July 15, 1617 Central Calendar

  Le Brias, Altaras Kingdom

  The second stop for this year’s summer vacation group was none other than Altaras Kingdom, one of the four island nations located at the southern fringe of the Third Civilization Area, spread between Philades and Rodenius Continents. In recent years, the Holy Milishial Empire’s so-called Island Chain Strategic Diplomacy to contain Parpaldia’s military adventurism had attracted a surge of foreign investment and rapid development, transforming Altaras into one of the rising “Pearls of the Orient.” For several members of the group, this trip also marked their first experience setting foot in a foreign land.

  Finding themselves at a nice seaside restaurant, the boys and girls were seated at a round table, and after a while waiting, a group of people arrived and presented the menu.

  “Thank you for waiting.”

  With that brief announcement, the meal began to materialize. What had been a lengthy list on paper was swiftly turned into reality as dish after dish was brought out, until the tabletop was nearly overwhelmed by the sheer variety of dishes. Simply looking at the spread was enough to stir their appetites, feeling as though the sea had been emptied straight onto their plates.

  Whole fish arrived split and laid flat, their flesh pale and tender beneath a sheen of oil, accompanied by sauces sharp with acidity and depth rather than heat. Shellfish appeared in generous mounds, cooked just enough to hold their sweetness, some bathed in broths enriched by slow-simmered vegetables and herbs, others lightly charred so that the edges carried a hint of smoke. There were also smaller offerings, pieces of seafood preserved or cured, served cool to contrast the warmer plates.

  Walman stared at the table for a moment, then blurted out the obvious.

  “…It’s all seafood!”

  “Brilliant observation.”

  “They look appetizing,” Kaios said from beside him, nodding eagerly as he swallowed in anticipation.

  “I’m starting with that one!”

  Being the native Altaran among them, Irmiya Mephilas didn’t waste a moment. He pointed decisively at one of the dishes.

  When the lid he selected was lifted, it revealed rice stained a rich brown from slow-cooked onions and fish stock. Resting atop it were thick slices of white fish, seared until lightly crisp on the outside while remaining tender and flaky within. The aroma was gentle but deep, where caramelized onions, bay, and spices leaned earthy rather than sharp. Toasted nuts were scattered across the rice for texture, and a small bowl of tangy sauce sat to the side, ready to cut through the richness.

  Irmiya scooped up a mouthful without ceremony, fish and rice together, steam still rising faintly from the plate.

  “…Mmh—! Man, this is good!” he beamed, shoulders tensing for half a second before he continued. “This is so good already!”

  “Tastes like home, huh?”

  “Myeah!”

  Responding to Walman’s offhand comment, he nodded vigorously.

  Irmiya’s enthusiasm was the spark they needed. Suddenly, the table erupted into a flurry of activity as hands and voices rose together.

  Annette Pendragon, meanwhile, had been drawn to a dish of spiced prawns resting on a bed of couscous tinged golden with saffron and studded with chickpeas and dried apricots. The aroma was a warm blend of cumin, coriander, and smoky paprika. She carefully lifted one of the prawns, its shell glistening with a glaze of harissa and honey, and took a thoughtful bite. It was indeed exquisite. The sweetness of the shellfish and honey melded with the deep, earthy heat of the spices, a perfect contrast to the fluffy, savory couscous.

  “…This really is delicious,” she remarked. “But aren’t we forgetting something important?”

  Meteos, who had been quietly admiring a plate of samak mifa, turned languidly at her.

  “What is it, Annette?”

  “Oh yes, Meteos. Mind explaining—”

  Annette stressed, snapping towards him and pointed a finger, eyes widened.

  “Why are you the cook!?”

  Meteos looked down at himself as if noticing the apron for the first time. Sure enough, he was standing beside their table near an empty chair, a spotless white apron tied over his clothes, sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows.

  “Nadia’s grandmother said this…”

  Meteos raised his hand upwards, his index finger pointing up.

  “‘A knife can only bring happiness when used in cooking.’”

  “I still don’t think one can confidently walk into someone else’s kitchen and start cooking.”

  “I spoke to the owner,” Meteos replied dryly, untying the apron and folding it once. Then, as if this were perfectly normal, he pulled out the empty chair, sat down with them, and reached for his utensils to start digging in.

  “Objection! What’s with you quoting Nadia’s grandmother of all people!?” Annette raised her voice again, to which Meteos simply shrugged nonchalantly.

  “It can’t be helped. I don’t have one.”

  “………”

  Annette sighed, recalling that fact. Oh well, once the two finally brought their relationship to the altar, Nadia’s gran-gran would be Meteos’ as well anyway.

  On the other hand, Kaios leaned in and half-whispered toward Nadia, catching Elto’s attention along the way.

  “Hey, Nadia, did your grandmother really said that?”

  “Yes,” the Rusalkan girl nodded with a fond smile. “Babushka really has that kind of wisdom.”

  “Huh… I-I see…”

  Faced with such revelation, the two could only smiled awkwardly.

  Earlier—well before the food arrived—Meteos had excused himself with an offhand remark that the wait might be long and that he wanted to stretch his legs and look around the harbor. No one had thought much of it. Le Brias was a safe city, and Meteos wandering off on his own was hardly unusual. What was unusual was that nearly an hour later, just as the group had started debating whether to order drinks, the servers came… with Meteos among them, emerging from the kitchen carrying two of their dishes.

  “…Anyway, it’s not that deep, Annette,” Meteos spoke again, lifting his fork as if the matter were already settled. “It was arranged when we made the reservation. I simply added a request to the booking. More precisely, I hired the restaurant to let me use a station. The head chef was quite accommodating once the terms were agreed upon. I just didn’t mention it…”

  Of course, the main goal was networking, but it was a friendly kitchen to someone who paid them handsomely with the strongest currency in the world, and the staff had been happy to send out his “specials” to lucky patrons, both local and foreign with noticeable fashion styles. They were so obliging, in fact, that Meteos found himself enjoying the arrangement more than professional restraint probably allowed.

  “I suppose I may have done it a bit too much. A few of the dishes ended up going out to other tables as well.”

  Curious where his cooking might have landed, Meteos let his gaze wander around the dining room for a moment. It briefly paused on a girl seated alone by a window overlooking the harbor, eating a fish dish he instantly recognized as his own. She had long, dark hair, broken by a single pink strand draped over her shoulder. Her features hinted at Fennese—or perhaps Hinomawarian—heritage, yet her attire was not: a fitted black jacket over a corset and white frilled shirt, paired with a magenta skirt, a look far closer to Milishial fashion. Curious.

  The young lady Pendragon snorted.

  “Not that deep, my foot. Sometimes your successes make me jealous, and other times you just leave me confused with your random antics.”

  “‘Jealous’?”

  Meteos arched an eyebrow. Realizing she’d unintentionally blurted out those words in her exasperation, Annette coughed awkwardly and looked away, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

  “Umm… nothing.”

  Elto, seated on Annette’s other side, tilted her head and looked at Meteos thoughtfully. Then she smirked.

  “Hmm, I don’t know. If the food’s good, I think we should just let him cook.” She turned her head slightly. “Right, Nadia?”

  Meteos’ shy girlfriend, who had been quietly dismantling a whole fish with surgical precision, didn’t even look up. She was the regular recipient of Meteos’ craft, after all.

  “Mm!”

  At the encouragement, Meteos smiled wryly. “Then eat up and enjoy. If you’re that impressed… perhaps I should aim to stand at the Zenith of Cooking?”

  Annette facepalmed. Is he going to hoard all the skills in the world or what? That was what she thought.

  At the far side of the table, Gabi had been quiet. He selected a whole fish, steamed simply with herbs, and ate it with deliberate care. His eyes were closed as he lifted each bite, savoring the texture. For a while, it looked almost meditative, like a priest at prayer rather than a handsome boy at lunch.

  Then his hands stilled.

  The fork and knife lowered slowly to the plate as he clenched his fists. His shoulders drew tight, and though he said nothing, his body trembled ever so slightly, as if something hot and restless were coiling in his chest.

  Walman noticed immediately. “Huh? Gabi?” he leaned over, squinting. “What’s wrong?”

  Gabi opened his eyes. They burned.

  “…No. It’s just this whole thing stirs my pride. As someone who also dabbles in the arts, I can’t just sit here and applaud forever.”

  A faint smile curved his lips as resolve settled in.

  “I wasn’t expecting Meteos to hire an entire kitchen. I’m impressed by the performance. But next time, I won’t be outdone. Especially not when we visit my homeland of Louria. I swear it.”

  The undercover Lourian prince’s blue eyes lifted to the silver-haired boy. Even as he smiled, there was a challenge there. The look of someone who had just found a rival he genuinely acknowledged.

  “Hmm… I see,” Meteos replied, lips curling upward.

  “…Oh no, what have you done…?”

  Both Annette and Walman groaned in unison.

  Meanwhile, with Meteos…

  ‘So, this is the passion Gabi reserves for good food.’

  But he did not laugh at the display. It struck him then that this was a side of the boy, who would become King Hark Louria XXXIV in the future, that almost no one in the future would ever be allowed to see.

  The irony was not lost on Meteos. Gabi’s homeland, the Louria Kingdom, lay beside the phenomenally fertile Qua-Toyne Principality, so close that the winds carried the scent of harvest across borders, yet the two nations could not have diverged more sharply. Where Qua-Toyne somewhat prospered from specialty trade, Lourian rulers’ cultivated disdain for demi-humans comprising their neighbors choked off trade routes that might have softened scarcity and resentment alike. Furthermore, the Great Orient region at this time was experiencing a cooling period that would not relent for decades.

  In such a harsh land, even such a pure passion could warp. A king’s desire to feed his people could twist into a king’s envy of a neighbor’s bounty. Perhaps, in another timeline, that corruption of a noble impulse had been a step on the path that led to invasion and their downfall.

  But that path was not yet written. Meteos took another deliberate bite of his own cooking. The White Lotus had been working meticulously to avert such an outcome in this timeline. Gabi’s presence here was part of that redirection. Not only could Meteos avert the hell from the Civilization Annihilation Game, he could also indulge what his friend had cherished most. The feeling was not at all unpleasant.

  Happiness… It was something he could live with.

  ............

  “Um, Meteos, thank you for the meal! That was exquisite.”

  “Thank you for your compliment, Nadia. What should I make next time? Fennese soba or Hinomawarian ramen?”

  Walman, whose attention had clearly been elsewhere and who had only caught fragments of the exchange, suddenly butted in—mishearing even what little he’d picked up.

  “Huh? La men? Is that an exotic Muish cuisine?”

  “No, Walman, it belongs to a fictional island country of Zepin. Totally not based on Fenn and Hinomawari combined then divided into its average.”

  Annette deadpanned, whereas Meteos coughed slightly. This was more than enough evidence for him that the multiverse is real. Truly, as another one of Nadia’s grandmother’s saying: “The dreams of the children are the future reality… Adults that laugh at such dreams are no longer human.”

  “Oh… Um… By the way, I thought a place in the periphery like Altaras would serve weirder stuff. Something like… fish wyverns, you know?”

  “What is wrong with you…”

  It seemed that war machines were indeed the only things that could truly draw Walman’s focus. Meteos’ eyebrows twitched, wondering who gave the brunette all those silly ideas about the world.

  True to their name, ‘fish wyverns’ were aquatic fishlike creatures that roamed the oceans of the known world. Their bodies were long and streamlined like torpedoes, covered in smooth scales, with powerful vertical crescent-shaped tails built for speed and forelimbs flattened into strong paddles. They bore no resemblance whatsoever to (flying) wyverns, yet shared the wyvern title because of their common reptilian ancestry. Ecologically, they occupied the same niche dolphins did in the world Japan originated from. Even larger were the bahamuts and serpent-like sea dragons. Whereas many bird wyverns were domesticated as livestock, marine reptiles were extremely rarely hunted for meat, while even flying wyverns would be consumed in times of desperation, much like horses.

  When Meteos was little, he found fish wyverns adorable and decided to name them his favorite animal. Later in life, he even leveraged his standing as a renowned Grand Mage to advocate for the protection of marine reptiles. Note that his campaign and nature conservation in general were taken very seriously by the world after they learned firsthand the Ravernal Empire’s horrifying vision of exterminating every single living thing on the planet before supplanting them with their own created lifeforms. Who can say how many animals, plants, and even amoebas that were already Core Magicked into extinction at the hands of beings who fancied themselves gods?

  Anyway, after finishing the meal, the vacation group went on to continue their sightseeing. Following the flow of the crowd, they soon reached one of Le Brias’ central thoroughfares, a wide avenue lined with a mix of modern shopfronts and older buildings with latticed balconies dripping with vibrant flowers.

  When they heard a loud tolling of a bell from nearby, they turned just in time to see a tram glide past on steel rails embedded cleanly into the asphalt. Painted a soft turquoise with white trim, evocative of Altaras’ national flag, its windows stood open to the passing breeze. The tram moved on without a jolt, vanishing around a gentle bend in the road.

  “Hmm…”

  Annette, who was experiencing the city for the first time, hummed pensively.

  “Even though Altaras is technically on the periphery, it doesn’t really feel that different from Runepolis.”

  Several of them looked at her.

  “When you move away from the core districts, I mean. The atmosphere’s pretty much the same.”

  “What is it, Lady? A little disappointed to find the ‘exotic periphery’ feels so familiar?” Walman called out with a snidely teasing tone in his voice.

  “Haa!?”

  Annette’s fist landed squarely on Walman’s upper arm—not hard enough to hurt, but with enough force to make her point abundantly clear.

  “Don’t put words in my mouth!” Annette snapped, cheeks puffed slightly. “I didn’t say I was disappointed. I just said it’s similar.”

  “Yeah, I get it. Sheesh.”

  A few of the others snickered as Walman rubbed his arm exaggeratedly.

  “…That was uncalled for. I was merely observing.”

  “Then observe more carefully, Genius,” Annette shot back before returning her attention to the city.

  Nearby, Irmiya glanced over at Meteos as they walked.

  “Well, she does have a point,” he shrugged. “The city I grew up in doesn’t match the old image anymore.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, doesn’t it mean the city’s doing well?” Nadia quipped curiously.

  “Haha, it certainly becomes more convenient to do anything. I remember he used to say that living anywhere near the Milishial core would drain your purse dry. But as it turned out, everything is relatively affordable nowadays.”

  Meteos listened without commenting. It’s not strange at all, he thought. High Charity acted as a powerful stabilizing force here. Even though it still couldn’t bring about a post-scarcity society as dreamed, its infinite production capability meant scarcity could be smoothed out before it ever hit. When supply could scale without friction, prices stopped behaving like wild animals and started obeying rules again. And a distribution network that could move goods faster than demand shifted, and even a big city could feel… affordable.

  Of course, no one walking these streets needed to know that. To them, it was just a pleasant surprise that lunch didn’t cost a week’s wages and that everyday comforts were within reach.

  “Hmm.”

  Meteos nodded silently at the city’s sight, his gaze taking in the seamless blend of old and new. High-rise buildings like the Gorgom Company’s branch office were countable with one hand, but otherwise this cityscape was not something one would call a ‘barbarian settlement.’

  Today’s Le Brias was a direct result of this Third Timeline’s version of the Treaty of Evergarden, the trilateral accord signed seven years prior between the Holy Milishial Empire, the Altaras Kingdom, and the Parpaldia Empire. That treaty opened the gates to a surge of Milishial investment and technical expertise, accelerating Altaras’ modernization and resource development. Focused around two major centers, this effort reshaped not only the Royal Capital but also the southern mining city of Carifa, where abundant ores bearing gracium (titanium) were extracted and shipped to the Holy Empire at discounted rates.

  In return, Altaras gained sweeping nationwide modernization and the effective protection under the Holy Empire’s umbrella, forming a powerful deterrent against any potential adversary. The presence of advanced warships on anti-piracy patrols drove outlaws of the sea in the region to near-extinction, while Parpaldia was forced to abandon its heavy-handed interference in Altaras’ affairs in the face of a backing by this unwinnable adversary. But since Parpaldia also benefited from the Holy Empire’s maneuvering so far in terms of economy, it raised nothing more than a show of displeasure and instead leveraged the gains to pursue internal reforms, moving toward a more sustainable system than its former cycle of constant aggression. Originally conceived in a geopolitical context that predated the revolutionary rise of pedanium and driven by unapologetic self-interest, the policy had since been reinterpreted to align with the Holy Empire’s increasingly moral vision of humanity’s unification to fight a single, just cause.

  Le Brias, in particular, had been reimagined to match the modern standards of a Milishial city, an irony not lost on foreign observers. Across the strait, Parpaldia’s capital of Esthirant now appeared provincial by comparison. While Esthirant had only recently embarked on its own redevelopment, lagging behind Le Brias and Duro, Altaras’ capital had come to resemble what a Great Power’s seat ought to be within seven years of ratifying the Treaty.

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  Serving as a prototype for future Milishial urban renewal, the city’s planning was pedestrian-centric from the start. Broad sidewalks paved with light stone absorbed the sun without radiating heat, while tree-lined medians separated foot traffic from the smooth flow of horse-driven carriages, the nascent number of automobiles, and public transportation such as buses and trams. Underfoot, discreet utility tunnels carried power lines, water, and telecommunication cables, allowing streets to remain uncluttered by poles and haphazard conduits. Traffic signals clicked along with dependable rhythm, and tram stops doubled as shaded rest areas, complete with benches, route charts, and public clocks synchronized to national time.

  Despite the modernization, however, old Le Brias had not been fully erased, as seen with the many traditional buildings still around, interspersed between new ones erected in local architectural style. This preservation had been made possible through the employment of military mages during redevelopment. Entire plots of land—buildings and all—had been carefully relocated from their original positions using the Holy Milishial Empire’s famous landscaping magic technique, the Earth Magic: Moving Earth Core, and resettled elsewhere, allowing planners to straighten avenues, expand plazas, and rationalize districts without resorting to demolition. What would normally have been impossible urban challenges became manageable logistical tasks, resulting in remarkably clean zoning and infrastructure layouts. Likewise, the same technique greatly simplified the construction of underground infrastructure, including subways and drainage systems.

  Railway lines further reinforced Le Brias’ role as a national hub. Steel arteries ran longitudinally along Altaras’ spine and transversally across its breadth, binding coastal cities, mining centers, and inland towns. Furthermore, the Great East Joint Development Company (Groot Oost Gezamenijke Ontwikkelingsmaatschappij, aka the Gorgom Company) active in the region also extended this urbanization beyond the city limits. Satellite towns with orderly housing, commercial districts, and light industrial parks now surrounded Le Brias.

  Meteos also kept a ledger of deeper vulnerabilities. Chief among them was water. The population of Le Brias had swelled with modernization, and the demands of the new industrial satellites were relentless. As it still drew its freshwater from a finite network of aging aquifers and river sources, a prolonged drought or contamination of the primary watershed could trigger a crisis down the line. Henceforth, he forwarded a notification to the Roguerider Foundation to establish at least a Cauldron here to process the abundant seawater around the island as a hyper-advanced desalination plant. With the Cauldron, anything is possible.

  “So, any ideas on where to next?”

  At Annette’s question, Irmiya stopped, stroking his chain in thought. His eyes darted skyward, then widened with sudden inspiration. He beamed, a sunburst of a smile, and jumped to the front of the group, spinning to face them with arms spread wide.

  “I’ve got it! Everyone, let’s go to a photo studio!”

  “…Photo studio, huh.”

  “Yeah! It’d be a waste to come all this way and not leave with something to remember it by!”

  Walman crossed his arms. “I got nothing to offer at the moment, so let’s go with that, I guess. How ‘bout you, Kaios?”

  “…I think that’s a good idea.”

  While everyone was on board one after another, Annette zipped over to Meteos, rose on her toes, and whispered into his ear.

  “Photo studios mean having costumes! Hey, Meto… Aren’t you just a little curious to see… what Nadia would look like in one of those Altaran traditional dresses?”

  “………”

  In response, the silver-haired boy’s hand shot up, grasped the back of Annette’s hooded vest, and yanked the fabric up and over her head, blinding her completely.

  “Eek! Why!? Whyyyyyyyyy~~~!?”

  Suppressing the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth, Meteos turned to Irmiya. “Sure thing, let’s go with that.”

  And just like that, their next stop was settled.

  July 15, 1617 Central Calendar

  Ministry of Economy Headquarters, Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire

  “Why do you want to take part in the project?”

  Walking into the Old Admiralty Building’s premises, Adonis Roguerider glanced back over his shoulder. Three young men with matching golden hair followed close behind, sticking to him like ducklings trailing their mother through the steady stream of Ministry staff moving in every direction.

  One of them, the only one with ruby eyes, flicked his gaze from the metal attaché case swinging at Adonis’ side to a similar case carried by a taller boy beside him, then beamed in anticipation. Of the three, he was by far the most excitable.

  “Why not?” he confidently replied, as if there was nothing wrong with such a flippant answer.

  “I see. That is precisely the answer Meteos gives when asked why he initiated this project in the first place.”

  “As expected of him! He really gets it.”

  “………”

  The knowledge that their brother-in-law operated on the same bedrock of whimsical logic was both a relief and a source of immense personal vindication. The ruby-eyed one, Alain Legendorga, became even more animated, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. By contrast, his two cerulean-eyed cousins, Esiocles (aka Ezio) and his elder brother Eleazer, remained impassive, long since accustomed to his antics.

  Even the most outlandish ideas, when wrapped in the right rhetoric, could find fertile ground. That’s how Les Neutralistes, the so-called “Anti-Big Gun Battleship Syndicate,” managed to dominate the Muish Royal Navy for so long (though they were also helped that their young officer-dominated opposition was too radical it frequently alienated potential backers). This project, like so many before it, would be no different. None of the young men involved believed in the notion of a “foolproof plan.” As the old weapons-maker’s adage went: try as you might to make something foolproof, and all you really do is invent a better fool. Debate was inevitable, but in truth the entire scheme began with literally a young man asking, one day, “Why not?”

  That young man was Meteos Roguerider. With few exceptions, the people had grown to treat the existence of a boy who churned out so many achievements in a very short timespan as normal. “Meteos Roguerider?” they’d say, “Oh, sure; that boy was brilliant. There was nothing he couldn’t do (probably).” Bureaucratic complications aside that prevented him from receiving a proper Imperial Luminary Title already, his name just carried that much weight in the Holy Milishial Empire’s technocratic circles.

  “So, you’ve all signed up for the more hands-on role, then?”

  “Indeed.”

  “In other words, you’re perfectly willing to throw away what little remains of your summer vacation.”

  “Well, summer rolls around every year anyway. And this is a family undertaking, isn’t it? In that sense, it still counts as a family time… Oh well, I can’t wait to show him what we’ve managed to pull off,” Alain said.

  “Hn. They do say ‘the future of a nation rests on the shoulders of its youth.’ Just stick to your resolve.”

  Listening to Adonis’ words, Eleazer tilted his head.

  “But the plan has to gain traction first, doesn’t it?”

  “True enough.”

  The silver-haired man answered simply. However, it was already decided that the project will proceed in one way or another. All that’s left was little more than a formality to make a performance of deliberation.

  ............

  Minister’s Office, Ministry of Economy

  The Holy Empire’s Minister of Economy, Edith Somerville, placed her unfinished red-tinted drink aside and breathed out in quiet relief, feeling warmth spreading from her throat down to her chest. The cup contained the last mouthfuls of what was known as “awe sam tea,” a lavish import where the tea’s flavor came from the rare Angel Fruit. Its deep scarlet color was rumored to reflect the fruit’s mystical qualities. Edith had no way to confirm such rumors, yet there was no denying the tea’s invigorating quality or the well-known health benefits of the herb from which it was derived. It had gained such an attention that a certain Milishial pharmaceutical corporation had experimentally cultivated it in the blessed soils of Qua-Toyne, effectively transplanting a crop native to the distant west all the way to the far east.

  Since the completion of High Charity, Edith had come to realize that managing limitless supply in an unprepared society posed challenges just as daunting as coping with shortages. Both required decisions demanding near-impossible foresight. Now more than ever, she needed the herb’s revitalizing effect, as the little rest her schedule once allowed had steadily vanished under a relentless stream of meetings and research briefings concerning post-scarcity planning. As the Holy Empire’s foremost authority on commerce and economic policy, she bore responsibility for safeguarding the nation’s economic stability.

  Even while transition strategies were still being debated, it had already been resolved to construct logistics routes linking High Charity to the rest of the nation, distributing mana extracted from the Hollow Planet through pedanium pipelines. With the decision made, specialized construction machines were swiftly produced in the Cauldrons, ready for deployment, alongside plans to establish smaller versions of High Charity called ‘Sub-Arbor Installations’ at future logistical hubs. This decision came early as a result of the desire to avoid putting all eggs in one basket, and to properly take advantage of this logistical cheat code.

  When she almost finished the beverage, the intercom on her desk chimed softly.

  “Minister, the delegation from the WBS has arrived and is being escorted to the CSO Board’s office.”

  “I see. Connect me to the observation feed to my terminal. Let me observe the meeting.”

  “At once, ma’am.”

  A moment later, a holographic screen flickered to life above her desk, displaying an office. The occupant, the CSO Board’s director, sat at the head of the table. Seated across from him were four representatives of the visiting WBS, all of them were young men. The setup was little more than a formal courtesy for those outside the White Lotus’ inner workings, and the Minister observed quietly as the Chairman commenced the official greetings.

  ............

  CSO Board Director’s Office, Ministry of Economy

  Seated inside the director’s office, Adonis Roguerider and his entourage were greeted by the CSO Board’s director, thereby marking the start of the meeting.

  “Thank you for your time today.”

  “The pleasure is mine. What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

  “Yes. We’ll get directly to the matter. On behalf of the Roguerider Foundation, I’m here to report that our overseas operations security plan has been completed. All specifications have already received WBS approval, and we are now seeking the Board’s authorization so implementation can begin promptly. This dossier contains the summary of our operational proposal.”

  “I understand. Let me take a look…”

  From Adonis’ hand, the folder slid across polished wood. Pages turned. The director’s eyebrows lifted slightly as his eyes moved down the figures and deployment tables.

  “Hm? Are you certain about these numbers?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. This plan also represents our company’s compromise in achieving an effective security arrangement while remaining fully compliant with regulations.”

  “No, I mean… for an operation of your company’s scale, this security deployment seems rather too conservative. Most corporation operating overseas under the Holy Empire’s charter deploy nearly twice as much security.”

  “This is only the initial phase, anyway. We’re not planning to operate across a large area right from the start.”

  “That may be so, but since this concerns the safety of our citizens abroad, I expected more thorough consideration on your part.”

  The CSO Board, formally known as the Imperial Board of Commerce Security Oversight, was an agency under the Ministry of Economy established to prevent private corporate forces from evolving into unchecked military entities. It wielded sweeping authority over any company deploying armed security personnel beyond the Holy Empire’s borders. Its jurisdiction extended from licensing and compliance audits to the ultimate sanction of dissolving corporate security divisions that violated constitutional limits. For conglomerates expanding overseas wished to wield its own security forces, its approval was not merely procedural but a prerequisite for legitimacy.

  So why, then, was Adonis making his report to the CSO Board?

  It was because the current year marked a pivotal chapter in the Roguerider Foundation’s history. Its meteoric rise had culminated in its induction into the Wonderful Blue Sky Business Federation or WBS, an economic organization comprising the most financially influential and strategically vital conglomerates within the Holy Milishial Empire, chaired by Crown Prince Octavian himself.

  The origins of the WBS were closely tied to the reign of Emperor Milishial VIII, Lucius of the Morning Star, founder of the modern Holy Milishial Empire after his victory in the Warring Kingdoms Period. Over centuries, the Emperor systematically curtailed the political and military power of the aristocracy to prevent feudal fragmentation and elite rivalries. In response to the changing times, certain forward-thinking noble houses redirected their effort into semi-state corporate entities, many of which adopted the title “Foundation” in their names. Though not all present-day Foundations descend from nobility, like Roguerider, this transformation produced the corporate giants that would eventually unite under the Federation.

  Domestically, WBS-affiliated conglomerates remained subject to regulation while contributing to the Holy Empire’s economic and technological supremacy. Their distinguishing privilege, however, lay in overseas operations, where public security conditions were often less than stellar. Abroad, member corporations were permitted to maintain private security forces to protect assets or serve clients, effectively functioning as private military contractors. Nevertheless, their capabilities remain tightly restricted, including prohibitions on heavy weapons and deploying ground assets heavier than armored cars, limits on naval forces to patrol craft, and a complete ban on maintaining air forces. In essence, the WBS functioned as a coordination body for member companies operating private security forces (though not all corporations with such forces were part of the WBS), and it was almost an unwritten expectation that every WBS member maintain such forces regardless of scale, all of which were overseen and regulated by the government’s CSO Board.

  Behind the scenes, however, the WBS also served as a front for the Emperor’s covert organization, the Order of the Ancients. Under this framework, corporate security forces were aligned toward three overlapping objectives: upholding the nation’s principle of noblesse oblige while promoting a favorable international image of the Holy Empire; quietly undermining or removing foreign governments hostile to the nation’s interests; and serving as deniable assets against infiltrations by Ravernal-worshipping cultists, who had repeatedly attempted to subvert the Holy Empire. The Emperor had headhunted Roguerider specifically due to their advanced technological base and potential.

  The last point was especially important.

  Following repeated attempts by Ravernal cultists to destabilize the Holy Empire, most notably through efforts to reduce the Emperor’s power and impose a constitutional monarchy as a means of ideological subversion, the WBS was integrated into Emperor Milishial VIII’s broader countermeasure strategy.

  Movements such as the Government of Darkness (G.O.D.), advocating what amounted to national suicide, and the Chrysis revolutionary movement, were outed as brutal Ravernal-aligned death cults. Their failure severely tarnished revolutionary thoughts within Milishial society, leaving its populace somewhat leery of radical constitutional reforms. The most notorious episode was the Sokrates incident, when the brilliant and enlightened man slated to become the Holy Empire’s first ever prime minister was outed as a Light-Winged infiltrator all along, attempting to embed mechanisms for the Holy Empire to implode upon itself in the future. Legend holds that the Emperor personally tore him apart for his betrayal, though later revelations concerning Zarathostra of the Messiah—an uncanny double of Sokrates—have cast doubt whether that devil truly met his end.

  Furthermore, recent political turmoils within the constitutional monarchy of Mu further eroded elite confidence in democratic governance, reinforcing the belief that unchecked popular rule invited instability and ideological manipulation. Sadly, Mu’s political direction appeared to swing wildly with each election cycle, making them unnecessarily unpredictable both as an ally and enemy, serving as a cautionary example.

  Despite its autocratic foundations, the Holy Milishial Empire did retain democratic elements and hold fair elections, just not at the head of state level. This system, described very vaguely as a “semi-constitutional monarchy,” proved stable domestically but generated complications abroad. Monarchies attempting to replicate the model often failed to reproduce the Holy Empire’s institutional discipline, fostering resentment toward the superpower, or at least the inability to sympathize with their cause: they suffered while the oh-so-mighty Holy Milishial Empire has so much space to be complacent and get away with things that no one else could—which was exactly what Lucius of the Morning Star really aimed, carrying a resolve to unite humanity against the Ancient Sorcerous Empire by any means necessary, his sins be damned.

  Despite its power, however, the WBS has been secretly rendered obsolete by the more subtle and effective cover unification efforts of the clandestine White Lotus organization. However, the Federation’s public structure and activities are maintained as a visible and useful fa?ade.

  “There is no correct way, for the correct way does not exist. Therefore it can be everything.”

  Critics note the system’s imperfections, including its potential for corporate overreach and its role in neo-colonial foreign interventions. Within the Holy Empire’s philosophical circles, the WBS is sometimes summarized by the maxim, “nothing is true, everything is permitted,” reflecting its pragmatic and amoral utility in the absence of a “correct” path to humanity’s salvation. It remains a defining, if controversial, institution of Milishial power.

  Though the director showed confusion, Adonis maintained his composure, responding calmly as the pages continued to turn.

  “Indeed. That is a valid concern, Director. We have our people’s best interest at heart as well, which is why, as I said earlier, we have come up with a compromise.”

  “Compromise?”

  Adonis silently nodded to Eleazer, and the two men placed the metallic briefcase they had been carrying on the table. They opened it, turning it to face the director.

  “T-this is…?”

  Curiosity overtaking his earlier doubt, the director sat up straighter, his eyes widening slightly.

  The “compromise” offered by the Roguerider Foundation came in the form of a pair of objects nestled in custom-cut foam. The one presented by Adonis was a dark pistol grip with blue outlines, a gear to complement the main system mentioned in the documents as Zecters, while the one carried by the young Legendorga revealed a white and yellow device based on their Second-Generation Manadriver’s design, a system called Intercept X Attacker, or IXA.

  Their distinctly personal Manadriver-style of unique design helped the CSO Director connect the clues gathered so far, and everything suddenly fell into place. Perhaps he was still clinging to the Holy Milishial Empire’s traditional mindset, but in truth, he should have expected this kind of thing from the Rogueriders.

  “…Is Legendorga on board with this as well?”

  The director then looked toward the three blond young men sitting next to Adonis, members of House Legendorga representing the Legendorga Foundation and its affiliated companies.

  “Yes,” Eleazer elaborated. “The existing corporate security forces operating overseas are bound by strict rules on the use of force. If a situation were to spiral beyond what we can manage, and the government decided against deploying troops for any reason, there’s a serious risk we’d fail to protect the Holy Empire’s interests—or even guarantee the safety of our own citizens.”

  For all its status as the strongest superpower, allowing it leeway to act whatever it wanted with near zero consequences, the Holy Milishial Empire neither could nor would throw its military around as glorified thugs to coerce other nations into submission. In addition, the general populace was already very apathetic to foreign wars and unless threatened directly, very much against sending their families to randomly intervene in other nations’ cockfighting for no reason.

  Despite frequent allegations, the Holy Milishial Empire’s government itself genuinely did nothing to influence the Muish Civil War beyond offering refuge to those fleeing the conflict (and benefited from the brain drain). Naturally, the government would dispatch military contingents to escort their citizens evacuating from conflict zones, but who knows what damage the citizens abroad would suffer in between?

  “It’s their own fault,” they’d say, “so why should WE suffer for it too?”

  This public sentiment was compounded by the fact that, although many states quietly resented Milishial dominance, they still bend to the Holy Empire’s diplomacy on their own. There was no other choice. From this dynamic emerged the complacency that defined the prevailing world order.

  That was the official narrative.

  That was the Order of the Ancients and their fronts were for: doing the dirty work so that the Holy Empire may maintain a pristine image. Military forces were quietly embedded in foreign nations resenting Milishial presence under the guise of corporate security units still loyal to the Emperor. Allowing it an upgrade was what Adonis and the White Lotus-aligned CSO Director and the Economy Ministry higher-ups trying to arrange this time, while the oblivious young Legendorgas viewed the matter as one concerning the safety of their people abroad, seeking to provide more options when others fail.

  While the Roguerider Foundation was only beginning to build its own private security arm, the Legendorgas had already maintained their Emergency Unit for years. Nevertheless, regulatory limits on force structure and equipment confined them to fireteam-sized elements armed with weapons inferior to those currently fielded by the Holy Empire’s military. In addition, regulations required private security forces to remain as visibly identifiable as the regular militaries of nations such as Parpaldia. The Legendorga Emergency Unit, for instance, wore flaming orange uniforms and carried bolt-action rifles, although they had recently been issued modern black tactical vests. Others attempting to push the boundaries of these regulations, such as Gorgom in the Third Civilization Area and Gevagel in the Second, instead dared to adopt plain light gray uniforms after the Holy Empire’s armed forces introduced camouflage patterns. In any case, many corporations found this inadequate as the foreign countries’ internal affairs worsened.

  The CSO Director flipped more pages and perused at the documents again.

  “…A system of summoning a power-armor suit to raise an individual security operator’s capability to the maximum permissible limit, with mechanisms compliant to the Ministry of Internal Affairs’ regulations on civilian-use Manadrivers such as mandated level of visibility and sound emission…” the director muttered. “In other words, a glorified tactical vest. But the problem here is that one does not simply summon an advanced gear from handheld devices unless by means of sophisticated magical technology, where you would be breaching the regulations regarding imposed technological limitation limits anyway.”

  Naturally, since the Roguerider Foundation developed the Cauldrons using the exact same science, it was only a matter of time before they would find a way to adapt the technology for personal use like this. The complication lay in the fact that Cauldron systems were already extensively employed by the Holy Milishial Empire’s military and law enforcement under contract with Roguerider. If the Foundation began deploying the technology with potential for military use for its own private military operations, especially if invincible pedanium were used as the base material, it could be interpreted as violating those agreements.

  “If we manage to obtain approval from the Internal Affairs, Military Affairs, and Ancient Ministries to ease the regulations to permit the technology’s usage as long as it poses minimal threat to the Holy Empire’s security, would you be willing to consider it?” Adonis suddenly spoke up.

  In response, the Director thought long and hard about it, before heaving a sigh.

  “Well… if you can actually pull that off, then there’s no helping it. Go ahead and visit those three ministries first. Obtain their approvals, then bring the proposal back here. Once those are secured, the Board will process your authorization.”

  He tapped the dossier lightly.

  “But let me be clear, Mr. Roguerider. This situation is one your Foundation created for itself. Most corporations follow the usual procedure. You, however, decided to complicate matters by introducing entirely new operational concepts. Naturally, that means additional oversight and red tape.”

  “We are aware of it.”

  “In that case, gentlemen, I wish you luck. You’ll need it.”

  The meeting was effectively over.

  Chairs shifted as both sides stood. Handshakes were exchanged, and then the Legendorgas followed Adonis toward the exit, the metallic briefcase once again locked and carried at their side. Only after the door closed behind them did the director release another weary breath.

  “Crazy bunch, those Rogueriders…” he muttered, checking the time on his wristwatch. “Still, I never imagined keeping up an act could be this exhausting. I’ll never underestimate actors again…”

  After all, the outcome had been settled from the very start.

  ............

  “So, are you feeling disappointed?”

  On their way back, Adonis turned to the Legendorgas and asked that question.

  “Politics is such a tangled mess…” Alain sighed wearily.

  Hearing such words from a cabinet minister’s own son made Ezio wonder when his cousin ever chose to be serious.

  “You don’t have to enjoy politics, but underestimating it is a grave mistake,” Eleazer remarked.

  “Indeed. It’s a na?ve assumption to think that one could advance one’s ideals without engaging in political maneuvering in some way.”

  “Is really how he sees it?” Alain wondered aloud.

  “You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

  Nodding at Brother Adonis’ words, the young noble decided to do just that once the vacation group returned, for discussing it over remote comms didn’t feel like it would give him the satisfaction he was looking for.

  Picking up his pace, Alain then jogged ahead of Adonis, then turned around and walked backward, his earlier expression replaced with brightness.

  “Brother Adonis, please! Please give your utmost in securing the three ministries’ approval. Don’t hold back on my account!”

  “Just move mountains already,” Ezio chimed in dryly.

  Adonis’ calm expression met Alain’s hopeful gaze as he spoke reassuringly.

  “Well, I was going to spare no effort regardless.”

  Cheered, Alain spun back around to walk properly, his enthusiasm bubbling over.

  “I’m looking forward to it. I can’t wait to show the IXA System to Meteos when it’s approved. He’ll have to acknowledge the engineering.”

  Ezio scoffed.

  “You twisted words into an acronym just so you could call it IXA. He’ll going to have a chuckle.”

  “It’s not twisting!” Alain shot back. “It stands for an interceptor warrior against unknown threats. There’s meaning behind it.”

  “Sure. And the X just conveniently appeared because it sounds cool.”

  Alain grunted indignantly.

  “And don’t act like Meteos is any better. His MR System is full of vanity too. Every other piece of equipment made by him already has ‘MR’ in the name because it’s his signature. As far as I’m concerned, it was his own initials, no?”

  Ezio folded his arms.

  “At least his sounds natural. ‘Masked Rider System’ rolls off the tongue, so I’ll let it slide this time.”

  “What!? That’s just a barely disguised form of his own name! …Are you serious right now? I have the feeling that you’re just messing with me at this point.”

  “Prove it. Show me evidence I’m joking.”

  Confronted with Ezio’s challenging look, Alain’s complaints only grew louder, while Eleazer and Adonis listened without stepping in, seeing no need to interfere.

  The name “Masked Rider System” would later become the umbrella term for the summonable armor technologies pioneered by the Zecters and IXA, becoming yet another legacy credited to Meteos. To differentiate from the national military’s soldiers, the private security operators using the system would be referred to as ‘Masked Riders’ or simply ‘Riders.’

  ............

  The Roguerider Foundation’s proposal would eventually come to pass, leading to the creation of their private security force, ZECT. Regulations capped each fireteam at one Riders, and since the Foundation opted to staff its teams exclusively with Riders, the overall force remained relatively small. This arrangement, however, remained open to periodic revision as the Holy Empire’s technological base continued to advance and they ventured to increasingly dangerous regions of the wider world.