The sea air hit Rafael the moment he stepped off the ferry. Cebu's docks were alive with shouts of porters, the creak of ropes, and the salty tang of fish. Beyond the warehouses and shipyards, the city sprawled—bustling, chaotic, alive.
Maria stood beside him, clipboard in hand as always. "We've got one week to make this place operational," she said, voice clipped. "Mayor's office gave us a storage shed near the pier. It's a dump, but it's space."
Rafael smiled faintly. "A dump we'll turn into a factory."
Jericho jumped off the truck behind them, grinning. "Feels like Manila ten years ago. Only with better lechon."
The others laughed, the tension easing for a moment.
They arrived at the shed by noon. The place was little more than rusted walls, half a roof, and piles of broken crates. Rats scurried in the corners. Rosa wrinkled her nose. "You weren't kidding, boss. This is worse than our first warehouse."
Rafael's eyes burned with determination. "Then it's perfect. Because we'll prove again what we always prove—that we can build from nothing."
The first step was manpower. Word spread quickly through the docks that AquaPure was hiring. By evening, a line had formed outside the shed—fishermen's sons, trade school dropouts, mechanics tired of fixing jeepneys for spare change.
Rafael moved among them, asking questions, watching their hands, letting the Codex quietly flag talent.
A young woman named Lira who had rigged a broken generator back to life for her family's carinderia.
A former seaman, Dante, who knew logistics and ports like the back of his hand.
And an old carpenter, Mang Isko, who spoke little but studied the canister prototype with eyes that saw every flaw.
"Candidate talent detected," the Codex whispered. "Recommended hires: 3. Potential loyalty: high."
Rafael smiled inwardly. The empire was growing.
Three days later, the shed hummed with life. Machines clanked, welders sparked, and for the first time, clean water trickled from a Cebu-built prototype. The workers cheered, lifting their cups high.
But celebration didn't last long. Maria pulled Rafael aside, holding out a neatly folded envelope. "This was left on my desk," she said grimly.
Inside was a typed letter, no name, no signature. Just one line:Foreign investors are watching. Choose your friends carefully.
Rafael's jaw tightened. He looked out across the busy port, where cargo ships from Singapore, Japan, and China docked daily. He suddenly felt the weight of new eyes on him—bigger predators than HydraCorp, waiting beyond the sea.
The Codex pulsed, text appearing in his vision:"National expansion confirmed. Foreign observation probability: rising. Prepare for international engagement."
Rafael folded the note and slipped it into his pocket. The war at home wasn't over—but the next battlefield was already drawing near.
He looked back at his crew, laughing and sweating as they built the future piece by piece. His voice was low, but filled with resolve.
"Let them watch. When they come, we'll be ready."