Lucien supervised everything with growing amusement.

The Middle Continent’s people were decisive in their purchases, aggressive in their competition, proud in their conduct, and sensitive to reputation.

But they followed the rules.

For today, that was enough.

Lucien’s gaze moved toward the outer roads, where more visitors continued arriving even after the official opening had begun.

Rumors were still flying through the Middle Continent.

The early allies had been the first advertisements.

Now the first-day visitors would become the second wave.

By tomorrow, the continent would be arguing.

By the end of the week, more would come.

By the end of the month, the Middle Branch would no longer be treated as a new territory.

Lucien felt the shape of that future settle before him.

The first day was not perfect.

No opening of this size could be.

But the foundation held.

That was what mattered.

Lootwell had given the Middle Continent what it wanted.

Prestige.

Advantage.

Challenge.

Opportunity.

Status that could be earned.

Power that could be purchased.

Knowledge that could be pursued.

Healing that could be trusted.

Rules that even the strong had to respect.

And because the Middle Continent had tasted it, more and more would crave it.

•••

The next few days passed with surprising stability.

A territory’s first day could survive on spectacle.

The days after needed systems.

And the systems held.

Tavian, Mirelle, and Auren took their roles seriously.

By the fourth day, their faces were known throughout the branch.

Tavian became the calm official people approached when schedules, rotations, personnel transfers, or Liberator-related matters needed order.

Mirelle became frighteningly good at handling disputes before they became public embarrassment.

Auren took charge of movement records, district coordination, and the flow between the Middle Branch and the main territory.

The three worked well together.

Lucien left the Middle Branch’s administrative work in their hands.

So, after several more reviews, corrections, and late-night meetings, Lucien and the others returned to the main territory.

Lootwell’s hidden heart welcomed them home.

And, naturally, the first thing Lucien did was unleash chaos there too.

•••

The Echo Crucible opened for public use in the main territory.

The moment the announcement spread through the main Lootwell territory, everyone moved toward the facility with suspicious urgency.

Lucien stood in the upper control chamber with Eirene and Vivian, watching the first wave enter.

"They look calmer than the Middle Continent visitors," Vivian said.

"They are not calmer," Lucien said. "They are just too used to Lootwell’s impossibilities."

The main territory’s Echo Crucible reacted differently from the Middle Branch’s version.

In the main territory, people cared about improvement, grudges, curiosity, and the deeply Lootwell habit of turning every new system into both work and entertainment.

Then Solar Concordium arrived.

The man entered the Echo Crucible with the expression of someone who had just found a temple built for his exact obsession.

He stared at the floor list.

Then at the opponent catalog.

Then at the scoreboard.

Then at Lucien.

"You made this."

Lucien smiled.

"We did."

Solar Concordium’s eyes shone.

He pointed at the nearest available combat category and said, "I want to try."

Lucien had expected that.

"Choose an opponent, choose the environment, and choose whether you want suppressed strength or full strength."

Solar Concordium’s smile widened.

"Suppressed."

Then he entered the first chamber.

The simulation formed around him.

A barren battlefield appeared, with cracked earth beneath his feet and a combat echo waiting at the other side.

The fight began.

And Solar Concordium laughed.

Not because the opponent was weak.

Because the restriction worked.

His strength was pressed down cleanly.

For someone with the Law of Combat, that was not a limitation.

It was paradise.

He fought once.

Won.

Changed the opponent.

Fought again.

Won slower.

Changed the environment.

Lost.

The chamber ejected him safely.

Solar Concordium stood outside for one breath.

Then smiled.

Several nearby challengers saw that smile and quietly reconsidered their confidence.

He entered again.

And again.

And again.

Within two hours, Solar Concordium had taken first place on several combat boards.

Then he lost one ranking to someone in a narrow environment adaptation trial.

He stared at the scoreboard.

The name above his own remained there, glowing with offensive calm.

Lucien watched from the side.

Solar Concordium turned toward him.

"I dislike this board."

Lucien said, "Why?"

Solar Concordium’s eyes burned brighter.

"Because it is correct."

Then he entered the chamber again and spent the next several hours reclaiming his place.

Later, when Solar Concordium emerged from another chamber with torn clothes, sharper aura, and the look of a man who had just rediscovered several centuries of joy, Lucien spoke.

"There is another function you may want to know."

Solar Concordium turned immediately.

Lucien continued, "The Echo Crucible can only manifest opponents already recorded into its system."

Solar Concordium’s gaze sharpened.

"How?"

"If someone willingly offers memories of opponents they have fought or beings they understand deeply enough, we can record and refine those experiences into combat echoes."

For once, Solar Concordium became still.

His expression changed.

The battle hunger remained, but something deeper appeared beneath it.

Almost reverence.

"I can fight them again?"

"If the memory is stable enough," Lucien said. "And if the Origin Core accepts the record."

Solar Concordium was silent for several breaths.

Then he laughed.

It began low.

Then grew.

A fierce, joyous, battle-mad sound that made several nearby challengers step farther away without knowing why.

Lucien shook his head.

"Come with me."

They left the Echo Crucible and went to the Origin Core Shrine.

The shrine was quieter than the facility.

Solar Concordium stood before the fragment and grew unusually solemn.

Lucien gestured toward the fragment.

"Place your hand there. Offer the memory willingly. Do not force it. The Origin Core will only take what you allow."

Solar Concordium placed his palm against it.

The first opponent Solar Concordium offered came from his distant past.

Then another.

Then another.

Old rivals.

Dead warriors.

Monsters that had once forced him to bleed.

Battles that had left marks deep enough for even time to respect.

The Origin Core accepted them one by one.

When the recording ended, Solar Concordium opened his eyes.

"Done?"

"For now," Lucien said. "The echoes need to be refined before they can be placed into the Echo Crucible."

"How long?"

Lucien smiled faintly.

"Impatient already?"

"Yes."

Solar Concordium looked back toward the direction of the Echo Crucible.

"I want to fight them while I still remember what regret feels like."

That silenced Lucien for a moment.

Then he nodded.

"I will prepare a personal combat suite for you."

Solar Concordium stared at Lucien for several breaths.

Then placed one hand over his chest.

"I will not forget this kindness."

•••

A few days later, Lucien made another decision.

At first, it was only practical.

Then it became entertaining.

Then it became dangerous in a way only harmless things could become dangerous.

He merged the scoreboards of the main territory and the Middle Branch.

When Lucien activated the link, the Origin Core network pulsed.

The main territory’s scoreboard shimmered.

The Middle Branch’s scoreboard answered.

Names rearranged.

Rankings expanded.

Local first places became continental comparisons.

The reaction was immediate.

In the main territory, several people stared at the updated rankings.

In the Middle Branch, several faction representatives did the same.

Then both sides realized the same terrible truth.

Their rankings were no longer safe.

Lucien and Seran watched the first reports come in.

For several breaths, neither spoke.

Then Seran started laughing.

Lucien followed.

It was not polite laughter.

It was the kind of laughter belonging to two men who had knowingly created a disaster and were pleased by its educational value.

The first wave of outrage came from the Middle Branch.

[Who is "Definitely Not Marina," and why is she above my disciple?]

The main territory answered within minutes.

[Someone better at water-field survival than your disciple.]

That was the first shot.

The second came when a West Continent challenger named Stone-Toed Uncle beat a Middle Continent noble disciple in a rough terrain endurance trial and changed his displayed title to:

[Still Standing, Unlike Certain Fancy Boots]

The defeated noble disciple responded by retaking the record and changing his display name to:

[Boots Repaired, Uncle Buried]

The West Continent challengers loved this.

The Middle Continent challengers pretended to despise it.

Then joined enthusiastically.

Within a day, the scoreboards had become a battlefield of names.

The West Continent people were troublemakers by nature. Their insults were casual, quick, and shamelessly funny.

The Middle Continent people had more face, which meant their insults came dressed in elegance and stabbed harder because of it.

One West challenger lost a speed-clearing record and changed his name to:

[Temporarily Allowing Young Masters To Feel Joy]

A Middle Continent disciple replied by taking the record and displaying:

[Your Charity Has Been Accepted And Found Lacking]

A healer ranking became even worse.

A Clearwater Meridian healer from the Middle Branch took first place in a mass-casualty trial.

A Lootwell healer from the main territory beat her by four seconds and wrote:

[Please Hydrate Before Challenging Me Again]

The Clearwater healer retook the record the next day and wrote:

[I Drank Water. You May Apologize.]

Marina saw the exchange.

Then, without a word, entered the trial herself.

She took first place by a humiliating margin and left her display name as:

[Enough.]

The healer boards became silent for half a day.

•••

The rivalry grew.

But something else grew with it.

Communication.

It began with one West challenger doing something no one expected.

After losing and retaking a record three times against a Middle Branch disciple, he changed his display name to include his contact code.

[Stone-Toed Uncle, Message Me If You Dare]

Vivian saw it and stared.

"Did he just put his contact information on the scoreboard?"

Lucien looked over.

"Yes."

"Is that allowed?"

"It is not forbidden."

Then the unexpected occured.

The Middle Continent disciple messaged him.

Their first exchange was reportedly hostile.

Their second was tactical.

By the third, they were arguing over environment choices.

By the fifth, they were sharing strategies on how to handle uneven terrain without wasting movement.

By the next day, a group chat existed.

Then another.

Then a larger one.

Then community channels.

The recorders began sending reports constantly.

At first, they expected factional insult networks.

Instead, they found something stranger.

West Continent challengers and Middle Continent challengers were exchanging strategies.

They compared how different sect footwork handled swamp fields.

They argued over whether bandit-type echoes were harder than beast-type echoes at the same difficulty.

They shared healer trial mistakes.

They traded after-action report excerpts.

They debated equipment loadouts.

They praised each other’s techniques grudgingly.

Then less grudgingly.

...

Lucien read the report.

Then leaned back in his chair.

"Hmmm."

Vivian looked up.

"What is it?"

"They are bonding."

"Through insults?"

"Yes." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Vivian smiled.

"Isn’t it better this way? Everyone is getting along."

Lucien could not argue.

•••

The result shocked Lucien more than he expected.

He had linked the scoreboards to increase competition.

He had not expected it to create social bridges.

But it did.

The communication devices made the rivalry portable.

The Echo Crucible gave people a shared language.

The scoreboards gave them visible goals.

The after-action reports gave them things to discuss.

And the ranking pressure gave them a reason to keep talking.

Former strangers from different continents began recognizing each other’s names.

Then their styles.

Then their habits.

Then their personalities.

...

Lucien sat in his office one evening, reading through the social pattern summaries.

He looked at the map showing communication activity between the main territory and the Middle Branch.

Lucien’s smile softened.

"Who would have thought a scoreboard would do this?"

•••

Of course, comparison followed.

That was inevitable.

Once the West Continent people and the Middle Continent people began communicating properly, they began comparing territories.

At first, it was casual.

Then it became systematic.

Then it became another competition, because apparently everything became competition if left near Lootwell long enough.

The Middle Branch people praised the branch’s scale, floating city, Echo Crucible, academy grounds, Celestial healing complex, and central chapel.

The West people acknowledged all of that.

Then began listing what the main territory still had.

The Ascension Spire.

The deeper Grand Archives.

The Magical Doors that could grant skills, spells, and knowledge.

More mature markets.

More specialized districts.

More established chapel quest systems.

More hidden internal facilities they refused to explain, which only made the Middle Continent people more interested.

The West won that comparison.

For now.

And the Middle Continent people did not accept that peacefully.

Requests began arriving at the Middle Branch.

[Would it not be proper for a branch of such significance to possess its own Ascension Spire?]

[The Grand Archives, even in limited form, would greatly benefit continental cooperation.]

[The Magical Doors sound like an essential educational function rather than a luxury.]

[If the Middle Branch is to represent Lootwell properly, should it not possess equal dignity in facilities?]

Lucien read that last one and laughed.

"Equal dignity."

Kael nodded solemnly.

"That is a buyer’s phrase pretending to be philosophy."

"It is effective."

"Very."

Seran, sitting nearby, looked amused.

"They are jealous."

"Obviously."

Lucien sighed.

The Ascension Spire was difficult to copy.

It required too much dungeon batteries, and dungeon cores. The Echo Crucible already consumed a large amount of essence. Building a second Ascension Spire at full scale would strain resources too much unless they gathered more dungeon batteries.

The Magical Doors were easier. Skill and spell acquisition systems could be expanded. Knowledge doors could be installed in phases.

The Grand Archives, or at least a branch version, could be done quickly with restricted Law Books and controlled access.

The chapel quest system could be deepened.

Lucien began sorting possibilities.

•••

Within days, Lucien approved several expansions for the Middle Branch.

When the announcement went out, the branch erupted in satisfaction.

The Middle Continent people immediately began calling it proof that Lootwell listened.

The West Continent people immediately began saying the Middle Branch had complained loudly enough to receive hand-me-downs.

The Middle Branch responded by saying the West was simply afraid of losing superiority once the new facilities opened.

The West replied that they would believe it when the Middle Branch survived the original Spire’s pressure floors without crying into their expensive sleeves.

Lucien read the exchange and placed one hand over his face.

Vivian, sitting nearby, tried not to laugh.

"They are getting along."

"They are insulting each other."

"That is how some people get along."

Lucien lowered his hand.

"That is sadly true."