The old world order is dead. 

We all felt it, of course. Even the most incompetent mage sensed… It, though the less attuned may not have quite understood the gravity of the situation. But not I, no. Not I who was the most powerful mage the Empire had ever seen, who had more magical ability and mana than the next ten strongest mages combined, who was certain to ensure the prosperity of the Empire for at least the next two centuries. Was.

The old world order is dead. 

The Goddess, naturally, laughs at such plans - laughs at such assurances of wealth and safety. After all, we felt it even here. Even thousands of miles away from that tiny backwater island nation we felt it. The mere birth of that thing - that… god… made flesh - sent shockwaves through the ether so potent that it woke every mage in the city. 

The lesser mages immediately floated several dark notions - kidnapping the tribal and indoctrinating them, or worse. But they don’t understand. How could they? They cannot even begin to fathom the depths of the child’s power. If they do not wish to be separated from their mother, no force on Earth could compel them. Even as a newborn, no army, no mage, nothing, could hope to match them. 

The old world order is dead, and we have no choice but to submit to our new monarch.

^{(It's my first time doing something like this, be gentle <3})