“Phew, I really thought I was dead this time.”

From the rubble of the collapsed building, Hella pulled herself upright, coughing blood between her words.

“How’s your body?”

“I’m fine.”

“You call that fine, bleeding like that?”

“A mercenary getting hurt during a mission is an everyday thing.”

Waver raised the hand that was busy wrapping his chest with bandages.

“Then, healthy junior, mind lending me a shoulder? I feel like I’m about to die.”

“Stay there for life.”

It was nonsense, of course.

Waver burst into a hearty laugh and jumped to his feet.

“Well, now I feel bad. Revenge for our mercenary band should’ve been ours, but we owe you one.”

“It happened during the mission. No need to feel indebted.”

Since it was tied to spirits, it was my case to handle anyway.

I’d only stated the truth, but Waver, ignorant of the circumstances, looked deeply moved.

“This guy’s actually decent, huh? Guess you really shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Weren’t you the one who said you only believe what you see? You talked about making him take an entrance exam, and now you’re the one receiving help. Good job.”

“Didn’t think he’d be this remarkable.”

Waver brushed off Hella’s grumbling with his usual ease.

He had seemed gravely injured earlier, but now he was moving as though nothing was wrong.

‘Or maybe he’s just moving like that despite being injured.’

The wound on his chest had split his muscles deep, blood still seeping through the bandages.

Yet he acted as if he felt no pain at all.

‘Hella’s jab about him being a bum doesn’t quite fit.’

That was why he remained with the mercenaries, and why his name would still hold weight even after the Drexier Mercenaries disbanded.

‘The Drexier Mercenaries.’

I still didn’t want to join, but my curiosity was growing.

Between their ties with Greenwood and everything else, maybe it was time to pay them a visit.

‘I’ll need to think carefully.’

Whether preventing their disbandment would benefit me—or not.

“If the Quadrapple’s beastman team leader was involved, it must have been Cole Camish.”

Cromwell quickly guessed the commander’s identity after hearing my explanation.

“He’s famous?”

“Infamous for his foul temper. Few who faced him ever came back with their bodies intact. Plenty of contractors give up the job at the mere mention of his name.”

A werebeast.

And not even a pureblood—more beast than man when transformed.

It was no surprise a creature consumed by instinct would ravage its prey.

“Defeating Cole Camish isn’t a bad achievement.”

Cromwell’s tone carried weight as he muttered.

“Taking down a Quadrapple unit and still completing the mission—that proves your strength. You’ll attract plenty of attention from now on.”

“That won’t be bad for me, right?”

“Only if you find raking in money to be troublesome.”

I gave a wry smile.

If that was supposed to be a joke, he could’ve at least smiled while saying it.

‘Either way, this means I’ve achieved the goal I had when I first became a contractor.’

Making my name known, so I could contact Greenwood directly.

I no longer needed to cling to that as my only route, but the sense of accomplishment was still there.

‘And money—there’s never enough.’

After all, I was just another resident struggling to survive in this city.

Without even a house to my name, securing a steady income was a top priority.

If I could start taking on private contracts, the scale of income would change drastically.

“Now that your skills are verified, you deserve the proper treatment. Next time you come, I’ll have a contract ready.”

I understood immediately what that meant.

Not just a choice of jobs, but a broker-arranged private contract.

“Already? Wasn’t it just the other day you said private contracts were above my pay grade?”

“All that matters are results. In fact, being a rookie is a bonus. Few newcomers can boast of felling both a dark sorcerer and a Quadrapple unit.”

In truth, even back-alley thugs strutted around calling themselves contractors.

On the surface, brokers looked like the ones in charge, but the true authority lay with skilled contractors.

They had to secure talent before rivals—whether other brokers or mercenary groups—snatched them away.

He wouldn’t treat me the same way as before, not after this.

And that wasn’t all.

‘From here on, my range of operations will widen.’

This wasn’t just bounty hunting anymore.

Private contracts were tied deep into the city’s inner workings.

The kind of jobs you avoided if you valued your life.

But they promised greater wealth and fame—and I needed both.

‘If even a Quadrapple commander is tied up in this, then it’s certain the circuits carved into the spirit cocoons are deeply linked with Centrim.’

The number one corporation, Centrim, obviously had its claws deep in the city’s core.

And there was no way to get close with just an ordinary identity.

Gaining fame as a contractor was the fastest route.

“Any type of job you prefer? I can keep it in mind when I pick out contracts.”

I answered without hesitation.

“Something involving a megacorp.”

“So, even after taking all those odd jobs from small groups, you’re drawn to the money after all.”

At last, Cromwell laughed.

For someone with real skill, I’d been frustratingly picky, sticking to jobs from tiny organizations.

But with corporate jobs, money was the defining difference.

Now that he had a way to handle me, of course he’d be pleased.

‘Let him think what he likes.’

I didn’t deny it.

I did need money.

But that was only a side goal.

‘Through corporate contracts, I’ll work my way closer to Centrim.’

I picked up a newspaper from the counter and opened it.

The headline and photo on the front page caught my eye.

「Centrim’s Crown Prince Returns in Glory After Concluding Accord With the City of Winter!」

A young man with sharp, blade-like features.

His tailored suit was crisp, his confident smile radiating self-assurance.

My eyes narrowed.

“‘Centrim’s Crown Prince’—that’s exactly right. Since he took the reins, Centrim’s influence has risen even further.”

I quickly recalled the main storyline of FP in my head.

The megacorps, holding the city’s capital, played huge roles in the scenarios.

And this man was among them.

“It’d be wise to aim for a level where you can meet him.”

“I was thinking the same.”

Our words aligned, but the meaning behind them could not have been more different.

‘If there’s a mastermind pulling strings behind Centrim, it has to be him.’

Damian Grahaim—he was the one destined to lead Centrim’s story in the main scenario.

Gellerg City, 2nd District.

The aristocrats’ street, open only to the chosen few, was the opposite of the noisy roads of the 3rd District and below.

Airships, the pinnacle of magitech, cut long contrails across the sky.

Trains spewing compressed steam ran along rails connecting towers and skyscrapers.

On the roads, only the latest corporate models worth hundreds of millions drove.

Among them, one car was utterly unique—the only one of its kind in the world.

On its hood stood the sculpture of a unicorn.

It was a vehicle granted to just one man by Centrim, the greatest company in Gellerg City.

“Sir, urgent news.”

Inside the quiet car, the secretary’s uneasy voice broke the silence.

“Delippersy’s production factory has been destroyed.”

“……”

The young man staring blankly out the window slid his gaze to the passenger seat.

“Didn’t Quadrapple provide support for that facility?”

“Cole Camish and his security team were wiped out.”

“……”

After a brief silence, Damian Grahaim asked, “And who was he?”

“A werebeast.”

“Ah. That mutt.”

Damian nodded indifferently.

That was the extent of his concern for Cole Camish.

“I wonder whose handiwork it was.”

“They say the contract was issued by an environmental group, carried out by a contractor and a small band of mercenaries.”

“As long as it wasn’t a rival corp, that’s fine. Delippersy must’ve had its enemies. More importantly—what about the sample?”

“It was supposed to be recovered with the corpse, but…”

“Make sure it’s retrieved without a scratch. That’s something this company’s fate rests on.”

“…There’s something I must report about that.”

“What is it?”

The secretary’s lips worked silently before she finally spoke.

“They say recovery failed.”

“……”

At that, Damian rose from his seat.

“Explain in detail.”

“The field team reported they couldn’t determine if it was lost to circuit overload and disintegration, or if the enemy recovered it instead.”

“The main research division gave up on even scratching that thing. No way it simply melted from overload. And if contact was made, the algorithm should have switched hosts automatically.”

“…I’ll find the cause as quickly as possible.”

“Two weeks.”

Damian’s cold gaze bore down on his secretary.

“Bring me results by then.”

“……”

“Unless you’d like to lose your head.”

“…I’ll prepare a full report for your review.”

At that chilling warning, the secretary trembled, face drained pale.

No matter how elite his career path, before Centrim’s number one figure he was nothing more than a pebble on the roadside.

“I’ve already bent the haughty city councilors to my will to get this far. Soon this city will rest in my palm. Do everything you can to ensure no pathetic interference gets in the way.”

“Yes, sir!”

Hearing the resolute reply, Damian turned back to the window.

The scenery was familiar, almost meaningless in its repetition.

But to him, it was always new.

For one day, all of it would be his.

I wrapped up my conversation with Cromwell and returned to the hotel.

I still had business with the Drexier Mercenaries’ office, but exhaustion was hitting hard.

I’d already told Hella I’d come by in three days, so until then, rest.

I also had to examine the system messages more closely.

I grabbed the doorknob to my room.

Whoosh!

A steel pipe stopped right in front of my face, making my heart lurch.

“Oh—it’s you, mister.”

“…What the hell was that?”

“Security measures.”

Sage said it casually, lowering the pipe.

So, her idea was to bash heads first and ask questions later.

Old-fashioned, brutal—but undeniably effective.

“Nothing happened while I was out?”

