Chapter 32 – Who Ordered a Bathhouse Castle!?

The preparations were finally complete.

Cargo secured. Airbikes loaded. Ten golems standing at attention like silent guardians.

And there it was—our ship. My ship. The product of sleepless nights, bruised knuckles, and way too much nagging from Elowen.

I stood at the helm with Oswald, Luna, and Mina beside me.

“Departing now,” I muttered, spinning the heavy wheel.

The airship groaned, gears hissing as mana thrusters roared to life. Slowly, like some ancient whale stirring awake, the massive craft rose into the sky.

“Hooh… it’s actually moving,” Oswald said, shading his eyes as the island shrank beneath the clouds.

Fu Xi’s voice carried from the dock before we disappeared into the mist.
“This is the best time to discover the truth of what lies between nations. Luna—see it with your own eyes. Learn what exists outside our borders.”

“Yes, Uncle!!” Luna waved brightly, her voice carrying in the wind.

And just like that—we were airborne.

The ship floated steady above the cloud tops, its massive hull gliding like a slow leviathan. Compared to the Skybreaker, it felt sluggish. But safe. Reliable.

Or at least… that’s what everyone thought.

“So this is it,” Mina said, arms folded elegantly. “A diplomatic mission, is it not, Lady Luna?”

“I’d rather not call it that,” Luna replied, her smile faltering. “If we involve the kingdom too deeply… something terrible may follow. I can feel it.”

Oswald leaned against the rail. “Yeah. Word is, multiple races are already gathering at that city. Elves, dwarves, humans, even orcs. Best we find out what kind of mess it is before we stick our necks in.”

I didn’t answer. My eyes were fixed on the wheel, both hands gripping the polished handles as I adjusted the hydraulic gears. Flying this monster wasn’t like piloting a bike—it was like trying to keep a bull on a leash.

“How long till we get there?” Mina asked.

“If the speed holds… noon, maybe nightfall at latest,” I replied.

I glanced at the altimeter, then grinned. “Though… we can shave some time.”

Oswald squinted. “Randy… what the hell are you plotting?”

I pointed ahead at the dark rippling streams above the horizon. “Jetstream. A river of wind. Use it right, and we’ll go twice the speed without burning half the fuel.”

“Like a rapid in the sky, huh?” Oswald nodded, half impressed.

“Exactly.” My grin widened. “And we’re entering it in 5… 4… 3…”

“WAIT—Randy!!” Luna’s voice cracked. “Are you sure this ship can handle it?!”

“…Not sure.”

“EH!?” Everyone’s faces froze in pure horror.

“Hold onto something!!” I barked.

The world lurched. The airship shook violently, groaning as the currents slammed against its hull. The floor trembled under our boots, alarms chiming as dials spun wildly. The wind roared like a beast outside the hull.

“KYAAAAA!!” Mina clung to the rail, her hair whipping wildly.
Oswald clamped his arms around a pipe. “I KNEW IT, THIS IS HOW WE DIE!!!”
Luna squeezed her eyes shut, her voice shrill. “RANDYYYY!!”

I bit down on my lip, hands straining against the wheel as if wrestling the ship itself. “C’mon… hold together you bastard…”

The ship screamed… then suddenly stilled.

The rumble smoothed. The shaking stopped. The gauges leveled out.

We were in the stream. And now—flying like lightning.

“W-what the…” Oswald’s jaw hung open. “Don’t tell me…”

“Cruising speed,” I said, smirking. “Same speed as the Skybreaker.”

Their jaws dropped.

“My uncle once took me gliding,” I explained, never loosening my grip. “He taught me how to ride the currents. It’s like… flying without wings. The sky carries you.”

Oswald exhaled in disbelief. “You’re insane… but damn, it’s working.”

Luna, still catching her breath, managed a nervous laugh. “…So. This… is fast enough?”

I was about to answer when I caught a massive shadow beneath us.

