The research institute had long since gone silent. No power flowed through its halls, and the servers connected to its terminals were corroded, ruined by the tides. Felix’s task was simple: recover what he could. The rest would be left to Dr. Simon.

It wasn’t a difficult mission. Even a solo player could have managed it. But the real story didn’t lie within these walls.

The quest might have concluded, yet the exploration around Villa del Agua had only just begun.

Fiammetta and Patia busied themselves recording scraps of pre-Silence research to take back to Laterano. Felix didn’t object; in fact, he welcomed it. Tomorrow’s Development would keep its own copies, of course. They might follow him now, but their ties to Laterano remained. Felix had no reason to begrudge them that—family ties were natural.

“Brother Felix, did you find anything?”

Susie followed close at his heels as he scoured the ruined library. Many of the pages he touched disintegrated into powder at the slightest pressure, too far gone from sea air and time.

“Just searching for anything still usable. Susie, can you give me a hand?”

“Mm! I’d love to!”

She grinned, rolling up her sleeves to help.

Mostima approached, shaking her head slightly.

“The terminals are useless. Even with external power, they won’t boot again.”

“…As expected.”

Felix glanced calmly at Lemuen, who had already abandoned her attempts at the terminal.

“As tempting as pre-Silence research is, this is about the best we can manage.”

He gestured to the sealed case slung beneath his drone, containing several servers that were only partially damaged.

“…Felix, are you still looking for something else?”

“Yes. When we’re done here, we head for the coast.”

The sea—black, unfathomable, hostile. Felix had never liked farming monsters along those waters. His true aim lay elsewhere: a rare secondary profession.

After a full day and night of searching, he finally made a small discovery—a damaged blueprint detailing the construction of small vessels. Its design was suited for the open ocean, not land. Practically useless, unless kept as a collector’s piece—or sold on the black market, where pre-Silence schematics fetched high prices from wealthy eccentrics.

The next morning, after a brief rest, Felix made his way toward the seaward edge of Villa del Agua.

There, he found an abandoned port: streets and shopfronts long deserted, the skeletons of ships left to rot.

The sea stretched before him, still dark, still turbulent, as though it concealed some hidden struggle far beneath the waves.

Susie tightened her grip on his hand, instinctive fear of the vast unknown flashing in her eyes.

“Let’s go,” Felix said softly.

The path ahead would not be peaceful.

Dozens of kilometers later, beneath a coastal cliff, he reached the landmark he sought.

A lighthouse, long extinguished, crouched behind the rocks. Decades ago, its light would have guided the lost home, or sent travelers safely onward. Now, it marked something else—

A ruin.

Felix’s boots splashed through shallow water as he retraced the very sands he had once walked in another life, making his way toward the cliff.

“Felix…”

“Come with me.”

He didn’t draw his weapon—there was no need. This ruin held no monsters, no trials. He had been here before, and knew exactly how to unlock its secrets.

The entrance was hidden, barely distinguishable from the sea’s encroaching tide. Stooping low, Felix slipped inside. He caught Susie as she followed, steadying her before she stumbled, then reached a hand back for Mostima.

“This is…”

Lemuen’s eyes widened as she looked around. This was no natural cave. The walls bore carvings—ancient Iberian, perhaps from the forgotten Golden Age. Hymns of a world before the Silence. She scrambled to pull out her notebook, eagerly recording the symbols.

“Dr. Simon told me about it,” Felix explained. He needed a reason for his determined pursuit of this place. The ruin’s entrance was so inconspicuous most would miss it entirely, or dismiss it as nothing more than another cave.

The damp stone echoed beneath Patia’s boots as she traced the faded murals on the wall. Her gaze lingered on the images—vast fleets of ships surging out to sea, sailors cheering as if determined to conquer the boundless ocean.

“This is… a relic of the Golden Age.”

Felix gave a slight nod. Moving to one section of the rock wall, he ran his fingers across the surface, recalling the steps from his past life. At last, he pressed against a smooth, almost slick stone and channeled his Originium Arts into it.

With a deep groan, the door slowly slid open.

What awaited them beyond was not a cave, but a facility—much like the research institute they had just explored. Clearly, this ruin was not natural, but crafted by terran hands.

After allowing the air to circulate for a moment, Felix led the group inside. The instant he crossed the threshold, a task notification flickered into the corner of his vision—[Exploration Progress: Golden Age Ruins].

“The records here should be far more complete than before,” he remarked, gesturing to the shelves lining the corridor. These books and data might mean little to him directly, but for Iberian history—and Laterano’s libraries—they were invaluable.

Mostima and the others exchanged a glance, then wordlessly began collecting materials.

Felix, however, continued on alone, descending into the depths. At the bottom of the stairs, he came to a terminal.

How astonishing… that the Iberians of the Golden Age already possessed such technology. Or perhaps this was evidence of a civilization not yet fully understood.

He brushed the dust from the panel, set his portable power source on the console, and began connecting the device. Unlike his previous foray into Villa del Agua’s institute, this time he had come prepared. With the external power supply, the long-dead terminal flickered back to life. In his past life, he had needed two separate attempts before managing to do the same.

[…Terminal rebooting. Please enter password.]

Felix’s fingers flew across the keys, entering the code he had once learned on a third attempt—though the original was hidden in a drawer of the next room, he had no patience for retracing those steps.

[The Golden Age Never Ends.]

The screen flooded with files—documents, schematics, images, entire archives spilling into view. Felix sifted through them methodically, diving headlong into the ocean of data.

What he sought was rare: a lost subclass of the Golden Age, one with no living successors in modern Terra. It could not be purchased in NPC shops or unlocked through ordinary quests—only discovered within ruins like this, and only here in Iberia.