“Yes. I behaved. Didn’t cause trouble.”

I glanced at the red smear on the end of the pipe, then looked away.

If she said so, then fine.

“How’s your progress in magic?”

“I’ve gone through all the basics in the book you gave me.”

“Well done.”

“…I haven’t gotten into applications yet, though.”

“Just mastering the basics is impressive enough.”

Even if it was just a cheap primer sold in the markets, the content was still arcane.

Comprehending it without a teacher? That was real talent.

“And thanks to you, things went smoother.”

“What do you mean?”

“Enchanting. It was a huge help.”

“…Really?”

“I meant it when I said you’re impressive.”

That a novice magician, barely past the basics, could engrave an enchantment that worked against a werebeast—beyond extraordinary.

“I’m glad I could help.”

Sage’s cheeks flushed as she finally accepted the praise.

“So… that means I can stay here, right?”

It wasn’t just happiness from being praised.

She was mindful of the deal I’d made—help in exchange for staying.

“Even if you hadn’t helped, I wouldn’t have kicked you out.”

Honestly, tossing the burden of enchanting onto a rookie magician with no formal training was shameless of me.

The only reason I dared was because I believed in the potential she’d grow into.

“You wouldn’t have kicked me out—you would’ve sold me.”

“No. I invested because of what I see in your future.”

“…And what exactly do you see?”

“Talent always stands out on its own.”

Sage looked unconvinced, brows furrowed.

That was fine.

Even if she didn’t believe it, I was sure.

“So, I don’t need to show off like this?”

“…?”

She manifested magic.

A breeze stirred out of nowhere, growing cooler until it dried the sweat clinging to my skin.

The wind element—adjusting temperature and humidity.

It might have felt like nothing more than a refreshing breeze, but the formulas and theories behind it were hardly simple.

Still, it felt strangely familiar.

‘Air conditioning?’

Exactly that.

When the spell ended, Sage panted, looking up at me with hopeful eyes.

“Y-you must’ve been hot, coming in from outside…”

She was so drained she was gasping.

Had she really just burned her energy to prove her usefulness?

It was nice, but…

I scratched my chin, then pressed the switch on the actual air conditioner.

“If you were hot, you should’ve just turned this on.”

“…!”

Sage’s face collapsed like the sky had fallen.

Maybe I should’ve been teaching her common sense instead of magic.

“I’m useless…”

“Don’t be disappointed. Outside, it’ll come in handy.”

“…In a factory?”

“I told you—you’re not going there.”

That was paranoia, plain and simple.

“Even if you do go somewhere, it’ll be somewhere else.”

Her attempt may have been silly, but considering the difficulty of what she’d done, there was no underrating it.

She was every bit the future Tower Master in the making.

“Somewhere else? Where?”

“The Tower.”

Late though she had been in joining, she’d still risen to prominence.

Now that I’d seen proof her talent wasn’t a lie, I had reason to expect even more growth at this earlier stage.

‘But I’m not the one to teach her.’

My line of work didn’t allow me to spend all day as her instructor.

And teaching was its own field altogether.

All I could do was plant seeds of knowledge, and she’d have to figure out the rest herself.

That wasn’t education—just tracing a path she was already destined to walk.

‘If I’m going to raise her, I might as well raise her properly.’

At the very least, she should reach Tower Master. Anything less was a waste.

“The Tower…?”

“You know of it, don’t you?”

Sage couldn’t even speak—just nodded.

She hadn’t known about air conditioners, but the Tower, yes.

“Me? At the Tower?”

What she needed now wasn’t lengthy arguments or explanations.

It was certainty.

“With your talent, you’re more than qualified.”

“…”

Sage stared blankly into space.

I could see her picturing herself at the Tower.

She quickly shook her head to deny it—but it was already written.

She was destined to pass, even through self-study.

With just a little push from me, she’d do even better.

‘But without connections, life at the Tower will be harsh.’

For all its prestige, the Tower was still a place run by people.

Networking often outweighed raw skill.

Her title as the “Lotus Blooming in the Mud” was both praise and mockery: a nod to her slum origins, but also a jab at the Tower’s hypocrisy in favoring pedigree over merit.

‘Besides, I’ll need access to the Tower library soon.’

The greatest repository of knowledge in the city.

I’d once searched there about the World Tree—and I’d need it again.

I reviewed the system messages that had appeared.

「The World Tree has fulfilled some conditions to grow into a Sacred Tree!」

「Conditions met: Sufficient affinity with nature, awakened spirits」

「Fulfill the final condition for the World Tree’s growth!」

「Condition lacking: The Endless Spring」

(End of Chapter)