Mostima—his former classmate, his friend—was the first person his age Felix had met again in Laterano.

The tasks in the system’s task bar still hung high above, the importance of the B-level mission quietly conveying its weight.

Felix stepped aside slightly, letting Mostima in, and turned on the lights.

Just like Laterano, illuminated by a thousand warm glows, the light inside was soft and comforting.

Mostima had brought along a cake from a famous dessert shop nearby. He had once heard players say that when playing as a Sankta, they didn’t share the same sweet tooth as the native inhabitants. Yet as an NPC, his own memories told him otherwise—he had always liked sweets.

The two sat at the table. Felix fetched plates, knives, and forks to divide the cake. Mostima, however, didn’t move. She leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting between the window and him.

“Your clothes…”

Felix looked at her. She was wearing a white, practical outfit designed for mobility. He recognized it instantly—it was the uniform of the Notarial Hall. He had seen this uniform before and once likened it to a cosmetic skin in-game: good-looking, but offering limited attributes. It was certainly less functional than the expensive travel gear he wore while journeying across the land.

While Laterano’s aesthetics weren’t bad—and this uniform would look good on anyone—Felix remained firmly practical in reality.

“You’ve joined the Notarial Hall?”

Mostima blinked and smiled. “I’ve formed a special task team with some acquaintances. We’re working with the Notarial Hall now.”

A special task team was not the same as an Executor—two very different roles. The task force operated as a unit, taking on small- to mid-scale missions such as pursuits, ambushes, assassinations, and investigations. The Executors, on the other hand, were the Notarial Hall’s sharpest blades. Out of a hundred, perhaps only one could meet the standard. To become an Executor, one had to be flawless in every metric—a perfect machine executing the Hall’s orders with unwavering precision.

“Hm… You should know Lemuen,” Mostima added thoughtfully. “She’s Lemuel’s Elder sister. You met her once, didn’t you?”

“And Fiammetta,” she continued. “A reliable Liberi companion. Very skilled with firearms.”

“Our captain is Andoain. A good man. Even when you think you understand him, sometimes he’s still a mystery. But he’s someone you can trust.”

Felix smiled. “Sounds good.”

Mostima returned his smile. Her expression always carried that gentle calm, like a breeze passing through an open corridor. “It couldn’t have been easy for you either. What kind of stories did you gather over the past year, traveling as a Messenger?”

Felix spoke of his journeys. They had been uneventful for the most part, with the main focus being on Siracusa—after all, that was where he had stayed the longest.

Mostima listened quietly, smiling all the while. In this moment, she looked exactly like the admired senior from the academy—an ethereal figure worshipped in silence.

As for Andoain’s case, the incident was still more than three years away. There was no need to rush.

As a teammate, Andoain had always been reliable.

Walking this land, Felix was still alone. Relying solely on his own strength made it difficult to win over every player. Perhaps he could at the start of a new version, but as players grew and developed, their relationships with him needed to be nurtured, consolidated, and deepened.

“Have you reported the appearance of those unknown wanderers too?” he asked.

Mostima nodded, recalling the event. “Andoain discovered them. In the village where we’d temporarily settled in Iberia, dozens of young men and women suddenly appeared overnight. All of them were Sankta. When the village chief questioned them, it turned out they had no idea how they got there… But he gave them jobs, and they were happy to accept them.”

“I noticed the same. I included it in my last report to the Notarial Hall. I’m sure the Pope will make his own judgment.”

It was already late. Mostima glanced at the time. “I should get going.”

“Right… and thank you for cleaning up the room these past few days.”

Mostima smiled. “How did you know?”

“The scent in the room is exactly like yours.”

Mostima fell silent, turning away with a hint of awkwardness. She walked over to the coat rack to retrieve her clothes.

“By the way,” she asked, pausing at the door, “what kind of gun do you want for your guardian weapon?”

Thinking of the mission, Felix tried to keep her there a little longer. But she turned back with a graceful smile. “A secret is always the best kind of surprise, isn’t it?”

She left. But her scent lingered in the room.

Felix suddenly smacked his forehead. He should have done a reconnaissance scan on Mostima while she was here—checked her level, and more importantly, her favorability score.

Considering she had cleaned his room, her favorability should be at least 20. Without any gifts from him, it likely wouldn’t be over 30, unlike Cellinia’s.

