The first group of five players in line presented their applications to Victor.

  “Esteemed Headmaster, my friends and I would like to open a tabletop gaming troupe! We only need about one hundred square meters. I think it will be a hit for rolepl—”

  “A tabletop gaming troupe?” If you want to play a tabletop game, just log out and play; there’s no need to do it in the game. Victor’s eyebrow twitched as he tried to act oblivious to the term and replied, “Rejected. Next.”

  “Sir! I think the academy needs a BBQ restaurant! There’s so much exotic meat we can procure from the forest, and we can make all kinds of delicacies—”

  “For catering, go to the market on the east side. Next.”

  “Carnivorous plants! Headmaster, I want to set up a carnivorous plant greenhouse! The area doesn’t need to be too big at first—only about one thousand square meters will do! We can feed our enemies to them and grow plants that can protect us.”

  Hmm… It’s quite feasible. Although the idea was rather absurd, there was indeed some practicality to it when he thought about Graviel and the others’ fate when they crossed the valley that he named the “Valley of Chaos.” But if that was the case, then it would be better to develop the valley itself. That way, it would protect them from afar while preventing any mishaps from happening on academy grounds.

  With that in mind, Victor shook his head and explained, “I can’t grant permission for this, but I have something similar in mind. I will give you a task when the time comes.”

  “Oh, okay.” The player walked away with a mixed expression.

  The applications continued on like this. Most of the applications were outright outrageous, with only a few aligning with the concept of a workshop; notable mentions included a sewing workshop, a paper mill workshop, and a furniture workshop. Well, they couldn’t really be blamed since the definition of workshop itself didn’t always relate to production and was often just about a group collaborating on a particular project. So, it was understandable.

  But even though Victor wouldn’t lose anything by allowing players to open a tabletop gaming troupe, selling piss, setting up a BBQ restaurant, performing magic shows, opening cafés, bars, strip clubs, massage parlors, and whatever else, these ventures wouldn’t benefit the academy meaningfully. It would just be a waste of space. Rather than making these players waste time doing random stuff, it would be more beneficial to channel their efforts into more productive endeavors.

  Was it really so hard to understand what he and the academy needed?

  It wasn’t difficult at all!

  He decided he’d let Lizbeth handle rejecting any weird workshops and business projects that did not align with the academy’s needs or violated public order and good customs. Still, Victor was getting sick of hearing the same requests repeatedly, and he found himself mechanically rejecting any application that seemed the slightest bit unusual at first glance.

  “I—”

  “Rejected,” Victor cut him off, barely glancing up from his application.

  “But I haven’t even said what workshop I want to create…” The player with the ID “ButaYaarou” looked on the verge of tears.

  Victor inwardly sighed. “Fine, say it quickly.”

  “I want to open an opera house! About five hundred square meters should be enough! I think everyone would love to watch an opera once in a—”

  “Rejected!”

  “But… But I want to open an opera house like Opera Epiclese…”

  “Next.” Victor ignored the crestfallen look on ButaYaarou’s face.

  By doing this, it wasn’t that long before the line dispersed. Quite a few did come up with reasonable proposals that he accepted and gave them forty to fifty square meters to establish their workshops. Other than that, there was actually one application that particularly intrigued Victor—an application to build a magician power plant.

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  This concept was almost unheard of in this world, at least in a conventional way. The idea was good and, depending on the type and rank of the magician, could potentially produce a massive amount of energy that could rival a nuclear power plant. Most Magi, however, were too prideful to use their power for what they considered mundane tasks, viewing it as beneath them to produce energy for commoners or those they regarded as lower life forms. But this mindset posed no problem when it came to players, who were willing to undertake such labor without hesitation as long as they were paid money and merit points.

  The only problem was that this energy would be quite useless at the current stage of the academy’s development. None of the industries in the academy used electricity, and anything that involved high usage of energy was easily fueled with mana crystals. Without a clear, immediate application for this magical energy, Victor had to reject the proposal while telling the player that they might reapply in the future when the academy’s infrastructure could better accommodate and benefit from such a power source.

