With a heavy crash, the locked door to the church’s lounge collapsed. Inside were various devices and containers preserving Seaborn tissues, along with a staircase that led straight down into a basement.

Just like the facility Felix and Lance destroyed before, this place was conducting clandestine research.

Felix did not hurry to pursue the fleeing priest. Lemuen was already tailing him closely, and there was still time for Felix to investigate.

This technology was not Iberian. Felix walked into the basement and, with the enhanced strength of his exosuit, kicked down another metal door that required a password. Behind it, he found even more research results.

“Biotech. They intend to modify their bodies,” Andoain commented as he skimmed the documents. “This might allow them to extend their lifespans and resist Originium corrosion. Otherwise I cannot imagine why they would attempt this.”

Felix lifted his gaze. In the next room, rows of upright cultivation vats filled his vision. Narrowing his eyes, he examined them closely.

“This is high-concentration Originium fluid. What are they trying to cultivate… biological weapons?”

Structural Engineering was the one department Felix avoided. Their ultimate goal was terran modification, and Felix had no desire to reshape his body into something unrecognizable. Weapons like Ifrit were proof of how traumatic artificial alteration could be for the subjects themselves.

He disliked that department, but he could not deny their work made life far more convenient for Terra’s people.

The fluid before him was normally used to slow biological aging. At the same time, direct immersion allowed Originium to permeate from the outside in, transforming healthy Terrans into heavily infected patients in an instant. At this stage, “infected” was hardly accurate. Ordinary carriers only had Originium in their blood. Those who underwent immersion were infected throughout their entire bodies, almost comparable to Plague Monoliths.

Perhaps the cultists planned to inject this fluid into themselves. It might create soldiers whose infection could remain stable and controlled. But Felix was no structural engineer. If he had questions, he would have to send a messenger to Ahrens.

“A normal messenger won’t transport something like this,” Mostima said as she followed Felix into the room. Her hand tightened around her staff. “This volume of Originium fluid could never pass Iberian customs. The only possibility is smuggling by black-market vessels.”

“That proves the Iberian customs office has Deep Sea Church infiltrators.”

Felix nodded and issued an order to the Clever. “Move all these cultivation tanks containing Originium fluid to the vehicle.”

Clever floated up and down in acknowledgement. A formation of drones flew inside the basement and began packaging every piece of research the cultists had not yet completed.

Among the equipment, Felix noticed traces of pre-civilization technology. He had previously unlocked Kazdel’s pre-civilization blueprints and tech tree, so he had a general sense of what such technology looked like. Seeing similar designs here forced him to consider the civilization that existed beneath the sea.

It could not be Iberian in origin. If Iberia possessed this level of technology, it would not be the perpetually overlooked nation it was now.

Logically, this had to be technology belonging to Aegir. He vaguely recalled Skadi’s familiarity with such devices the last time she encountered them.

After clearing out the basement, the three made their way toward the coastline.

Waves rose and fell on the shore. Black seawater crashed against the rocks, coating them with blue, sticky residue. The distant ocean blended into the darkening sky. A storm slowly gathered over the horizon.

On that storm-lit shore stood a priest in church uniform. Rain fell steadily, soaking him completely.

One by one, glowing blue organisms emerged from the sea. Some resembled coral, some looked like simple fish, and others bloomed like strange flowers. They circled the priest, whispering incomprehensible sounds.

Andoain raised his staff, ready to kill the priest in one strike, but Felix stopped him. Under Andoain’s surprise and Mostima’s readiness to cast an art, Felix stepped forward on his own.

A dog-shaped seaborn caught sight of the approaching Sankta and charged. With a sharp Seaborn cry, the priest burst into wild laughter.

“Rip him apart!”

The small dog-like creature closed the distance quickly, jaws wide and lined with razor-sharp teeth.

Then—

Crack.

The priest gaped.

The small dog-like Seaborn lay at Felix’s feet, rubbing its head insistently against his pants. When Felix did not react, it stood up, circled him twice, then let out a series of raspy barks.

“This…”

Not only was the priest horrified, even Andoain and Mostima froze in shock. These “Seaborn,” creatures that looked nothing like normal lifeforms, were actually… acting affectionate toward Felix like harmless pets?

It utterly overturned their understanding of the Seaborn. A race they believed to be wholly hostile, even evil, now appeared capable of being “tamed.” Andoain felt a tremor in his heart. Could beings he had assumed were natural enemies simply be harmless creatures under the right circumstances?

“You… what have you done?”

The priest lifted a trembling finger. Rain washed over his twisted face as he screamed,

“Why are they not attacking you?!”

Felix stayed silent. He did not voice the explanation in his heart, because he knew how unbelievable and defiant of common sense it sounded.

Maybe the Seaborn were not harmful to Terrans by nature. They were simply a different form of life. As long as they coexisted peacefully, they never crossed the line. But once hostility appeared, the entire Seaborn race would become your enemy.

They were, in a way, like the Zerg from Starcraft, sharing a collective consciousness.

Felix said nothing. The other little creatures—dogs, flowers, fish—showed no signs of aggression. The small dog barked at him twice. The flower swayed its petals at him. The small fish splashed toward him playfully. Then, one by one, they dispersed, and even the sticky blue film that coated the shoreline slowly faded away.

The little dog, however, lingered. It gave two lonely cries, taking three steps and turning back each time. It looked reluctant to leave him, wanting to stay by his side.

Felix seemed to recognize it. It should be the same small dog-like Seaborn he had fed during his earlier visit to Iberia. Back then, he had given it ice cream and chocolate. He didn’t expect it to remember.

Its memory was almost too good. Felix’s lips twitched.

“Goodbye… I’ll call you Little Blue from now on.”

The puppy—Little Blue, perhaps—seemed delighted to receive a name. It jumped nearly a meter high, let out a raspy bark, and dove into the sea.

“…”

Naming an individual Seaborn left the priest speechless. It was unclear whether he was furious or simply choking for breath, but his chest rose and fell violently.

He seemed struck by a violent mental shock. Rasping in words Felix and the others could not understand, he stretched out his hand. The arm that had looked normal a moment ago warped instantly into a dark green tentacle. His body began to swell, the abdomen first, then the chest, growing larger and larger.

Bang.

A single gunshot rang out. The priest’s head jerked back as the bullet pierced through his skull, and he fell rigidly onto his back.

Lemuen’s sniper shot. Judging that the priest was about to attack the other two—aside from Andoain, who could defend himself—she simply acted. She killed the priest who had never bothered to give his name.

The priest’s body quickly stopped mutating. His life slipped away entirely. Felix walked forward, briefly tempted to loot the body, but when he saw the grotesquely swollen, pig-like face, he immediately lost interest. He glanced at Andoain, who smiled and nodded.

With the priest dead and the church burned to the ground, another problem surfaced: the people of Sal Viento. Most depended on the church for food, and even that food was just simple shellfish and fish. Eating only that for long periods dulled the mind.

Andoain gave Felix a small nod. He was preparing to leave. Turning to Mostima, he bowed deeply.

“May the road ahead be smooth for you and Felix.”

“Where will you go next?” Mostima asked, calm and steady.

Andoain looked at the lock and key she carried on her back.

“I will remain in Iberia and continue gathering strength. I seek only an answer. In that pursuit, I have already lost to Felix, but I have no intention of giving up.”

He did not say the rest. In truth, he no longer minded working for Felix—gathering intelligence on the cults scattered throughout Iberia. It was something he, a Sankta forged in iron discipline, felt compelled to do. All glory belonged to the Sankta.

“Goodbye, Mostima. Goodbye, Lemuen. Until fate brings us together again.”

With that, Andoain released his art barrier. Step by step, he followed the coastline and walked into the distance.

Mostima remained where she was, silently watching him go, and in the end, she chose not to stop him.

[Reward: 60,000 EXP]

[Reward: Blueprint — Iberian Long-Voyage Vessel]

“Wrap it up. As for these residents of Sal Viento…”

Felix skimmed the blueprint briefly. After thinking about it, he realized that stepping forward to explain everything would be exhausting, pointless, and would probably earn him nothing but insults from these foul-mouthed people. In that case, why not leave the job to the local Iberian players?

They had stayed in Iberia for so long without traveling to Kazdel. They must have their reasons. Felix needed to reward that loyalty, otherwise the stability of Tomorrow’s Development would never last.

Quests and storylines across regions had to remain balanced.

So Felix opened the faction panel and issued a new quest: persuade the residents of Sal Viento to relocate to the outskirts of Brisamar City. At the same time, he created a task for expanding Brisamar City itself.

Iberian players were immediately baffled. What was Sal Viento? Why had none of them ever heard of it? Did some hidden storyline trigger without warning?

Soon enough, a new player mentioned seeing a very handsome Sankta man while wandering through Brisamar City. That single comment set the Iberian region on fire. Combined with the fact that no one had seen Pioneer in Kazdel lately, the answer was obvious: he had returned to Iberia.

The players mobilized. They followed the quest marker all the way to Sal Viento and began persuading the dazed, almost vacant NPCs to relocate. Meanwhile, other players started expanding Brisamar City, constructing dense residential blocks with the signature Iberian white walls and terrace design.

Along Iberia’s coastline, Sal Viento was not the only place abandoned by the Inquisition. Many such towns had been left to decay because they were too close to the sea. Maintaining them required enormous time and resources, especially when coastal Seaborn cleanup was needed. So the Inquisition simply gave up.

That created an opening for the Deep Sea Church. They operated exactly like the church in Sal Viento, sacrificing villagers every few days in exchange for ordinary food, while using those same villagers for terran experiments combining Seaborn traits with terran bodies.

In just one month, Felix, Mostima, and Lemuen swept through five small coastal towns. After destroying each Deep Sea Church stronghold, Felix reused the same method: assign related quests to the players.

Thanks to player efforts, Brisamar City rapidly expanded outward. Although the NPCs resisted leaving their long-time homes, the players eventually convinced them with patient reasoning and emotional appeals. The logic was simple: staying on the coast meant constant danger and food shortages. When these villagers woke to find their church gone, they thought the sky itself had collapsed. Adventurers arriving at that moment felt like salvation. They promised safety and regular meals, and the problem was resolved.

If Felix left these villagers where they were, they would die sooner or later. Relocating them to Brisamar City at least increased the population.

His biggest gain, however, was the haul of scientific equipment taken from the Deep Sea Church bases. The cultists wore rags, yet their research gear was practically brand new. Felix had drones transport everything to the research institute, and Weedy was overjoyed.

Half of the year 1095 had passed. It marked the final year of Terra 2.0 in the players’ daily timeline. At that moment, while Felix was still busy stirring up half of Iberia, a letter from Anthony arrived.

The letter described recent events in Lungmen and delivered a piece of excellent news.

Tomorrow’s Development’s landship was nearly complete, and Anthony wanted Felix to return to Lungmen to see the results.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep