Newborn Town's Research Institute No. 1, underground laboratory.
Tumo stood at the door, his palms slick with sweat.
Yesterday, when the list of participants in the Strong Foundations Plan had been posted, he had rushed over to check it.
His own name, "Tumo," was right there on the list.
He knew why he had been selected-like Barton, he had consistently ranked among the top earners of merit points.
Their selection was the most direct fulfillment of the lord's promise: "The more you work, the more you earn."
No one in the territory had objected. There was only envy.
Yet Tumo still felt uneasy.
He was a farmer, or at most a business owner now. Could he really endure a Bloodline Ritual meant for knights and veteran soldiers?
"Creak." The sound of the laboratory door interrupted his wandering thoughts.
Barton walked out, his complexion rosy and his steps steady.
"Tumo, old friend!" Barton grinned. Noticing Tumo's nerves, he gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "It's fine. It's just like taking a nap. Once you wake up, it's over."
Tumo eyed him suspiciously. "Really?"
"Really! Why would I lie to you?" Barton pointed at his chest. "Look, I feel full of strength now. I'm stronger than before by who knows how many times."
Still half doubtful, Tumo nodded, took a deep breath, and pushed open the laboratory door.
The room was brightly lit, with bottles and jars scattered everywhere.
Lord Veylin stood beside a stone platform, mixing something.
He looked up as Tumo entered.
"Tumo." Veylin's voice was as calm as ever. "One final confirmation. Are you certain you want to take part in this ritual?"
"My lord, is it..." Tumo's voice trembled. "Am I not suited for it?"
Instead of answering directly, Veylin walked over and examined him closely.