Hoederer's heart stirred violently. He had no reason to refuse—and neither did Ines.
That their employer was a Sankta gave Ines pause at first, but the terms were far more generous than any contract they had taken in years.
No, it wasn't enough for them to retire, settle down, and live out their days in comfort, but it would give their company a badly needed respite.
Mercenaries lived hard lives, always chasing profit, always running toward someone else's danger.
This time, Ulšulah would remain in the Frontier Zone to manage affairs. She had originally wanted to accompany Felix, but before the departure he sought her out for a private word.
"You're really going to leave?"
Ulšulah sat behind her desk, a faint shadow on her face.
"…Only for a while," Felix said. "Ulšulah, how much longer do you think this civil war will last?"
"At the current pace of escalation? Both the General and Her Highness are pulling their forces tight, angling to seize each other's territory. If I had to guess…" She paused. "Her Highness's goal may well be to drive her armies into the mobile city of Kazdel itself."
Her tone was measured, thoughtful. "As for the General—the surest way for him to win is, paradoxically, to do nothing at all."
"To do nothing?"
"Because the Sarkaz cannot simply cast aside the role of mercenary. Battle is written into our blood from the moment we are born." Ulšulah's voice was calm, almost detached. "I don't know Her Highness's true aim. But the General? He wishes to reclaim the Sarkaz past through war, to carve our name into enemy soil with blood."
Her eyes narrowed. "And that, too, is what the Sarkaz long for. Hatred does not dissolve so easily. They yearn for war, yearn to trample their enemies on the battlefield. For that, they are willing to pay any price."
Felix smiled faintly and raised a thumb in approval.
"It seems you've grown a great deal in my absence. Ulšulah—you've become more than capable of standing on your own. That's the mark of a leader."
Her composure cracked. "I am your loyal officer and proxy. Not a leader."
"My mistake," he chuckled, watching the rare flash of petulance on her face. Straightening, he added lightly, "By the way, Degenbrecher brought some fine wine from Yan and Higashi. Go easy on it. Don't get drunk."
"That won't happen again." Ulšulah shook her head, though her lips curved almost imperceptibly. She watched him leave with a soft sigh, the stir in her chest refusing to quiet.
Years had passed since their last meeting. The youth who had once been a little rough around the edges now stood as a man of undeniable charm. And she? She, too, had grown. She had been a girl back then… did he see that growth in her now?
She knew she shouldn't linger on such thoughts, so she turned her gaze back to her work. Yet a quiet anticipation bloomed within her for their next meeting.
When that day came, she promised herself, she would properly speak her mind to Felix—and demand a raise. After all, she had borne the burden of a proxy for years. Did he really think Ulšulah would harbor no complaints?
If only he were Sarkaz… The thought escaped as a sigh.
---
For most Sarkaz mercenaries, travel meant walking. Only the largest companies could afford vehicles; smaller groups could rarely obtain them, let alone manage the impossible task of refueling in this forsaken land.
Felix, however, had no intention of wasting weeks on foot. At his expense, Hoederer procured a truck for their company. The convoy set off for the Babel: Hoederer at the wheel in front, Felix following in a truck, and another mercenary truck trailing close behind.
A formation tight enough to leave no gaps, as if sealing him in.
The Pioneer's journey to Babel Tower had begun.
Ines sat in the passenger seat of Felix's truck, serving as both liaison with the other two trucks and as guide, answering questions from him and his companions along the way.
From her, Felix learned the story: Babel had once been firmly rooted within the mobile city of Kazdel. But as the schism deepened, Her Highness had led Babel's forces out of the city. Within the last two years, they had found and boarded the landship of Rhodes Island—and made it their base of operations.
That fortress, rolling steadily across the wasteland, was now their destination. It was also the very place Felix had long wished to reach, so he could sit down with those long-eared folks from Rim Billiton and talk business. Truth be told, he wanted a landship of his own.
The convoy crossed through what was once a battlefield. Scars of war lingered everywhere—rusted weapons long beyond salvage still jutted out of the soil, and on a distant rise stood lonely, nameless graves.
War was merciless. To see Kazdel's civil strife laid bare before his eyes left Felix with nothing but a sigh.
Kazdel's fracture was unsolvable. As a player once, he had been powerless to change anything—at most, nudging the map a few percentage points here or there. And now, as an "NPC," he could do no more.
It was not a matter of numbers or strength. It was a matter of reason, of belief.
After a week of travel across the broken earth, the morning sun finally revealed it: rising behind the hills, plated in armored steel, the vast silhouette of a landship.
Rhodes Island.
Babel's headquarters. The heart from which all commands flowed. It was here Her Highness resided, surrounded by the Sarkaz mercenaries who had sworn to her.
Entry, of course, required inspection. For Hoederer and Ines's mercenary company, it was no issue—they had worked Babel contracts before, even rested aboard the ship. Familiar allies did not need heavy scrutiny.
But when the Sarkaz guards reached Felix's truck and the window rolled down, the halo above his head came into view. The soldiers' hands moved instinctively to their weapons.
Hoederer immediately stepped forward. His right hand brushed the hilt of the heavy mechanical greatsword Felix had advanced him as payment.
"Easy," he said calmly. "This man is our employer. Settle down, will you?"
"Hoederer… are you telling me a Sankta hired you?"
The guards clearly knew him. The disbelief in their tone was sharp.
Hoederer slipped both hands into his pockets with practiced nonchalance. "We're mercenaries. Isn't that what we do? And besides—are you really going to stop him? Have you forgotten Her Highness's orders about the Messenger?"
The guards' expressions tightened. To offend anyone else was one thing; to offend the Messenger was suicide. Neither dared meet Felix's gaze again. With a curt, impatient wave, they signaled the pickup through.
When the vehicles finally parked, Felix stepped out and tilted his head back. The colossal bulk of Rhodes Island loomed above.
In his past life, this sight was almost ordinary. He had even had a personal room aboard. But in this life, it was his first time laying eyes on it—and the landship's enormity struck him anew.
What a pity, though. Rhodes Island, despite its weapons, was not a warship. If Felix owned such a vessel, it would already bristle with armaments fit to rival the city guns of Londinium.
Whistle—
Degenbrecher let out a sharp whistle of admiration. Beside her, Dawn and Nightfall could only stare in awe.
"Aren't you supposed to be doing what you came here for?"
Felix glanced at Shining. She held Liz's hand gently, and at his words she replied in her calm, steady voice:
"Only after you've met with Her Highness will I take my leave."
Hoederer stepped forward, putting himself between Felix and the gathering stares—some curious, some openly hostile.
"Pioneer, sir, best we head inside first," Hoederer said with a grin. He knew well enough: bringing a Sankta into Babel was already testing tempers. No one had drawn their weapons yet, but the mercenaries' guarded stance spoke volumes.
Felix, however, seemed utterly unbothered. He strode beneath the shadow of Rhodes Island's hull, where the great scabbard-shaped lift connected the lower grounds to the higher decks. Both people and cargo flowed through here.
Hoederer couldn't help but twitch at the sight of his employer walking the place with such ease, as if returning home. Just how familiar was Felix with Rhodes Island?
What surprised him even more was the figure waiting at the top of the lift.
"…ACE."
"Hoederer."
The Sarkaz veteran inclined his head in recognition. For one who had fought countless battles, Babel extended respect rather than suspicion.
"You've come."
ACE's gaze shifted toward Felix, his eyes carrying a hint of complexity.
"Her Highness said that after your departure, you were bound to return someday. I simply did not expect it to be this soon."
"It's been a while, ACE. I've brought a good amount of Yan spirits. How about sharing a drink later?"
"..."
A faint smile tugged at ACE's lips. "Her Highness is in a meeting right now. I'll first take you to a resting lounge."
"As for your companions—Mantra, I'll leave them in your care."
"Consider it done, ACE."
The reply came from a woman arriving moments later. Her features were mature, her demeanor quiet, yet she carried with her an unmistakable aura of reassurance.
"Lady Mantra seldom has the chance to return," ACE said with clear respect, bowing slightly.
She answered only with a small smile, her gaze lingering on Felix.
"A Sankta… truly rare here. An uncommon sight indeed. I sense no malice in you. On behalf of Babel's elite operators, allow me to welcome you."
Her eyes then swept over the rest of Felix's group.
"If you don't mind, I'd be glad to host you for afternoon tea. I still have a few things in reserve."
"That works."
Degenbrecher shot Felix a sideways glance. Seeing no objection from him, she answered in the affirmative.
Once Mantra had led the others away, ACE exhaled quietly, as if releasing a weight. That Mantra herself had appeared upon sensing a Sankta approach was telling—her long service as a scout and recon specialist left her cautious by nature. Clearly, curiosity had drawn her closer… along with a trace of suspicion.
Felix understood the probing well enough. But as the saying went, a clear conscience fears no ghosts. Whatever questions Mantra chose to press with words or action, he had nothing to conceal.
"Are you sure it's fine to bring me personally?" Felix asked lightly. "You're an elite operator. Don't you have more pressing matters than hosting me?"
"I only just returned two days ago with my squad from a mission. Doctor Kal'tsit ordered me to rest. It would be remiss of me to ignore her advice."
ACE guided him into a reception lounge, a space more akin to a guest's living room. Sofas, a television, and even a bar lined with well-stocked bottles greeted them.
Felix stepped behind the bar, lifting one of the bottles to inspect it with an approving glance.
"Care for a drink?"
"I'd like nothing more," ACE admitted with a rueful shake of his head, "but I'm still on duty—protecting you, specifically."
Even here, in the quiet of a private room, he kept his shield firmly at hand, his posture rigid with discipline. The sight made Felix sigh inwardly. ACE hadn't changed at all. He, on the other hand, had changed so much.
"Don't worry," Felix said lightly. "Ordinary Sarkaz mercenaries aren't really a threat to me anymore."
ACE glanced at him, eyes narrowing in surprise. The longer he looked, the more astonished he seemed.
"…Huh. You really have changed. Taller, stronger… and those two weapons on your back—those aren't for show, are they?"
"I had an excellent teacher," Felix replied with a small smile.
"Lady Degenbrecher, I assume? Her skill is remarkable," ACE mused.
He wasn't entirely wrong, but Felix didn't elaborate. Instead, his smile lingered as he added, "I also spent the past few years at the Technological University. Earned a few doctorates, established myself in Columbia's academic circles."
"Tsk… No wonder you've got that scholarly glow about you."
ACE leaned on his hand, appraising. "You give off the same kind of presence as the teachers we have here at Babel."
"Teachers?"
"Yes. They're entrusted with our children. They teach the basics—reading, history, the wider view of the world."
ACE's voice softened. "Finding those teachers wasn't easy. We went to great lengths to bring them here."
"I see… Seeking the answers in the next generation, then?"
"There was no other way."
A wry smile crossed ACE's face. He seemed about to continue, but the sound of approaching footsteps outside the door silenced him at once.
The door opened.
Sunlight spilled into the lounge, sweeping away the muted shadows.
A Sarkaz woman with flowing pink hair stepped inside. She nodded to ACE with a gentle smile, then turned her clear gaze toward Felix. Her lips curved into a delicate expression—a smile that could stir any heart.
She extended both hands toward him.