CH1365 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1365: The New Design Bureau

That was not the only change.

Roland watched workers tearing down and replacing the signboards along both sides of the road. The construction sites that normally hummed with activity stood silent, as though the modern car dealership project had been erased overnight. The low dividing walls of the former development zone now bore fresh scaffolding — the skeleton of a new exterior wall taking shape.

More remarkable were the armed police. Officers in full tactical gear had established a perimeter around the projects department, sentry posts flanking every entrance and exit, vehicles prohibited from approaching the main building.

After their credentials were checked and verified, the guard snapped a standard military salute and stood aside.

“Good God…” Garcia murmured as they walked through. “What exactly did you ask them to do?”

“Honestly, nothing.” Roland shook his head. “I haven’t even submitted a request yet.”

As they crossed toward the main building, Garcia stopped. Her expression darkened.

Standing at the doors was her father.

Garde — a member of Clover Group’s board of directors — nodded to his daughter first, then extended his hand toward Roland. “I’ve been expecting you. I knew you were unusual when we first met, but you’ve far exceeded what I imagined then.” He held the handshake a moment longer than necessary. “From today, this facility is yours.”

The good wishes were genuine enough. The tone was something else. When they’d first met, Garde had barely concealed his contempt. At the second meeting — once he learned Roland’s connection to the Defender — the contempt had been papered over with a studied cordiality. Now, on this third encounter, what Roland saw in the man’s face was fear. A complicated ensemble of it, plainly visible.

“Wasn’t the car dealership a flagship Clover development?” Garcia said. “I’m surprised you handed it over so meekly. I thought you’d put up more of a fight — after all, you were ready to demolish apartments over public objections.”

Garde received this without anger. He only chuckled, the sound hollow. “The Martialist Association offered terms the family couldn’t refuse. My position on the board wasn’t enough to change the outcome.” He paused. “There’s something else. The Clover Group has terminated the demolition and relocation plan. We’ll be making the announcement at the reception later. You don’t need to campaign for the residents anymore.”

Garcia’s composure broke.

“The demolition plan is… terminated?”

“Yes.” Garde’s voice was slow and deliberate. “I know this doesn’t mean forgiveness — not easily, and perhaps not at all. But at least we are no longer enemies. If you ever want to visit your brother, you are welcome home at any time.” His eyes moved briefly to Roland. “You’re welcome to bring him.”

He led the startled pair through the entrance, then turned and retreated from the projects department without further ceremony.

The secretary responsible for receiving them guided them onward before either of them had quite composed themselves.


The conference room held forty or fifty people in formal dress. The scale of it bore no resemblance to a construction site meeting. Four chairs had been placed at the center of the main table, facing each other. Defender Rock occupied one. Two others held strangers — a man of forty or fifty with the bearing of a soldier who had seen the real thing; another with grey at his temples and eyes that were still entirely alive. The fourth chair was empty.

Garcia finally shook herself loose of her thoughts and nudged Roland forward.

He walked calmly to the empty seat and sat beside Rock. Years of holding a throne and a kingdom had burnt any tendency toward stage fright out of him long ago — he felt only curiosity. The Association had clearly planned this as a surprise. He waited.

What followed was the longest sequence of introductions he had ever sat through.

And then it ceased to seem long.

From metallurgy to materials science. From machine design to automatic control systems. Every relevant discipline had sent a representative — among them a sitting laureate of the National Academy of Sciences and the chief technical director of a major private corporation. Every person at this table was a point at the front of an enormous triangle of expertise, with entire research and development teams ranged behind them.

The two men to Roland’s right turned out to be President Wu, overall director of the technology division, and Executive Manager Head Liu, responsible for resource allocation. Between them, they commanded a system precise and complete enough to render Graycastle’s original Design Bureau — Roland’s bureau — something like a sketch next to a finished painting.

This was why the Association had needed the entire parcel of land. The scope of parallel research required it.

The two were also government representatives, present to render assistance and gather information.

The project had been named Project Nüwa — after the ancient figure who had patched the sky itself. It fit. The official documentation presented the undertaking to cleared government officials as a complex disaster simulation: modeling how surviving humans would utilize resources and rebuild civilization in the aftermath of an Erosion-driven catastrophe. One key provision stated that certain Awakened Beings had undergone rare evolutions due to Erosion, manifesting abilities entirely unlike the standard Force of Nature — abilities whose applications the research teams were required to investigate. As for what these special abilities were: Chief Hunter Roland had been designated the project’s overall person-in-charge, with full authority to determine disclosures.

Roland nearly inhaled his tea.

In practical terms, he had been given a podium and told to describe the witches’ powers, and everyone in the room was obligated to take him seriously and consider how those powers could be applied to rebuilding civilization. If he invented something, they would have to treat the invention as a real possibility.

It was fortunate the Martialist Association was the one framing things this way. Had Roland attempted to present this arrangement to a room full of specialists on his own authority, they would have filed out within minutes.

Rock turned to him when the introductions concluded, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. “Are you satisfied with the proposal? When you first raised your concerns with me and spoke of the stakes for the world, I thought you were exaggerating. I understand the meaning behind those words now.” He paused. “No matter how unusual your requests may seem, given that the magic power of the two worlds operates differently, no one here will dismiss them.”

Roland raised an eyebrow. “You believe everything I’ve told you?”

“Honestly — I don’t know.” Rock’s gaze moved out across the room. “But if working together allows us to prevail over the Erosion, we’ll have the chance to verify everything afterward.” A small pause. “This new Design Bureau is only the beginning.”

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