"Forget about my ancestor’s old record," Moth thought to himself, a sentint he was currently broadcasting to the Hescos leadership. "Even if he managed to get himself into the Top 20 list, it would still be a remarkable achievent for a human!"
The Hescos’ higher-ups were locked in a fierce debate. They saw in Hye’s ambition sothing worthy of absolute support, yet they harboured a deep fear: the "Newcor’s Setback."
They didn’t want a talent like Hye—soone from a weak and unprepared race—to reach the battlefield, fail to achieve the impossible imdiately, and fall into dejection.
Many leaders expressed worry that if Hye didn’t hit the top spot, he would think the Hescos had fooled or tricked him regarding the difficulty. To prevent such a misunderstanding, they began tailoring a tiered reward system based on the final rank he achieved on the Monolith.
Hye hadn’t anticipated the sheer scale of the opportunity before him. As he sat across from the representative of the sovereign race, he found himself entirely consud by the mountain of data Moth had provided.
These weren’t just simple inventory sheets; they were blueprints for the future of a civilisation. Hye knew this was a golden, perhaps once-in-a-lifeti chance, and he was far too pragmatic to rely solely on his own judgnt.
He moved with digital precision, forwarding the massive lists to every corner of his high command. He tasked his friends and commanders to scrutinise every entry, urging them to identify anything—no matter how obscure—that could fortify their position.
He even sent a comprehensive copy to Old Gan, the cantankerous heart of his research departnt. Hye’s instructions were clear: find every deal that could push their technological and magical boundaries.
Whether it was rare elental resources, forbidden secrets, forgotten techniques, or even the acquisition of specialised races known for their brilliant intellects, Hye was willing to trade everything he had to secure them. In his mind, there was no price too high for the survival of his people.
The atmosphere in the room was stifling. Two n sat across from one another, locked in a profound, heavy silence that stretched for hours. Not a single word was exchanged as they both navigated their respective interfaces. To an outsider, it might have looked like a stalemate, but it was a silent war of calculation.
"We have reached a decision," Moth finally said, breaking the quiet after six long hours. He raised his head, his eyes reflecting the blue light of the holographic contract he was manifesting. "We have prepared a formal agreent that outlines the paraters of our partnership moving forward."
"Oh? Let’s see what you’ve co up with," Hye replied, though his mind was still partially elsewhere. He was still monitoring his communications, waiting for the final reports from his most vital subordinates.
He had already received the tactical assessnts from his generals and the wishlist from his frontline friends, but four key voices were still missing: Karoline, Lily, Old Gan, and the Lady Nymph.
This wasn’t just a list of friends; these were the pillars of his nascent empire. Karoline was the engine of his kingdom, managing the nightmare of logistics, resource allocation, and supply chains.
She was the one who ensured that when a wall needed to be built, the stones were there, and when a soldier needed a blade, the steel was ready. Her departnt was responsible for the literal construction of the kingdom’s future.
Lily, his vice and the supervisor of the kingdom’s internal health, was his second set of eyes. She had an uncanny ability to find the cracks in his plans, filling the gaps that others missed. Her feedback was the final safety check on any major move Hye made.
Then there was Old Gan. The old man had spent months grumbling about the impossible workload placed on the research departnt.
Hye knew the complaints were valid—they were trying to reverse-engineer an apocalypse with a handful of scholars—but he had lacked the ans to help them.
Until now. This list represented the ultimate toy chest for a man like Gan, and Hye was intensely curious to see how the old researcher would weaponise this opportunity.
Lastly, the Lady Nymph. Having spent her previous life navigating the cutthroat world of the rchant guilds, she was his most trusted advisor on long-term value.
While others looked for imdiate power, she looked for the goods that would be essential ten years down the line. She was also vetting the lists for anything that could bolster their clandestine pirate forces—a deniable asset that Hye valued more with each passing day.
"This..." Hye’s voice trailed off as he began to scan the docunt Moth had transmitted. He couldn’t hide his genuine surprise. "You tailored the entire compensation package based on my ranking on the leaderboard? You’ve made it a sliding scale."
Moth cleared his throat, a sound that seed to carry the weight of a thousand diplomatic compromises. He wanted to emphasise the supposed generosity of the move. "Consider it a gesture of good faith from us. We want you to see exactly how much we value your potential assistance in the trials to co."
"I see," Hye sighed, leaning back in his chair. He looked at the tiered rewards—the better he perford on the outer battlefield, the more resources they would unlock. It was a classic carrot-and-stick manoeuvre. "I appreciate the flexibility, but... it feels like you don’t actually believe I can reach the top."
Moth opened his mouth to confirm that suspicion—to tell him plainly that the milestones Hye was aiming for were statistically impossible for a human. But the words died in his throat when he t Hye’s gaze. There was a cold, iron-willed intensity in the human’s eyes that made the sovereign representative hesitate.
Instead, Moth cleared his throat again, adopting a more defensive tone. "We have known the outer battlefield for a very long ti. We know it far better than you do," he began, trying to soften the blow.
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