This time, Ray had finally decided to leave the comfort of home and step into the world beyond, seeking talent with a clear vision in mind. The evolution of his matrix had granted him a rare gift—he could now see people's names, levels, and innate talents at a glance. A hidden interface only he could perceive shimmered faintly before his eyes, revealing truths no one else could.
But not all truths were accessible yet.
He still couldn't see his mother's talent or grade—it was veiled in golden stage cultivation, a realm he hadn't reached. For that, he needed to step onto the silver stage, a milestone he was steadily inching toward. Until then, she remained a mystery to his evolving perception.
Determined and focused, Ray spent the past week with tireless hands, crafting thousands of mini turrets and wristwatches, each device humming with quiet potential. He worked alone in the quiet forge, the clinking of metal and soft whir of gears echoing under the low, smoky light. After a full week of effort, he finally handed over ten thousand wristwatches to his mother, the light in her eyes unreadable. Another ten thousand were set aside for Alicia, the third concubine of the king.
In the midst of this, Ray wasn't idle in learning.
He explored the art of sword intent, dabbling into the control of it through sword force. He longed to reach the Apprentice Stage of Sword Force, but the threshold eluded him. Despite his best efforts, the intangible wall between him and that next level held firm. Still, he learned silver stage formations from his mother, absorbing them like parched earth drinking rain. But his soul cultivation—his most guarded secret—remained hidden from everyone. Because of this secrecy, he didn't learn any advanced talisman crafting from Selene. He didn't mind. Not yet.
With new goals in mind, Ray approached his father for permission to visit each of his subordinate estates to recruit talent—not for politics, but for his vision of a future built on technology and knowledge.
Robert, his father, listened with eyes that gleamed faintly in understanding. With a slow nod and a soft chuckle, he gave his blessing. "Do whatever you want," he said simply.
Ray smiled, his path clearer than ever.
When Diana, sharp as ever, heard of Ray's plan, she tilted her head, her eyes curious.
"Do you have an interest in taking the Walker family inheritance?" she asked, her tone deceptively casual.
Ray didn't even blink.
"No."
It was firm. Final.
He had no hunger for thrones or the politics that danced around them. His ambition was set elsewhere. He wanted builders, thinkers, and creators—people who could help shape a new world of technology and the internet. For that, he needed educated minds, and the noble families held the best crop of unused, overlooked talent.
Diana's expression sharpened. "Why would you want people already under the control of the other wives' children of Robert?"
Ray laughed softly, a glimmer of irony in his eyes.
"I'm not after barons or viscounts to vote for me," he said, voice casual yet firm. "I'm after talent. So of course, I'll aim for their children. I want those who are willing to work for me, not for the Walker family. I have no interest in inheriting Father's position."
That made Diana chuckle. She had asked out of curiosity, but deep down, she had already guessed his answer. It was so very Ray.
And so, Ray set out.
His first stop was the estate of a baron, who greeted him in a sun-drenched courtyard, letter from Robert already in hand. Formalities were exchanged, but there was a stiffness in the Baron's demeanor.
"So, what brings you here?" the Baron asked, eyebrows lifting.
"I'm looking for talent," Ray replied plainly. "I want to recruit people who catch my eye."
The Baron's smile faltered, awkward. "They all follow John Walker," he said, referring to Roxanne's eldest son. "I can't just hand people over."
Ray gave a quiet chuckle, eyes glinting with patience.
"I'm not here to steal core members or those serving my brother. I'm looking for people you aren't paying attention to—those whose dreams you've dismissed, the ones you refuse to support. If I find any of them worthy and they're willing to follow me, I'll take care of everything—food, lodging, purpose. If not... then it's not their lucky day."
The Baron relented, intrigued. He summoned several overlooked individuals—young men and women with quiet eyes and dreams they rarely spoke aloud. Some came out of mere curiosity, others out of desperation to escape their invisible chains.
One by one, they demonstrated their talents. Magic flared. Swords flashed. Combat forms danced through the air—but none of it stirred Ray. His expression remained politely unreadable.
Then, she stepped forward.
A woman in her thirties, hair loosely tied, hands stained with charcoal and pigment. She sat quietly and began to draw, her fingers moving like whispers over the canvas.
The room held its breath.
What emerged was breathtaking—a portrait not just of a face, but of emotion. Life shimmered in the lines. Depth whispered from the eyes she had drawn.
Ray's gaze sharpened. Finally—interest.
The Baron snorted, clearly unimpressed. "She just draws."
But Ray stepped forward.
"She's the one I want," he said simply.
The whispers around the hall grew. Finally, someone had been picked. The chosen individual was not a warrior. Not a mage. A painter.
And suddenly, they understood.
Ray wasn't looking for power—he was looking for potential. Creativity. The unusual. He was assembling a puzzle no one else could see.
After speaking privately with the woman—who was still blinking in disbelief—Ray made his offer.
"Would you like to become a famous painter? I'll fund your work, your tools, and your living. But you'll need to move. I've got land, and when the homes are ready, you'll live there. Until then, stay here. Prepare yourself."
Her eyes welled with tears—she nodded. Hope, long buried, rose again.
Word spread like wildfire.
Ray moved from estate to estate, repeating the same routine. He chose dancers whose feet sang against the floor, singers whose voices stilled the air, and storytellers who could paint worlds with words. Sculptors, weavers, philosophers, lovers of books, odd inventors with peculiar machines, beautiful women, and handsome men who could charm a room with a glance or laugh.
Everywhere he went, confusion and curiosity bloomed.
What was Ray building?
The answer was spreading: Ray Walker was collecting those with unusual hobbies and talents, and he would pay them and care for them.
Soon, he was being invited to the homes of barons, counts, viscounts, earls, and even dukes. Nobles who had once dismissed him now opened their doors eagerly, hoping he would select their discarded or peculiar kin.
Ray agreed—but only under one condition: his mother would accompany him.
She did. And as she watched with her own eyes, she couldn't believe the rumors were true. Ray had gathered hundreds of talented individuals, each one handpicked with purpose.
Finally, Diana turned to him, her voice soft with curiosity.
"Why are you collecting people like them?"
Ray gave his usual chuckle, a spark of mischief in his eyes.
"These are the people who will become the main leads in the world I'm building—a world of television and internet. They'll become famous. They were bored, forgotten, or shackled. But now, I'll give them the stage they deserve."
With his plans in motion, Ray turned his focus toward the next step.
He would visit the inventors. See their progress. Guide them.
The modern world was coming—and he would be the one to bring it.
But slowly. Carefully. Until the day he stood tall on the golden stage, strong enough to protect this new world he was shaping.
For now, he was just in the iron stage—but vision, not strength, was what separated pioneers from the rest.
And Ray's vision was only just beginning to unfold.