“…Your Highness, did the journey go smoothly?”

“It did. Although, some Sarkaz mercenaries had been exposed to Originium dust and their condition deteriorated. There were no treatment facilities at their camp, so it took some effort to persuade them and bring them back.”

The woman addressed by Kal’tsit as “Your Highness” replied with a soft smile. It seemed she always wore that gentle expression—so calm and kind that it was hard to imagine any negative emotion ever appearing on her face.

She was Princess Theresa—the other half of the Sarkaz civil war, and the true authority behind Babel.

“Hmm… did I interrupt your work?” Theresa asked warmly. “If you haven’t had lunch yet, would you like to join me in the cafeteria?”

“No, it’s still early.”

“What’s wrong, Kal’tsit?”

Theresa immediately picked up on Kal’tsit’s subtle shift in expression. As always, she expected her longtime friend to be forthright with her.

“The suffering on this land and the Originium storms are closing in,” Kal’tsit said quietly. “The outer camps should be relocated soon.”

“…I understand.”

Theresa sighed gently. “The Sarkaz have long forgotten what home feels like—after so many years of wandering and forced migrations. It’s been too long since they’ve had anything stable.”

The Doctor spoke softly. “Theresa.”

“Yes, Doctor?” Theresa turned to face them with a smile. “You’re still wearing that mask. It’s not very flattering, you know.”

“…While you were away, Babel acquired a new batch of protective gear. These masks help shield us from Originium dust.”

Kal’tsit handed a few of the newly crafted masks to Theresa. She took one in hand, carefully examining it. The design adapted seamlessly to different face shapes, was easy to wear and remove, and came with a durable breathing tube. It was clear that the maker had considered every detail.

“So intricate… How did they manage to make so many of these?” Theresa’s eyes softened with admiration. “Who is this remarkable craftsman?”

With equipment like this, Babel’s operators would no longer have to risk exposure during exploration missions.

Closure shrugged casually. “A Sankta. Calls himself a ‘Pioneer.'”

“…Ah.”

Theresa blinked in surprise. “Sankta?”

“Yes,” Closure said, now beginning to air her frustrations with Theresa present. “He’s been in Babel for over a month. Goes on walks with ACE every day, joins their field missions regularly, and when he sees me, all I get is a calm greeting before he dives right back into his work. Honestly, I’m starting to doubt whether he’s really Sankta.”

The Doctor added, “He’s… an unusual Sankta. His orders came with favorable terms. His motives remain unclear, so I advise caution.”

Theresa nodded slowly, still trying to process the information. “So… he’s a Sankta who doesn’t discriminate against the Sarkaz?”

“He talks to the Sarkaz in ACE’s squad daily,” Closure muttered. “You’d think they’d seen a ghost the way they look at him.”

After hearing Closure’s description, Theresa let out a soft chuckle. She turned to Kal’tsit—her comrade, her friend, her unwavering partner throughout years of battle.

“Kal’tsit, what do you think?”

“The saints once said: ‘Follow me,’ and the stone towers rose. The saints said: ‘Listen to me,’ and the bells began to toll.”

Kal’tsit’s voice was calm, detached. “Laterano is too small in his eyes. His gaze is fixed upon the whole land of suffering.”

“A very special Sankta… one who shows no prejudice against the Sarkaz,” Theresa murmured with a sigh. “If only more were like him… would Kazdel still be the way it is now?”

Kal’tsit cast her a sidelong glance. Theresa smiled faintly and added, “I know that kind of idealism is unrealistic… but it’s a pity I didn’t get the chance to meet him.”

“There’ll be a chance,” Closure said with a small pout. “We owe him a favor. And given his personality, he’ll come looking for us sooner or later.”

Their conversation didn’t last much longer. A mercenary knocked gently on the door, bringing news that required Theresa’s attention. She left the room, but not before inviting the three of them to have dinner together later.

Closure, with a sigh and a stretch, remembered her own mountain of pending paperwork. Patting the dust from her pants, she too made her exit.

Only Kal’tsit and the Doctor remained in the office.

“Don’t let Theresa know about the Undead Army.”

The Doctor’s voice was cold and flat. “If she finds out, she’ll be overwhelmed with guilt—and she’ll pull them off the battlefield. But her undead army still has value. That order must not be given.”

“In times like these, the best course is to let them continue their endless internal strife,” Kal’tsit replied, tearing the document in her hand into thin strips. “I’m sure Theresis agrees.”

