Luckily for everyone involved in the room, senior analyst Iancu Voiculescu spoke up at that moment, attempting to calm the increasingly angry marshal. "Sir, we do not know why you were not informed, but luckily we did think about how to contact the units," he said. "It is a little expensive, and we won't be able to reach people who are not part of the military because they never received the relevant instructions, but we do have a solution." He smiled nervously while trying not to become the next target of Herman's frustration.
"And what is it then?" asked Herman as he slowly calmed down. At this point he was simply hoping to hear at least one intelligent thing today. His faith in both his staff and the military's problem-solving abilities had taken a considerable hit over the last few hours. Still, he was willing to listen.
In fairness, the military could hardly be blamed for all of this. Quite a few things had changed since humanity returned to Earth, especially regarding technology. Before the expansion, nearly every piece of equipment had continued functioning normally. Since nothing seemed wrong, very few people had stopped to question how dependent they had become on those systems.
The reasons for that were actually fairly complicated. Before the Trial, there simply had not been enough free mana on Earth to properly erode technology. Humanity itself was cultivating and consuming huge amounts of mana, keeping overall concentrations lower than they otherwise would have been. Puls the fact that not a lot of it was being generated. Most equipment continued working without noticeable problems.
During the Trial period, technology had also continued functioning surprisingly well. Inside the heartlands and even outside them, many essential systems remained operational. Things like advanced tents, communication equipment, and support infrastructure still worked, not heavy tech, but delicate things that were made with machines still worked. This was largely because the first Trial was intended as a learning experience for humanity rather than immediate extermination.
After humanity returned to Earth, everything still appeared normal. Medical equipment experienced occasional difficulties, and a few systems became less reliable, but nothing serious enough to cause panic. Most people assumed things had simply returned to the way they had been before the System arrived. Nobody realized that a larger problem was quietly developing beneath the surface.
The reason nothing dramatic happened immediately was because Gaia largely ignored humanity's infrastructure at first. The cities would belong to her in a month anyway, so there was little reason to waste effort prematurely degrading them. That decision lulled humanity into a false sense of security. People saw technology working and assumed everything would continue functioning indefinitely.
That illusion shattered when the Expansion began. Entire sections of infrastructure disappeared beneath newly formed terrain. Roads became unusable, communication networks collapsed, and supply chains broke apart almost overnight. Suddenly the primary question became how humanity was going to rebuild.
Projects immediately appeared across the world to address the problem. One of the most popular proposals involved constructing hand-made rail networks powered by steam technology. The design was simple enough that it could be manufactured almost entirely by hand. More importantly, it would not need to be rebuilt every few years due to mana degradation.
Many people pointed toward the heartlands as evidence for why this approach was necessary. Equipment there was already showing signs of deterioration. Complex machines required increasing amounts of maintenance. In contrast, simple mechanical systems remained surprisingly reliable. As a result, governments began investing heavily in lower-tech solutions that could be hand-made. But still planned to quickly build up the high-tech infrastructure made by machines to support the recovery, and then properly switch over to long-term solutions.
What nobody had really stopped to ask was a much more important question.
What if advanced technology simply did not work outside cities and mana veins?
That possibility had never received serious attention because humanity was too busy rebuilding after the Expansion. People assumed they were dealing with damaged infrastructure rather than a fundamental change in reality itself. The distinction was extremely important, but few realized it at the time.
The reason technology continued working inside cities was actually related to cultural energy. Human settlements contained so much accumulated cultural energy that mana struggled to gain a foothold. Instead of attacking buildings directly, mana preferred targeting free-flowing energy and unclaimed materials first. The process still occurred, but it happened slowly enough that most people never noticed.
Mana veins operated under a different principle. Massive amounts of cultural energy naturally flowed toward them and entered the veins themselves. At the same time, pure mana continuously rose toward the surface. The interaction between those two forces created a temporary zone where technology remained relatively stable.
A useful comparison would be a perfectly smooth glass rod. Pure mana was like that rod. It was too smooth for cultural energy to properly attach itself to. Before it could carry cultural energy, it first needed to pass through living beings who acted like sandpaper, roughening the surface enough for other energies to cling to it.
Of course, humanity did not know any of that yet.
The information technically existed within the System. However, obtaining it cost a ridiculous amount of money, and governments had far more pressing concerns. Nobody was interested in spending fortunes on theoretical explanations when entire nations were struggling to rebuild.
This also explained why satellites continued functioning.
At the moment, satellites were among the most important pieces of technology humanity possessed. The collective cultural energy of humanity was protecting them fiercely. Furthermore, mana itself was not yet capable of properly escaping Earth's influence, making it even harder for the satellites to be affected.
All of that brought the discussion back to the problem at hand.
"We can contact our military units through the Marketplace," Iancu finally explained. "Messages can be listed as items and directed toward specific buyers within designated military formations. Every unit is required to check the Marketplace every five minutes and purchase any official documents that appear there."
The room stared at him.
"Assuming the Marketplace itself remains available," Iancu added quickly.
Sweat was running down his back now. The regulation had been introduced only half a month ago. At the time, he had proposed it largely on a whim as a last-resort communication method in case something interfered with normal signals the same way the satellites had been disrupted.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then Herman slowly nodded.
"Finally," he muttered. "Someone smart."
He immediately pointed toward one of the staff officers.
"Find whoever designed that protocol. Give them a medal and a promotion. That suggestion will probably save thousands of lives today."
Several people hurried to record the order.
"Now get in contact with our units," Herman continued. "Then contact every expedition operating on EU territory. I want them informed immediately. If they choose to ignore our warning after that, the consequences are on them."
His expression darkened.
"I want no disasters on European soil because somebody was unprepared."
The entire room snapped to attention.
"Sir, yes sir!"
Satisfied, Herman finally turned around and left. He still had another meeting waiting for him regarding infrastructure development and future technology projects. Unfortunately, after everything he had learned today, he was beginning to suspect that many of those plans belonged in the trash.
If phones no longer worked reliably outside protected areas, then many other technologies were probably facing similar problems. That realization alone would force major revisions to Europe's long-term strategy. It was not the sort of news politicians enjoyed hearing.
Fortunately, relaying information to the rest of the world was not his responsibility.
He was a marshal, not a nanny.
That task belonged to the military press corps and the Minister of Foreign Affairs. Unfortunately for them, the report arriving on their desks was simultaneously excellent and terrible news. The military had identified a critical threat and provided a solution. The problem was how that solution had been communicated.
The report essentially translated into:
This is what we believe is happening. Follow these instructions immediately. If we have to rescue you because you ignored our warning, you will regret not voluntarily jumping into the mouths of those corrupted creatures instead.
The diplomats nearly cried.
On one hand, Europe now possessed valuable information that could save countless lives around the world. Sharing it would earn goodwill and strengthen their position in the emerging world order. It was exactly the kind of diplomatic victory governments dreamed about.
On the other hand, they somehow had to translate Herman's message into language suitable for international politics.
That was significantly harder.
They needed the warning to remain clear and urgent without insulting foreign governments, private factions, corporations, guilds, noble families, and every other group currently racing toward Secret Realms. One wrong sentence could start a political incident before lunch.
The diplomats exchanged tired looks.
Nobody wanted to be responsible for rewriting that report.
Even more importantly, nobody wanted an angry Marshal Herman showing up at their office tomorrow demanding to know why his warning had been watered down. Between offending foreign powers and offending Herman, most of them privately considered the foreign powers the safer option.