“Uh oh…” I muttered. “Dragon.”

Mina’s face drained of color. “WAIT—ARE WE OUTRUNNING A DRAGON LORD?!”

The silhouette below surged higher, wings carving through the clouds. Then with a roar that shook the heavens, Althaeon broke through, eyes blazing with disbelief.

“BY THE GODS—!” His voice thundered across the sky. “This… this ship surpasses my wings!”

He flapped harder, desperate to keep up, until finally he latched onto the stream beside us, soaring parallel.

“Never expected a boy like you to know the winds of the heavens…” His booming laughter rattled the airship.

“Oi, get inside before you tear the sails!” I yelled.

I opened the hatch. With a flash of light, Althaeon swooped inside, his massive form condensing into his human shape midair before landing heavily on the deck.

He walked up to me, his golden eyes gleaming as he rested a hand on the wheel.
“This machine…” He grinned, sharp teeth flashing. “Faster than my wings could ever carry me. Truly… amazing.”

My grin widened.
“Welcome aboard.”

Althaeon leaned against the rail, golden eyes narrowing.
“I see… strange machines trailing behind your ship.”

I scratched my head. “Oh, that? Construction rigs. Cuts down building time and labor. Way faster than brick-and-mortar.”

Oswald shot me a look, smirking. “If you’d used that brain back in school, you’d be in the scholar class by now.”

I snorted. “No thanks. Not interested.”

“Heh. Figures.” Oswald smirked again, but there was pride hidden in his tone.

Althaeon’s gaze shifted to the horizon. “Look there—beyond the mountains. My realm. We are at the border.”

I gripped the wheel, slowly pulling the rudder down. The ship groaned, its hull shaking violently as we descended through turbulence. My teeth rattled, but I managed to steady her.

The clouds parted—and my stomach dropped.

From the distance, smoke rose in heavy plumes. The ground was crawling with movement like ants fleeing fire.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Oswald clenched his fists.

“That,” Althaeon’s voice rumbled, grim and heavy, “is a sea of refugees.”

“Gods…” Luna whispered, her expression hardening.

Below us, shouts carried through the wind.

“LOOK!”
“What is that in the sky?!”
“Run!!!”

Althaeon’s grin widened, a flash of draconic pride. “That’s my cue. See you below.”

Before I could respond, he dropped through the hatch—his body exploding midair into radiant scales and wings.

“IT’S LORD ALTHAEON!!”
“HE’S HERE!! WE’RE SAVED!!”

The cries of the refugees reached us even from above. But Luna’s ears twitched—her sharp senses catching something else.

“I hear it… screams. Clashing steel…” She bolted to the railing. “Something’s attacking them!!”

I snatched up the binoculars, my blood running cold. “Damn it. She’s right. The encampment is under attack!!”

Slavers.

Oswald slammed his fist against the deck. “That’s my cue.”

“Randy, land the ship!” Luna barked. “We’ll handle this!”

Mina nodded firmly. “Keep the refugees safe. We’ll cut the chains.”

I raised my thumb. “Go.”

And without hesitation—the three of them jumped.

The wind howled past their ears as they plunged.

“Slíos araf slaodach!!” Oswald’s chant ripped through the air. His spell slowed their descent, turning their freefall into a glide.

The battlefield below grew closer. Dozens of refugees—beastfolk, elves, humans—huddled together, surrounded by slavers wielding chains and cruel blades.

“They’re attacking refugees!!” Luna’s voice was sharp with fury.

“Slavers,” Mina spat. Her gauntlet shifted, gears clanking. “Then there’s nothing to discuss.”

“Exactly.” Oswald’s eyes gleamed. “Let’s wreck them.”

He cut the spell and dived faster, body glowing faintly. “Daingnithe do thri dhuine slaodach!!” Strength and endurance surged through his limbs as he crashed into the ground like a meteor, his foot slamming into a slaver’s skull with a CRACK.

