Whether or not he truly had a collector's obsession with soldiers, Felix couldn't say for sure. What he did know was that, in his previous life, he had always found the Victoria conflict utterly frustrating. No matter which side it was—the Victorians, the Tarans, or the Sarkaz—all of them revolved around the same decaying empire, each fighting for its own ideals… even though Victoria itself had already splintered into countless factions.
Still, that didn't stop Felix from admiring those loyal soldiers who fought and died for their homeland. In his eyes, Victoria no longer deserved their devotion.
Once the civil war came to an end and General Theresis led the Sarkaz army into Victoria, Felix's plans could finally begin to unfold from the shadows.
But before that, there was a private meeting to attend—with Enciodes.
When Felix saw his ally again, the man carried a faint scent of alcohol. It seemed he had just come from another noble banquet. Even so, he approached Felix with solemnity, shook his hand firmly, and gave him a brief, respectful embrace.
"My apologies," Enciodes said. "I've neglected my ally. I hope you'll forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive," Felix replied with a small smile. "I understand how it is."
Compared to the idle, self-indulgent aristocrats of Victoria, Enciodes stood leagues above them. Every ounce of his effort went toward shaping the future of Kjerag—a man who would risk his life for his homeland was someone Felix could respect deeply.
"I wanted to discuss the issue of the Tschäggättäs in more detail," Enciodes began.
He spread several blueprints and documents across the table—schematics of the Tschäggättä troops' gear and training regimens. Their equipment was serviceable but clearly lagging behind modern standards. The reason was obvious: Enciodes had been expanding recruitment, and now he needed better arms to match their growing numbers.
Felix leaned forward, his eyes gleaming.
"I can transform them into advanced soldiers—warriors of the future," he said, pulling up a set of digital schematics. "These are designs for my latest combat exosuits. They come in multiple models and styles. Choose whichever fits your vision."
He uploaded Jesselton's armor data and played a short demonstration video. The footage showed the armored soldier being slammed into a wall by a powerful Originium-infused strike—yet the armor held, the man unharmed. Enciodes' eyes lit up immediately.
"Impressive," he murmured, studying the designs.
Among the various options, Enciodes chose a style dominated by silver and gray—clean, austere, befitting the disciplined Tschäggättäs. These soldiers, loyal to the last, would become his ultimate fighting force, standing at the forefront of every battlefield.
But of course, such gifts never came without a price.
Felix's request was simple: he wished to conduct scientific research in Kjerag. His research facility in Lungmen had already been completed long ago, staffed with several experienced engineers—veterans of Yan's top technical universities. He had secured them research rights equivalent to senior scholars in Columbia: funding, access to instruments, and full research autonomy.
These veteran engineers, whom people respectfully called "Heavenly Masters", each had their own teams of students, many of whom were promising young talents.
Felix never interfered directly with their work. However, one of the senior researchers recently submitted a proposal—to travel into the high mountains to collect rare ore samples for a study on extracting precious metals from alpine minerals. When Felix heard "mountains," his thoughts naturally drifted to Kjerag.
"I believe this could become a new path for Kjerag's development," Felix explained.
Enciodes listened intently, nodding slowly as a sharp light flickered in his eyes. His old friend, Gnosis had always been fascinated by science. Though he and Enciodes now appeared to work separately, Enciodes knew that Gnosis's heart remained devoted to Kjerag and the Karlan Trade Company.
"Kjerag's people are simple and steadfast," Enciodes said. "Our land is vast, our population sparse. To the nobles of Victoria… we're nothing more than a tempting piece of cake—a colony waiting to be carved up."
Felix's tone carried a hint of irony as he replied,
"You can't reject them outright. But you can make them turn against one another."
"The nobility of Victoria were never united to begin with," Enciodes said with a cold laugh. "I spent my student years among them. Arrogant fools, every one of them—each eager to slit the other's throat for pride alone."
"Then we understand each other," Felix said.
After a brief silence, Enciodes tapped his finger against the tabletop.
"I agree to the establishment of a research institute in Kjerag," he said at last. "But I want to be involved."
"Of course," Felix replied, smiling. "That was my intention from the start. I never planned to keep the profits all to myself."
Enciodes was visibly moved. From a business standpoint, he was taking no loss—his contribution was merely the construction costs and staffing. Yet Felix was offering to share the research results freely. How could he possibly repay such generosity?
"We share the same destiny," Felix said, waving his hand dismissively. "There's no need for formality. The sooner Kjerag achieves independence, the better it will be for the progress of our shared future."
