So many people had perished, yet Charles had benefited from it. Though he had personally saved many lives, he was still left with a lingering sense of guilt.
Well, he thought, I'll just have to help these people become prosperous in the future.
This was some small way to compensate, though he was now keenly aware that the storyline of the game had completely gone off the rails.
Shudde M'ell had awakened far ahead of schedule, and the clash with Vajra had not only altered the landscape of the Rubble District, but also changed the very skies of the material world.
The Chthonians had burrowed countless tunnels beneath the mountains, some even connecting to the sewers of Liberl Port, all combining to create a vast, unpredictable, and utterly chaotic mega-labyrinth stretching for dozens of kilometers underground.
Added to this, the mountains already featured the "Haunted Gold Mine," an entrance to the Underdark, making the whole situation even more tangled and unpredictable.
It was easy to imagine that, in the future, the city's underworld would become the playground of duergar, dark elves, and even mind flayers.
None of this had ever appeared in the original material—the original game had never shown a dungeon so vast and terrifying beneath Liberl Port.
With a future like that, there was no guarantee that the strategies he'd once relied on would be useful.
Ahead, in the battles with all sorts of monsters and madmen, he could rely only on his power and his ability to adapt.
Oh, and his monastery, which was about to reach Level 3.
Opening his system, Charles looked at the monastery area, now surpassing ninety thousand square meters, and let out a sigh, feeling some relief.
During these days, the witches had not only kept up their offering porridge efforts, but also expanded the buying-up of ruined land nearby.
At his command, the monastery was also recruiting new members, taking in all those young girls who were honestly and piously converting to the faith of the Goddess of Life, letting them study doctrine alongside Sophia and Lisa, training first as "novice nuns"—the most basic, non-combat-effective but productive members of the monastery.
He was preparing for the future, and once the monastery leveled up to three, he could immediately promote them to specialized Pastors, powerful Level 3 units for the monastery.
Then he'd finally have true means of self-preservation.
While he dreamed about the future, a rumbling of carriage wheels sounded from behind.
He turned to look and saw, charging down the main avenue from the District Office, a luxurious carriage emblazoned with the figure of a blue dragon. It stopped in front of his monastery gates.
From it stepped a tall blue dragonborn male, finely dressed in a sharp black suit, exuding competence and intelligence.
In the distance, the paupers waiting for porridge eyed the scene curiously and fearfully—they had heard of dragonborn but rarely seen them in person. Their curiosity warred with fear that a creature with a dragon's head might harm them.
But Charles's brow lifted—his powerful memory immediately identified the newcomer.
Wasn't this one of the higher-ups from the Blue Dragon Bank?
Why had he come here?
For me?
His mind raced with questions, but he stepped forward to greet the blue dragonborn, hand extended—though before he could say a word, the visitor began speaking first.
"Nigel Mr. Charles." The blue dragonborn extended his own hand and shook. "I am Prince Rahman's secretary. I hope you remember me."
Charles nodded, "Of course I remember you, sir."
He paused, then added, "It's just that—as you can see—the South Harbor District suffered great losses in the recent earthquake, and the monastery is busy with relief. I'm sorry, but I can't offer you the best reception today."
The blue dragonborn, however, didn't mind. "It's no problem. I'm simply following His Prince's instructions to check on your situation here."
"Your past returns have been impressive, which pleased the prince. Once he heard you'd suffered disaster, he asked me to come and have a look."
Oh, here to see the property?
That's all?
No, a true higher-up would have sent underlings for such things.
Charles kept a smile on his face, though, saying, "Our residential quarter is on high ground and has strong construction—hardly affected at all."
"If you look over there, you'll see my houses; all of them are perfectly intact."
The blue dragonborn nodded slightly. "May I have a closer look?"
"Of course," replied Charles, leading the way as he showed the dragonborn around the area he had constructed, across the dormitories and elegant, beautiful homes.
"These houses were engineered with magical and divine magic composite effects," Charles explained as they walked, "which improve sleep quality and allow for true rest. Even in the remote South Harbor District, these homes fetch a good price."
Two thousand gold per house—not cheap for the South Harbor District, but still a bargain in all of Liberl Port.
The blue dragonborn nodded as he listened. He had his own thoughts: such sales pitches were decades out of style—in Liberl Port's central district, developers had been saying such things for years already.
Back then, the only actual trick was thickening the walls with a little magic to improve insulation and soundproofing.
Such notions might impress the naïve of the South Harbor District, but take them to central district and you'd be a laughingstock.
Still, since Charles had managed to make money here, the blue dragonborn didn't say more. After all, that wasn't the real reason for his visit.
"Very impressive, Mr. Charles. You're a true business genius," he praised perfunctorily. "And so, we can also confirm a few things."
"And, may I ask if you're free this evening? Prince Rahman would like to invite you to dinner."
Charles stopped in his tracks.
A blue dragon is asking for me?
Now, this is the real business!
Hiss… What's going on here?
Did he lose his shirt this year?
As an old player, Charles knew well: blue dragons bore the expectations of their families. They could spend money freely, but their final profits or losses would decide their standing in the clan.
But—
Surely my tiny investments couldn't have caught the blue dragons' attention?
Any young blue dragon could move funds in the hundreds of millions—a small change of a few percentage points, and they'd gain or lose millions of gold.
His total revenue so far was less than a hundred thousand gold; deducting expenses, even less would fall to the blue dragons.
The rate of return looked good only because the upfront cost was low. Even these tens of thousands of gold were sums unimaginable for most in the South Harbor District, yet small fry to a real blue dragon.
"It's about business and investment," the blue dragonborn explained, as if seeing through Charles's confusion. "The capital invested in you produced positive returns this quickly—Prince Rahman is most pleased. There are things he'd like to discuss with you in person."
He paused, then added, "Prince Rahman is in good spirits, but his time is valuable—he rarely sets aside so much leisure, if at all."
The hint was clear: Rahman might be about to invest a large sum, but this opportunity would not come again.
Charles thought, what nonsense—the blue dragons have nothing but leisure! But he let the idea pass, considered his situation, and the resources a pleased blue dragon could grant. Taking a deep breath, he made up his mind. "Yes, I am available this evening."
No matter what the blue dragon was really planning—if he intended to throw around wealth, there was no harm in taking a piece first!
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