sinovels Chapter 1108: Keep Up
Chapter 1108: Keep Up
Well, normally they wouldn’t.
Unfortunately, he would.
Because even in death, the threat of a licensure exam would continue haunting the allegedly deceased blonde in the form of regular reminders from his terrifyingly diligent good brother.
Yes.
The same brother who somehow managed to appear out of nowhere to ask whether he’d practiced already.
The same brother who could emerge from behind a tree, a doorway, or what Ollie strongly suspected was a bush one time, only to gently inquire about his progress as though he weren’t seconds away from suffering cardiac arrest.
To be fair, even while the poor unofficial mechanic’s heart was still in pieces after receiving what felt suspiciously like a draft notice disguised as an insider tip, Ollie was aware that Luca only ever meant well.
Just as always.
And considering how busy his brother already was, the fact that he’d taken time out of his schedule to worry about the blonde’s suddenly bleak future was honestly something he should be grateful for.
Which was why, if there was something Ollie ought to be doing aside from ensuring his continued survival, it was probably reassuring his saint of a brother that he wasn’t actually too upset about being implicated.
"...???"
Yes.
Exactly that.
The current concern was actually being upset from being implicated.
"..."
"..."
Now, this might sound like a rather strange concern when he’d originally spent several hours contemplating biological decomposition after learning about the prospective schedule...
But for the concern to suddenly shift into that somewhere, somehow?
Just how did that happen?
More importantly, implicated in what?
Well...
Apparently in political manipulation.
Specifically, political manipulation disguised as a petty yet monumentally destructive feud between interstellar master mechanics and their respective counterparts.
A feud that somehow transformed Oliver Mylor and his future Official Mechanic License into the hottest political tool currently available.
"..."
Ridiculous, right?
The truly horrifying part was that somehow it sounded rather logical.
And it all started when the various delegations that had visited Solara finally returned home.
Back to their domains.
Back to the unfortunate people who hadn’t been invited or chosen to go.
And naturally, the moment they arrived, they began talking.
About everything.
As in everything.
The food.
The facilities.
The scenery.
The people.
The products.
The guilds.
The mechas.
Of course, the people back home had probably already watched everything through the streams and were well aware of what was being discussed.
Even so, this was different.
Because no matter how many times someone replayed a recording, it simply couldn’t compare to hearing the stories from people who had actually been there to witness everything firsthand.
If they could have replayed the sights, smells, sounds, and sensations of their visit directly into someone else’s brain, they would’ve done so without hesitation.
Not only because it served as excellent bragging material.
But because they genuinely had too much to say. All pent up and ready to launch after spending the entire trip maintaining proper decorum while representing their respective domains.
There were standards to uphold.
Images to maintain.
Appearances to preserve.
Now that they were finally home?
All restraint immediately died.
"You can’t possibly imagine what we experienced over there!"
"Look at this!"
"Do you know how close I came to death just to get this?!"
"Ah! And everyone, please admire our newest family heirloom!"
"What heirloom?"
"The apron."
"..."
"The what?"
"The apron!"
A proud Orc in question immediately puffed out his chest.
"Even if the rest of the universe wanted one, what can they do when only a select few families like ours can claim ownership of the earliest customized kitchen aprons?"
"..."
"..."
Strangely enough, nobody laughed.
Because the apron was real.
And more annoyingly, everyone present was jealous.
Thus, stories spread.
They sounded like exaggerations, but what was truly surprising was that some people assumed they were joking when the stories being shared barely even scratched the surface of what the Empire—and especially DG—actually had to offer.
Soon enough, entire foreign territories were hearing verified accounts of miraculous food, seemingly impossible mechas, an intimidating tortoise, chickens as probable ambassadors, customized aprons, and one terrifyingly talented guild that most people only knew through live streams.
Meanwhile, the actual people responsible for the chaos remained completely oblivious as they had been busy with upgrade related preparations and plausible dungeon scares.
Then again, such sensational stories have legs of their own and would’ve spread even with someone’s interference.
__
For the Orcs, the reunion was nothing short of glorious.
The lucky members of the advance party King Garick had sent home were treated like conquering heroes the moment they returned. Everywhere they went, people wanted to hear their stories. Those who’d remained behind listened with envy while hanging onto every detail, practically wishing they could’ve hidden inside someone’s luggage just to experience everything firsthand.
Most importantly, they’d confirmed something invaluable.
Their Princess was thriving.
Not merely surviving.
Thriving.
Princess Kira and her aide were both healthy, safe, and officially part of the increasingly famous Dungeon Guardians Guild.
As far as many Orcs were concerned, that alone was enough reason to walk around with their noses held high.
Of course, there were concerns.
The Empire’s rise in strength wasn’t exactly subtle.
Even the most optimistic observer could see that something significant was happening over there.
Some of the more traditional Orcs worried openly about what such growth could eventually mean.
Yet surprisingly, widespread panic never really took root.
Because from their perspective, King Garrick was already doing what needed to be done.
The King was building friendly relations.
As long as their Princess was welcomed, their King was welcomed, and their people remained welcome, many Orcs saw no reason to immediately assume the worst, especially after that recent eye-opening experience.
However, the same could not really be said for those who were sure amicable but still wary. Nor could the same be said for those who suddenly felt the gap in such major fields
The Dwarves, for example.
They had certainly extended goodwill, because only a complete idiot would have done otherwise.
And while they harbored no particular hostility toward the Empire, their race had long prided itself on innovation and technological advancement.
But now, they weren’t feeling so advanced after just one short trip...
Naturally, that was a concern that simply couldn’t be ignored.
As such, the delegation returned to the Citadel looking less like diplomats returning from a successful visit and more like advance warnings of an impending natural disaster, as one dwarf simply said:
"My brethren, I regret to inform you... but I believe we’re fucked."
"!!!"
Now it was said as carefully as possible, and yet obviously it drew extreme reactions from the dwarves who thought themselves superior in several ways.
Outrage erupted from every direction.
"How dare you say such rubbish!" one elder roared, slamming a fist against the table hard enough to rattle mugs.
"Did you even look properly? Our craftsmanship is unparalleled!"
"Such disrespect toward our ancestors!" another snapped.
"You spend a few days in the Empire and return speaking like a coward!"
Accusations flew.
Insults followed.
Yet none of the returning delegates backed down. Because unlike everyone else in the room, they had actually been there.
"You think you’ve watched it, but you only saw things through the screen. We actually stood there with our very own eyes and senses."
The dwarf looked around the chamber.
"Even if you behead me right now, I’ll tell you the same thing."
The room grew silent.
"We’re not lying."
A heavy pause followed.
Then he added:
"If we don’t figure something out, I genuinely don’t know how we’re supposed to keep up."
That finally made some of the elders stop shouting, only to turn their heads toward a particular direction.
And at the head of the expansive chamber sat their leader.
Unlike many rulers, he wore no crown.
Instead, several massive hammers rested beside his seat like symbols of authority.
He slowly folded his hands and asked, "These innovations? Are they truly that groundbreaking?"
The members of the delegation didn’t even need to look at each other, but simply nodded in coincidental unison.
"Then surely you didn’t return empty-handed. You must have come back with some ideas, at the very least, right?"
It was an innocent enough question.
Yet across the universe, similar questions were being asked in very different tones.
And what do you know?
That simple and remarkably similar line of inquiry would eventually translate and evolve into a seemingly innocent challenge directed at the Empire’s master mechanics, ultimately resulting in one particularly frazzled master making a preemptive warning call about a certain blonde.