For Tomorrow's Development, Felix's alliance were scattered powers and factions. Through careful maneuvering, he had even established subtle ties with both the Inquisition and Babel.
But if one of his allies were not just a faction, but an entire nation…
Now that would be a partnership worth its weight in gold.
Felix, truth be told, rather enjoyed the thought of making things difficult for the Victorian nobles. Those pampered aristocrats wanted to turn Kjerag into their private garden—a quiet frontier where they could secretly develop their own military or technological power. But the idea of one noble house becoming too dominant was unthinkable to the Victorians. Unity was not in their nature. Perhaps, Felix thought with amusement, the "dogs biting dogs" chaos he envisioned wasn't all that far from reality after all.
Besides, Felix bore the Blessing of Kjeragandr, Kjerag's own guardian deity. If even a god favored him—well, wasn't that a rather prestigious endorsement?
He chatted with Enciodes for a while longer, learning that his ally had recently established several factories producing goods for export. Felix proposed an idea—one both clever and profitable:
"Why not design a small wooden sculpture of Kjeragandr? A souvenir of sorts. From afar, it looks like a smooth wooden sphere, but up close—one can see Kjeragandr's kind face."
Enciodes laughed at the idea. It was practical, symbolic, and undeniably charming.
After agreeing to meet again the next day, Felix left the hotel, intending to unwind in the hot spring behind the building. But before he could even take a step down the garden path—
A snowball hit him squarely in the face.
"...?"
Felix blinked and looked up at the clear, cloudless sky. It wasn't even snowing. Who on Terra throws snowballs in this weather?
Unable to find the culprit, he sighed in mild irritation and continued toward the baths.
Fortunately, his timing was perfect. Most of the nobles were still inside, drinking and gossiping. The hotel had no other guests that evening, meaning Felix could enjoy the bath entirely to himself.
The bathhouse was styled after those in Higashi. Draping a towel over his shoulders, Felix pushed aside the curtain and stepped inside. Beyond the veil of steam, the serene nightscape of Kjerag unfolded before him. It lacked the dazzling lights of great cities, but there was something tranquil here—a stillness that calmed the heart.
As he slipped into the steaming pool, he realized he wasn't alone.
"Heh… if it isn't Lord Lanshem," a voice chuckled. "My daughter tells me you looked after her this afternoon."
Leaning against a rock sat a silver-haired nobleman, golden eyes meeting Felix's with sharp but amiable interest.
"Duke Kent," Felix greeted, settling opposite him in the water. "A pleasant evening to you. The nobles are still arguing inside—squabbling over profit and petty rivalries. Yet here you are, taking the time to relax. I must say, I admire your composure."
"Unlike the others, I have little interest in Kjerag's profits," the Duke replied mildly.
Duke Kent, husband to Duchess Windermere, didn't bear the overbearing arrogance of most aristocrats. From what Felix had heard through Delphine, her mother—the Duchess herself—was a high-ranking officer in the military, governing her lands with discipline and strength.
"My daughter mentioned that you wished to discuss a business proposal?" Kent asked.
In his previous life, Felix had only learned of Delphine after infiltrating Londinium as a player. Her father's death had been one of those "accidents" everyone whispered about—a clear case of aristocratic intrigue. These Victorians did love their conspiracies.
Felix didn't know when, in this life, the Duke would meet that same fate—but since he was here now, perhaps Felix could offer him a bit of fortune instead.
The proposal was simple: Felix would provide decommissioned exosuits in exchange for permission to establish an "Tomorrow's Development" liaison office within Windermere's territory. It wouldn't be an adventurers' rest stop, but a coordination center for research, cooperation, and exploration.
In his previous life, Rhodes Island had similar offices across multiple nations and cities—small, efficient facilities staffed by a few operators to manage communication and assist field agents.
Duke Kent listened carefully, thoughtful. After a long pause, he nodded.
"I will need to discuss this with my wife," he said. "Give me a few days."
Felix agreed readily. He knew the Duke would send word back to Windermere through a messenger to consult with his formidable duchess.
As for Delphine… Felix couldn't help but think of her with a trace of fondness. A kind girl—innocent, even a little pitiful. If he could ensure she lived a happy life in this world, then perhaps that would be repayment enough for the bond they once shared as comrades.
Three days later, Enciodes appeared before Felix, beaming with pride, holding a round wooden carving—the serene, broad face of Kjeragandr carved upon it.
"What do you think?" he asked.
Before Felix could answer, the clear blue sky above Turicum suddenly darkened. A violent snowstorm erupted out of nowhere, swirling only over the city itself—while the pack beasts grazing beyond the walls remained completely unaffected.
"How did the weather change so suddenly?" Felix muttered in astonishment, still clutching his fishing rod. He had planned to spend the day by the lake.
Enciodes looked just as bewildered as Felix.
"That's strange. The forecast said clear skies today… Kjerag's weather isn't usually this erratic, especially not this time of year."
"Maybe it'll stop in a bit?" Felix offered hopefully.
Enciodes didn't respond right away. His brows furrowed slightly.
"Perhaps we should stay indoors for now. I brought a chessboard—we could play a few rounds."
"Sure, why not?" Felix grinned. "We can also brainstorm the next Kjeragandr souvenir. How about a figurine? They're quite popular in the Higashi."
"Wouldn't turning Kjeragandr into a figurine be… disrespectful—"
Enciodes's words froze mid-sentence. His eyes widened as he looked out the window. The blizzard that had raged only moments ago was gone—completely. Outside, the sky was a flawless blue once again.
"...Is Kjerag's weather always this unpredictable?" Felix asked, exasperated.
Enciodes, still stiff with surprise, slowly shook his head.
"No… This is the first time I've ever seen something like this. It's… oddly exhilarating."
And so, the two of them went to the lake to fish after all.
The outing began peacefully, but once Felix started enthusiastically discussing how Kjerag's local specialties could be developed into various new products, the strange weather returned with a vengeance. The crystal-clear lake was hit by a series of snow squalls—five minutes of snow, fifteen minutes of sunshine, and then snow again.
Even Enciodes, born and raised in Kjerag, grew numb to the absurdity of it. Today's weather truly defied explanation.
"I'll have the Tschäggättä Squad's equipment delivered to Turicum before the year ends," Enciodes said eventually, pulling in his fishing line.
"Good. After the new year, you'll have full control of Kjerag," Felix replied.
A flash of determination—and something darker—passed through Enciodes's eyes. The bird perched on his shoulder fluttered over to Felix's head, happily nesting in his soft silver hair.
"Tomorrow's Development Research Institute will begin construction after July," Felix added.
"Excellent. I'll dispatch a few scientists to share our technologies once it's ready."
"You have my gratitude, my ally."
Enciodes sighed quietly. He felt as though he owed Felix far more than he could ever repay.
"If you ever need anything, know that the Karlan Trade will follow you through fire and storm."
The bird chirped and flew off to its perch. Felix's gaze followed it for a moment before he smiled faintly. A message had just arrived from Duke Windermere—the deal was accepted. His trip to Kjerag had gone smoother than expected.
In the days that followed, Felix allowed himself a rare respite, accompanying the ladies on a few leisurely shopping trips.
Yet every time he visited the Temple, Kjera would greet him with a puffed-up expression and narrowed eyes, glaring as though she had something to scold him for.
"...Do I have something on my face?" he once muttered under his breath.
After spending a comfortable month in Kjerag—fine food, fine company—Felix prepared to return home. Before his departure, he met with Delphine once more.
He presented her with a finely crafted handgun.
"Its name is Guardian," he told her. "A weapon meant to protect those you wish to protect."
He had a feeling that, one day, Delphine might truly need it.
Delphine didn't refuse. Having already heard from her father about the general terms of their agreement, she maintained her usual polite composure. At last, she accepted the gift and offered Felix a respectful bow of thanks.
He simply waved off her gratitude and left, light as a drifting cloud.
Degenbrecher, watching from the side, gave Delphine a rather peculiar look. She remembered all too well what had happened the last time Felix gave a girl a gun—the young lady in Texas, Cellinia, who'd spent weeks unable to get "Brother Felix" out of her head, only to end up falling for him completely.
This little cat won't… end up the same way, right? Degenbrecher thought.
She's even about the same age as that girl was back then…
Her lips twitched.
Boss… you're dangerous.
At last, Felix made his way to the Temple to bid farewell to Kjera. There was something about the woman—something gentle, grounding—that he had grown quietly dependent on. She had a way of explaining things with patience, of guiding him when doubts crept in. Though she had never married, Felix couldn't help but think she would make a wonderful mother.
"Kjera, will you be staying here forever?" he asked softly.
"Hm? Little Felix," she smiled, teasingly, "are you saying you can't bear to leave Kjerag?"
"I think… I can't quite bear to leave you," he admitted, waving with a smile. "It's rare to find someone who listens to me the way you do. Before I realized it, I started to rely on you."
Kjera blinked in surprise, then let out a small laugh.
"Well then, how about I leave with you? I've been here for so long—it might be nice to see the world outside for a change."
"Eh?"