After a few days of rest in Laterano—enjoying a peaceful life where one could hear distant explosions over breakfast—Felix received a letter.

The letter praised his performance as a Messenger, commending his skill in gathering intelligence. His report on the mysterious wanderers was acknowledged, though the matter was still under observation, and no formal policy could yet be issued from the Pope’s Office regarding those of unknown origin.

At the end of the letter, they congratulated him on earning the highest level of access to the Laterano Public Library. They hoped he would continue to apply himself with the excellence expected of an academy student and make diligent progress in his studies.

At the bottom of the letter was a name—

Evangelista XI.

Well, Shit.

Felix put the letter away.

He was still a nobody—insignificant, unremarkable. So, there was no reason to feel proud, nor was there any need to be afraid of receiving a letter personally signed by the Pope. In a sense, he was the most active—and perhaps the most “rebellious”—of all the Laterano natives.

In 1087, the Laterano he lived in was ranked the best region in all of Terra.

Why?

People ate three meals a day in dessert shops. Explosions echoed through the streets daily. The rate of gun ownership ranked first in all of Terra. Undeniably, that was the reality. Pilgrims continued to flock to this city in a steady stream. This place always seemed to offer a faint glimmer of hope—whether it was a lie, an illusion, or something real. But that hope felt close enough to touch, close enough to make you forget your present life.

This was the holy city of Laterano.

And he was a dreamer.

In the days that followed, Felix spent most of his time in the library. With the highest clearance level now granted to him, he could access not only the job advancement books for support classes and other primary roles, but also the gunsmith advancement books. In addition, he discovered a wealth of skill books related to technician-type classes.

For regular players, accessing this top-tier section of the library required the highest level of loyalty to the faction. It was a time-consuming and grueling process—equal parts pain and joy. But for Felix, a reliable young genius trusted by the Notarial Hall, it wasn’t nearly as troublesome.

In his room, Felix—newly promoted from novice gunsmith to apprentice gunsmith—was following the blueprints spread out before him, crafting a rapid-fire submachine gun.

In Laterano, such weapons were far less common than simple, easy-to-use pistols. Rapid-fire guns were harder to control, and for Felix in his current state, wielding the weapon he had just created would be no easy task.

This was one of the limitations of his main class—Support. While Sniper-class players could naturally use such firearms, he could only handle pistols through his secondary class as a technician.

Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t use the submachine gun at all. The technician’s advanced job was Agent. Through this progression, players could barely manage submachine guns and similar weapons while acquiring related combat skills.

However, the technician’s advancement book for the Agent role was exceedingly rare. Players either had to roam the world searching for it with no guarantee of success, or join a faction and formally express their intent to become an Agent. If the request was granted, the sub-class would unlock automatically.

After a while hammering away at the forge, the submachine gun was finally complete.

[D96 Basic MINI Submachine Gun]

[Quality: White]

[Stats: Attack Power 25–37, Durability 152/152]

[Requirements: Sniper Class, Agent Sub-Class, Strength 15, Stamina 10]

[Passive Ability: Precision – Increases accuracy by 3%, critical hit rate by 5%]

On the internal market of Laterano, this weapon would be priced around 100,000 LMD. Its high usage threshold and demand for mastery over Originium-based firearm skills made it difficult for average users to handle.

As for the markets in the Land of Suffering…

This gun would be practically worthless there—unsellable and unneeded. Even if someone bought it, they likely couldn’t use it.

It would just sit there, gathering dust.

Felix was confident that this gun could be sold for a high price—over 400,000 LMD, in fact—but he wasn’t entirely sure if anyone would actually buy it.

It wasn’t like he could just sell it to the Sarkaz, though that kind of thing wasn’t unheard of. A few Sarkaz mercenaries had managed to acquire firearms from Sankta individuals. After years of practice, they had learned to use them proficiently.

Now that he had successfully crafted a submachine gun, Felix set it aside for the moment and turned his attention back to working the forge.

What he needed to make next was a piece of mechanical armor—something that could defend against incoming attacks. Worn beneath a coat, it would provide a modest boost to both strength and endurance. A small, life-saving measure.

Thanks to his talent for Super Mechanical Mastery, his progress in mechanical crafting far outpaced his growth as a gunsmith.

The Gunsmith Apprentice class had granted him +1 Dexterity and +2 Intelligence, along with one free attribute point. When he pulled up his status panel, he realized he had unknowingly saved up 48 free attribute points.

