slaughtered tens of thousands to save millions from the slow decay of anarchy. I did what was required to build the state."
Gaia, the Buddha, and Jesus exchanged glances and slowly nodded, accepting the terrifying, pragmatic logic.
Loki let out a slow, dramatic chuckle. "A magnificent monster, truly. But while Cao Cao used slaughter as a political tool, this one," he said, turning to Bai Qi, "is an artist. The Lord Marshal is on another level entirely."
The Buddha's light flickered with discomfort as he recalled the Marshal's signature act. "The Battle of Changping," the Buddha recounted. "Bai Qi's infamy is tied to a single, horrific event. After defeating the army of the state of Zhao in 260 BC, Bai Qi ordered the mass execution of more than 400,000 surrendered Zhao soldiers. He had them buried alive in mass graves."
Gaia stood her ground. "It is precisely because of that brutality that I chose him! His ruthlessness was a tool for his king to eliminate rival states. He understood that the only way to achieve lasting peace was through the total, absolute annihilation of all organized opposition. He created peace through absolute terror. A terror that will ensure the survival in Pangea and beyond"
Jesus added, his voice softened by profound pity, "Yet, that loyalty and ruthlessness ultimately destroyed his own soul. Though his actions led to the eventual unification of China, he was undone when he refused a later campaign and the king forced him to commit suicide."
Jesus concluded: "Bai Qi reportedly acknowledged his fate before his death, admitting that his slaughter at Changping had sealed his tragic end. In that final admission, in that recognition of the profound mistake he had made, he was a step toward forgiveness."
The Buddha looked at the Lord Marshal, who stood as rigid and silent as a slab of cold iron. "And what say you now, Marshal Bai Qi? Does the weight of four hundred thousand souls rest upon you? Why the terror? Why the magnitude of that single, decisive act?"
"The slaughter was an investment," Bai Qi stated, his words devoid of vanity or remorse, only chilling professional finality. "Every campaign requires a vast expenditure of life and resources. A quick, massive act of terror that shatters the enemy's will permanently saves years of attrition, hundreds of thousands of lives on both sides, and prevents the complete collapse of the home state's economy. I executed four hundred thousand to guarantee the peace and the eventual unification of China—an outcome that would ultimately save millions of future lives. I am not a hero. I am a cost-benefit analysis made flesh. I am Bai Qi. And my methods are absolute."
The divine observers were silent. They were not saving heroes for their virtue, but monsters for their utility—and the fragile hope of redemption through desperate striving.
With a final, shared look of profound challenge, the three divine patrons stepped back, and the seven figures of the human vanguard were enveloped in a blinding, instantaneous light, their journey to the contested continent of Pangea begun.