Restart:Untalented Man

Prince Baldwin nodded understandably. It was indeed dangerous to let this man escape.

However, a lingering sense of dissatisfaction gnawed at him, an itch he couldn't quite scratch.

"If the only viable course is to keep them bound and malnourished, then continuing these experiments seems futile as we can't fully utilize them," Baldwin voiced his concern.

The researcher's response was earnest, his nod reflective of the weight of the situation. "I fully grasp the gravity of your concerns. Please know that we are dedicated to uncovering methods to manipulate their mental fortitude and will."

Since the experimentation is at the early stage, Baldwin understands there are many that need to be discovered, "Very well. Should you require assistance, do not hesitate to find me."

"Thank you, Your Highness," the researcher replied with gratitude, his tone reflecting his earnest appreciation. "I will gladly take up the offer when needed."

"What about the books?" Prince Baldwin inquired, his memory jogging back to the collection of arcane texts that had been retrieved alongside the mysterious liquid.

The researcher sighed, a hint of frustration evident in his voice. "We are diligently deciphering the contents of the books. However, without someone who possesses knowledge of the so-called mana circulation, the mana within these people remains passive. There's not much progress we can make in that regard."

....

Mezorin,

The capital of Naharog, once ravaged by the devastation of war, now stood as a city in the midst of rebirth.

Construction was a very common sight, with the sound of hammers and the echoes of saws filling the air.

The streets that had once been marred by the scars of conflict were now bustling with activity as artisans and laborers worked tirelessly to rebuild what had been lost.

Though the condition of Naharog was not as dire as when the Ryntum army had recaptured it from the clutches of Barlia.

But, there was no denying that the scars of battle still lingered.

Buildings bore the marks of destruction, their facades bearing the evidence of the conflict that had torn through the city.

Despite all of the destruction, Nelson found a glimmer of opportunity.

While the destruction was undoubtedly disheartening, he saw it as a chance for a radical transformation.

The war had offered an unexpected advantage, a clean slate on which to rebuild Mezorin into a city that could rival the efficiency of Bideford.

Moreover, the reduction in debt by Riz massively help increasing his chances to make it happen.

Having spent time in Bideford, Nelson had been an attentive observer of the city's inner workings.

From the moment he walked its bustling streets, he absorbed the intricate dance of life that unfolded in every corner.

He marveled at the organized chaos of the markets, the orderly flow of traffic along well-planned roads, and the seamless integration of diverse functions within distinct districts.

His stay in Bideford had provided him with invaluable insights in urban planning.

The road layout, which seemed to effortlessly guide the movement of people and goods, had caught his attention.

Equally intriguing was the segregation of buildings based on their purposes. Commercial zones hummed with activity, set apart from the tranquil residential areas. 𝓫𝓮𝒹𝓷ℴ𝓿ℯ𝓵.𝓬ℴ𝓶

It wasn't just about creating thoroughfares but about weaving a network that facilitated connectivity while minimizing congestion.

Meanwhile, Fire Priest Gliibious found himself at the red-coloured lair, the gathering place of the Slydrisess.

As his feet carried him through the entrance, Gliibious's expectations were met with the grim reality that the lair had not been spared from the chaos of ransacking.

The scene that greeted him was one of disorder and upheaval, as if a storm had torn through. Furniture was overturned and many things lay scattered on the ground.

Gliibious's gaze swept over the room, his eyes wide with a mix of panic and determination.

His priority was clear, to salvage any semblance of books that might have been left behind in the lair's chaos.

He moved forward, practically leaping over upturned furniture.

His wide eyes scanned the room, seeking any sign of scrolls, tomes, or written knowledge.

He knelt beside a toppled shelf, frantically sifting through the debris. "Perhaps there's something salvageable," he gasped, his voice carrying a note of desperation.

But his efforts proved fruitless.

Despite his fervent search, he found nothing amidst the chaos and destruction.

It was as if the very essence of knowledge had been ripped from the lair.

The feeling of helplessness gnawed at him as he realized the extent of the loss.

Barlia's forces had been thorough in their pillaging, ensuring that not a trace of the magic books and other invaluable items brought from Turtevekesia remained.

"Priest Gliibious," a soft voice called from behind him.

Startled, he turned to see a man approaching, his face etched with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry," the man said, his voice tinged with regret.

Gliibious's eyes narrowed as he regarded the man. "What do you mean?"

The man's gaze lowered, his shoulders slumping. "They took everything they could lay their hands on—books, crystals, and many more. I'm sorry, I was powerless to stop them."

Gliibious's emotions swirled in a tumultuous mix of anger and sadness as he processed the man's words.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, the ache in his heart mirrored by the ache in his bones.

He turned to the man who had spoken, "It's okay," he murmured, his voice carrying a reassurance that he himself needed to hear. "It's not your fault."

Leaving the shattered lair behind, Gliibious moved with a sense of urgency, his steps quick and purposeful.

It didn't take him long to locate Nelson amidst the ruined city.

"Your Majesty," Gliibious began, his words rushed but weighted with importance. "I will temporarily return to Turtevekesia."

Nelson's expression registered shock and confusion. "What?! Why?" he exclaimed, clearly taken aback by the sudden announcement.

"The attack by Barlia has caused a significant loss to the Slydris faction," Gliibious explained, his voice earnest. "I need to inform the higher-ups about this."

Nelson's features fell, disappointment evident in his eyes. "That's too bad! I just received a wedding invitation from Ryntum, and you are also invited."

Gliibious sighed, a touch of regret in his voice. "Unfortunately, I won't be able to attend. Please convey my regards to the king."