To handle stronger machinery or more advanced firearms, he needed to improve three core attributes: Strength, Dexterity, and Intelligence. After some thought, he distributed the 48 points evenly—16 points to each.

—

[Name: Felix Shawn Lanshem]

[HP: 1250/1250]

[MP: 435/435]

[Race: Sankta]

[Template: NPC (83 days, 19 hours, 19 minutes, 18 seconds until public beta begins)]

[Level: 30]

[Experience: 0]

[Main Class: Assistant Beginner Lv1 (1/200)]

[Secondary Classes: Gunsmith Apprentice Lv1 (1/200), Technician Lv10, Mechanic Apprentice Lv15, New Blacksmith Lv2 (2/100), Messenger Lv1 (1/50)]

[Skills: Primary Gun Manufacturing Lv10, Basic Shooting Lv10, Maintenance and Repair Lv10, Custom Modification Lv10, Preliminary Mechanical Manufacturing Lv10, Primary Iron Manufacturing Lv1]

[Skill Points: None]

[Attributes]

Strength: 23

Dexterity: 29

Endurance: 7

Intelligence: 32

Spirit: 3

Charm: 9

Luck: 1

[Unallocated Attribute Points: 0]

[Features]

Basic Gun Weapon Understanding Lv10

Gun Fighting Lv10

Handgun Manufacturing Understanding Lv10

Basic Mechanical Understanding Lv10

Basic Iron Understanding Lv1

[Talents]

Genius

Gunsmith’s Hand

Super Mechanical Mastery

[Rank: 1.26 stars]

[Evaluation]

You already have the strength of a beast of burden, but you’re still best suited to slacking off in the logistics department. On the battlefield, you’re merely at the mercy of others.

—

Felix stared at the evaluation, his face darkening.

“Seriously? What’s wrong with sticking to logistics?” he muttered under his breath. “Why do I have to get beaten up on the frontlines?”

His level had dropped, yes—but his attributes had improved significantly. That was the essence of Ark. Levels didn’t matter—attributes were everything.

He had spent the past few days buried in books and hammering away at metal. Occasionally, Mostima would drop by for a visit. At this point, it was hard to even call his place a “home.” It was more fitting to call it a workshop. Military-grade briefcases filled with large chunks of metal—purchased from the local market—were stacked on cabinets and scattered across the floor.

Wearing a protective mask, Felix continued hammering and assembling. After a while, he completed a decent-looking basic component… Though it was a shame this wasn’t a proper studio. With Assistant’s help, he could’ve saved a lot more time.

Still, hammering away increased both experience points and skill proficiency. So this is the joy of being a production class, he mused.

After applying to borrow the notary office’s workshop, his progress improved significantly. Eventually, he completed a mechanical armor that fit him perfectly.

—

[Skywalker Mechanical Armor (Upper Body)]

[Quality: Green]

[Attributes: Defense +40, Durability 500/500]

[Equipment Requirements: Strength 28]

[Additional Abilities:]

+5 Strength

+10 Endurance

Skywalker Shield: Increases critical hit rate by 10%

Crafted from rare diamond alloy metal: Enhanced durability

—

Felix slipped into the armor. Just as described—it was surprisingly light, with no noticeable impact on agility. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he nodded in satisfaction. It looked sleek, even beautiful.

But more importantly, wearing it gave him a strong sense of security—like there was a fully armored soldier standing before him, shield raised, ready to defend.

A shield… hmm, that might not be a bad idea.

After all, the two major flaws of support-type players were limited offensive capabilities and low survivability. On the battlefield, they were often functional units—easily targeted, easily killed.

But if he used the technician’s approach—wielding a revolver in one hand and a bulletproof shield in the other—he could attack and defend simultaneously. That idea… actually excited him.

Still, wouldn’t it look kind of silly? This wasn’t Rainbow Six’s flash shield. His build didn’t exactly resemble any of the famous heavy tanks from the story. Wouldn’t it be kind of ridiculous if he ended up looking more like a dog with a frying pan than a majestic tiger with a tower shield?

After mulling it over, he decided he would make the shield. Whether he equipped it himself was a separate matter. If it didn’t suit him, he could always sell it to players, right?

Besides the shield, he also needed to forge a lower-body armor piece. Otherwise, if he only trained the upper body, he’d really start to resemble a scrawny dog.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep