With the blueprints for the landship's propulsion core finally in his hands, Felix knew that constructing the vessel itself was now only a matter of time.
To make this a reality, he needed to dispatch skilled engineers to Rim Billiton for observation and research—and if necessary, send a few to Rhodes Island to gather reference data firsthand.
The moment he obtained those blueprints, the project was set in motion.
The Simon family had just joined his ranks, and they were perfectly suited for this kind of technical work.
Having multiple families and small enterprises working under him truly increased efficiency.
He couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret—if only he had saved the Texas family earlier, perhaps they too could have become part of his growing domain.
But upon reflection, he recalled what the military had told him: the Texas family had long tried to curry favor with the armed forces, yet the military didn't even remember their pledge of loyalty.
It was clear—the Texas family had failed.
For a family with such conflicting ambitions, Felix thought, the only way to bring them under his banner would be to remove the head and those useless schemers—then let Cellinia take charge.
Lappland, however, remained missing.
Even with his influence, all he could do was ask a few sympathetic high-ranking officers to look into it.
Searching the world without a lead would be futile.
He later met with Tin Man.
Although the latter was stationed in Columbia, somehow, he already knew Felix had visited Kazdel.
"How did the negotiation with Her Highness go?"
Tin Man took a drag from his cigar.
Felix wondered idly how someone with a metal body could even taste smoke.
"Her Highness's ideals are worthy of respect," Felix replied.
"In truth," Tin Man chuckled hoarsely, "most Sarkaz would agree with you. They simply no longer have the freedom to act on those beliefs."
"Including you?" Felix asked.
"Yes," Tin Man said flatly. "Including me."
"The stray Sarkaz think the same way?"
Tin Man's metal brows twitched.
"Stray Sarkaz," huh? He had heard of stray Sankta before, but not Sarkaz.
Still, he had to admit—it wasn't an inaccurate description.
Those who walked the land no longer clung to the old racial divides between Sankta and Sarkaz.
While meetings between the two could still be tense or awkward, they didn't immediately end in violence—though discrimination against Sarkaz remained ever-present.
"Her Highness is one of the Six Heroes," Tin Man continued. "And she is the King of the Sarkaz.
Though her ideals oppose Theresis's, seven or eight out of ten Sarkaz still revere her."
"'Sarkaz King'?"
Felix frowned slightly at the term.
As a gamer, the title was all too familiar—the final boss in almost every RPG was called the Demon King.
In more recent eras, though, the trope had evolved: Demon Kings redeemed, Demon Kings who were beautiful maidens, even Demon Kings who could join the hero's party.
But still—the Demon King was always an enemy to be defeated.
"You know," Tin Man said with a raspy laugh, "Kazdel was once besieged by the great nations of the world."
As an "elder," his knowledge of history far surpassed what Felix could find in any book.
"At that time, it was Theresis and the Sarkaz King, Theresa, who led the Sarkaz against the world's armies.
Though the result was far from ideal, Kazdel survived."
"So the title of 'Sarkaz King'… is it a royal title? A name given to the ruler of the Sarkaz?"
If that were true, Felix thought, the first person to coin such a name must have had a flair for the dramatic.
"No, no," Tin Man shook his head. "The Sarkaz King isn't just a title—it's the burden of an entire race."
His mechanical eyes glimmered faintly as he looked out the bar window, watching the winged beasts soaring in the sky.
"The Sarkaz King carries all of Sarkaz upon their shoulders… It's not something outsiders can easily understand."
He stopped there, deliberately avoiding a full explanation.
"So what you're saying is—anyone with strength and a sense of responsibility could become a Sarkaz King?"
Tin Man snorted. "What, you want to be one?"
"I've thought about it," Felix admitted with a faint smile. "But I'm not Sarkaz."
"No…"
Tin Man paused, then let out a low, amused laugh.
"The Sarkaz King isn't limited to the Sarkaz race.
Even someone from another species, if chosen by fate, can inherit the Sarkaz King's legacy—and become the Sarkaz's Sarkaz King."
"There's a legacy?"
"A singular inheritance," Tin Man replied.
"What are the conditions for inheriting it?"