The man flew five meters before collapsing.

Luna landed in a blur of steel, her blade slicing clean through three slavers in a single arc. Blood sprayed, her movements precise, merciless.

“Wh-Who the hell are you?!” one slaver barked.
“Who cares?! KILL THEM!” another shouted.

Mina landed last, her gauntlet snapping into bow mode. Twang! An arrow of condensed mana struck a slaver square in the shoulder, pinning him to the dirt.

He roared, swinging his blade. Mina shifted her weapon into dagger form mid-spin, sidestepped, and jammed her gauntlet-dagger into his ribs. Her other hand gripped his hair—CRACK!—knee smashing into his face.

Blood sprayed across the dirt as he collapsed.

“Guards!? Where are the guards!?” Luna shouted.

A dog-folk child stumbled forward, clutching his mother’s hand. “Th-there are no guards!! We’re helpless!!”

Luna’s teeth clenched. “Damn it all…”

A wave of slavers rushed her, snarling. She spun, her sword whistling in a deadly dance. SHING! Five men fell before their bodies even realized they were cut.

Oswald fought like a living storm, fists and kicks cracking ribs, teeth, and skulls with every blow. His karate was brutal, efficient—each strike sending slavers flying like broken dolls.

Mina fought with elegance and grit, switching fluidly between her bow and dagger, cutting throats and firing arrows at point-blank range.

Blood soaked the dirt. Refugees screamed and scattered. Chains clattered as the slavers tried to regroup.

But they hadn’t expected this.

Three warriors, falling from the sky.

Three warriors who had no intention of letting a single refugee die.

The behemoth airship hissed as I guided her down, her shadow covering the fields of chaos below. The refugees were still panicking from the slaver attack, but I had no time to rest.

“Unload the construction rigs. Position them at the coordinates we marked earlier. Stand by for my signal.”

“Affirmative,” the golems intoned, their glowing cores pulsing as they moved with mechanical precision.

I wiped sweat from my brow and stepped outside, boots crunching against the dirt. Althaeon descended beside me, his massive wings folding in before his form shrank back into his humanoid shape.

“Where should we set the base?” I asked.

“That cliff there,” Althaeon pointed toward a rocky rise overlooking the valley. His voice was calm, but his eyes glimmered with old memory. “Strong ground. Defensible.”

Before I could move, a figure stepped forward. Unlike the weary, ragged refugees, this man wore gilded robes and a jeweled crest. His shoes were polished, his mustache curled ridiculously, the kind of look nobles thought made them intimidating. To me, he just looked like an old bird trying too hard.

“You there,” he said with an air of superiority. “You look powerful. I thank you for aiding these people.”

Althaeon’s tone grew heavy. “This is Lord Dein Stein. A Count of the Western Kingdom of Gildarts.”

I narrowed my eyes. Yeah… I knew that look. Same vibe as Alfian and those spoiled brats back in school—privilege dripping from every pore.

“These people are refugees,” Dein Stein declared, lifting his chin. “And this realm falls under the rightful claim of the Western Kingdom. My jurisdiction.”

I frowned. “Is that true?”

“Not at all,” Althaeon said sharply. “But humans twist the law of no man’s land to whatever suits them.”

Terra nullius. My uncle taught me that term. The excuse colonists used to take whatever they wanted.

“How to handle this…” I muttered. Then raised my voice: “Where’s your paper?”

Dein Stein blinked. “Paper?!”

“Yeah. Deed. Proof. Declaration. You’ve got documents saying this land belongs to your kingdom, then show me.”

The Count’s face turned red with rage. “How dare you! I am a Count Regent! To defy my word is to defy the crown itself!”

“With all due respect, Lord Sir,” I said through clenched teeth, “a paper trail makes things a lot smoother. I’m not ignoring you. Just… need proof.”

Althaeon snorted. “Heh. I knew you’d ignore his bluster.”