“The Sarkaz are always at war with themselves.”

“We hold differing ideals… and so we clash.”

“Let the undead fight—so the living can have space to breathe.”

The Doctor shook their head silently, said nothing more, and turned to leave.

Kal’tsit watched them go, then lowered her eyes, the room now still and quiet.

The Babel journey had only just begun.

And the gentle princess… still needed her.

—

After leaving Babel and the Sarkaz camp, Felix finally let out a long breath. Truth be told, during this whole period, he had constantly felt a chill on his back—like a brawny Sarkaz mercenary was grinning menacingly behind him, just looking for a reason to start trouble.

Without any real strength to fight back, all he could do was shout:

‘Degenbrecher! Save me!’

“Boss, how did the deal with Babel go?”

“They’re still too wary of me. That’s not ideal.”

“Boss, have you forgotten your own race?”

Felix laughed. Since getting to know her, Degenbrecher had started speaking more casually. Honestly, their relationship had long since gone beyond that of a simple employer and bodyguard.

“Before race, we’re all Terrans,” Felix said with a grin. He looked into the rearview mirror, catching the eyes of Senomi quietly observing him from the back seat, and gave her a wink.

“More importantly… what do you say to spending Christmas in Yan this year?”

“Food and clothing are the heart of Yan culture. I have to try everything.” Felix grinned. “Senomi, if you see anything you like, go ahead and buy it. Clothes, accessories—whatever. I just made some money. I’m rich now.”

Senomi lowered her head shyly and gave a small hum of acknowledgment. Felix sighed inwardly at the sight. It had only been a few months since he’d taken Senomi in—expecting her to open up so soon was wishful thinking.

Still, she never slacked in her training. Every day, she pushed herself—sweating, stretching, and honing her body. Most of her practice focused on flexibility and form. Sparring took up a smaller part of her sessions, but it was there.

In her small hand, she held a round, black piece of metal—dense and heavy. It was a parting gift from ACE.

ACE, who had grown quite close to Felix, had also met Senomi. The man felt deep sympathy for the girl. From time to time, he and Felix would watch quietly from the side as Senomi trained with Degenbrecher.

Before they parted ways, ACE had given Senomi that small black disc—a rare material used to make his shield. It was an uncontaminated E-series diamond, mined only in Kazdel. Incredibly valuable, this material was usually reserved for the elite shield-bearers of Kazdel’s armies—those with the highest combat duties and honor.

Perhaps, when ACE looked at Senomi, he saw in her a shadow of the wife and daughter he’d never met. After all, he looked old enough to have a family of his own.

With that thought lingering, Felix returned to the camp.

The place had changed dramatically since he left. The players had constructed a sturdy outer wall using stone and mud, and even a city gate had begun to take shape. Several production players were hard at work, hammering away near the entrance, while others patrolled the perimeter.

Felix raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t expected the city’s construction to progress this quickly.

As the pickup truck rolled into view, several players stopped what they were doing and looked up. When they saw the Pioneer step out of the vehicle, some were visibly moved—eyes wide, even teary. Without hesitation, they rushed toward him to exchange their hard-earned cash for memory crystals.

Felix immediately understood—they were new players who had just joined the growing settlement.

Still, building a city that “never sleeps” in Kazdel… it was a nice dream, but perhaps too ambitious. The reason he had dared to drive so openly through the region on the way back was because he had noticed the sky darkening in the distance—a clear sign that a Catastrophe was approaching.

And Catastrophe didn’t care for reason or timing. They came when they pleased.

After offloading a great deal of goods, Felix entered the settlement. Inside, he spotted several Sarkaz in mercenary garb sitting by the roadside. They were sharpening their blades and chatting idly. Unlike the players, they had no visible ID tags above their heads.

NPCs had finally arrived.

Felix’s mood lifted. With NPCs in the city, players could now take on quests and missions without ever leaving the settlement. These mercenaries especially—though stingy with rewards—offered plenty of experience and unique tasks. They came with all sorts of tricks up their sleeves.

In the future, whenever Felix wasn’t around, these NPCs would become a crucial part of supporting the city.

With NPCs present, a steady stream of tasks would be available, encouraging players to settle down and treat this city as their main hub.

Still, Felix couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward. After all, a city built in Kazdel could never truly stand against the chaos of Catastrophes.

As he walked along, many players approached him with cheerful smiles, offering him gifts.

