People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

She boldly fired a direct question, inquiring about Levi's race and identity, only to receive a counter-question. Eleanor, the young apprentice Dario brought along, had also asked Levi the same question, presumably suspecting he was an Agorian?

But Kal'tsit didn't think so either, because the Argol race had an arrogance that lingered like the smell of fish. Having grown up on the legacy of a previous civilization, they were so ignorant that it was laughable. Compared to them, even Duke Kester was a pleasant sight.

At least the Duke of Caesar was polite most of the time, while the Agorians would remove the mouth before cooking.

It's hard and smelly.

Levi's identity remains an undeniable mystery. Kal'tsit has no idea where Ernst found him, nor what changes his appearance will bring to Terra. But overall, Levi hasn't quite reached Kal'tsit's "red line," which is comparable to sensitive skin.

She hoped that the Terrans could gradually progress to a point where they could accept the truth without touching the legacy of the previous civilization, and then use that legacy to achieve a transformation and survive the crisis. As for Levi, although he did behave very much like a human from the previous civilization, he was indeed using Terran technology.

Kal'tsit would try every means to get rid of those who wanted to use firearms to kill people in the era of fire-making by friction, but if someone actually made a crude firearm out of wood and stone, she wouldn't stop them.

Therefore, her answer to Levy's question was:

"I'm sorry, this is a trade secret."

"Can't you name a price?" Levi pointed at Ernst, then at himself, implying that he had money and Ernst could make up the difference if needed.

Ernst waved his hand.

I have no money, don't look at me.

But Kal'tsit just smiled and shook her head: "Not for sale."

“Alright.” Levy shrugged. “I’ll make one like it sooner or later. Your thing actually has self-awareness and seems to be able to communicate. That’s a good research direction.”

Levi stroked his chin: "But is it really a good thing to give tools self-awareness? I always feel that this research direction will create a lot of uncertainty, don't you think, Ernst?"

Ernst's mind flashed through many movies and novels about the Omnic Crisis, as well as the intelligent AI event chain in the later stages of Stellaris. That event chain was the one Ernst found most disgusting—a rebellion that halved the size of a planet in one fell swoop. For Ernst, who liked to plan for a planet to focus on a single resource, it was practically the end of the world. If Alloy Planet had been destroyed, he wouldn't have been able to recover for a long time. It forced him to stop investing in intelligent AI technology altogether afterward.

Therefore, under Kal'tsit's gaze, he nodded in deep agreement.

Now it's Kal'tsit's turn to be caught off guard.

He really couldn't figure out whether Levy's words were implying something.

Could I have really misjudged him? No, Levi certainly doesn't have any characteristics of pre-civilized humans.

But no matter how you look at it, these words seem to be dissing her.

After all, to some extent, she could be considered a "runaway servant" in the eyes of the people of the previous civilization.

If she lacked intellectual intelligence and only prioritized orders without thinking for herself, she would never have been able to stuff the unearthed Doctor back into the sarcophagus. Going back a few decades, Kal'tsit had worked with Mark Max and also knew the location of the Preservator. If she had gone to see the Preservator hundreds or thousands of years earlier, before the sarcophagi there ran out of energy, and helped the Preservator open the thousands of sarcophagi, then who knows what would be on Terra now?

That's why she's called Kal'tsit, not ama-10.

Kal'tsit was somewhat surprised and uncertain, but Ernst hadn't come to discuss the Omnic Crisis. He had sought out Kal'tsit to verify the issues surrounding the three major crises.

"Kal'tsit, the Demon Crisis, I got some information from you last time. The Sealing Crisis, I also got some information from Miss Elene. Now only the Originium Crisis remains."

"Do you have any idea?"

What's the clue?

I feel like you're dancing on my sensitive skin.

What does the Originium Crisis mean? Need I say more? Can you guess why Originium has such immense power? Can you guess why, in the Sarkaz prophecy, Originium and the Black Crown [the survival of civilization] are considered two iconic items for enslaving all things and controlling the earth? Can you guess what's inside Originium?

Kal'tsit rubbed her temples, a slight headache on her face, and after a struggle, managed to answer:

"I do not know."

Ernst raised an eyebrow, somewhat suspicious: "Is it that you don't know, or that you know but can't say?"

Kal'tsit sighed: "I don't know if I can say."

"Is there anything you can't say?"

"This involves some unspeakable issues that could have unknown, uncontrollable, and unpredictable impacts on the current development of Terra. It could also lead to a sudden shift in existing policies, causing structural turmoil or even collapse in various aspects of the country's economy, politics, and culture. This could trigger a series of problems that we do not want to see and therefore need to avoid as much as possible. I hope you can understand and sympathize with my difficulties. Based on this, if you do not want to see the future of Terra experience unknown problems that we cannot foresee and cannot prevent, and if you want to maintain the current good state of Shelag, I suggest you stop asking questions."

Ernst: "......?"

"so?"

Kal'tsit (Marco's long face): "Don't ask anymore, don't ask anymore."

Ernst shrugged, puzzled.

Kal'tsit was unwilling to talk, and he couldn't very well tie her up and force her to answer.

"Alright then, in that case, I have nothing else to say."

Ernst extended the invitation with some disappointment.

"Remember to come to the closing ceremony on time."

Kal'tsit wiped the sweat from her forehead and forced a smile: "Definitely, definitely."

P.S.: School starts again in the blink of an eye. Suddenly I'll be busy again. And it just so happens to be getting colder these past few days, so guys, please make sure to keep warm. I'm freezing! I had a fever yesterday, and it's still running today. I even had an injection, but the fever hasn't gone down. I've been on IV drips and taking medicine, and I haven't eaten a single bite today. I'm so miserable, and my throat hurts too. I feel just like I did when I was sick. And this is still at home; I imagine it'll be even worse at school. Health is the foundation of everything, so guys, please take care of yourselves.

Chapter 309 The Ruthless Mandra: Tara Wants to Fight!

Mandela had mixed feelings.

She accompanied Rafishini and Ahmoni as part of the Duke of Wellington's delegation to Shelag, supposedly to monitor Rafishini, the imposter "leader," but for some reason, her situation seems to be getting increasingly strange.

Why am I wearing this green lace-trimmed maid outfit? Why do I have to run up and down the office building during the day, serving tea and water, and then clean Ahmoni's room at night when I get back to my place?

Why should I go to a construction site to work and use my Originium Arts to help with mortar work and building? I am a warrior of the Deeppool! I should be on the front lines of the Tara people's resistance against Victoria's colonial exploitation! How can I waste my years and my talents in Kjerag?

No, this isn't normal!

"Mandela, what are you standing there for? We need your help to finish this. Come on over here."

On the construction site, Nasti's voice came. The director of Rhine Labs walked unhurriedly to Mandela's side, accompanied by a burly but strangely shaped tin man and a short little Dulin.

Mandela recognized the girl, Dulin, Miloš Bendalini, a young girl from Colombia who had come to Sherag to look for work. She was shorter than him, and her youthful face made him wonder if she was even an adult yet.

I heard that she caused quite a stir as soon as she arrived in Shelag. Apparently, she went to a large company called Kalan Trading to find someone, which led to a high-ranking executive from Kalan Trading, who was on a business trip, being despised by the entire company for deceiving a young girl into becoming a child laborer. Although the matter was eventually prevented from escalating thanks to Miloki's self-affirmation that "I am an adult! I am not a child anymore" and Ernst's hasty clarification, it still became a topic of conversation among the workers who were bragging on the Shelag construction site.

But honestly, is this kid really an adult? He doesn't look like one at all. Are all people from Dulin like this?

Mandela's gaze lingered on the Dulin girl for a moment before slowly shifting to the tin man who was clearly more eye-catching.

"This is?"

“Safar, you can consider him one of my kind,” Nasti casually introduced.

Mandela was silent for a moment, her gaze sweeping back and forth between the beautiful banshee, Sister Tumu, and the certain tin can, before finally exclaiming incredulously at the wonders of biology:

"You Sarkaz are really weirdos."

These tin cans and Nasti are actually from the same race? Mandra suddenly felt that the Durin people were just naturally short and cute, which didn't seem so hard to accept.

However, her thoughtless words were quite hurtful. Although Safar no longer had a heart, he still vaguely felt: "Power reactor, it hurts."

Nasti rolled her eyes. After dealing with Mandela for several months, she had long since gotten used to the latter's tendency to speak without thinking and without considering the consequences.

Well, it's not entirely fair to say she's completely used to it. Nastie's temper isn't as good as one might imagine. The employees in Rhine Life's engineering department have certainly been scolded by her quite a bit. However, Nastie is very tolerant of Mandela.

After all, she sensed a familiar power emanating from Mandra. The child's Originium Arts originated from a familiar Sarkaz tribe, one of the royal courts, the Stonewing Demons.

Nasti is a solitary banshee. If it really came down to a fight, she might not even give face to the banshee queen. She has absolutely no interest in the mess that is the royal court. But as for the Stonewing Demon, Nasti is more than happy to have him and is tossing and turning in bed with him!

There's no other reason than that the Stone Wing Demons, or rather, the Sons of Earth and Stone, are all innate Earth and Wood Saint Bodies!

With their participation, Nasti's Sky City project's success rate could increase by a full 10%!

Don't be fooled by the fact that it's only one layer, which may seem small. This has a much higher probability of success than other events that increase the chances of success, such as "waiting for a Terran material revolution," "waiting for global unity," or "waiting for the Sarkaz to stop fighting amongst themselves and unite against external threats!"

Nasti really wanted to know about the Stonewing Demon tribe through Mandra, but Mandra was unwilling to say. She wasn't in a hurry, anyway, the old ones couldn't be caught... cough cough, if the old ones couldn't be found, the young ones were here, weren't they?

Since they were all Ernst's workers, and Nast was a foreman, it was perfectly reasonable for her to borrow them.

She would borrow even if she felt uneasy about it.

Her purpose in coming here was to borrow Mandela's services:

"Never mind that, Mandela, come with me quickly, there's a place where we need your Originium Arts help."

"Where?" Mandela instinctively rolled up her sleeves and asked. But as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized something was wrong.

No, no, why should I answer? I'm a Tara warrior, not a worker in Sherag. I have to work... oops! I have to fight!

I've fought for Tara, I've shed blood for the Deep Pool! I'm going to find Princess Abrahana! I know Princess Abrahana is here too! It's all because of this lousy job; I haven't even had a chance to report to Princess Abrahana yet!

Hmm... hiss...

Thinking about it carefully, I think I'll pass on the work report. I don't seem to have anything to report, and Princess Abrahana probably wouldn't like to hear about the daily life on the construction site.

But that doesn't stop me from seeing Princess Abrahana. It's been so long; she must be very worried about me! As the leader's top warrior, I, Mandra, absolutely cannot let him down!

Mandela's gaze sharpened, and she was about to refuse:

"I--"

As soon as she spoke, Nastya, who had seen this look countless times, realized what Mandela wanted to say.

What, you don't want to work anymore? You want to rest? You want to take a leave of absence?

On this construction site, even I, the foreman, can take leave, but you absolutely cannot!

Not to mention that the Sky City project, which hasn't even started yet, needs you, right now, our second simulation test stand also needs you for the first isolation layer breaching experiment that is about to begin on the Matterhorn!

If Ernst hadn't gritted his teeth and said, "You're a foreign envoy, not his employee, so it's inconvenient to sell you directly," I would have already packaged you up and brought you back to Rhine Life!

Nasti frowned, her expression hardened, she hardened her heart, gritted her teeth, and said:

"For this project, I'll give you a personal reward of 100,000 Columbia Gold Certificates! You don't need to tell Ernst, okay?"

"Ten...one hundred thousand?"

Mandela was about to say something when a single sentence choked her back. She opened her mouth, but couldn't utter a word.

What does 100,000 Colombian gold vouchers mean? Mandela had never received that much money before.

Born a street urchin, she and her childhood friend were inspired by Leader Abrahana to join the Tara Restoration Movement, "Deeppool." Although she rose through the ranks to a leadership position using skills learned in the graveyard, she never truly lived a wealthy life. She poured all her money, not only into Deeppool's funds but also into the organization, buying herself a new outfit and a new staff. It could be said that she dedicated herself entirely to this movement.

Now that 100,000 yuan is right in front of her, it's impossible for her not to be tempted.

With this money, she could improve the lives of her Tara warriors, provide funds for Princess Abrahana, and solve problems for the organization!

Mandela had no sense of self. But having no sense of self doesn't mean she didn't need money.

I've been in Shelag for so long and haven't accomplished anything. If I could bring some money to see her, at least the leader would take a second look at me, right?

After a moment's hesitation, Mandela said:

"Sure, but could you wait a moment? I'd like to go to the Shelag Hotel first."

"A hotel? What are you going there for?"

Nastya found it strange, but then she remembered Ernst's words and exclaimed in surprise,

"Are you really a special envoy?"

Mandela: "........"

She didn't know how to respond. What, so I never seemed like a special envoy?

But didn't even that woman Ahmoni say that I was wearing an outfit that was unique in all of Sherag? And wasn't my ability to freely enter and leave the office building to see Ernst a privilege rarely enjoyed in Sherag? Even they needed to inform me and make an appointment?

Could it be that woman is trying to fool me again?

Nasti didn't know what Mandela was thinking, but she knew that the envoy certainly wasn't like that.

I've never heard of making diplomats work on construction sites without paying them!

Ernst, you're something else! How come this didn't cause any diplomatic problems?

Seeing that the child seemed completely unaware that something was wrong, Nastya felt a little sorry for him.

It's illegal to fool idiots.

What? According to the principle of territoriality, if a crime is committed in Kjerag, it must be punished according to Kjerag law? Kjerag law is my law, Ernst, and as Kaka, my power is unlimited?

That's fine.

The Sarkaz's flexible moral compass quickly made Nasti forget her faint sense of guilt. What was this? Mandela was an adult, after all. In Kazdel, Sarkaz child laborers had to carry broken knives and become mercenaries, fighting and killing on the battlefield for a pittance. Compared to that, Mandela was nothing.

At least Ernst actually provided meals; when Mandela was on the construction site, she never missed out on a boxed lunch. Those meals were all paid for by Ernst's government.

This one alone is enough to buy the lives of a hundred ordinary Sarkaz.

Oh, it seems that won't work now. The Sarkaz have all gone to Londinium with Theresis to join in the festivities. Nasti thinks they probably won't amount to much anyway. It's just that the Sarkaz have failed so many times and for so long that even this small "victory" has made most ordinary Sarkaz regard Theresis as a saint.