“You dare! You have no proof this land belongs to you either!” Dein Stein barked, twisting his mustache like a villain from a bad stage play. Honestly, I almost laughed.

Althaeon raised his hand—and with a pulse of magic, a scroll appeared, glowing with ancient runes.

“This is proof enough,” the dragon lord said. He laid it on the ground, and light burst forth.

A holographic image rose from the scroll—two figures standing side by side. One was a man clad in dragon-scale armor, a mighty cloak draped over his back. The other, a young woman in a wizard’s outfit—robes that clung dangerously close to “risqué cosplay” territory, but with an aura that silenced the crowd.

Dein Stein’s jaw dropped. “L-Lord William!?”

The armored man’s voice echoed through the air.
“Lord Althaeon, protector of these lands. By your blessing, we prospered. For that, we of Gildarts and Mana agree: Vista Valley shall remain yours for all eternity.”

The young woman’s voice followed, soft yet commanding.
“I, Lady Mana, Founder of the Kingdom of Mana, bear witness. This land belongs to you, Althaeon, and none may claim it without your blessing.”

The image burned brighter as both pressed their palms onto the scroll, blood shimmering like flame.

“We place our blood as proof—signed in the bark of Agrimos, the Eternal Tree, whose paper never withers. So long as this scroll exists, this land belongs to you, and your right will never be questioned.”

The light faded. Silence followed.

The refugees stared in awe. Even the slavers who survived the earlier battle were dumbstruck.

Dein Stein’s face turned pale. But before I could smirk, an armored knight strode forward, his voice harsh.

“It may look convincing… but fakes are easy to conjure.”

At that moment, an elf pushed through the crowd. His robes were simple, his eyes sharp.
“This is genuine. That signature belongs to William the Traveler, founder of Gildarts. That is his blood. I can read the seal. It is binding.”

“Ilmar, you fool!” Dein Stein barked. “You’re just a regent! You think your word can outweigh mine?!”

Ilmar’s expression hardened. “You are a mere Count. You have no consent from King Justine to intervene here. You have overstepped.”

The crowd murmured. The Count’s bluster was collapsing.

But then—the armored knight’s gaze fell on me. His lip curled. “And you… you’re just an outsider. You dare defy nobility?”

He lunged.

“Tch—damn it.”

The man was heavy, strong, but I caught his arm, pivoted, and flipped him in a brutal overhead throw. His armor slammed into the dirt, rattling like a dropped pot.

In one smooth motion, I drew my revolver and pressed it against his helmet—right by his ear.

“Tell me,” I growled, “do I look like a demon too?”

Click. I pulled the hammer back.

The knight’s eyes widened behind his visor. The Count screamed. “W-What sorcery is that poppycock?!”

“Not sorcery,” I said, smirking. “Just technology. Now—do you want to keep your ear, or should I demonstrate how loud this thing gets?”

The armored knight froze beneath me. Even through layers of steel, I could feel his fear radiating like heat.

Ilmar stepped forward, his calm voice breaking the tension.
“Do not waste your energy, outsider. They will face questioning before the king himself.”

I held the knight’s visor a moment longer, then eased my finger off the trigger. With a click, I holstered my revolver and stood tall. My work here wasn’t intimidation—it was rebuilding.

“Back to work,” I muttered.

I waved a hand to the golems.
“Begin construction. Phase one—bathhouse, cleaning stations, and sanitation rigs. Prioritize hygiene.”

“Affirmative,” the golems droned, already moving into action.

Ilmar bowed low, first to Althaeon, then to me.
“Forgive my countrymen. Some have forgotten who we were… before greed blinded us.”

Althaeon’s sharp eyes softened for a moment. “You are a good statesman, Ilmar. Keep walking that path, son.”

I just gave a nod and refocused. Golems clanked and whirred, unloading beams and modular blocks as if they had done this a thousand times before.

