Workshop F-37.

Colin stood before the massive steel doors. He took a deep breath before raising his hand and swiping his identification card to request access.

He was here to pick up the second shipment.

The apprentices hounding Vera for their orders were about to tear their service center apart. Allen had sent a message yesterday saying the goods were ready, so Colin had rushed over first thing this morning.

Colin strode inside. The scene before him was a novel sight; this was his first time stepping into his boss’s workshop.

Inside the vast workshop, six "Workhorse" Mechanical Bodies with uniform paint jobs were bustling about methodically at their stations, like diligent worker bees.

The launcher on the chest of the Steel Golem on the assembly platform was bigger than two of his heads put together. ’My small frame probably couldn’t take a single blast from that,’ he thought.

Colin gulped subconsciously.

The "New West" service center he and Vera ran was quite famous now, with people coming and going every day and a constant stream of revenue.

But compared to the assets within this Steel Kingdom before him, it was on a completely different level.

"The goods are in Area A. Ten units. Count them yourself."

Allen’s voice drifted over from a distance; he hadn’t even shown his face.

Colin snapped back to his senses and hurried to Area A. He saw ten sealed boxes—the basic model of the "Spider Slayer." Allen had even thoughtfully designed packaging and a user manual.

He checked them over. The quantity was correct.

’Is this... an Alchemy Wizard?’

’A single person can support an entire armory.’

’He can make ten Spider Slayers in one night, for a net profit of 1,200 Magic Stones.’

While he and Vera were still smug about their monthly profit of a few thousand Magic Stones, Allen was already here, converting his manufacturing power directly into Magic Stones.

The disparity made him incredibly envious, and he began to doubt whether his own path in a Witchcraft School had any future.

"Boss... I... I’ll be leaving now," Colin called out in Allen’s direction, completely lacking the self-awareness of an Advanced Apprentice.

...

In the office area, Allen didn’t notice Colin’s departure.

His three thought-threads were processing different tasks simultaneously.

One was optimizing the Rune Array for the upgraded version of "Shadow Travel," another was devising a cost-reduction plan for mass-producing the PX-1, while his main consciousness was browsing the formal letter he had just received from Master Mercer.

The letter was magically encrypted, its contents concise and to the point.

Allen Wesren:

Regarding your application for advanced training, I have approved it.

You will serve as my disciple, fighting for me in the ’Molten Iron Mountain Range’ plane in exchange for knowledge and remuneration.

Please report to the ’Molten Iron Mountain Range’ plane on your own in one and a half months.

As for your reward:

One, I will grant you access to a portion of my personal technical database, which you can purchase from using Magic Stones.

Two, a territory of approximately eighty thousand square kilometers will be designated as your jurisdictional war zone. For twenty years, you will receive eighty percent of all output from this region.

Three, you will be granted the right to learn the three Core Witchcraft spells required for promotion to Second-level Wizard, at a cost of 8,000 Low-Level Magic Stones each.

Your obligation is to defend and begin developing the resources of your war zone within twenty years.

Finally, a word of warning.

This place is not the academy’s greenhouse. Death is the norm here. Your theories and your creations must be tested in the true fires of war.

—Mercer Iron Star

Allen read the entire letter carefully.

His [Mechanical Mind] made it difficult for him to feel excitement, but the processing speed of his three thought-threads instantly surged to their absolute maximum.

Risk, reward, time cost, opportunity cost... countless data points collided and intertwined within his Sea of Consciousness.

’Go to war, break new ground! Forge a future with my own two hands!’

Allen closed the letter and stood up from his chair.

He glanced at the message from Eleanor on his personal terminal.

’It seems that before I go see my master, I need to pay a visit to my "creditor."’

...

「Administrative Center of the Academy, Second Floor of the White Tower.」

It was the same office, with the same massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the entire academy plaza.

But the atmosphere was completely different.

"Please, have a seat, Mr. Wesren."

Eleanor personally pulled out the chair opposite her desk for Allen. The smile on her face was no longer a formulaic business smile, but one filled with genuine warmth.

She no longer addressed him as "Weisren Apprentice."

"Lady Eleanor," Allen said calmly as he sat down.

"Congratulations, Mr. Wesren."

Eleanor sat back down in her seat, leaning forward slightly with her hands clasped on the desk. "To be promoted to a First-level Wizard in such a short time... your potential has once again exceeded our assessment."

Her words were filled with undisguised admiration.

"I believe it’s time we changed the nature of our partnership."

Eleanor tapped her finger lightly on the desktop, and a screen of light materialized between them.

"During the time you were undergoing your promotion, your ’Spider Slayer’ caught our attention in the Apprentice Market. According to our market analysis, it precisely targets the security needs of the apprentice consumer group, filling a gap in the market."

"And your butler Mechanical Body, ’Ah Fu,’ has already become a new social trend among the apprentice circles of the Wizard Clans."

"A successful product can bring immense prestige and wealth to its creator. And you, Mr. Wesren, already possess the ability to create a series of successful products."

"You should know, business acumen and personal power are not necessarily related. We have very high hopes for you."

Eleanor’s pace was unhurried, but every word she spoke was critical.

"You are no longer a potential stock that needs our support. You, yourself, are now a prime asset that is appreciating at high speed."

She finally delivered the most crucial line.

"Congratulations, Mr. Wesren. According to the association’s latest assessment, your ’valuation’ has multiplied several dozen times."

Allen remained internally unfazed.

’Valuation? Just an ethereal, meaningless number.’

He was more concerned with what cards this shrewd investment manager would play next.

"For prime assets, the association is always happy to provide more comprehensive value-added services to ensure... a long-term, healthy partnership," Eleanor said with a flawless smile.

’From a simple debtor-creditor relationship to "strategic partners."’

’This Lady Eleanor knows very well that simply pressuring a Wizard with infinite potential is a poor strategy.’

’Guiding him to proactively bind his interests with the association’s is the superior play.’

"What do I need to give in return?" Allen asked directly.

"Not give, cooperate," Eleanor corrected. "The association can provide you with a platform, one countless times vaster than the Apprentice Market."

She waved her hand, and the image on the light screen changed to a Star Map.

"These are the hundreds of material planes controlled by the Gate of Truth, as well as the fringe worlds we are currently exploring and developing. These worlds have countless intelligent life forms, bizarre and varied civilizations, and naturally, endless demand."

"In the academy, your Mechanical Bodies can only be sold to apprentices. But through the association’s channels, you can sell them to Wizards engaged in planar wars, to mining planes in need of cheap labor, and even to the kings and nobles of native civilizations!"

"Just think about it, Mr. Wesren! A hundred orders could earn you ten thousand Magic Stones. What about ten thousand orders? A hundred thousand? The sum would be astronomical!"

Eleanor’s voice was full of beguiling temptation.

She was painting a magnificent commercial blueprint for Allen.

She firmly believed that no Alchemy Wizard could refuse the temptation of having their creations spread across countless planes.

"The price is that all my products must be sold exclusively through the association’s channels, correct?" Allen cut straight to the point.

"And the association will take a channel fee, and I’ll probably have to meet your monthly production quotas?"

The smile on Eleanor’s face stiffened for a moment, but it quickly returned to normal.

"Mr. Wesren, you truly are a natural-born genius."

She admitted frankly, "But this isn’t exploitation; it’s a win-win situation. Channels, logistics, public relations, promotion... the association will handle all of that. You only need to focus on what you do best—research and creation."

She paused for a moment, adding emphasis to her tone.

"Moreover, as a strategic partner, your interest-free loan of fifty thousand Magic Stones can be immediately converted into our ’first round of investment’ in you, which you will not have to repay. We will also add another one hundred thousand Magic Stones in R&D funding to help you expand your production scale."

’One hundred and fifty thousand Magic Stones.’

’To buy out the entire productive capacity of an Alchemy Wizard with a potentially limitless future.’

’What a shrewd calculation.’

Allen’s multiple minds spun furiously.

The association’s proposal was like a beautifully wrapped poison apple.

If he accepted, he could instantly solve all his financial problems. Backed by a great power, he could rapidly push his "products" throughout the entire Wizarding World and achieve explosive capital growth.

But the price was that he would be completely bound to the association’s war chariot. His sales channels, his customer base, and even his future research and development direction would be profoundly influenced by the association.

He would become a rich and successful "product manager," but he would also be reduced to a supplier buried in a factory.

’If this business really takes off, will I still be able to maintain my original passion for learning and research amidst a sea of wealth?’

But Master Mercer’s proposal was another path entirely.

It was a path full of thorns and fire, one that required him to fight and forge ahead with his own hands.

He would have absolute autonomy; all technology, all resources, and all armies would be under his own control.

He would learn to become a true "warlord" and "lord."

Two paths lay before him.

"So, what do you think?" Eleanor’s voice was confident. "This agreement is the association’s greatest acknowledgment of your talent. We believe that on our platform, you will be able to grow even faster."

Allen fell silent for a moment.

The analysis from DSeek was already in: accepting this agreement was the choice with the lowest risk and most stable returns at present.

But...

In his mind, the image of the mountain range plane described by Master Mercer surfaced.

"The contract is very generous. I can feel the association’s sincerity."

Allen looked up, meeting Eleanor’s gaze. "However, just this morning, my master, Lord Mercer Iron Star, also made me a proposal."

"Oh?" Eleanor raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued.

"My master hopes that I will go to the ’Molten Iron Mountain Range’ plane where he is stationed for a period of ’advanced training.’"

Eleanor’s expression instantly became a little complicated.

Of course, she knew who Mercer Iron Star was. He was the "Lord of Forging Fire," the most formidable figure in the Black Tower of the Forge, a ruthless character who had made a great name for himself in wars against other planes.

’Go there for "advanced training"?’

’That’s not advanced training, that’s going to war!’

"I understand."

To Allen’s surprise, Eleanor didn’t try to dissuade him. Instead, her expression was one of approval.

"A towering tree cannot grow in a greenhouse. Although the association can provide the best resources, true powerhouses are all forged in blood and fire. This is your opportunity."