Too Many Dark Faction Folks Around Me
My circle is just overflowing with Dark Faction people.
With the successful demonstration of Prototype No. 1 Mana-powered Iron Horse as the turning point, Kara Kingdom kicked off full-scale railway development. After countless tests, they judged it solid enough for commercialization without major tweaks. So, they decided not only to mass-produce the iron horses beyond prototypes 2, 3, and 4 but also to massively expand rail construction.
They planned to extend the Kara-Mrisella line farther south to the coastal city of Ramis, add a western line from Kara to Braam, an eastern line to Alpeu, a northern line to Bamir, a coastal line from Ramis to Amuraba, and even a western plains line linking the coastal city of Ibrahim to Bardru at the northernmost tip of the great western plains.
This massive undertaking had the continent side-eyeing Kara like they'd lost their minds. A tiny upstart kingdom launching the largest construction project in world history? It was beyond comprehension.
But the funds were there. Kara already had mountains of cash stockpiled, massive profits were rolling in from the newly pioneered sea trade routes, and the traditional Great Desert trade routes were still generating solid income.
Truth be told, this huge buildout was necessary. With money flooding into Kara from across the world, they needed to suck in massive resources via imports and ship them back out overseas.
The only hitch? Skyrocketing prices. All that cash hitting the market, plus the resource demands of construction, meant trade goods and commodities were bound to inflate.
Luckily, Jores Island's development was churning out insane amounts of timber. Turning near-jungle into cities and farmland meant timber output was off the charts.
At least they didn't have to sweat wood supply for the projects.
"Your Highness, our Kara Kingdom's population is surging."
Hearing Padilla's concern before heading to the office, I furrowed my brow. Evacuating the existing populace was tough enough—now a population boom? Perplexing.
"What now?"
"Word of the massive construction spread, so Sika tribes from the central and eastern Great Desert regions are flocking here for jobs."
I rubbed my face.
The Sika in the barren Great Desert scraped by in harsh conditions. Meanwhile, their kin's Kara Kingdom overflowed with jobs and money. For Sika elsewhere barely scraping meals together, Kara must've looked like paradise.
"Food supply holding?"
"Yes. The southern coastal cities are producing plenty."
"Good. Throw all the new arrivals at the southern Kara rail line and coastal city rail builds. Shipping food far eats it up fast."
"Understood."
"Once done, ship 'em to Jores Island. It's all development there—no real settled folk. Let 'em build, farm, and live."
"Smart. Got it."
I eyed Padilla.
"Any other issues?"
"Essence shortage."
"How bad?"
"Bad."
"Hit up Kasim for some. He's out hunting sea monsters professionally—should have a stockpile."
"Already took everything he had. Still short."
"Jores Island?"
"Them too."
I sighed deeply.
We'd bitten off too much lately. Mass-producing iron horses, upgrading 15,000 Magic Bullet Launchers with essence—it was draining supplies dry. The Great Desert essence market was parched.
Once the Age of Ruin hit, essence would overflow, but I couldn't exactly pray for apocalypse early. Maddening.
"Imports from the Eastern Continent or Agenka Continent?"
"Sent fleets and caravans, but it'll take time."
"Hang tight. Got a lead. Deal closes, we'll snag a ton of Chaos Pieces."
"How many?"
"One to four million."
Four million Chaos Pieces could yield nearly 494 top-grade essences. At 24 per iron horse, that's at least 20 units.
Padilla beamed.
"Got it."
"And rush the western plains and northern lines. Finish those, essence woes ease up big time."
"Why?"
"Trade with the orcs via Bardru and Bamir. They barely use Chaos Pieces—stockpiles galore."
"Export weapons and food, import their Chaos Pieces?"
"Yep."
"Understood. I'll light a fire under it."
Wrapping up, I rose with Padilla for work. Glancing her over as we headed out, I noticed recent changes in her figure.
"Oh, and Padilla."
"Yes?"
"You've put on a bit around the middle lately."
She blushed, cheeks flushing.
"You noticed?"
"Yeah. Don't just obsess over state affairs—exercise. Belly at your age? And skipping dawn sword training? Health matters too."
Padilla blinked, flustered.
"That's all?"
"Yeah. Something else?"
"N-no."
I patted her back.
"Keep it up. I'm off."
"Safe travels."
Stretching, I left the palace. Office meant sword practice and slacking—made the commute fun.
A few days later, I huddled on the office sofa, drawing glares from Armida sis and Shura. I was paying dearly for my clueless blunder days ago.
Shura brushed past, tossing a barb.
"How could you not know? Master, I just don't get it. Do you have any idea how heartbroken Padilla is?"
"Hey, life's hectic—mistakes happen..."
Before I finished, Armida sis snapped from the desk.
"Busy? What with? No jobs since Yosrahim."
