Before doing business, one must first understand what the other party needs.

In his previous life, Felix had been a businessman—one well-acquainted with under-the-table deals, buying low and selling high. As the Fourth Impact, he had long since discarded any naive sense of morality. Arms dealing, especially with a self-sufficient production system, was the fastest way to generate profit. He’d often driven across desolate, uninhabited areas just to offload goods at the best possible price. That had been his norm.

There was once a well-known sales exercise:

“Sell me this pen.”

“Alright. Do me a favor and sign this napkin.”

“But… I don’t have a pen.”

A true businessman doesn’t just meet demand—he discovers it, creates it, and fulfills it.

So then, what exactly did Babel lack?

The answer was simple: food, and modern equipment.

Felix couldn’t solve the food problem—nothing could grow on this scorched, lifeless land. And providing weapons would make him look like a collaborator to the enemy, which ran contrary to his intentions.

That left him with one remaining avenue to prove his value.

Fitting, really—it aligned well with the title he’d earned.

—

“I only have thirty minutes.”

Kal’tsit led him into her office, offering no tea or even water. Her attitude was clear: get to the point.

Besides, Felix couldn’t picture Kal’tsit doing something as mundane as pouring tea for guests.

“A few days ago, ACE and I joined an expedition team,” Felix began. “We were accompanied by members of his unit. I noticed they were severely lacking in proper protective gear.”

Protective gear wasn’t the same as armor. In practical terms, it functioned more like an oxygen mask—essential when traversing Originium-contaminated zones.

Here in the polluted land of Kazdel, Babel’s expedition teams did possess some protective gear, but the supply was limited, and what they had was outdated. If they were exposed to the dangerous Originium dust in the air or touched contaminated surfaces, they risked either worsening their Oripathy or dying on the spot.

“A mercenary’s death should not come from Originium exposure,” Felix said flatly, “nor from the worsening of Oripathy. Don’t you agree, Doctor Kal’tsit?”

Kal’tsit replied with her usual calm: “Now there stands before me a Sankta who speaks well—and claims to be a businessman.”

“You don’t care about the law?”

“The law is as cold as fixed data. And data has no emotions,” Felix replied evenly. “But people do. The pride of the Sarkaz doesn’t put food on the table. War might be inevitable, but we can at least ensure our soldiers are safe before they step onto the battlefield.”

“…”

Kal’tsit narrowed her emerald eyes slightly.

“I can’t tell whether it’s an honor or a tragedy for Lateran civilization to have birthed a Sankta like you—standing here, in what remains of paradise.”

Felix spoke softly, “It should be called sadness. In that so-called paradise, there are always two outliers. Even empathy can’t bridge the emotional gap between us. What we experience while understanding one another… is sadness.”

“Some things cannot be conveyed through mere words. And yet, they’ll understand eventually.”

“That paradise has already been completed. It no longer needs pioneers or truth-seekers. That’s why I’m sitting here.”

He tapped his finger gently on the table and smiled.

“What they saw was a holy city. What I saw was the spark of civilization—and the potential for its continuation.”

“The future of Kazdel concerns all Sarkaz. As a neighbor, Laterano naturally worries about whether something regrettable may unfold.”

“Pioneers prefer to see with their own eyes. That’s why I came to this war-ravaged land—not just to witness it, but to see the people suffering in this era of upheaval.”

Kal’tsit was silent for a moment before giving a small nod. “Continue.”

“I can supply protective equipment to guard against Originium dust. That’s it.” Felix’s tone was flat. “I don’t want to be charged with treason by the Notarial Hall. This is the limit of what I can offer.”

“As for why I chose Babel…” He paused for a beat. “It’s because during these past few days, I’ve seen many operators of different races working hard for Her Highness the Princess. I genuinely want to witness the future of Babel.”

From inside his coat, Felix took out a written order and handed it to Kal’tsit. As for the protective mask, he’d bundled it with the blueprints some time ago—he thought it would just gather dust in storage, but it turned out to be useful after all.

“The price is slightly below market value. Consider it a gesture of goodwill. I hope Doctor Kal’tsit will accept it.”

Kal’tsit took the document, glanced over it, and gave a slight nod. “Pioneer, what is your goal?”