  What was surprising for Victor was Aphrodite.

  He had expected this guy would open a chemical workshop or a weapon workshop and expand his current production, but he never expected to see “Pandora Pyre” as the workshop name. Aphrodite even gathered four or five like-minded players to join him. As for the scope of business, he wrote “alchemical weapons” on it.

  “Your application can be approved,” said Victor, “but you need to specify the exact production projects, such as what weapons you want to produce and their intended uses. All of that information must be clearly detailed.”

  Chemistry and alchemy were vastly different fields. The former was grounded in science, while the latter was based on magical knowledge. Potioneering was only a small part of alchemy, as alchemy encompassed a wide range of practices, including golem making, magic weapon enchantment, and more. Victor was aware that Aphrodite was a chemist on Earth, but creating alchemical weapons without the necessary magical knowledge would be like a monkey tinkering with advanced machinery.

  Aphrodite scratched his head, then said, “Sir Astralium, that’s what we’re trying to figure out by making this workshop. How about this: We’ll manufacture chemical weapons while we try to develop an alchemical product?”

  Victor considered the proposal for a moment. It seemed reasonable enough.

  “All right then. But you must provide at least one viable chemical product and ensure it can be used effectively and has a willing customer. Once you have that, it can serve as your main product. If you invent any alchemical products later, just register them with my assistant. I need to make sure that every piece of the industrial zone I approve is being used for something beneficial to the academy. Do you understand what I mean?”

  Aphrodite nodded enthusiastically. “Understood! Hehe, I will rewrite the application right away!”

  Victor hoped Aphrodite truly grasped the importance of his words. He didn’t mind the idea of him conducting strange experiments, as that was the very core of being a Magus, but he still hoped that he would not do something reckless and negatively impact other players or the academy.

  He had heard that Aphrodite had already managed to create gunpowder and various complex weapons, such as automatic crossbows and primitive cannons. There were also orders for flammable liquids and other chemical materials in the warehouse missions. His ventures had all been very profitable.

  “But I feel like his workshop should be arranged at the corner of the industrial zone,” Victor murmured. “Otherwise, I’d worry about him blowing up surrounding workshops.” He made a mental note of this for when he would assign the land later.

  With all that settled, the line of players finally dispersed, and Victor slumped his shoulders, letting out a long sigh of relief. Now that there were no longer players bugging him about the workshop feature, he could refocus his attention on preparing for the upcoming duel.

  Actually, these players remind me of something.

  Victor thought about his plan to develop a breathing technique that would give players the option to become Ki-Warriors. He had extracted knowledge of various breathing techniques from Rowan and some of the stronger mercenaries after the 0.5 update, but constructing a perfect breathing technique suitable for both the players and himself from a pool of low-level techniques was proving to be quite challenging even with hundreds of high-end computers and a software cheat fairy.

  Magi were beings who transcended ordinary mortals, and their constitutions were far from weak. But when it came to facing magical beasts of the same rank, they were almost always at a disadvantage in terms of pure physical strength. Then what would happen if Victor had to face an even tougher mechanical golem toe-to-toe?

  He would get wrecked, 100 percent!

  The thought of it made him shudder. While he had yet to know the nature of the overseers’ true bodies, they would certainly not be weak. Developing a breathing technique to enhance physical prowess wouldn’t just be nice-to-have—it was becoming a necessity.

  “But the question is how…” Victor mulled it over for a moment before a light bulb switched on in his head. “That’s it! I just have to substitute with meditation techniques.”

  That was to say, by incorporating elements from meditation techniques, the breathing technique he created would be more compatible with Magi and could even enhance the individuals’ infused mana. Moreover, it would grant the user the advantage of a stronger physical body, making it a win-win situation overall.

  Why hadn’t I thought of that sooner? I sure am a genius!

  Well, theorizing was one thing; executing it was another. He just had to test this approach and determine its feasibility. With renewed determination, Victor rushed back to his office to share his new idea with his trusted fairy.