“What’s going on?”

Not only Felix, but even Degenbrecher and Senomi received an unexpected number of items from players. What was happening?

Felix was baffled. Why were these players—who typically only acted for personal gain—suddenly so generous? While most of the materials were relatively useless, they could still be processed and sold at a profit.

“Hey hey hey! Little Sister Senomi’s favorability just went up to 3! Woo woo woo, my cute pink-haired mouse, let Big sister hug you—!”

“The Black Knight’s favorability only increased by 1. Ah well, no surprise. She’s an ice queen after all. The colder she acts, the more I adore her.”

“Why hasn’t the Pioneer’s favorability changed at all? Was my gift not good enough?”

“Didn’t the guide say giving gifts increases favorability? Why didn’t it work on the Pioneer? Is he some kind of high-tier mysterious NPC?”

Upon hearing the murmurs around him, Felix quickly pieced it together. So that’s what was happening—giving gifts to raise NPC favorability had recently become a trend among players.

He let out a helpless sigh. Favorability levels were important, and if he allowed them to rise too easily, he’d be swamped with players handing him junk every single day. He couldn’t handle that.

So, Felix simply smiled and thanked the players who gave him gifts. His expression was warm and sunny, charmingly handsome—but his favorability didn’t increase one bit.

“Is this what they mean by ‘warm on the outside but cold on the inside’? He really is a mysterious NPC.”

“Just because he has a pretty face, he thinks he can get away with anything! If you’re going to accept my gift, then become my boyfriend already!”

“Girl, you’re dreaming. The Pioneer belongs to everyone!”

Once the Pioneer left, the players began chatting among themselves. They eventually agreed on one theory: the higher an NPC’s level, the more mysterious they were—and the harder it was to win their favor. Especially when it came to story-critical NPCs.

Just like in real life, the more attractive someone was, the harder they were to win over. You could give a loaf of bread to a regular NPC and get +5 favorability. But with the Pioneer? They were just hoping his favorability didn’t go down.

The incident with the gift-giving only solidified the players’ belief: the Pioneer was definitely a high-level NPC.

Taking advantage of a quiet moment, Felix opened the forums and quickly caught up on what had sparked this trend. Apparently, a player in Leithania had tried to learn Originium Arts from a certain NPC in the Novice Town. His charm stat was low, so he resorted to giving gifts every day until he finally raised the NPC’s favorability to 10—and was rewarded with a rare and valuable notebook.

After using the notebook, the player’s experience gain doubled for a period of time.

Once the news spread, players everywhere began seeking out the highest-level NPCs nearby and showering them with gifts. The gifts came in all sorts of bizarre forms, leaving many NPCs utterly bewildered—just like Felix had been moments ago.

He found Ulšulah in her office, and his expression twitched slightly as his gaze fell on the pile of gifts stacked in one corner of the room.

As expected, in his absence, Ulšulah had become a target.

“Employer.” Ulšulah stood up at once, casting an embarrassed glance toward the corner. “They were a bit too enthusiastic… Is this some kind of custom among ‘adventurers’?”

Felix smiled. “It makes me happy to hear you call them adventurers.”

“There are more mercenaries in town now. I noticed some of them are affiliated with the Scar Market. You’ve done well.”

At his praise, Ulšulah’s devilish little tail swayed unconsciously from side to side.

“To get to the point,” Felix said, “I saw signs of a Catastrophe in the distance on my way back.”

The moment the words “Catastrophe” left his mouth, the color drained from Ulšulah’s face. “Employer, were you hurt?”

Degenbrecher gave a small smile and glanced at Ulšulah, who was staring intently at Felix. Seeing this, Felix simply shrugged and said, “The Catastrophe was far from here. Even if we had gotten out of the vehicle at that distance, we wouldn’t have been exposed to Originium dust.”

“Alright, That’s not the point. No city in Kazdel stands forever,” he said calmly. “That’s why most buildings here are made of simple wooden blocks and stone frames. Homes may be destroyed by Catastrophes—but the home in your heart will always remain.”

“I’ll stay here for a few more days before leaving Kazdel. I don’t know when I’ll be back,” Felix continued softly. “Ulšulah, as the deputy city lord, I want you to create an evacuation plan for when a Catastrophe strikes. As long as the Sarkaz remain, our homeland can always be rebuilt.”

Ulšulah looked at him deeply, then stood at attention and saluted.

“Understood!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep