Instead of just teleporting, I decided to take a car into the inner district. I could’ve blinked straight there in an instant, but today I wanted to actually see things — feel the road, watch the streets roll by, and get a proper, ground-level look at how the redevelopnt was coming along.
Two birds with one stone.
I slouched back in the passenger seat, watching the cracked asphalt slide under us while the engine’s low rumble mixed with the distant clatter of construction. Our part of the district was finally starting to show signs of life.
We passed a stretch of old, abandoned farms — fields that had once been nothing but dead soil and weeds. But now, thanks to Evelina and the consensus, they’d been carved up and reassigned.
Fresh fences cut across the land. New irrigation lines glinted in the light. Half-assembled machinery sat waiting by the roadside, like it had just taken a break and might start moving again at any second.
For now, we were still relying on the inner district for most of our raw materials. But once those farms started producing again, we’d be able to stand on our own.
And it wasn’t just the farms. As we drove deeper in, more storefronts and workshops began to show up, squeezed between refurbished buildings. Signs were half-hung, windows still taped from recent renovations.
Other businesses were popping up on their own now, without Evelina pulling the strings. With all the new jobs opening, people finally had enough breathing room — and enough money — to start their own ventures.
For the first ti, this place was starting to feel like a real district.
Of course, it was still far from perfect. There were plenty of cracks under the fresh paint.
The gap between the rich and the poor had gotten bad enough that I’d had to personally step in with the local militia. More than once, our car had pulled up on the edge of burning barricades, and I’d had to wade into crowds choking on smoke and anger just to keep riots from turning into massacres.
Still, once the G-32 units arrived, that whole situation would just be another ugly mory.
Or so I kept telling myself.
We rolled into the inner district proper, the driver easing off the gas as taller, cleaner buildings rose around us.
Voices drifted through the glass as we passed a group gathered near the sidewalk.
"Did you see those white n in robes...?"
"Aren’t those the inquisitors of Elion?"
"What are the inquisitors doing here...?"
[Photographic mory]
The Inquisitors of Elion were an elite order of paladins who served the God of Light, Elion—Nyx’s older brother, and the most righteous of the pantheon. Just from that, you could already imagine what his followers were like.
They were deadly. Very deadly. Out of at least five thousand applicants per year, only five were ever chosen—handpicked by the order through brutal combat trials.
Each contender had to face a veteran paladin of the order in three rounds across three different categories, all in completely different gear and terrain.
To earn a place among the Inquisitors, the challenger needed to win at least two out of the three matches. The veteran they defeated would then be reassigned as their ntor, tasked with shaping the next generation.
It was a system designed to make sure only the best of the best made it in.
"Why are they here...?"
I muttered the question under my breath, though the driver still heard .
"I think it’s about the storm, my lord. At least, that’s what I’ve heard from the rumors."
"Rumors? How long have they been here?"
"They arrived yesterday, my lord."
"I see..."
That was an interesting variable... and one I was almost certain wouldn’t be friendly in the future.
I’d have to keep an eye on them.
***
I stepped into Fvien chanical and made my way deeper into the factory, where rows of G-32 units were lined up. Benedict himself was there, counting each one.
You don’t see the owner of a huge company doing hands-on work like that every day.
Then again, Evelina probably made sure that kind of rare sight beca the norm.
"How’s the progress?" I asked.
"Give another week, my lord," Benedict replied. "I’m almost done quality testing all of them."
"We’re going to need them ahead of schedule."
"Ahead of schedule?"
Benedict turned to look at , hand on his chin, clearly mulling over what I’d just said.
"I’m afraid I can’t do that," he said after a mont. "A sudden influx of deliveries to your district would raise suspicion. Not only that... I can’t guarantee the quality if we rush."
Oh? So he wasn’t the blindly obedient type after all. I honestly thought he’d just agree the mont I gave the order.
Guess I should give him so credit.
"Then can we take half of the finished units instead?" I asked.
"I think I can manage that... but I’ll have to ask you to escort them if you want them as fast as possible. Preparing the convoy will take too long."
"You can’t just turn them on and have them walk to our district on their own?"
"No. According to the laws of the inner district, that would violate clause seven of Berian’s military law. They can only be activated once they reach your territory."
Berian’s military law... I rembered seeing a book about that in Evelina’s study, but I never took a proper look at it. And now that I think about it... this city was also called Berian.
Didn’t even realize how wrapped up I’d been in dostic life that I hadn’t bothered to learn the na of the entire region until now.
But... that’s beside the point.
"Fine. How does this work?"
"I can arrange trucks to escort them," Benedict said. "You’ll be responsible for keeping track of them however you see fit. Is that acceptable, my lord?"
"Yeah, sure. Won’t be a problem."
Well, that sounds simple enough...
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