"That's why it's busier. Hustling deals nonstop."
"I didn't wanna say it, but your 'hustle' always lands you at casinos or Temples of Depravity."
"How'd you know?"
She narrowed her eyes.
"Forgot I'm a Valkyrie? I sense most mana flows in central Kara."
"Ah, right."
"Why live like that?"
"Like what? Who's living better?"
"So you pull that stunt? Act all smart, then miss this?"
"What could I do? Didn't know. If I had, I wouldn't have. Not a mind reader."
Armida sis fumed.
"Excuses after the fact?"
"Not excusing—just saying it's unfair."
Shura approached with tea.
"Master, Padilla's hurting. Let's plan a comfort event first."
"Like?"
"Name the baby. She'd love that, right?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Not bad. How about 'One'?"
"Cute. But if it's a girl?"
"Onesi?"
Armida sis mulled it, then glared.
"Bro, second one's not 'Two' or 'Tusi,' is it?"
Her insight stunned me.
"How'd you guess?"
She yelled.
"Bro!"
"What?"
"Joking about kids' names?"
"Why not? Easy to say, tell apart. One, Two, Three, Four. Fourth boy? Force. Sounds badass."
"Bro!"
I thumped my chest, indignant.
"They named 'em like that back then. Commoners still do."
"But royals?"
"They get fancy temple names later. No biggie. Padilla's got Hesa beyond Padilla."
Armida sis shook her head, beckoning Shura.
"Shura, can't trust bro. We'll name it."
"Yes."
They conspired like kidnappers. Armida sis started.
"Niger? Holy tongue, Sika vibe."
"Nice. Meaning?"
"Gloomy."
"Ah, why Kalligo had so many Nigers."
I exploded.
"Gloomy for a baby name?!"
"Perfect for Dark Faction. Right, Shura?"
"Yes. Gloomy's solid."
Shura reeked Dark Faction too. Kalligo native, after all.
"Shura, not you too. Pick another."
She gauged me.
"Pullus?"
Armida sis stroked her chin.
"Bit weak?"
Uneasy, I asked.
"Meaning?"
"Dull, swarthy."
"Damn it!"
"Not bad."
"Very very bad."
Then Zenbe uncle entered. Armida sis called.
"Hey, orc chef. Naming a baby—Niger or Pullus?"
Zenbe scanned blankly, then pondered under stares.
"Niger's good. Pullus weak. For female, Umbra."
"Umbra?"
"Shadow, specter."
"Argh!"
I tore my hair.
My circle's too Dark Faction-heavy. They pondered seriously, but results were all grim and shadowy. Couldn't doom my kid to curses forever—had to stop this madness.
"Just One it is!"
I led guest Zenbe uncle to the second-floor reception. Seated across, I whispered.
"They reached out?"
His gravelly voice replied.
"Yes."
"Didn't mention me?"
"Relax. I'm the middleman, developer some anonymous Kalligo. No Kara talk."
"Good. What'd they say?"
"Want tests first."
I nodded. Huge deal—1.6 million gold leaves equivalent. No way without tests.
"Obviously. When, where?"
"Blueprints swap at Viper Castle in Kalligo. 15,000 Magic Bullet Launchers at Ipogeum Mountains spur northeast of Bardru."
Viper Castle: 80,000 pop, Braam-sized, commerce and magitech hub. Rough due to western Ipogeum, but black mage haven—fits upgraded launcher origin story.
Ipogeum spur near Bardru: perfect for orc bulk trades.
"Solid spots."
"One issue."
"What?"
"Orc warriors call Magic Bullet Launchers cowardly. Buyers hesitant over backlash."
What pointless snag. Buy or don't—why now? We're desperate. Gotta sweet-talk the sale.
I waved it off.
"No sweat. Few shots, they'll see the error."
"Not that simple. Orcs live and die by honor."
"Call it hunting gear. Great for birds, flying beasts. Flame mode? Lights firewood easy. Can't always flint it."
Zenbe pondered.
Not bad cover. Orcs prize honor, but not picky hunters.
"Decent. But we pitched war use—tough sell."
"Tell 'em no war use."
"Pointless then?"
"Nah. Foes killing kin? They'll snap. Just time."
He nodded.
"Fair. I'll try."
I clapped his shoulder.
"You got this. Fat middleman cut."
He grimaced.
"Not for money."
"Know. For tribe, orcs. But no launchers next war? Orcs doomed. Annihilated day one."
"True."
He agreed quick—veteran of Rosos war, knows volley power. One barrage melts a unit.
"Do it. For you, orcs, humanity. Fighting!"
"Got it. Let's."
I grinned triumphantly. Deal done, tens of thousands gold mine. Who knew? Scaling broker gig nationally pays big.
My circle is just overflowing with Dark Faction people.