“Just to establish a good relationship with Babel.”

“…I see. The Laterano Sankta are always so naive.”

Felix watched as Kal’tsit signed her name. She had profited from the deal, albeit not by much. Accepting her sarcastic remark, he replied with a smile, “I hope I can remain naive.”

Kal’tsit said nothing more. She was never one for small talk—and her heart remained cold as ever. Even the former No. 1 on the relationship leaderboard had tried to win her over with countless gifts, yet never managed to raise her affection above 10.

Felix glanced at his system’s relationship panel:

[Kal’tsit’s relationship with you: (1/100)]

How stingy! Even after striking a deal that benefited Babel, it only increased by one point. She truly was a woman with a heart of stone.

Kal’tsit’s silence now served as an implicit signal for him to leave. Felix didn’t mind—he had already achieved his objective: to establish contact with her.

And that single moment of contact was invaluable.

Why had players in his previous life gone to such lengths to chat up and joke around with certain NPCs, hoping to unlock hidden quests? Because someone had managed to trigger one. Those NPCs weren’t random—they had preferences and favorability thresholds. They would only open up to those they approved of.

Felix didn’t know what hidden storyline Kal’tsit might possess. No players in his past life had ever uncovered a guide for it. But he could plant a seed—an early impression in Kal’tsit’s mind. Through it, he could show her who the pioneer truly was, what he pursued, and how he defined right and wrong.

This would be invaluable for future developments—whether during the early Babel period or the later Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals era.

If Kal’tsit ever came to believe that she needed Pioneer in the future, then it would be all the better if that idea had already taken root.

At the same time, even though he knew Kal’tsit didn’t particularly care, he had to present himself as a businessman. Every matter has its own value, and if Kal’tsit viewed him as a merchant, she would judge his actions through that lens.

That identity—as a businessman—was his greatest protection.

After gently closing the door behind him, Felix turned and noticed someone standing nearby: a figure in a black hooded coat, slightly shorter than him but with a slender frame. He wasn’t sure whether to refer to the person as “he” or “she,” but the outfit was unmistakable.

“There’s a Sankta active within the Babel base,” the hooded figure said to themself. “When ACE mentioned it, I thought he was just secretly drunk.”

This character was part of a main quest that players could encounter during the mid-to-late stages of the game. A doctor affiliated with Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals—but seemingly someone who had once worked with Babel. The record was scattered and vague, with no concrete details provided.

As for what kind of person the Doctor was, players didn’t have a strong impression. First, the Doctor never revealed their face, which disappointed those who liked to judge characters based on appearance. Second, as the leader of Rhodes Island, the Doctor wasn’t someone players could meet freely. Most appearances happened during formal meetings between high-level factions, far beyond player reach.

Third, the Doctor hadn’t done anything particularly memorable. Unlike characters who could dazzle players with martial prowess, Originium arts, or charismatic charm, the Doctor came off more like a pure scholar—someone who didn’t wield power in a flashy way.

Such scholarly characters rarely appeared before players. Naturally, they left little impression.

Compared to the Doctor, the cold and stoic Kal’tsit and the charming little angel Amiya were far more popular. They satisfied fans of aloof, elegant characters and supporters of the Blue Archives faction all at once.

“Hello, my codename is Pioneer,” Felix said, extending his hand. “ACE has taken good care of me these days. Please pass along my thanks.”

The other person reached out, their gloved hand meeting his.

“Just call me Doctor,” came the calm reply. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss the order you just made with Doctor Kal’tsit.”

That sharp insight, paired with a decisive tone—Felix silently nodded to himself. This didn’t feel like the pure scholar he’d imagined. The Doctor now before him had the aura of a seasoned commander on a battlefield.

He didn’t mind the Doctor knowing the details. After giving a concise explanation, the Doctor rested a hand on their chin and slowly nodded.

“We at Babel are very pleased to have reached this agreement, and we also thank you for your generosity, Mr. Pioneer,” the Doctor said calmly. “As a Sankta, your actions can be called noble. I hope you find what you’re looking for at Babel.”

With a slight nod, the Doctor turned, knocked on Kal’tsit’s office door, and stepped inside.

Felix stood still, watching the Doctor’s back.

