The flight to Davao was short, but the landing felt like stepping into another country. The air was thicker, greener, heavy with the scent of durian and wet earth. From the airport, Rafael and his crew drove past endless banana plantations, trucks piled high with produce, and checkpoints manned by soldiers.
"Not Manila," Jericho muttered from the back of the van, peering at the rifles slung across uniforms.
"Not Cebu either," Maria replied, scanning her clipboard. "Davao plays by different rules. We need to tread carefully."
Their new hub was a rented lot on the edge of the city, once a rice warehouse. Bigger than Cebu's shed, but not by much. Inside, dust motes danced in beams of light slicing through holes in the roof.
Rafael walked the space slowly, hands behind his back. "It's enough. We'll make it work."
Rosa chuckled. "You always say that."
The first challenge wasn't machinery—it was people. Word of AquaPure's arrival had spread fast, but here, suspicion ran deeper. The first batch of applicants eyed Rafael like he was a foreigner, despite his Tagalog.
A burly man named Noel spoke for them. "Boss, people here don't trust big promises. Too many companies come, sell, leave. Why should we believe AquaPure's different?"
The Codex flickered in Rafael's vision:"Recommendation: Demonstrate product impact directly. Build trust through proof, not persuasion."
So Rafael set a table in the dusty warehouse, filled a bucket with foul-smelling well water, and placed one of the Cebu-built prototypes on it.
"Don't take my word for it," he said. "See for yourselves."
Noel stepped forward, skeptical, and drank first. He paused, blinked, then nodded slowly. "Clean. Tastes like bottled water."
The mood shifted. Whispers turned to smiles. By the end of the day, ten new hires signed on—mechanics, welders, even a retired schoolteacher who wanted to "teach young ones something useful."
The next days were a storm of work. Machines hauled in from Manila clattered to life, and Dante from Cebu trained the new recruits on logistics. Soon, Davao's hub had its first working assembly line, clumsy but determined.
But Mindanao carried dangers Manila never did. One evening, as Rafael walked the lot, a black SUV pulled up. A man in a crisp barong stepped out, flanked by two armed escorts.
"Mr. Dela Cruz," the man greeted smoothly. "Welcome to Davao. I represent certain… interests. You want to operate here, you'll need protection. The south is unpredictable. Dangerous." He smiled thinly. "For a reasonable monthly fee, of course."
Jericho muttered from behind Rafael, "Here we go again…"
Rafael kept his face calm, though the Codex pulsed sharply:"Threat detected: Local strongman representative. Probability of coercion: 76%. Recommended response: stall, gather leverage, avoid direct confrontation."
Rafael bowed his head slightly, masking steel with courtesy. "I appreciate your concern. But AquaPure belongs to the people, not to any group. If we succeed here, it's because of trust, not because of guns."
The man's smile thinned further. "Trust won't stop bullets."
He climbed back into the SUV and drove off, dust swirling in his wake.
Maria stepped up beside Rafael, voice low. "That was a warning."
"I know," Rafael said softly, eyes locked on the retreating vehicle. "Which means we'll need more than filters here. We'll need allies who believe in what we're building."
The Codex pulsed, almost like an echo:"Expansion successful. New threat unlocked: Regional power brokers. Strategic adaptation required."
Rafael exhaled, then turned back to the warehouse, where the hum of machines was growing louder. The Davao hub was alive. And he would make sure it stayed that way—no matter who tried to claim it.