The warehouse felt too small. Even with the new hires, even with two shifts running, AquaPure couldn't keep up with demand. NGOs wanted thousands of units, disaster councils were making bulk inquiries, and small-town mayors kept sending letters stamped with urgent seals.
Boxes piled high against the walls. Workers slept on mats between shifts. Jericho joked that AquaPure had become a "sardine factory," but his grin couldn't hide the exhaustion in his eyes.
Rafael stood in the center of the chaos, the Codex's pale-blue glow flickering in his vision.
"Status: Current capacity maxed. Bottleneck detected: production speed, logistics routes. Recommendation: Establish satellite facilities. Expand workforce. Secure national contracts."
He exhaled. Expansion wasn't optional anymore. It was survival.
That afternoon, he called the crew together—old hands and new hires alike. They crammed into the assembly floor, the hum of machines pausing for his words.
"We started in this warehouse," Rafael said, his voice carrying over the restless murmurs. "We survived HydraCorp. We proved our tech works. But now—" he lifted a hand, gesturing at the mountain of orders—"the Philippines is calling for more than we can build here."
Rosa crossed her arms, grinning. "So, boss, what's next? We moving to Makati with the rich folk?"
The workers laughed.
Rafael shook his head. "No. We stay with the people. But we expand—Cebu, Davao, Bicol. We set up satellite shops where they need us most. And we train teams there the way we trained here."
Maria raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about a national network."
Rafael nodded. "Exactly. AquaPure won't be a Manila startup anymore. It'll be a Filipino movement."
The room erupted in cheers. Even the newest recruits clapped, their faces bright with pride.
Later that night, Rafael pored over maps of the Philippines. The Codex layered glowing networks across the islands—trade routes, supply chains, hotspots for flooding and water scarcity.
"Priority hubs: Cebu – central logistics. Davao – Mindanao anchor. Iloilo – Visayas expansion. Risk factors: political gatekeeping, rival corporates, resource sabotage."
Rafael tapped his pen against the table, already planning. He could see it—warehouses buzzing in every region, communities celebrating AquaPure's arrival, rivals grinding their teeth as their monopolies cracked.
But the Codex flashed another warning:"National spotlight will attract foreign observation. Probability of international competitor interference: 62%."
Rafael leaned back, rubbing his temples. First HydraCorp, now politicians, and soon—global predators. The battlefield was widening faster than he'd ever imagined.
Downstairs, the workers sang and laughed, sharing rice and fried fish on the floor. Their joy was simple, but it reminded him why he fought.
He whispered to himself, barely audible over the Codex's hum:"We're going national. And after that… the world."
The Codex pulsed back, almost like agreement:"Trajectory confirmed: National Expansion Phase. Empire pathway: engaged."