"The price? Hmm, I'm not quite sure," Ermengarde said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Generally speaking, liches don't hoard knowledge as a secret. We share it freely with those who possess true inspiration."
She smiled lightly. "But these are matters I'll need to report to my clan leader. Do you have any message you'd like me to deliver?"
"I hope that we can continue our cooperation in the future."
"Alright then~ big sister's heading off now~"
Now that business was concluded, Ermengarde looked visibly relaxed. She stretched languidly and added with a grin, "Our next meeting might be in a month or two. By the way, our lich tribe knows almost nothing about adventurers. If it's not too much trouble, could we study them a bit?"
"Observation is fine," Felix replied dryly, "but no dissections."
"Of course not!" she said, feigning innocence.
Ermengarde adjusted her large witch's hat, waved playfully at him, and then leapt out the window. Felix watched as her figure dissolved into a wisp of black smoke that drifted swiftly into the distance. A hint of envy flickered in his eyes—what a convenient racial trait. He couldn't hope to imitate that.
Yet this encounter with the liches had sparked something in him. At this moment, he was no longer just an NPC—he was also a 4X player.
Among the Sarkaz, there were those he could never get along with—chief among them, the Vampire Court. According to ACE, its leader was a complete war maniac, a powerful avenger who stood firmly behind General Theresis and fought under his banner.
If the Vampire were the "military-maxed" branch of the Sarkaz, then the Liches were their "technology-maxed" counterpart—the kind of people Felix found far more appealing.
Why conquer land and planets through brute force, when one could quietly climb the tech tree and achieve scientific victory instead?
'The liches pursued knowledge above all else. Perhaps,' Felix mused 'I could forge a long-term partnership with them—sailing on the same ship toward a shared goal.'
But after a moment's thought, he sighed. The possibility seemed slim. The liches were still part of the Sarkaz race, and after all this time, if they had chosen to pledge allegiance, it would have been to Leithania. Why would they delay until now?
He didn't know much about Leithania's dual monarchy, but for the liches to have secured a foothold there, some degree of cooperation must have taken place. Open loyalty, however, was unlikely.
And really—what could he possibly offer compared to Leithania? Nothing worth competing over.
Snapping out of his brief daydream, Felix fell silent. A moment later, Ines's voice echoed from within the shadows, accompanied by a soft cough.
"The messenger from Kazdel has returned."
"I'll go meet them immediately."
Felix rose to his feet at once.
General Theresis was not as cold and ruthless as Felix had imagined. He had simply done everything that was within his power. He admitted he could only spare a small amount of food as consolation—but to Felix, that gesture was already enough. Relations between their factions had been tense lately, fraught with assassinations and hidden plots. The fact that Theresis was still willing to provide some aid was, in itself, a good sign.
As for the rest, Felix had been making frequent trades with local merchants. The supplies he'd secured should be enough to last through the winter.
Then there was the matter of medicine for the Infected. Given that nearly every Sarkaz was infected to some degree, the demand was enormous. Kazdel's mobile cities were nearly out of stock, and Babel's reserves were insufficient. Ironically, Felix's faction was the best-supplied.
Thanks to his connections in Columbia, the military had quietly opened a few back doors for him—allowing shipments of large quantities of medicine into Kazdel without customs duties.
The medicine was plentiful. The doctors, however, were not. That alone gave Felix a headache. "Sigh… seems being born a prodigy isn't enough when no one's around to treat the patients," he muttered wryly.
December arrived, and with it, the harsh winter. The weather across Sarkaz lands turned bleak, the skies perpetually gray, and snowflakes drifted down in scattered flurries. Farmers among the players hurried to construct shelters and canopies to protect their crops. To the north, the skies darkened further—the clouds grew heavy and unnatural.
Before a Catastrophe descends, the sky itself always gives a warning.
The gloomy weather weighed heavily on the heart, yet the players carried on cheerfully as ever. They led newly arrived Sarkaz refugees toward self-reliance, organizing themselves at the guild hall to take on missions—working hard for a bit of pay and a sense of purpose. The settlement, for all its flaws, was thriving.
As for the assassins' affair, it had finally reached an end. The final count revealed that at least a thousand killers had been drawn to the Scar Market by recruitment posters, only to let greed take hold. As for the identity of their employer—the Scar Market, as expected, refused to disclose a thing.
Felix had no interest in pursuing the matter further. There weren't many enemies left anyway—if he scattered a handful of rice across the field, chances were he'd hit the real culprit.
Meanwhile, the Frontier District continued its quiet expansion. Within the newly marked boundaries, players were busy constructing towering walls. The one who took the most wall-building contracts was a mercenary wielding a massive warhammer and skilled in earth-based Originium Arts. Clad head to toe in heavy armor, she looked like a space marine straight out of Holy Terra, even speaking with a faint mechanical tone.
Players were fascinated by this "brotherly" NPC's armor—so much so that dozens had already tried to buy it from her or at least find out where she got it.
In the midst of all this, several notable events occurred.
The number of players under Tomorrow's Development surpassed seven million, now accounting for one-seventh of the entire player base—and that number kept climbing by the day.
In the Ursus northern infected player settlements, the Holy Knights Federation and the War God's Bloodline joined forces to crush the Trolls, subduing them completely. The three factions then formed an alliance called the Brotherhood, pledging unity and cooperation on major issues—a shift from their usual independence.
In the real world, the Copenhagen Major tournament was underway. Eight teams had been directly invited to the main event, while sixteen others battled fiercely for the remaining eight spots. The top eight scorers would advance, and the prize pool stood at a staggering 1.25 million USD.
Back in the Frontier District, more and more players gathered. Unlike the Sarkaz, they could log off anywhere—sometimes right in the middle of the street—and didn't care much for owning houses. After all, in the unstable terrain of Kazdel, what good was land ownership if a Catastrophe could erase it the next day?
With the help of drones and Skadi, the infrastructure was finally complete. Across the barren wasteland, massive fortress-like structures—nicknamed "Planetary Fortresses"—rose one by one. These fortresses could house large numbers of Sarkaz citizens and be fitted with modular extensions, making them ideal base facilities.
Many players coveted them as private property, and to their surprise, the Pioneer approved their purchase requests—at an exceptionally low price.
Before long, guilds across Kazdel's scorched plains had their own high-tech lounges.
For players without permanent housing, it was a godsend. These bases became places to hold meetings, strengthen bonds, and coordinate Tomorrow's Development missions more efficiently.
But as winter deepened, the land turned merciless. The skies above Kazdel grew darker and heavier with each passing day, the gray clouds like iron. Snow fell intermittently, painting the world in muted white. Felix thought he'd only ever seen skies like this in apocalyptic movies.
Then, one day, Hoederer appeared at his back—with grave news.
"The Catastrophe has arrived."
It began with a deep, rolling thunder. Then, out in the open plain, a violent wind rose from nowhere, swirling dust into a storm. Tiny black particles gathered together, forming long, twisting lines that converged toward the eye of the tempest—dragging everything in their path: dust, debris, even buildings.
"An Originium Dust Storm," Hoederer explained calmly. "A rare type of Originium Catastrophe in the Kazdel region. It only occurs once every few years—small in scale, but devastating in power."
"I think… I experienced one of these up close years ago," Felix murmured.
"You survived that, my lord?" Hoederer's tone was one of disbelief.
Felix recalled his arrival in this world—the chaos, the danger. If Lance hadn't been there back then, he'd probably have had to start all over again.
"What are the most common types of Originium Catastrophes?" Felix asked.
"Originium meteor strikes," Hoederer replied, "which create the great crystal pillars and cliffs scattered across Kazdel. Then there's the Originium acid rain, which poisons the soil until no plant can grow. Finally, there are seismic reactions, where underground Originium detonates and bursts through the surface."
"…Kazdel really doesn't get a break, does it?"
"Indeed," Hoederer sighed softly. "The Sarkaz people never find the arrival of a Catastrophe surprising—but each time it comes, fear still grips their hearts."
He glanced toward the walls, where adventurers stood marveling at the storm with childish fascination. To them, it was a spectacle. To ordinary Sarkaz, it was a horror. Most had already taken refuge indoors, praying for it to pass quickly.
"Lord Pioneer," Hoederer continued, "the negotiations with the Military Council went smoothly. We traded surplus medicine for the remaining grain supplies we needed. However, the Catastrophe may delay transport."
Felix nodded slightly. "We were never true enemies. Perhaps… we simply share the same goal, for now. But next year—when the storm of war passes—our three factions will walk different paths."
Hoederer's eyes darkened. "You mean…"
"The civil war will soon reach its end," Felix said quietly.
He didn't say the rest aloud. According to the original timeline, that was how it was supposed to go—but now, he wasn't entirely sure. The discovery of the Precursor Civilization had shattered everything he thought he knew about this world.
He would have to become stronger—much stronger—to face what was coming next.
Before the end of the year, Felix took some time to return to Lungmen, where he reunited with old friends and familiar faces he hadn't seen in a long while. After catching up with Loughshinny about recent developments, he made a decision: next year, he would establish another branch of Tomorrow's Development in Iberia, providing players there with a gathering place of their own.
Besides that, he planned another trip to Kazimierz—not because of the upcoming 23rd Kazimierz Major, but because with the Armorless Union weakened and Tomorrow's Development growing ever stronger, he could finally afford to release the ambitions he had once kept restrained.
In the VIP lounge, he found Nian lounging idly on the sofa, looking completely at ease with her new life in Lungmen. According to Loughshinny, Nian had been pestering the cafeteria's Sichuan chef to make the dishes even spicier, and when bored, she'd drag random people off the street to star in her "films"—which, unsurprisingly, scared quite a few of them away.
"So… I'm guessing Sword of Mountain Shu is still on hold?"
Felix glanced at Nian sprawled on the couch like a sloth. She jolted upright the moment he spoke, as if poked in a sore spot.
"Of course not! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find the right actors!?"
"Right, right. Anyway, I've got things to do. I'll leave you to your director dreams."
"Is Tomorrow's Development always this busy?" Nian asked.
Felix paused by the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup of hot cocoa. "It's the end of the year—there's always plenty to deal with. Still, the main branch isn't giving me too much trouble right now."
"Hmm…"
Nian pursed her lips, humming something that didn't sound entirely convinced. Felix had no idea what she meant. Just as he turned around, he spotted Kjera walking in—dressed in a beautiful winter outfit that immediately drew his attention. He couldn't help but think: She really does look amazing in winter clothes.
"Good afternoon," he greeted. "Just finished a counseling session?"
Kjera nodded lightly. "Mm. One of the Lightbearers came to discuss some mental health concerns."
Felix froze mid-sip. "Is it serious?"
"Not really," she said with a serene smile. "Just fear of getting hurt on the battlefield. Every young person goes through this before they truly become a soldier."
Her voice was as gentle as a spring breeze.
Felix nodded. He tried to recall his own first battle… though, truth be told, he hadn't fought personally—his drones and machines had done most of the work for him.
Kjera's gaze drifted toward Nian, who didn't shy away but met her eyes briefly, her expression flickering with something unreadable.
Noticing the subtle tension between the two, Felix blinked and asked, "Wait—you two… know each other?"
"No."
"Yes."
"…Huh?"
He scratched his head, completely lost. Nian said no, Kjera said yes—what kind of situation was this supposed to be?
"W-Well," Nian stammered, a bead of sweat sliding down her temple, "we didn't know each other before, but since joining Tomorrow's Development, of course we've gotten acquainted! Coworkers and all that!"
"Miss Nian may seem this way," Kjera said with a soft laugh, "but she's actually quite reliable."
Then, with a gentle smile, she tapped Felix lightly on the forehead. "I have another appointment coming up. If you ever need to talk, come by the counseling office. I can tell you're under a lot of stress."
"Thank you, Kjera. And… I'm grateful to Kjeragandr as well. I may not have the best luck, but at the most critical moments, I always feel like He's watching over me from afar."
"Oh, you silly child," Kjera chuckled, her laughter light and warm. She left in good spirits, humming an ancient melody that Felix had never heard before.
Nian just stared at him, dumbfounded.
"…What?" Felix raised an eyebrow.
"You…" she began, eyes wide in disbelief. "Do you actually know what you just said?"