Then, from the horizon, Luna, Mina, and Oswald returned—dragging a chain of beaten slavers behind them. Each prisoner was bound, their necks yoked with iron.

“Well,” Oswald said, dusting off his hands with casual menace, “what do we do with this trash?”

Ilmar’s sharp eyes widened as he saw the prisoners.
“Slavers…? Lord Dein, these are your men?”

Dein Stein paled instantly. “N-no! They are nobodies! Nothing to do with me!” His voice cracked as he jabbed a finger toward the armored knight. “Hando—these are your men, aren’t they?!”

The knight snarled, still on one knee from my earlier throw. “Lord Dein, this is not what we agreed upon.”

The crowd of refugees murmured in disgust.

This was already way beyond my pay grade. I glanced at Althaeon and Ilmar.
“Politics is your department. I’ll stick to building.”

“Carry on,” Althaeon said, arms crossed like a judge overseeing fools.

Ilmar turned back to me. “If I may… would it be possible to create a small apothecary for the sick? We have many wounded, many children…”

A medic facility. That struck me hard.
“If I have enough material, I can do better than that. Wait—” I looked at the valley, gauging the space, the terrain. “I’ll build a hospital.”

Ilmar blinked. “Hospital?”

Althaeon raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I said. “Bigger than a clinic. A place where the wounded can recover. Where mothers can give birth safely. Where surgery, medicine, and healing can actually happen. A base of hope, not just survival.”

Ilmar looked stunned, then gave a small, reverent smile. “Such forward thinking…”

Althaeon threw his head back, laughing thunderously. “Hah! Boy, you never cease to amaze me!”

I grinned faintly and rolled up my sleeves.
“Alright then. Let’s lay the foundations.”

Construction wasn’t just hammer and stone—it was strategy. I marked out a large site near fresh water access, far enough from the refugee tents to prevent infection, close enough for emergency transport.

“Bathhouse and sanitation rigs first. Keep waste separate from water supply,” I barked. Golems clanked in acknowledgment.

Steel frames clicked into place like clockwork, modular panels snapping together. Dust filled the air. Refugee children peeked out, wide-eyed, watching a building rise out of nothing.

But as the skeletal frame of the hospital began forming, I frowned. A building is nothing without healers.

“Althaeon,” I called. “I need your help. We’ll need people—anyone with knowledge of medicine. A healer, a chemist, even a midwife. Someone who knows how to save lives.”

“Leave it to me,” the dragon lord said firmly.

“I will ask my people for volunteers,” Ilmar added. “Many here still remember the old ways of herbs and healing.”

“Good.” I exhaled, already visualizing operating wards and recovery halls. “This place won’t just patch wounds. It’ll give people hope.”

Later, as the sun sank, Luna approached me. Her hands were dusted with blood—not hers, but from bandaging refugees. Her face was tired, but her eyes shone with curiosity.

“Hey, Randy… how’s the construction?”

“All good. Sanitation rigs are operational. The hospital frame’s going up. Still need staff though.”

She tilted her head. “Hospital?”

“A place where the sick and wounded get healed. Where lives get saved,” I said simply, watching the steel rise into the sky.

Luna folded her arms, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Interesting term… well, I can’t wait to see it.”

Behind her, Oswald and Mina were tending to the wounded. Refugees huddled closer to the forming hospital, whispering words of hope.

I finally knelt, drawing a design into the dirt with a stick—the rough floorplan. Wide halls for patient flow, separate wings for surgery, wards with clean airflow. Infection control, sanitation, light. Not just a building—a sanctuary.

As the first walls went up, Althaeon looked on with pride. “A fortress of healing. Only a madman would think of this first in a land of chaos.”

“Maybe,” I muttered, wiping sweat off my brow. “But if this valley is going to stand, it needs more than warriors. It needs a heart.”

And so, stone by stone, panel by panel, the first hospital of Vista Valley began to rise.

But that wasn’t the only thing.

