The simplified mechanical body Felix designed didn't demand high physical attributes from its operator. Its requirements were significantly lower than those of a full-bodied suit. Certain areas were deliberately left unarmored, and the suit itself sacrificed some energy storage in exchange for improved mobility and responsiveness. However, this proposal had been rejected by the Colombian military.
Deemed a failed prototype, it was discarded—but Felix had negotiated with the military for independent development rights. The military had little interest in failed designs from scientists. As far as they were concerned, what those researchers did with their discarded work was of no concern.
Compared to the diligent Hart siblings, Feist worked with visible enthusiasm. Felix could see his passion for mechanical engineering—it radiated from him, unmistakable in the brightness of his eyes.
"Teacher Felix, I have a few questions about this mecha," Feist said, eyes gleaming as though he truly saw Felix as a university professor. "I don't quite understand the material choice, and… why isn't the mecha attached to the body like traditional iron plate armor?"
Felix propped his chin with one hand and stood upright. Even without a lab coat, he exuded the air of a seasoned academic.
"First, you need to understand the mechanical properties of materials," he began, "such as elastic modulus and yield strength. These are essential to ensure the structure is both durable and flexible."
Feist looked slightly embarrassed. While he had received basic education, it was clear that he had never encountered the kind of theory Felix was now explaining. His knowledge was rooted in hands-on work—practical, but not academic.
"The elastic modulus determines how much a material can elastically deform under force," Felix continued, "while the yield strength is the point where deformation becomes permanent. In mecha design, we strike a balance between elasticity and plasticity—so that the suit can bend under pressure without losing its structural integrity."
Seeing the troubled expression on Feist's face, Felix chuckled softly and added, "I'll give you some introductory mechanical engineering textbooks later."
"Thank you so much!" Feist bowed deeply. With those textbooks, he could begin studying on his own and better understand Felix's lessons.
"Now, let's talk about materials you're more familiar with. Common mecha materials include high-strength alloys, composite materials, and nanomaterials. High-strength alloys form the skeleton and key structural components—they're strong and corrosion-resistant. Composite materials blend different substances to achieve both strength and lightness. Nanomaterials, through microstructural control, can offer even greater durability and resilience."
The Hart siblings had looked up as well, their eyes fixed on Felix as he lectured with ease. In that moment, the messy workshop transformed into a classroom of knowledge. Felix stood at the front like a professor behind a podium—glasses perched on his nose, even if they had no prescription—and three attentive students sat before him.
"When selecting materials, we must consider the intended purpose of the mecha, the expected stress conditions, and the overall cost," Felix continued. "Sometimes, a hybrid material solution is best—leveraging the strengths of various materials. As for flexibility, the design needs to include flexible joints and connectors, allowing the mecha to adapt freely to a range of environments—be it heavy rain, storms, or natural disasters."
He smiled at the Hart siblings, then turned to Feist, whose eyes shone brightly. There was something different in his gaze now—a glimmer of respect that hadn't been there before.
"If you're interested," Felix said, "feel free to borrow learning materials from me anytime." Then he clapped his hands and turned to all three apprentices. "Alright, kids—get to work. This is a mission from the Earl himself, and I'd rather not get on his bad side."
The Hart siblings responded right away, obedient and focused. Feist, despite being called a "kid," didn't mind in the slightest. After all, when faced with such knowledge and expertise, it was only natural to consider Felix a true teacher—worthy of being addressed as one by any student.
---
Over the past two days, Degenbrecher had taken Mandragora on a thorough tour of Londinium. Though the city was heavily industrialized and lacked the scenic attractions Mandragora might have imagined, it still left a deep impression.
Watching the smoke rising from the chimneys in the factory district, Degenbrecher sighed. "If the boss hadn't gone to Trimount first, he would've definitely chosen to live here."
Mandragora nodded in agreement. She had grown close to Brother Felix while in the factory. She had witnessed firsthand his genuine love for craftsmen—and had committed it to heart.
"Mandragora, what exactly happened during the banquet that night?" Degenbrecher asked suddenly.
"Huh?" Mandragora looked at her in surprise.
Degenbrecher gave a faint smile. "You seemed a little distracted when you came back. Something happen?"
Mandragora remembered Sister Degenbrecher's courage and meticulousness that night. Without hesitation, she recounted the little "adventure" she had experienced.
"Peeping? In the attic where the maids rest?"
Degenbrecher folded her arms, frowning slightly. "Mandragora… did you sense any hostility?"
Since their time together, Degenbrecher had always taken Mandragora along for physical training. As a Caster, Mandragora needed to be able to defend herself—or at least flee if danger struck. During their lessons, Degenbrecher occasionally shared stories of her own experiences from the battlefields of Kazimierz. Among those lessons were the concepts of aura and killing intent.
Though she didn't hold Mandragora and Senomi to high combat standards, she had worked hard to train them in sensing malice and intent.
Learning to recognize when one is being watched—or targeted—is something the two girls needed to master. They couldn't always live under Felix's protection. One day, they would stand before him, clearing the path ahead.
Mandragora recalled the moment carefully and slowly shook her head. "There was only a feeling of being watched… no hostility."
"A normal maid wouldn't do that," Degenbrecher said quietly.
When someone's gaze lingers too long on another, the latter will inevitably feel it—that subtle sense of being watched. It happens in any public place, a silent alarm that goes off deep within. Ordinary eye contact won't trigger this "sixth sense," but sustained attention often does.
"I found two strands of hair… I don't know if they belonged to the peeper. One was blond, the other a lighter shade of blond…"
Degenbrecher's brow arched slightly. "Seems like Lord Bolton's dinner party wasn't quite as peaceful as it appeared."
She gently took Mandragora's hand. "Let's go."
Mandragora nodded, offering no protest as she followed Sister Degenbrecher without a word.
---
While the two strolled away at a measured pace, elsewhere, the players were far less relaxed. Dandao Dantart and Magic ZX, accompanied by several high-level members of the strategy group, had made their way to Norport Borough—the slums of Londinium. Their initial goal was simple: complete an errand quest. But after finishing it, they found themselves hopelessly lost in the maze-like alleys.
"Damn, this slum is impossible to navigate," Dandao Dantart groaned, clutching his head. "Way worse than the Trimount slums."
"The ones in Trimount are still kind of... bourgeois," another added. "This place? Feels straight out of Steampunk."
"Eh… it's not White Album season yet, is it?" someone muttered.
"It's a metaphor, man. Still, what do we do now? We're completely lost."
Magic ZX shut his eyes dramatically, sighing as he recited with flair, "Ah↗ Ah↘… if only Xiao Xuegao were here. Her secondary class as a scribe could've helped us map the way back."
"We could just ask for directions…"
There was no shame in that. The group wandered into a nearby tavern, putting on friendly smiles as they approached the locals to ask how to get out.
The tavern owner gave them a glance. Their clothes were decent—clearly not from the area—but nothing too extravagant. Deciding not to make things difficult, he offered a few directions. However, many of the local drinkers lounging nearby looked up from their mugs with predatory eyes. To them, the players looked like fresh, fat prey.
Once the group exited the tavern, several local gang members also rose and slipped out behind them.
Gangs in Londinium were a far cry from the refined, power-structured families of Siracusa. Here, gangs were loose collectives formed around shared goals—usually petty or violent. Turf wars were common, and their laws were nothing but survival of the fittest. Where Siracusan families valued elegance and collective interests, Londinium gangs were reckless, chaotic, and ruled by brute force.
Soon enough, Dandao Dantart, Magic ZX, and their companions were surrounded by a group of hostile NPCs. Rather than panic, however, their response was… excitement.
"Heh. Finally, some poor fools picked the wrong target," Dandao Dantart said with a grin. Drawing his long blade, he stood firm, posture casual, brows raised in silent mockery of the thugs before him. "Honestly, I've been itching for a fight these past few days."
"My sword's been thirsty for a while now!"
"Haha! Even if I go down, I'll just respawn. Bring it on."
Without a hint of concern, Magic ZX discreetly laid several traps at his feet, hidden among the crowd.
The gangsters exchanged glances, visibly irritated. Were all foreigners this arrogant nowadays? Did they think the daggers in their hands weren't sharp enough? Just a few moves and they were already acting drunk?
"Get them!"
In the narrow alley, several high-level players engaged in battle with the thugs. These gangsters weren't particularly strong—the highest level among them barely reached 25. To the veteran players, they were little more than playthings. Dandao Dantart still hadn't moved after drawing his blade.
"Dandao Dantart, swing your damn sword already!" Magic ZX barked as he rolled behind his teammate, a fresh gash on his arm courtesy of a dagger swipe. Seeing his comrade standing there, doing nothing, ignited his fury. "You forget how to fight just because it's been a few days?!"
"I'm gathering energy—wait a sec," Dandao Dantart replied, cheeks flushed. He glared at the two thugs in front of him. "Come on then! Hit me! Hit me!"
Was there really such a generous offer?
The gangsters didn't hesitate, charging forward and slashing wildly. Deep cuts soon opened up across Dandao Dantart's chest and arms, blood trickling down steadily.
Magic ZX was dumbfounded. Did this guy eat something bad? Why was he just standing there, taking hits?
"—Heaven's Gate Cleaver!"
With a furious shout, Dandao Dantart's blade gleamed brightly. He roared as he swung it forward in one mighty arc.
A brilliant wave of sword energy surged down the alley, slamming into the gangsters. Pain ripped through their bodies as they dropped to the ground screaming, fresh wounds blooming across their chests and abdomens.
"...What kind of skill was that?" Magic ZX stared, wide-eyed. So that's what the guy had been preparing for this whole time?
But… was it worth it?
Dandao Dantart dropped to one knee, gasping for air as he leaned heavily on his sword. "Damn… first time using the Liberator secondary class. Looks better than I expected…"
"Better?" Magic ZX wiped the sweat from his brow. "You stood there charging for a full minute and thirty seconds... That's pushing it."
"Uh…"
Dandao Dantart gave a sheepish laugh. "Well, my proficiency's still low, okay? Just wait till I level up—I'll be firing off hundreds of sword slashes at once."
"Bullshit."
Everyone present thought he was just talking big.
They were about to move forward along the alley, but then stopped abruptly.
At the far end of the alley, several figures were blocking the way.
All of them carried weapons—and none of them looked like they were there to negotiate.
"Not bad," the leader said, clapping slowly. "You seem pretty capable. Even though you stole our prey, I've got to hand it to you for taking out a few punks from the Glasgow Gang."
She had striking long white hair that caught the eyes of every passing player. Her golden eyes evoked memories of the Pioneer, and the scar across her nose gave her the unmistakable presence of someone deeply entrenched in gang life.
"As outsiders, you're wandering around the Norport Borough... Haven't any of you died yet?" The white-haired, golden-eyed girl scoffed when the players failed to respond. "Name's Indra. I owe you one. I'll buy you a drink—got the guts to come?"
The players exchanged puzzled glances. What was happening?
Magic ZX quickly picked up on it. This looked like the start of a quest. Though he couldn't tell if it would become a chain quest, the NPC in front of him—though attractive—clearly didn't hold a candle to the Pioneer in his heart.
"What should we do, Mr. ZX?"
"She doesn't seem hostile. So... why not go have a drink?"
As soon as those words were spoken, the players visibly perked up. Indra, pleased with their cheerful acceptance, led them through the winding streets and narrow alleys of the Norport Borough.
Magic ZX kept a close eye on his surroundings, noting the way different gangs had carved out territories throughout the district. In some ways, it really did resemble Siracusa, where he and Dandao Dantart had previously stayed. The difference was that, in Siracusa, families fought over control of an entire mobile city. Here, the gangs were scrapping for just a street or two.
"Where's Big Sis?"
"No clue. Probably got into a fight with someone on one of the streets again?"