This person wasn’t just a scholar. The way they spoke, the subtle precision in their words—this was someone more akin to a diplomat.

‘Hope you find what you want at the Babel?’ Wasn’t that just another way of saying, ‘Go ahead and take whatever you want’?

That sentence revealed much. It meant Babel didn’t want to owe him a favor. No matter what Felix might “take” from Babel in the future, the higher-ups would likely turn a blind eye. They clearly preferred to distance themselves from a Sankta whose motives and objectives remained unclear. To be fair, Felix didn’t particularly want to get involved with them either.

But he had no intention of “taking” anything. In fact, it was a good thing to let them owe him. If he were being honest, what he truly wanted was to poach ACE. That guy had a kind and responsible heart beneath his rugged exterior—perfect companion material. With ACE and Degenbrecher, he could assemble the strongest bodyguard team in all of Terra.

Still, after thinking it through, he realized that even if ACE came with him physically, his heart would remain in Babel.

Before the year ended, he planned to head to Great Yan. It would be perfect to have a steaming hot pot to welcome the New Year.

Being in a foreign world didn’t change the fact that he missed Chinese food. He’d tried the so-called “Great Yan cuisine” in Columbia once. It tasted decent, but it wasn’t the real thing—more like American-style fried chicken nuggets dressed up as something exotic.

In the following days, Felix began hammering away in accordance with the terms of his contract. He had been granted special permission to work in the workshop. It had been weeks since he last forged anything, and his hands were itching to get back to work. He didn’t waste a moment—spending half the day crafting his own little gadgets. Kal’tsit had no idea he was slacking off, so he made the most of it.

Before long, he realized he wasn’t the only one using the workshop. Among the people coming and going, he saw a familiar face.

Closure—currently the chief engineer of Babel—was in charge of several critical systems, including the circuit lines. Her interactions with Felix were neither overly familiar nor cold—polite and professional. Her demanding workload, however, left little time for socializing.

Felix felt a twinge of regret. In his past life, by the time he’d met Closure, Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals was already well-established. He had hoped he might be able to recruit her in Kazdel… but considering his identity, it was highly unlikely. He couldn’t even approach her home—doing so would just trigger mercenaries to hunt him down. Given those odds, Felix shelved any thoughts of recruiting her.

Not everyone was meant to be recruited, and not everyone was suited to be one of his subordinates.

Some things simply weren’t meant to be.

Still, it wasn’t as if he walked away empty-handed. During this time, he successfully crafted a green-tier sniper crossbow—ideal for long-range attacks. He could even downgrade it to a white-tier version and sell it on the black market. After all, trading too many firearms might eventually attract unwanted attention.

By the end of October, Felix submitted the completed order. He still made a profit, though not as much as in previous deals.

Before leaving Babel, he took the time to say goodbye to ACE and several members of his team. As a parting gesture, he gifted ACE a few bottles of renowned Kazimierzian wine. Originally, these were meant to replenish calories during desert expeditions, but now that his departure was imminent, Felix felt it appropriate to offer them to the big brother figure who had looked out for him during his time at Babel.

When he saw ACE’s favorability rating spike to 30, Felix couldn’t help but grin. Hehe, that definitely left a good impression on Brother ACE.

—

“They’ve gone.”

Inside Kal’tsit’s office, only she and the Doctor remained. She spoke calmly, “The masks made by the Pioneer have been distributed to every team venturing into the wilderness. I don’t want to see a single team member inhaling Originium dust and worsening their condition.”

“What a shame. If only the Pioneer weren’t Sankta…”

Closure muttered to herself. Babel just happened to lack someone capable of designing and producing gear for operators and mercenaries. In all of Kazdel, there were very few who truly mastered this kind of technology. If only the Pioneer weren’t a Sankta, she could have requested permission from Theresa and used incentives to retain him.

“He took nothing with him,” the Doctor remarked coldly, as if ignoring Closure’s comment. “Maybe he really is what he claims—a ‘Pioneer.’ But Closure is right. If he weren’t Sankta, he could’ve become one of Babel’s greatest assets.”

“What are you two talking about?”

The door swung open, and a Sarkaz woman with long white-and-pink hair stepped in, wearing a gentle smile.

“Kal’tsit? Doctor? Are you busy?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep