All the players had successfully obtained the dungeon crystal.

Completing the construction task wasn’t particularly difficult for them. By dedicating a few days in the real world, they were able to meet the objectives and unlock the instance crystal at the Pioneer Store.

Felix remained in the camp for a few days before finally setting out with Degenbrecher and Senomi in a Military truck.

He hadn’t expected a send-off. Yet, before their departure, Ulšulah and many players gathered to see him off. Among them, Magic ZX was the most reluctant. Though disappointed that the Pioneer didn’t take him on this mission, he had already begun planning his next video—one that would feature the story behind the Pioneer’s dungeon crystal—so he wasn’t too upset.

Felix didn’t offer Ulšulah any grand promises. She had earned his trust in a surprisingly short time. Even if she brought in other mercenaries from the Scar Market later on, he wouldn’t object. In fact, that might be exactly what he hoped would happen.

As for popularity, he had no concerns. Unlike Felix’s preference to stay behind the scenes, Ulšulah was constantly on the front lines. During the day, she explored with the Pioneer team composed of players; in the afternoon, she coordinated camp construction and planning; and at night, she ensured the market’s safety.

If an NPC wants to become popular, it depends not only on their behavior toward players but also on their personality and character. In Ulšulah’s case, all of these were in her favor. On top of that, she was young and beautiful. Even though her figure was hidden beneath a mercenary uniform, her charm was undeniable.

Felix felt at ease knowing the players respected her and were willing to follow her lead.

After bidding farewell to Ulšulah and the others, he stepped on the accelerator and drove toward the coordinates marked for Theresa’s army.

“Where… are we going?”

Over time, Senomi had grown more comfortable with her surroundings. She no longer feared Felix the way she did when they first met. She now saw him as her closest companion and had come to understand that her new master didn’t buy her for the dark rumors she’d heard back in the slave market. Instead, he trained her with care and seriousness.

Senomi felt deeply grateful. Though still shy and unsure how to express herself, she had resolved to train hard under Sister Degenbrecher’s guidance and repay her master as soon as she could.

If Felix knew what she was thinking, he’d probably just pat her on the head and praise her a few more times.

As they drove for several days across scorched land, they encountered scattered mercenary camps—outposts belonging to the Scar Market. The term “Scar Market” didn’t just refer to a specific camp, but more broadly to small mercenary companies operating across the land.

Naturally, trouble came with the territory. The pickup truck bore no military insignia, and with a Sankta at the wheel, it drew unwanted attention. Several mercenaries tried to extort protection fees.

In response, Degenbrecher calmly stepped out of the vehicle, took down the would-be extortionist in a single move, and returned to the passenger seat under Senomi’s wide-eyed admiration.

Felix didn’t bother hiring additional mercenaries as escorts—he had already begun to see signs that they were nearing the territory of Theresa’s army.

—

The civil war in Kazdel was exactly that—a civil war. And for Felix, a Sankta wandering alone through such a battlefield, keeping a low profile was only natural. Drawing attention could easily mean drawing blades.

As he stepped out of the pickup truck, several of Theresa’s military-affiliated mercenaries turned their gazes toward him with visible suspicion.

“I’d like to ask,” Felix said, his tone calm, “where is the Tower of Babel?”

The mercenaries exchanged puzzled glances. Tower of Babel? What was he talking about?

“How long have you been in Theresa’s army?” Felix asked, eyeing them.

“A few days,” one of them replied hesitantly.

“No wonder…”

The mercenaries looked at each other again, now slightly annoyed. Who does this Sankta kid think he is? Does he not see the swords on our belts? Where’s this confidence coming from?

Felix, unfazed by the unspoken hostility, continued, “Do I look like a threat to you?”

“I’m a messenger. I’ve come bearing information from the outside lands. I don’t hold the hatred for Kazdel you might expect. If possible, I’d like you to introduce me to your commanding officer.”

Degenbrecher, standing nearby, let out a soft sigh. Her master was direct to a fault when it came to negotiations. Still, she naturally moved in front of him, her posture relaxed but unmistakably protective.

Mercenaries lived a harsh and transactional life. They moved only for profit. If there was nothing to gain, they wouldn’t lift a finger. Their nature seemed cold and uncaring, but that was simply survival in their world.

From a racial standpoint, yes—they were supposed to hate Sankta. But these were young soldiers, new blood who had never fought on a real battlefield, let alone against Sankta. For them, ancient hatred meant little when there was no personal stake. And frankly, risking their lives for a nameless assignment with no payoff? Pointless. Felix’s gear might look cool, but even if they killed him and took it, their superiors would likely confiscate it.

Then there was the Caprinae woman standing before them. The sharp pressure in her golden eyes was oppressive, her presence like a looming storm. Even the thought of crossing her made the mercenaries hesitate.

“Don’t wander around here,” one finally said. “We’ll go inform the commander.”

“You talk to me like that,” Felix said flatly, “what, are your clan’s Heirloom being sold off wholesale?”

He turned to Degenbrecher with a casual glance. “Can you give that one a punch later?”

“A normal punch or a serious punch?” Degenbrecher asked, raising an eyebrow.

Senomi, who had rolled down the window and overheard the exchange, spoke up in a cautious tone, trying not to irritate her master. “Umm… they didn’t really say anything too mean just now…”

Felix smiled warmly. “Senomi, you’re too kind. Sweet and loving as always.”

Senomi immediately looked down, her cheeks flushing as she shyly avoided his gaze.

Degenbrecher gave a soft chuckle as she stepped past.

Before long, the mercenaries returned with a battlefield commander in tow. He was dressed in a full military uniform, the faint shimmer of Originium particles clearly visible on his rolled-up sleeves.

“What are a Sankta and a Caprinae doing on a battlefield?” the officer asked in a low, guarded tone. “Judging by your numbers, you’re no match for our forces. Two people can’t stand against an army.”

His gaze lingered deliberately on Degenbrecher before shifting to Felix. “I ask again, Sankta, why have you come to our battlefield?”

“I intend to make a visit to the Tower of Babel,” Felix replied earnestly. He retrieved a folded letter from inside his coat. “I’m a messenger. My mission is to deliver information. When I received this assignment, the recipient had already joined the Tower of Babel under Theresa’s army.”

“…”

The officer narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. “Do all messengers nowadays travel in military pickup trucks with armed bodyguards?”

“Since the destination is deep within Kazdel, and I don’t have any combat capabilities, hiring protection was my only choice.”

Felix’s answer left the commander with no real retort. The officer’s face remained cold, but he relented.

“Very well. But you’ll proceed under the surveillance of our forces. Any suspicious movement, and you’ll be executed on the spot. I’ll assign a small unit to ‘escort’ you to the Tower of Babel.”

“Much appreciated,” Felix said calmly.

The officer spat on the ground before walking away, as if just being near a Sankta had tainted him. His contempt was obvious, but Felix didn’t react. He had thick skin, and petty insults were meaningless. Striking back would solve nothing—only a moment of relief that wouldn’t change the situation.

Before long, their assigned “escort” convoy appeared: a group of supply trucks with rows of mercenaries perched on top, eyeing Felix’s group with a mixture of disdain and amusement.

These were standard trucks used for transporting goods and making round trips between outposts. Felix wasn’t surprised. He returned to his truck, started the engine, and fell in line between the supply trucks.

As they rolled out, Degenbrecher glanced sideways from the passenger seat. “There’s no actual messenger mission, is there?”

“Well, it’s a reason,” Felix replied with a relaxed tone, leaning back into his seat and humming a light tune. He glanced at her with a small smile. “There are always other reasons. Methods are just methods. Reaching the goal—that’s what matters.”

“Of course,” he added, “I’m not the type to resort to despicable tricks.”

Degenbrecher let out a quiet hum of agreement. “Because you’re not that kind of person.”

The frontlines were still a long distance from the supply station. At night, the convoy made camp. Mercenaries rotated shifts, standing watch around the campfire. Felix, Degenbrecher, and Senomi kept to themselves, relying on their own provisions.

Felix noticed the looks from the surrounding mercenaries—some filled with hatred, some with contempt, others with curiosity, or simply indifferent calm. He made no effort to approach or befriend them.

Words alone were empty and meaningless. The speeches of the so-called nobles held nothing of interest for the poor. They were just noise—grating and hollow. The only thing they cared about from those above them was the food and water that kept them alive.

Today, the lives of Sarkaz mercenaries were no different from those of the impoverished. They were like wild hyenas in the wastelands, siding with whoever fed them best.

Words and deeds—both were necessary.

This was exactly why Felix was so curious about Theresa. Was she truly confident that her methods could restore the Sarkaz to glory? How had she managed to attract so many mercenaries to her cause? Even among the ranks of the Theresa Army, the soldiers seemed deeply captivated by her presence.

He was also quite intrigued by the organization known as the Tower of Babel.

In his previous life, when he had read discussions about Babel Tower, it had already vanished from Kazdel. Back then, while the civil war raged, Felix had still been playing in the mud—just another ordinary player with no involvement in the founding or fall of Babel Tower. By the time most players became aware of the situation, the war had ended, Babel Tower had disappeared, and Theresa had become a memory.

Of course, Felix had another reason for making this trip.

Kal’tsit—why do you have to be as cold as a block of wood?

If he couldn’t raise her favorability as a player, then maybe he could still stir something by acting like an NPC. That alone made Felix very curious.

After traveling for another ten days along the dirt road, they finally spotted signs of life in the distance: thin plumes of smoke from cooking fires.

Kazdel had no mobile cities or so-called mobile villages. What Felix saw was a small settlement, built much like those players created in the game. Most of the structures were simple wooden buildings—easy to dismantle and rebuild when needed—but that also made surviving winter a real challenge.

It was already September or October in Terra, and the weather was growing colder by the day. Mercenaries would need to conserve their strength to endure the coming winter.

Felix and Degenbrecher got out of the vehicle. He was lightly armed—two revolvers strapped to his thighs and two automatic pistols at his waist.

The camp mercenaries took notice when they saw someone approaching. Once they realized it was a Sankta, some rubbed their eyes in disbelief, wondering if they were seeing things.

Felix stood casually off to the side, chatting harmlessly with Senomi, his tone light and teasing. This relaxed attitude caused some mercenaries to drop their guard, though others kept a watchful eye on him.

By now, Felix had grown numb to these stares.

After waiting a while, he straightened his clothes and began walking toward the entrance of the camp.

At this point in time, Babel Tower had yet to develop the mobile landship known as “Rhodes Island.” Their headquarters was still a simple compound of wood and stone. From the camp entrance, he could already see the Babel Tower flag fluttering in the distance.

A few mercenaries stood guard at the gate. It seemed they had already spoken with the group assigned to monitor Felix, as their expressions were tinted with suspicion. A tall mercenary stood nearby, speaking with them.

“Are you the messenger from Laterano?”

The tall man turned to face him. He wore sunglasses, carried a large shield, and looked incredibly sturdy.

Felix glanced at him twice, initiating a scan.

[ACE – Lv90]

It was actually ACE. Felix’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He had some vague recollection of this person. In his previous life, when he had joined Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals, the early wars were long over, and his knowledge of ACE came only from cold, impersonal text in the mobile terminal.

> “The team, including ACE, consisted of 13 members. The team members were: Bad Tom, Kerger, Hard Brick, Wooden Spoon, Seventeen, Copper Nose, Green Bean, Yinyin, Secret Words, Sand Wash, Purple Flame, and Caries. All were confirmed dead.”

– This was the archived record he had once read.

That was the only impression ACE had left him: words on a screen.

“Hello, my codename is Pioneer. I’m a messenger—and a businessman. I’ve come to the Tower of Babel to deliver a message.”

“…Hello. My codename is ACE. Welcome to the Tower of Babel.”

ACE responded formally, extending a hand. They shook hands, and he continued, “As the designated messenger, your safety during your stay here will be my responsibility.”

He cast a glance at the Caprinae woman beside Felix. She radiated the aura of a natural-born warrior even while standing still. He silently wondered what his chances would be if he were to face her in combat.

Felix could feel the immense pressure radiating from ACE—like a mountain looming silently nearby. At level 90, his physical strength and combat experience could probably knock Felix out with one hand.

Having someone of this caliber as a bodyguard? Not a bad arrangement at all. Considering he was a Sankta surrounded by Sarkaz, his personal safety was definitely a legitimate concern.

“I’ve heard a few things about the Tower of Babel. But seeing is believing. It’s an honor to enter as a messenger.”

Empty courtesies were free, after all—he could say as many as he liked. These words were polished enough to be faultless, respectful without being sycophantic, and without lowering the status of a formal envoy.

With ACE in front and Degenbrecher behind him, there might not be a more secure escort lineup anywhere in all of Terra.

As they walked through the gates, they were greeted by operators wearing standard mercenary uniforms, each bearing the Tower of Babel insignia on the shoulder.

“ACE, your medical report is here. Next time, I hope you’ll respect your physical limits instead of recklessly charging ahead with your team.”

A cold, emotionless female voice rang out. Felix turned his head toward its source.

The speaker was the very first NPC whose official portrait had been revealed on Arknights’ website. Her expression was unreadable, and in her clear, green, gem-like eyes, no hint of emotion could be found. She gave Felix a brief glance—light as air, yet it felt like it spanned a thousand years.

It was her—the cool, sharp-tongued cat that had first captured players’ hearts.

Kal’tsit.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep