"The current situation in the city isn't looking good for the former Babel mercenaries," Felix said quietly.
Ines nodded slightly, understanding what he meant.
Originally, Babel had left Kazdel precisely because their ideals clashed with the Military Commission's. They sought a new path of their own. By all rights, now that they had returned after the city's capture, they should have been the victors. Yet, not long after their success… Her Highness...
Rumors claimed it was an assassination, but the truth remained unclear — even to the former Babel mercenaries themselves. Most of them suspected the Commission's hand behind it, their hostility toward the latter growing ever deeper.
Though the tension hadn't yet erupted into conflict, it left Felix with a persistent headache — there was no one left among the former Babel members who could act as a representative leader.
After the Princess's death, several elite operators had left alongside Kal'tsit aboard Rhodes Island, while others vanished with their own small squads, leaving behind only the rank-and-file.
Felix believed there were still capable people among them — talents he could nurture and trust, perhaps even raise a new leader from within.
Still, he couldn't help but imagine a certain scene — when Theresa awoke from her ice-bound slumber one day, saw the state of her former Babel comrades, and started lightly hammering his chest with her little fists in indignation.
But for now, what he truly needed… was someone who could command and unify the remnants of Babel.
---
Outside the city, in the encampment area, tents stretched across the fields. Players and mercenaries moved about busily, and as Felix passed, many greeted him respectfully. He nodded in return.
Those mercenaries who had donned the black-and-white uniforms of Tomorrow's Development now looked entirely transformed. Their gear was flawless — only their rough presence still betrayed their old roots.
He stopped before one particular tent. Ines, standing behind him, hesitated for a moment — then sighed softly as he lifted the flap and walked straight in.
"Looking for death—?! Ah, wait—oh, it's you two."
W's voice rang out, sharp and impatient. She tumbled off her cot, a live grenade still in her hand. Clearly, she had been lying around tossing it out of boredom.
In the dim light, Felix found the tent's only chair and sat down, extending a hand toward her.
"What?" W scowled.
"Your hand," he said simply.
"And why should I—"
Felix sighed. "You've been overusing your Originium Arts again, haven't you? If you don't rest or take treatment, the concentration of Originium in your bloodstream will keep rising. You do know what that means, don't you?"
"Tch… mind your own business!"
Still, she grudgingly extended her arm — though she wore nothing but a grimy mercenary vest, loose enough to show more than it should.
Sarkaz women, Felix thought briefly. Even the young ones are… formidable.
He pulled out a jar of ointment — a recent Columbian invention capable of soothing crystallized Originium lesions and easing pain. It could even help infected individuals fall asleep more easily.
W's forearm bore claw-like crystalline scars. Putting on medical gloves, Felix began applying the salve with practiced care.
Ines stood silently by the entrance, arms folded. W glanced between her and Felix, her mouth twisting as if she wanted to say something — but the words never came.
"You should rest properly," Felix said after a while, his tone calm. "Not spend the whole day picking fights with the city's mercenaries."
"So you heard about that, huh?"
W gave a small, bitter laugh. "They were talking about Her Highness. What do they know about her?"
"So you decided to draw your gun on them," Felix replied evenly. "And threw a grenade for good measure. If the Goliath guards hadn't been nearby, those two might be half-dead by now."
"..."
W's silence was admission enough.
"Anywhere else hurting?" he asked, glancing up. "Tell me, I'll help you apply the rest."
W glared at him, then snatched the ointment from his hand. "I'm not like Ulšulah. Don't think a bit of kindness will get you anywhere. I'll handle the rest myself."
Ines coughed lightly. "...That would indeed be more appropriate, Felix."
"Fine."
He removed his gloves without complaint. W's jab didn't bother him — after all, from the moment he decided to take this path, he'd stopped caring much about how others saw him.
The first rule of being an NPC, after all — was to have a thick skin.
W's hand brushed against her waist as she watched Felix rise to leave. Her voice came out rough, betraying the confusion beneath.
"What exactly are you trying to do?"
Felix paused at the tent's entrance, turning his head slightly.
"What I want to do," he said evenly. "Coincidentally, what I want isn't much different from what Theresa wished for."
W's eyes widened. She wanted to snap back — to demand a real answer — but his words froze her. If Felix's goal truly aligned with Her Highness's… then didn't that mean she herself didn't even understand what Her Highness had wanted to accomplish?
Unacceptable.
As Theresa's most devoted follower, W refused to let that ignorance stand. She bit down hard on her lip, crimson eyes flickering between anger and uncertainty, before finally speaking in a low, raspy tone.
"Tell me… tell me what you're trying to do. Spare me the usual speeches you feed the other mercenaries — I know those are half-truths dressed up to sound noble. I want the real answer."
Felix raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement crossing his face. His reaction only made W's blood boil. Did he really think that little of her?
"…Fine," he said after a moment. "In the short term: raise the living standards of Kazdel's civilians to match the Frontier District. Establish offices for Tomorrow's Development. And—make peace between the former Babel mercenaries and the former Military Commission troops."
"The first two I get," W snapped. "But the last one—what the hell?! That's impossible!"
Felix met her glare calmly, his expression almost saying, See? Exactly as I expected.
A vein pulsed on W's forehead.
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because those bastards helped kill Her Highness!"
"You think they even knew about the assassins?" Felix countered quietly. "You investigated the trail yourself. I just helped you organize the leads. You know as well as I do that only one channel connected to the killers — the rest of the Commission had no idea."
He stepped closer, his tone steady but firm.
"Maybe their positions and ideals differed from Babel's, but they're still Sarkaz. Their wish to see Kazdel thrive isn't a lie."
"Through war, then?" W muttered with a scoff.
"I spoke to Her Highness about that once," Felix replied. "We concluded that if General Theresis agreed to postpone external wars until after Kazdel was stabilized, it could indeed unify the Sarkaz people — make them truly stand as one. But you know what would happen if we went to war now, surrounded by enemy nations. Kazdel would burn."
"Those damned…" W hissed, biting her nail. "I want to burn them."
Felix didn't respond immediately. When he did, his voice had softened.
"Her Highness was too gentle. She gave Babel a radiant vision of the future — but she never realized how high the cost would be."
"What's that supposed to mean?" W shot back.
"You know what she focused on," Felix said. "Education and medicine. Education targets children — the next generation of Sarkaz. She placed her hopes entirely on them. But what about the people still living now? What happens to their lives?"
"As for medicine… all our doctors are outsiders. Once they leave, what happens to Kazdel's healthcare system?"
W fell silent. She understood all too well. Babel's famed medical strength had always depended on foreign aid. After that woman left, the system nearly collapsed — if Tomorrow's Development hadn't stepped in to bridge the gap, even basic medicine for the infected would've vanished.
"Putting hope in the next generation—what's wrong with that?" W muttered, defensive despite herself. Felix's words made sense, but they rubbed against her loyalty — against the image of Theresa she held sacred.
Felix sighed, giving her a long look.
"Let me ask you something. Can you even write my name?"
W blinked. "What kind of question is that? Of course I can! Hand me something to write with!"
He passed her a twig. W crouched down and frowned at the dirt floor, thinking hard. After a long, painful silence, she suddenly threw the stick down with a snarl.
"Damn it! Why'd you have to pick such a complicated name?! Why not use a simple codename like everyone else?"
"I have one," Felix said mildly. "The Pioneer."
"Damn you! That's not what I meant! I'm talking about a proper codename — something simple. Like W!"
Their exchange ended there — abruptly, tension still hanging thick in the air. W turned away, jaw tight. If she knew that this man held the key to Kazdel's future, she might've tried to tear his throat out right then.
"You see?" Felix said, spreading his hands. "You're out of practice. And you're not the only one. Half the mercenaries in this camp don't even know how to read beyond their own names. It's ignorance on top of ignorance."
W bared her teeth. "So what do you plan to do about it?"
"Open schools," Felix said simply. "And you're coming to class."
"...What?"
"Not just you. Every adult mercenary will attend. We'll start an adult education program — basic literacy, arithmetic, civic lessons. I'll teach, along with Loughshinny, and Hoederer."
"Hoederer… and you?"
W was the first to protest. She had no idea who this "Loughshinny" was, but she did know Hoederer — and Felix.
Just imagining Hoederer watching her with that smiling, squint-eyed stare as she did homework sent a chill down her spine.
And Felix? What could he possibly teach?
"You'll find out soon enough," Felix replied with an infuriating calmness. "You're more than welcome to attend my class—ah, correction, you're required to. No skipping. If you skip, I'll have Ines come drag you back."
From outside the tent, Ines could only sigh quietly. "..."
W groaned, flopping back into her chair like a sulking child. Her entire posture screamed, Say whatever you want, I don't care.
"So that's it?" Felix's tone suddenly cooled, the warmth draining away. "You plan to just keep regretting things?"
His voice cut through the lazy air like a blade.
"With Her Highness gone… is this all you can do? Drown yourself in guilt and the past? Is this how you want to live — as a forgotten, ordinary mercenary?"
"What else can I do?!"
W exploded. She surged to her feet, grabbed Felix by the collar, and slammed him to the ground.
Outside, the tent flap rustled open — Ines peeked in, only to freeze. W was straddling Felix's waist, fists clenched, red eyes blazing. Felix lay pinned beneath her, expressionless. The two turned to look at Ines in eerie silence.
Ines blinked. "…My apologies for interrupting."
The flap closed again.
Felix's gaze returned to W. She swung her fists, pounding his shoulder with frustration.
"Don't act like you know me! You think saying stuff like that is going to change me?!" she shouted. "You think I'll suddenly find peace?! No — I'll get angrier! I'll hunt down every last one of those Military Commission bastards! I'll burn down this neat little order you've built!"
Her voice cracked. The red in her eyes shimmered wetly, but she wiped it away before it could fall.
Then she kept hitting him — small, furious blows against his chestplate — the helpless anger of someone who no longer knew where to place her grief.
The mechanical armor absorbed every strike without leaving a dent. Felix didn't flinch.
"Good," he said quietly. "That's more like you. If you ever forgot your hatred for Her Highness, I'd think you weren't W anymore."
"What do you want from me, then?! Spit it out already!"
She could tell he was pushing her — deliberately provoking her, forcing her to explode instead of rot away.
And damn it, it was working.
Felix smiled faintly.
"I want you to lead the former Babel mercenaries — to become their core, their spirit."
He straightened slightly, eyes gleaming under the tent's dim light.
"In the future, Kazdel will have three powers. Tomorrow's Development — under me. The former Military Commission — led by Goliath and Luna. And as for the former Babel…"
"You want me to be their leader?" she asked, half in disbelief.
"Don't you think you have the potential?"
A slow grin tugged at Felix's lips. Despite the faint Sankta halo shining faintly above his head, he looked far more like a devil than an angel.
"Tell me, W — wouldn't you like to see Kal'tsit bow her head to greet you? To see the Doctor tremble at your approach? To make those mercenaries who once looked down on Babel kneel before you?"
W's jaw clenched. She hated how much those words made her want it.
"Fine," she muttered, voice trembling ever so slightly. "Tell me what you want me to do."
Her tone had softened. Just a little.
Felix loosened his grip on her hands and rose slowly. He cupped her face gently — W immediately tried to bite him, only to realize, with some shock, that his strength far surpassed hers.
Then again, after seeing him cleave open the moving city's gate with a single strike, she really shouldn't have been surprised.
"I want your loyalty," he said simply. "That's all."
"Like hell I'm swearing loyalty to you!" she barked back.