Don't Train Swire-She's Just a Mascot!

"Rhodes Island wants to recruit us, right?" Sonia bluntly concluded.

"To be less precise, yes."

The little bear retorted angrily, "Yes or no! Why do you talk in such a strange tone?!"

Rejoice! Rhodes Island, a place teeming with riddle-makers, has welcomed yet another straightforward one!

Oute ignored Sonia and spoke his last words to the young Ursus children, "The cafeteria is this way. We have other things to take care of. Just follow Miss Warfarin."

Immediately afterwards, Kal'tsit's body swayed slightly.

After stopping, his face remained cold.

"Hey!" Sonia, sounding a little impatient.

But she wasn't quite sure what she was anxious about.

That's how intuitionists are.

Just then, other children quietly tugged at her clothes.

Sonia clicked her tongue a few times and didn't ask any further questions.

I!?

Hearing this, Warfarin suddenly realized: Wait, does this mean... I can go back to the ship?

Warfarin suppressed a laugh and said to the Ursus people, "Over here! Rhodes Island's cafeteria has..."

Kal'tsit watched them walk away into the distance.

She sighed.

Before leaving, Oute assigned her another task: to go to the Engineering Department and rearrange the research and development work on pneumatic firearms.

This matter itself is not important.

Importantly, Kal'tsit has already caught a familiar scent... Oute is intentionally or unintentionally expanding the boundaries of his power.

And this time, it was his attempt to command himself.

As always, the tasks assigned by Oute were either very easy to complete, offered excellent rewards, or were absolutely necessary...

In short, the price he paid—reputation, responsibility, profit—was something most people would gladly follow.

In fact, within just a few days, most of the operators had already "gotten used" to reporting to Oute. And after leaving Oute's remotely controlled office, they would often find themselves taking on another task without even realizing it.

The entire Rhodes Island has once again become, time and time again, a set of hamster wheels that never stop turning.

An invisible pair of eyes carefully examines the "residual value" of each hamster, meticulously selecting a suitable track for each one. After passing through a series of complex transmission devices, hamster wheels of all sizes contribute their own small or large "helping hand" to Oute's goal.

But...

She'll do it, Kal'tsit will do it.

The situation led to another path: Rhodes Island now needed a batch of pneumatic firearms that could be put to immediate use, albeit "barely adequate." Redesigning the gun body based on the seamless steel tubing ordered by Oute could greatly accelerate this process.

"Either absolutely necessary."

The bullet, originally intended to mock others, struck him precisely between the eyebrows.

Kal'tsit shook her head, deciding to stop thinking about it.

"You're kidding, right!?" Closure scratched her long, straight black hair into a mess.

"We just delivered the LPG equipment! And now he wants to change the plan again!?" The oil enthusiast, who preferred engine oil to serum, yelled.

"No modifications are needed to the backpack," Kal'tsit said, showing off her handheld terminal. "His only requirement for the gun is that it be made to this size."

Closure looked at the terminal, her face full of surprise. "Is this a water pipe?"

Generally speaking, Terra lacks this kind of puzzle-solving, skill-based spirit.

In Terra, the most important component of firearms is actually the "Arts Unit".

Columbia's "Tobacco and Alcohol Arts Unit and Originium Products Administration," which are modeled after similar institutions on Earth, precisely hint at this point.

If Oute had ordered a large number of Arts Unit from Lungmen, it would have been difficult to find a legitimate seller, but they were "just" seamless steel pipes.

Kal'tsit nodded. "If we want to put it into actual combat as soon as possible, it would be best to assemble it directly using semi-finished products available on the market."

"That's simply impossible," Closure declared righteously. "We must at least produce it ourselves..."

She quickly covered her mouth.

Kal'tsit glanced at her and said, "Then it can be done. Go!"

Closure finally struggled to say, "The improvements to the Winter Soldier series are manageable, but adding the task of organizing Rhodes Island's modification blueprints... there's simply no way we can finish this workload!"

It's worth mentioning that Rhodes Island has many blank areas that aren't on the drawings, which means it's more difficult to draw.

The other officers in the Engineering Department exchanged bewildered glances, their faces filled with anguish.

The lynx said calmly, "No, you can."

"You will likely have... 2,500 to 5,000 man-hours to handle these tasks."

Kal'tsit added, "By the way, your task isn't to organize the blueprints, but to redraw a ship based on Rhodes Island's blueprints."

"However, I have already prepared some auxiliary equipment for you regarding this."

Under Kal'tsit's distorted gaze, Kal'tsit took out the helmet.

"This device is called Dream-Sleep Device; it can connect your dreams into one."

FNNDP!

This monstrosity! Was it actually made for our own use?!

Closure n't help but curse inwardly.

This helmet is only cool in appearance; to achieve the effect Kal'tsit mentioned, it would definitely require the assistance of someone's Originium Arts.

But whose Originium Arts are they exactly?

Chapter Ninety-Three: Don't Practice Swire, She's Just a Lucky Charm!

At this moment, in the Lungmen slums.

A fierce-looking, white-haired Ursus youth "stopped" another youth and "questioned," "Where is the Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals office?"

He exuded an ominous, fishy odor, and a gray hooded jacket covered his muscular body. His ripped jeans seemed to indicate the source of his restless nature.

With a sudden movement, a gleaming short knife was inadvertently revealed through the gap in his clothes.

The person he stopped stammered, "Brother Jie!? Just go around this intersection, the tallest building nearby is it."

"Um, thanks."

The Ursus youth's thanks even carried a hint of menacing provocation.

This young man is Jie, the one in the game who, after reaching Elite 2, had "Fresh Food Supermarket" written on his clothes.

Because of his outstanding martial arts skills and fierce appearance, he was often mistaken for a mafia boss or a high-ranking gangster by the small, unknown gangs in the slums.

But... it might not actually be wrong.

The underworld of Lungmen is governed by Lin Yuxia's father, "Grey Lin," also known as the Rat King Lin Gerui. He is also the "King of the Underworld" in Lungmen.

"Uncle Dong," who taught Jie all his skills in every sense, was none other than the Rat King's old subordinate. And although Jie was completely unaware of this, from this perspective, he could be considered, in a way, the Rat King's nephew.

Compared to those third-rate gangs that could be described as just messing around, Jie was indeed a "big shot".

"So this is where I am." Jie looked up at the somewhat unfamiliar rooftop.

This building was relatively tall for the slums, giving it a significant geographical advantage. Arrow towers and watchtowers further fortified the once-familiar structure.

On the side, a Triangle White Castle on a black background is freshly painted.

Below the coat of arms is a line of Victoria text that reads "Rhodes Island".

"Rhodes Ireland..." he muttered, scratching his head, and said, "This logo doesn't look like a hospital at all."

So, this is a pharmaceutical company, not a hospital!

From afar, a passionate voice rang out. "... No means no! I don't care how that idiot dragon negotiated with you! Letting civilian organizations manage prisoners is simply unacceptable!"

Another, somewhat guilty voice rang out. "I... we won't describe this in this way."

The operator replied, "The word 'management' is a bit too radical... We are merely providing... care and re-education' to the prisoners under the guidance of the Lungmen Guard Department."

"Huh!?"

The blonde woman, Feline, retorted sarcastically, "If you can say anything, how radical can you be as radical as your actions?!"

She waved her hand forcefully and shouted, "Bring your leader to see me!"

Speaking of the boss...

He scratched his chin.

He's also here to see this person.

"My Lord already knows." A nun silently appeared behind the blonde Feline.

Her tightly clasped fingers, buried deep in the creases, seemed to still be performing her prayer.

"W-what?!" Beatrix was literally startled.

Beatrix Swire, female, race Feline. Operation codename Swire. Her surname is "Swire" instead of "Swire," and she is said to get very angry if called "Miss Swire."

She jumped to the side, and the striped tail with decorative metal rings on her back showed clear signs of being "stirred up".

"How come you walk without making a sound!?"

The nun looked up; her pretty face beneath her headscarf was so serene, yet the occasional trembling of her scarlet eyes revealed the madness within her.

Specter did not answer Beatrix's question. Instead, she relayed, "My Lord said: the supervision of infected prisoners is part of the security contract. The framework of this agreement was finalized by Mr. Wei Yenwu, and Ch'en has no right to comment on it."

To say whether one has power or not?