The profession was called Enchanter.

A forgotten art, once widespread in Iberia, that allowed its wielder to “enliven” Originium Arts—embedding them into weapons and equipment.

True to its name, an Enchanter could infuse their personal Arts into a blade, so that a strike dealt not mere neutral damage, but elemental fire.

At a glance, it resembled the popular “Arts Fighter” subclass, yet there was a fundamental difference. Arts Fighters projected Arts through their weapon strikes. Enchanters instead strengthened their weapons and gear by permanently binding Arts into them.

Felix could even imbue his drones—overlaying their bolts and firing modules with the raw force of fire itself.

In his past life, his chosen Art had been Solidification—a defensive ability. With Enchanter as his subclass, he had become nearly indestructible, clad in mechanized armor hardened to an impossible degree, leading a mechanical army whose durability never seemed to falter. Even under bombardment, his machines refused to break.

But this time, Felix had no intention of repeating the same path.

In addition to the hidden subclass, he had also unearthed several ancient weapon schematics. One, in particular, caught his eye—a weapon he had long coveted in his past life but had never been able to wield due to insufficient stats: the Twinblade.

A sword with blades affixed to both ends of the hilt, demanding extraordinary dexterity to handle. To equip it required not only immense strength but also a remarkable degree of agility.

The design evoked memories of countless other games. The insect glaive of Monster Hunter. The iconic twinblades of Elden Ring. Even the Magick Knight’s arsenal in Dragon’s Dogma 2. The weapon had appeared often in such titles, and Arknights was no exception.

In his past life, Felix had obtained the blueprint but, unable to meet its demanding requirements, had dumped it on the auction house without a second thought.

This time, though, he could finally give it a try—though it would inevitably conflict with the lance he had been steadily mastering.

When his scavenging was complete, Felix shut down the ancient terminal. He had already copied everything of value into his own device. If he was going to risk exploring such ruins, he might as well strip them bare.

By the time the screen went dark, he realized five hours had already passed.

In another chamber, Lemuen was carefully stacking intact books into a drone’s basket for transport. She looked up as Felix approached, lips curving into a small smile.

“Felix, did you find what you were looking for?”

“Mm. Everything’s in order.”

“That’s good. We’re nearly finished here too—just a little longer.”

He nodded, helping her gather the last of the salvage. Two of his three goals had already been achieved, and the sheer smoothness of it all surprised even him.

First, completing Dr. Simon’s commission.

Second, discovering a ruin near Villa del Agua and claiming both a rare subclass and a coveted weapon blueprint.

Third…

Establishing contact with the Inquisition.

That last part was neither simple nor impossible. With his current identity, he had some leeway to approach them—but whether they would take notice of an ordinary company director was another matter entirely. His race, Sankta, commanded some respect in Iberia, but the Inquisition did not bend for bloodlines alone.

Then, suddenly—rain.

The sea turned wild and violent, crashing black waves against the shore. The tide threw up refuse, along with strange, fleshy remnants strewn across the beach.

“….”

Felix’s hand closed on the hilt of his lance for the first time.

“Something’s coming.”

Fiammetta felt it too. She drew her sidearm and aimed toward the sea.

“Susie! Stay behind us!”

“O-okay!”

The little pink-haired girl’s hair clung damply to her face, but she obeyed, scurrying to hide behind Mostima. Still, her eyes widened in alarm as she caught sight of the writhing flesh that had washed ashore.

The next instant, dozens of bizarre creatures rose from the deep, drifting toward land with the tide. A tide of blank, unfeeling eyes locked onto the intruders.

“W-what… what are those?”

Patia’s voice trembled. She had never seen anything so grotesque. Some of the things were still chewing on something, and one in particular slithered to the fleshy remains on the sand, tearing into it hungrily before gnashing down another bite.

Some of the creatures resembled grotesque blossoms in full bloom, while others had sprouted limbs, moving with the awkward gait of small dogs.

Clamped in their jaws was pale-blue flesh, torn and chewed with a grotesque crunch, crunch, a sound that sent a chill down the spine.

As expected… Seaborn. Not the worst possible encounter, but hardly a pleasant one either. Felix wasn’t surprised by their arrival. In his past life, he hadn’t spent much time on his main account here, but as a professional booster, he’d learned never to let emotions cloud his judgment.

They’re… not attacking?

He clicked his tongue in mild regret. He really should have finished reading the Enchanter’s manuals earlier. But against these low-tier mobs, his worry was probably unnecessary.

Perhaps it was the killing intent radiating from his group, but the creatures—these so-called “Sea terror”—remained still, their strange gnawing noises echoing through the rain-slick shore. Were they feeding? Or communicating?

“W-what’s going on with them?!”

“Felix, what should we do?”

He held his silence for a moment, then finally spoke, his voice cutting through the taut air.

“It’s not a question of what we should do. The truth is—they’re not going to let us leave.”

His eyes narrowed.

“They’re hungry.”

As his words fell, one of the doglike Seaborn lunged, maw gaping wide to reveal jagged, glistening fangs, hurtling straight toward him.

“Watch out!”

For an instant, time seemed to splinter—or perhaps it hadn’t moved at all. A figure flashed before Felix, blade gleaming like a streak of light. In the same heartbeat, the Seaborn was struck down, cleaved by a slash and its skull pierced clean through by a bullet.

“Ghhhhhhaaaaaaa!”

The others shrieked in unison, their guttural cries reverberating like a nightmare chorus. The black tide surged higher, waves rolling and crashing as the swarm pressed forward.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep