In the Sky Fortress, the olfactory baseline had always been sweat, rotting hide, and the sour reek of open sewers. But today, a strange, slightly fatty aroma laced with a refreshing tang was drifting from the new chemical plant, which was, in reality, just a few hastily assembled large cauldrons.
“What is this? An alchemy potion?”
Lyn covered her nose, leaning curiously over a massive mixing vat. Inside, a milky white, viscous paste was cooling and solidifying.
I wore rubber gloves, gently stirring the mixture with a long wooden paddle. “In my world, we call this Soap.”
In this wasteland, cleanliness was a luxury. Commoners scrubbed with sand; nobles occasionally used expensive incense to mask body odor. But I knew that hygiene was the first line of defense against epidemics—and the most intuitive marker distinguishing a ‘barbarian’ from a ‘civilized person’.
The raw materials were simple: massive amounts of lipids scraped from mutated boars, combined with lye extracted from wood ash, and a bit of crushed mint leaves for deodorizing.
“This is what we’re going to sell?” Lyn touched a bit of the paste suspiciously. “This thing can be exchanged for money?”
“It can be exchanged for something more important than money—Dignity.”
I handed her a cut square of the finished product. “Go try it. You’ll understand once you wash.”
***
Afternoon. The Labor Camp.
Conflict erupted. It wasn’t an armed rebellion, but a standoff regarding ‘Caloric Eligibility’.
According to the [Merit Points System] I had established, the communal pot was gone. Supplies were now exchanged for points earned through labor. For the old aristocracy, who were used to ‘distribution by bloodline’, this was an unbearable humiliation.
“I won’t do it!”
I saw a portly Cat-kin—a former noble—throw his shovel to the ground. Around him gathered a dozen other troublemakers, a mix of Cat-kin and Wolf-kin prisoners who refused to work.
“I am of noble blood! My grandfather was the Captain of the Guard for the late King!”
The Baron pointed a trembling finger at Brad, who was distributing food. “You expect me to shovel the sewers like these lowly slaves? This is a trampling of glory!”
Brad crossed his massive arms, blocking the cafeteria entrance like a brick wall. His expression was simple but immovable. “Who does not work, shall not eat. I don’t care who your grandfather was.”
“I want to see the Queen! This is the Outworlder’s conspiracy! He is humiliating us!” The Baron began to incite the crowd. “We should restore the old ways! Distribute the grain to the nobles!”
The crowd began to act restlessly.
I started to step forward, but stopped. I saw a silver shadow.
Shing!
A broken blade embedded itself in the concrete, exactly one centimeter from the Baron’s toe. The metal hummed with kinetic energy.
Zayla walked slowly out of the shadows. The cold killing intent radiating from her silenced the noisy camp instantly.
“You wanted to see me?” Zayla walked up to the Baron, her golden vertical pupils looking down indifferently at this former ‘subject’.
“Your... Your Majesty!” The Baron immediately knelt, weeping. “That Outworlder is abusing us! He makes us do menial work...”
“He is rebuilding my city,” Zayla interrupted coldly. “And what are you doing? Complaining?”
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She pulled the broken blade from the ground and looked around.
“In Skyreach, there are no old nobles. There are only Builders and Parasites. Alex gave you a way to live. If you want to leave...”
Zayla turned the blade, pointing it toward the wasteland outside the walls.
“Then get out. Go tell the mutated beasts about your noble bloodline. See if they refrain from eating you because your grandfather was a Guard Captain.”
The Baron trembled, collapsing to the ground.
“Take him away,” Zayla sheathed her blade. “Deduct three days of points. Assign him to the septic tanks.”
Suppression complete. No blood was shed, yet it was more chilling than violence. The Queen’s attitude stated everything: The Old Era was over.
I watched from the corner. She wasn’t just a warrior anymore; she was becoming a true ruler.
***
Dusk. The Public Bathhouse.
The first batch of soap was distributed.
As the debut item in the ‘Points Store’, every laborer could exchange one day’s worth of points for a bar.
At first, everyone was hesitant. But when a bold Raccoon-kin miner came out after a wash, the entire camp boiled over.
The guy, usually as dirty as a mud monkey, now radiated a faint scent of mint. His fur was fluffy and smooth, reflecting the light of the setting sun. He walked through the crowd, head held high, as if wearing an invisible tuxedo.
“It’s a miracle! It washed away the smell of dead skin!”
“I want one! I want two! One for my wife!”
The resentment accumulated from forced labor miraculously dissipated in that moment.
Everyone scrambled toward the store. Even the laziest Wolf-kin prisoners, desperate to wash away the smell of blood and lice, began to ask frantically: “How are points calculated tomorrow? If I dig an extra cart of coal, can I get another ‘Fragrant Brick’?”
I stood on the high ground, watching the lively scene below.
“See that?” I said to Lyn beside me. “That is the magic of industrialization. It works better than swords.”
Lyn was playing with a bar of soap in her hands. She had already secretly used it and was currently smelling her own tail with satisfaction.
“Fine, you win.” Lyn’s fox eyes darted around, instantly switching to merchant mode. “What’s the cost of this? If we sell it on the black market...”
“The cost is negligible. But out there, it can sell for the price of gold.”
I pushed up my glasses. “This is just step one. Next, we’re going to make something even more transparent—Glass.”
Nightfall.
In the command room, a crude map was spread out on the table.
I circled a point in the south on the map. “Soap is good, but here it only trades for points. We need real currency, and rarer materials—specifically, the Float-stones required to make the city airborne.”
I looked up at the three people around the table: Zayla cleaning her blade, Lyn counting imaginary money, and Brad testing a crossbow mechanism.
“It's time to see what's out there,” I said with a smile. “No army, no expedition force. Just the four of us.”
“Where to?” Brad asked excitedly.
“Here.”
My finger tapped heavily on the marker—Rustwater Port.
“We go there to sell soap, buy out their black market, and... take a vacation.”
“However,” I added, “before the vacation, we need to ensure our base won’t be stolen.”
Sky Fortress entered a state of unprecedented activity. Zayla gathered the remaining Cat-kin priestess, Ayla, and the surrendered Wolf-kin Centurion, handing over temporary command with extreme gravity. The defensive line she carved onto the map with her broken blade made the Wolf Centurion hold his breath in fear.
Lyn, meanwhile, looked ready to empty the warehouse. She directed workers to pack crates of fresh soap into shock-absorbent hay, muttering, “This is all money. If anyone breaks a bar, I’m deducting their dinner!”
And I dove headfirst into the Goblin Workshop.
“Walking to Rustwater is too slow, and the roads are full of mutated beasts.”
I slammed a blueprint filled with complex mechanical structures onto the table in front of Sarak, the Chief Goblin Engineer.
“We need a vehicle. A mobile fortress that can crush ice, ram through bandits, and let us sleep soundly inside.”
Sarak looked at the blueprints, her green eyes lighting up instantly.
“Ten days? Boss, you are exploiting child labor! ...But, I love this challenge! Drag that Wolf siege engine chassis over here! We’re building something big!”
Question of the Day: What should be the primary feature of Alex's new vehicle?
(Click to choose)
?? A) Overwhelming Firepower.
Result: Mount a Steam Cannon. Subtlety is optional.
?? B) Luxury Living Quarters.
Result: Hot showers and soft beds. Morale is a resource, too.
?? C) Ramming Speed & Durability.
Result: Spikes and Armor plating. Physics says: F=ma. Let's maximize 'm' and 'a'.
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