At the same time, the public bathhouse was already nearing completion.

It wasn’t just a bathhouse—it was a colossus of luxury.
Two massive sections divided by gender, each with their own pools. A central hot-water pool glittered like liquid crystal, powered by a water-recycling system that kept it cleaner than royal fountains. Toilets weren’t just toilets—they generated energy while supplying fresh water.

Water stones I’d procured from Sky Island supplied an endless stream. Firestones beneath the pools kept everything heated.

Not enough? Fine—I added a sauna. And a steam bath.
Oh, and since I was on a roll—a small gymnasium for the refugees to stay fit and healthy.

And because health wasn’t just body but stomach, I built a cafeteria beside it, with lines of food stalls and tables. Balanced meals, sustainable farming methods—done.

With Althaeon and Ilmar’s help, we found cooks among the refugees, people who once worked kitchens for merchants and nobles.

But when I asked about meal planning… the silence was deafening.

“About the meals… I wonder, do you have a suggestion?” I asked innocently.

Everyone turned their eyes on me.

The cafeteria wasn’t just a cafeteria.
Behind it? A self-sustaining farm, complete with aquaculture tanks. Trout-salmon hybrids swam lazily in crystal waters, reproducing faster than rabbits. Prawns and crab scuttled in pens, ready for harvest. Above, greenhouses grew vegetables on tiered racks.

The air was rich with the scent of food and life.

And yet—

Luna stared at me, stone-faced. 😐
Oswald pinched the bridge of his nose. 😑
Mina crossed her arms. “Randy… you overdid it.”

Then came Althaeon’s booming roar.
“IT’S A BLOODY CASTLE!!! A BLOODY FORTRESS OF COMFORT!!!”

Refugees were already whispering, bowing, and treating the bathhouse like a divine palace.

I chuckled awkwardly. “Well… you see…”

Then Luna moved.

She looked at me with eyes half-innocent, half-terrifying. 🥰
“Randy… nya… didn’t I tell you… before…”

“Eh… Luna…?” I tried to step back, but she grabbed my shirt.

Her face darkened, her fangs practically bared.
“DO YOU THINK THIS—” she spun me around and pointed at the massive bathhouse, steam rising like a fortress of the gods, “—IS JUST A PLACE FOR PEOPLE TO BATHE?!”

The gym glistened, the cafeteria gleamed, the farm thrummed with life. The whole thing looked less like a relief station and more like a luxury resort fortress.

I swallowed hard. “Uh… well… you see… it has a farm! Refugee mothers—some are giving birth already—will need a safe place. And since I’m already building a hospital… I thought… might as well…”

My voice trailed off as Luna’s shadow loomed over me.

Refugees watched from afar, murmuring. Some children already giggled, pointing.
“Is the scary girl going to kill him?”

“Shhh! He built the food place!”

The fortress-bathhouse wasn’t even complete yet… and already the refugees were gathering in front of it. Men, women, and children peeked through the gates, their eyes wide as if they were staring at a holy temple.

I wiped my hands, already thinking of the next blueprint.
“Hey, Luna!! I think I need to keep working—”

Her glare cut me off mid-sentence.
“That’s it,” she growled, tail flicking like a whip. “It’s time for me to supervise this project personally!!! Gods only know what you’ll build next!!!”

I laughed nervously, scratching the back of my neck. “Hehe… maybe just two more things… maybe…”

Everyone turned pale.
Mina sighed like she’d aged ten years.
Althaeon rubbed his forehead.
Ilmar muttered something about divine punishment.
Oswald just shook his head 😓.

And then Luna’s finger jabbed at the half-framed structure behind me.
“And this?” she demanded.

I froze like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“…Uh. A school…?” I squeaked.

Her scream nearly shattered the valley.
“THEY ARE REFUGEES, RANDY!!! THIS PLACE IS TEMPORARY!!!” She grabbed me by the collar and shook me until my vision blurred.

