Piltover had never existed on these seas before, but today, Piltover was born—not as a city-state, but as a new kingdom.
The name was unimportant. It merely symbolized some lingering attachment to the past.
Just as Oran had planned years ago, he needed a developed industrial nation to better accomplish his goals. He could make a few guns by hand and slowly build mechas, but anything larger than that was impossible.
This was also a world of extraordinary individual strength. Mass-produced equipment could handle ordinary people, but it could not stand against monsters.
If there was nothing, then he would start from scratch.
To deal with the disparity in individual strength, Oran was training Lyliana. He believed she had the potential to grow into the strongest person in the world.
But individual strength was not the ultimate deterrent. If others had it, then he needed it too. And the Ancient Weapons were things the World Government had always wanted to conceal, yet could not ignore.
Pluto, which could destroy an island with a single blast; Poseidon, which controlled massive Sea Kings; and Uranus, whose veil of mystery was gradually being lifted. The ancient robot that had climbed the Red Line Continent years ago—they all truly existed in this world.
Before overturning the table, Oran needed his own "Ancient Weapon." In a sense, he could make one, because he had a special blueprint in his mind.
It was just that the technology tree of that world had developed in a rather peculiar direction. Given the twisted technological level of these seas, they could not even begin.
"Piltover... So, Oran, are you going to be King?"
"That's right. King, chairman, emperor—the title doesn't matter. What matters is that I have the final say on this land."
What Oran wanted was a stronghold