Tin Man gave him a strange look. "You're a Sankta. Why are you asking about such things?"
"Curiosity is in our nature, isn't it?" Felix replied matter-of-factly.
Tin Man curled his lip.
"When the Sarkaz King dies, the one who touches the crown and is accepted by it shall be recognized as the next Sarkaz King."
"And if they don't die?" Felix asked with some confusion. "Is death a necessary condition for succession?"
This Sarkaz King business sounded troublesome. Passing on the title apparently required someone to die first.
Then again, that was pretty much how it worked in RPGs—the Demon King could only be replaced when the previous one fell.
"I'm not sure about that," Tin Man replied with a shrug. "I'm no Sarkaz King myself."
Felix didn't press further.
Even if Tin Man did know the details, he probably wouldn't tell him.
After all, Felix was a Sankta, and Tin Man had walked the land far longer than most could imagine.
"When are you leaving?"
"End of January."
"I see. Then I wish you safe travels."
Tin Man raised his glass in a casual toast. Felix nodded and quietly left the bar.
---
During his stay in Columbia, Felix participated in several lectures and seminars hosted by the Maylander Foundation.
The response was lukewarm at best.
Like many young scientists, he found few willing to attend or show support.
Most of his audience consisted of researchers trained by the Foundation itself—exactly as intended.
The Foundation's true purpose had succeeded: they had positioned Felix as a rival to the old, entrenched scholars and bureaucrats, while freeing themselves from any obligation to give him respect.
To them, he was little more than an invisible man.
Felix, however, didn't care what they thought.
His relationship with the military was solid—should anyone threaten him, one phone call would be enough to have soldiers in power armor knocking on their doors for "Burger."
---
Near the end of January, Felix finally received a visit from Anthony Simon.
Behind him stood two young women.
"Mr. Lanshem, I've returned," Anthony said with a polite bow.
Ever since Felix had saved him and his parents—and since the Simon family pledged themselves to his cause—Anthony's attitude toward him had been one of deep respect, mingled with a friendly familiarity.
"Allow me to introduce the two ladies behind me," Anthony continued, stepping aside to let them forward.
The two girls looked at Felix with open curiosity.
"This is Mina," Anthony said. "I met her while packing up back home. She's dependable—skilled in carpentry, repairs, and construction. I believe she'll be of great help to you, Mr. Lanshem."
Mina gave a small nod. She seemed absent-minded at first glance, but when Felix shook her hand, the calluses on her palm told a different story—this was no fragile girl.
Looking at her, Felix felt a flicker of recognition.
In his previous life, while managing Rhodes Island's logistics department, he had once come across a file with her name—or rather, her codename: Pinecone.
"And this lady," Anthony continued, "is Domma. I met her in prison. When I told her I was leaving Columbia, she chose to come with me."
Domma was a small, thin Sarkaz girl, clearly undernourished.
That alone broke Felix's preconceived image of her race.
To him, Sarkaz men were towering muscleheads—broad-chested, eight-pack abs, like Hoederer—while the women were statuesque and voluptuous, like Ulšulah or Ines.
Domma was nothing like that.
"My father has already arrived in Lungmen," Anthony reported. "He's begun setting up the new Simon Corporation."
"You've done well," Felix said, patting him on the shoulder—soft fur, surprisingly smooth to the touch. "Take a few days to rest before the next phase."
"Understood."
Anthony left with the two girls.
He cast a brief glance at Domma—raised in prison, she had never belonged to Kazdel and had grown up surrounded by darkness.
Even now, she distrusted the world outside those walls.
Traveling with Anthony was her way of seeking a new beginning.
Seeing no conflict between Felix and Domma despite their racial difference, Anthony quietly exhaled in relief—though he couldn't help but think his boss didn't act much like a Sankta at all.
---
By the end of January, Felix submitted his transfer papers of his Trimount 4 little sisters to their Academies.
He and his group boarded a transport craft bound for Lungmen.
Upon landing, Felix asked Carnelian to escort several of the unemployed girls to rest at the villa he had purchased earlier.
He himself returned to the company with Lemuen and her team.
Anthony and Avdotya, who wished to work in administration, were handed over to Loughshinny for training.
