Chapter 397 - 386: Long-Term Mission
Chapter 397: Chapter 386: Long-Term Mission
Another half a year passed.
The sea breeze on the Great Library Plane was still gentle, and the small building at E-071 Deep Blue Residence remained as tranquil as ever under the cover of its warning array.
Inside the study, Allen leaned back in his chair, his fingertips swiping across a light screen. A report submitted by Colin displayed the rapid development of Weisren Heavy Industry over the past six months.
Thanks to the completion of the second-phase expansion plan for Cybertron Workshop, fifteen automated production lines were running at full capacity. Coupled with deepened cooperation with several merchant guilds in Hub City, the monthly net profit of the three business divisions had steadily surpassed eight million Low-Level Magic Stones.
Calculated according to his equity, the funds flowing into Allen’s personal account each month were close to five million, which was more profitable than running over twenty mines simultaneously on the Molten Iron Mountain Range Plane.
Six months of accumulation had pushed Allen’s account balance past the forty million mark.
However, Allen’s gaze fell on another column in his personal information.
[Current Credit Points: 28.5]
For the past six months, he had been like a relentless order-fulfilling machine, clearing out every single D-rank and C-rank order on the Association’s production mission list.
Even so, due to the massive expense of acquiring knowledge and technical data, this was all he had left after half a year.
Although the problems of cultivation and production expansion were solved, a new one had now presented itself.
"Credit Points... I still have too few," Allen sighed softly.
Magic Stones could only buy commodities, but Credit Points could be exchanged for the future.
Whether it was unlocking the true core technology of the "Puppet" project or paving the way for his promotion to a Morning Star, the deficit of tens of thousands of Credit Points was like an insurmountable mountain.
Relying solely on D-rank and C-rank production missions for initial accumulation was simply too inefficient.
He opened the mission center and scrolled past the lucrative B-rank combat missions, his gaze not lingering.
Those missions were either too time-consuming and demanding, or they came with special requirements.
His eyes finally settled on a mission in the list that had been posted for three months with no takers.
[Mission ID: LT-007 | Type: Long-Term Station/Defense | Poster: Anonymous | Eligibility: Assessment required, Alchemy Wizards prioritized]
[Details: Travel to the designated plane, "Mora," and protect the "Aiselan Kingdom" from the periodic invasions of special, high-risk demons.]
[Duration: Thirty years. Renewable upon completion.]
[Reward: 300 Credit Points and 30,000 Mid-Level Magic Stones annually.]
Credit Points a year!
The number made Allen’s pupils contract slightly.
If he took this one mission, he would have a total of nine thousand Credit Points after thirty years—enough to purchase more than half of the knowledge on DSeek’s short-term and long-term goal lists.
But such a generous reward surely concealed a commensurate level of risk.
The mission description was vague; the phrases "special, high-risk demons" and "periodic invasions" were full of uncertainty.
But the prospect of a stable income of Credit Points for thirty years was still tempting to Allen.
He extracted the mission data, quickly compiled a self-assessment report, and scheduled an appointment with Eleanor.
...
Administration Building, seventeenth floor.
Eleanor leafed through the report Allen had submitted.
"You want to take that long-term station mission?" she asked, looking up with a sharp gaze.
"The reward is generous and stable, which suits my current needs," Allen replied in a steady tone.
Eleanor leaned back in her chair and lit a long, thin stick of revitalizing incense.
Her voice drifted through the swirling smoke. "Initially, this mission wasn’t restricted to any particular school. That changed half a year ago, when the previous person assigned to it died there."
A flicker of movement in Allen’s eyes.
"Maurice, a Level 2 from the Witchcraft School, was proficient in large-scale destructive Witchcraft. He lasted five years on that plane before being besieged and killed."
Eleanor exhaled a puff of white smoke. "That’s why the poster amended the conditions to only accept Alchemy Wizards. When facing that number of special magical beasts, an individual’s Magic Power will eventually be depleted trying to protect an entire kingdom. Only tireless, non-living things can possibly hold all the defensive lines."
She pushed the report back to Allen. "Your workshop and Golem Legion are indeed well-suited for this kind of positional warfare. The Association won’t stop you as long as you have the strength, but on a personal note, let me give you a piece of advice—"
Eleanor leaned forward, fixing her gaze on Allen’s eyes. "Just complete the mission. Sometimes, the less you know, the longer you live. This is especially true for anonymously posted missions. The waters run deep."
Allen understood completely.
Posted anonymously. This meant the client didn’t want to reveal their identity. It could be a high-ranking member of the Association or some clandestine entity with deep ties to it.
Maurice’s death probably wasn’t as simple as ’resisting a demon invasion’ either.
"I understand. Thank you for the warning," Allen said with a nod, not pressing for more details.
An anonymous client, a predecessor killed in action, and Eleanor’s warning. Piecing these three things together, it was clear there was more to this mission than met the eye.
But Allen couldn’t give up on such a stable, long-term source of Credit Points.
Leaving the administration building, he stepped out into the high noon of the Great Library Plane.
Sunlight pierced through the clouds, spilling onto the white stone-paved plaza. Just as Allen descended the steps, a figure blocked his path.
It was a tall, thin Wizard dressed in a black Wizard Robe. The emblem on his chest bore the deep blue Mithril pattern of a Second-level Wizard, and next to it was a gear-shaped insignia representing an Alchemy School.
Allen recognized the insignia. It was the symbol of "Mechanical Gears," a small circle of Alchemy Wizards within the Association that had once invited him to join.
"Allen Wesren?" The tall, thin Wizard’s tone was scrutinizing. His gaze swept over the EX-2071 identification number on Allen’s chest, his eyes turning cold.
"That’s me," Allen replied calmly.
"My name is Bark," the tall, thin Wizard introduced himself. "A gear from the Hand of Artifice. The name ’Weisren Heavy Industry’ has been making quite a stir in the Myriad Worlds Mall lately, hasn’t it?"
Allen’s eyebrow twitched slightly. ’Here it comes.’
His own low-cost golems had the biggest impact on wizards like this one, who relied on traditional, artisanal workshop models to sell high-priced, custom-made golems.
"Just a small business," Allen said lightly.
Bark let out an ambiguous chuckle. "A small business? Your ’small business’ has already caused several of my clients to cancel their orders. Young man, the golem business has its own rules. Not just anyone can come in and take a slice of the pie."
His words carried an undisguised warning.
"All of my business is conducted within the Association’s regulatory framework, and I’ve paid the full channel service fees to the Association as well."
Allen’s tone was completely unflustered. "If Lord Bark believes there is a problem with my business methods, he can file a complaint with the Association’s Supervisory Department."
’Trying to pressure me with the unwritten rules of your little circle?’
’Then what was the point of me joining the Association?’
Bark’s expression darkened. He hadn’t expected this young-looking newcomer to be so utterly intractable.
"Very well," he said, staring at Allen and speaking slowly. "I hope your ’rules’ can protect you forever."
With that, Bark turned and left, leaving only his back in view.
Allen stood his ground, watching him go without a single change in his expression.
「Back at Deep Blue Residence.」
Allen closed the main door and went directly into the Meditation Room.
He paid no mind to Bark’s threat; what truly concerned him was the upcoming mission.
Eleanor had already approved the self-assessment report he submitted for the mission, giving him three months to prepare.
The fact that a Second-level Wizard like Maurice had been worn down and killed proved that the intensity of the war there was not to be underestimated.
"Jarvis," Allen said in a deep voice.
"Here, Commander."
"Immediately adjust the production schedule for Cybertron Workshop. Transfer all subsequent production tasks to the golem workshops in Hub City. Concentrate all resources, energy, and computing power, and switch to a war footing."
"Build ten new standard Golem Legions, fifty Demon Eyes, one Gabriel, and one Cyclops."
[Based on current production capacity and material procurement cycles, the estimated production time is two and a half months, at a cost of approximately 30 million.]
"Execute," Allen commanded.
Inside the half-plane, fifteen automated production lines roared to life in a deafening chorus, and the Earth Vein Magic Furnace erupted with a blinding blue light. An unprecedented industrial storm had begun within Cybertron.