As for Exusiai and Texas, the two began studying the internal logistics and transport regulations for Tomorrow's Development.
Pinecone—whose real name was Mina—was assigned by Felix to the production workshop for a period of hands-on training.
She hadn't been working for long, only a few years at most.
As someone Felix had known in his previous life, he intended to nurture her into a mid-level manager someday.
Naturally, that meant she needed to start from the ground up and gain practical experience.
Domma, on the other hand, wasn't good at socializing—or rather, she was deeply cautious of people.
Because of that, Felix placed her in Tomorrow's Development's medical department.
Her original profession had been that of a mortician… which, frankly, wasn't very useful in a company with few casualties.
Felix suggested she study nursing instead—she had the steady hands and composure for it—and she quietly accepted his advice.
When Ines saw Domma and Felix conversing as equals, there wasn't a hint of surprise in her eyes.
Prejudice against Sarkaz? Impossible.
This man was in active cooperation with Babel, after all.
If anyone claimed Felix looked down on the Sarkaz, Ines would be the first to call that a lie.
"Has Hoederer brought back any useful information?" Felix asked.
"The number of Adventurers in the Frontier District has increased significantly," Ines replied.
Her terminology had changed—she no longer referred to them as "undead," but as "adventurers."
As Hoederer's direct liaison and a member of Tomorrow's Development herself, she had gradually adopted the same terminology after spending time among them.
She had even met several adventurers who weren't Sarkaz—Feline, Liberi, even Sankta—and to her surprise, many of them lit up with excitement when they saw her, offering small gifts and tokens of goodwill.
They were nothing like the cold, violent image mercenaries painted of them.
"There are roughly a hundred thousand adventurers active in the Frontier District now," Ines continued, reading from her report. "Most operate along the trade routes near Babel. Hoederer recently intercepted a letter from the Military Commission…"
She gave her report with crisp professionalism—Felix was, after all, her superior now.
He skimmed through the pages, only half-focused on the details.
What he really wanted was Hoederer's perspective on Kazdel.
Among all the mercenaries he'd met, Hoederer was by far the most educated and composed.
Now serving as Ulšulah's deputy and stationed permanently within the Frontier District, he was someone Felix trusted—and whose insights he valued.
The information Hoederer provided was thorough, rich, and reliable.
"Good work," Felix said, setting the report aside. He glanced up at Ines. "You look tense. I'd recommend a good massage."
Ines frowned slightly. "Is everyone in Tomorrow's Development this… relaxed?"
"We're a company that aims to make life better for the future," Felix replied calmly.
"A place where the infected and uninfected can live together. You don't need to carry so much pressure."
He paused, his tone thoughtful. "That's also the direction Kazdel should move toward."
Then, almost casually, he asked, "Between Theresis and Theresia—who do you think has the better chance of winning?"
He glanced again at Hoederer's latest intelligence report.
The Military Commission had made their move, clashing directly with Babel.
Though the Commission had numbers on their side, Babel's high command was far stronger individually, and the early battles seemed to favor them.
Ines said nothing more and quietly left the office.
Whether she took his advice about the massage, Felix didn't know.
---
Later that afternoon, Felix left the company himself—lighthearted, almost like a man without a care in the world.
Carrying a bag of souvenirs from Columbia, he went to visit the office next door.
Ch'en received him personally. She looked exhausted; the Guards Bureau had been working nonstop, its members constantly on missions across the city.
"You're here to see Wei Yenwu, aren't you?" Ch'en asked curtly.
Her tone was sharp, bordering on impatient.
Felix recalled that she was, in fact, related to Wei Yenwu—though he couldn't remember exactly how.
"Yes," he replied with an easy smile. "And thank you for your hard work."
He pulled a small device from his bag—a shoulder-massage unit.
"This has a custom relaxation program I designed myself. I know you probably don't have time to visit a spa, but you can wear it while doing paperwork—it should help loosen the tension."
Ch'en blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the gesture.
As for Felix's real purpose—his visit to Wei Yenwu—it was simple.
He had already filed his transfer paperwork, but Lungmen's high schools had their own unique admission requirements.
Today, he was here to… open a few doors, so to speak.