“Ahaha, well… education is important, you know…?” I tried.

But then, before Luna could hammer me into the dirt, a deep voice interrupted.

“I am Logan,” said a weathered man, stepping forward. His clothes were torn, but his eyes were clear with dignity. “Leader of these refugees. I only wish to say… thank you.”

He turned away from me and faced Althaeon.

Then, before anyone could blink, he dropped to his knees.
His forehead pressed into the earth.
A growl, deep and trembling, escaped him.

And then—it spread.
One by one, the refugees knelt.
Hundreds of voices rose together, crying out:

“Let us become your subjects, Dragon Lord!!!”

The valley shook with their devotion. Children bowed, mothers wept, warriors cast down their blades and armor.

Althaeon’s ancient eyes widened. Even Ilmar was left speechless, his mouth slightly open.

And Luna?
She froze, trembling, her face as red as a tomato. Her lips quivered as she spun toward me, tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

“Seeeeee, Randy!!!!!” she wailed, her voice cracking between rage and heartbreak.
“You—you—! Now it’s not just a fortress—it’s a kingdom!!!”

I gulped, sweat running down my forehead.
“Uh… well… surprise?”

Althaeon’s ancient voice rumbled across the valley, deep and dignified.

“Looks like you people will need to stay here for a while…” he said. His golden eyes swept over the bowing refugees, then he rubbed his forehead with his massive claw. “…Long as I’ve lived, I never once had the chance to rule…”

His shoulders slumped. His jaw trembled. Then, suddenly—
He spun on his heel and grabbed Ilmar by the collar.

“FOR GOODNESS SAKE—HELP ME!!!!” Althaeon roared, shaking the poor elf like a ragdoll.

Ilmar’s head bobbed up and down comically, his glasses nearly flying off.
“Okay okay!! I’ll help! Just—stop—shaking—me!!!”

The entire valley blinked at the sight of the majestic Dragon Lord reduced to a panicking old man who looked like he was drowning in responsibility.

Meanwhile…
Luna was still in rage mode. Her eyes blazed like molten fire as she glared at me, her tail straight up like a cat about to pounce.

“You…” she hissed, stepping closer with the slow menace of a predator. “If my uncle sees this… if he even hears about this…!”

Her voice cracked into a shriek. “RANDY!!!”

I raised my hands defensively, backing up until my back hit the still-warm wall of the bathhouse. “W-wait! It’s not my fault they suddenly pledged loyalty to Althaeon!”

“That’s not the point!!” Luna’s hammer was already materializing in her hands, shimmering with deadly aura.

“Oi, oi, oi, calm down—!” I ducked just in time as the hammer smashed into the wall, sending cracks racing across the brand-new structure.

Oswald, standing off to the side, sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “This is turning into a circus…”

Mina crossed her arms, her sharp eyes scanning the chaos as if calculating something. “Hmph. Well, since you’re halfway to building a kingdom anyway, Randy, might as well finish the job.”

“Don’t encourage him!!!” Luna barked, turning on Mina with steam practically shooting out of her ears.

But before she could start another rampage, one of the golems waddled up to me and bowed stiffly.

“Sir. The bathhouse is complete. We will now proceed to the next construction.”

The timing was so impeccable, it was almost cruel.

I scratched my cheek nervously. “…Uh. Good. Carry on.”

Luna’s face twitched, veins popping on her forehead.

“You…” she whispered dangerously. “…If my uncle hears about this…”

At that exact moment, Althaeon was still clinging to Ilmar’s shoulders like a lost child, crying out for salvation.
“ILMAR!!! HELP ME!!! I DIDN’T ASK FOR FOLLOWERS!!!”

Ilmar sighed, patting the Dragon Lord’s arm with the weariness of a single father. “Yes, yes, my lord. We’ll sort this out. Just… let go of me before my bones crack.”

Oswald muttered, “And here I thought Randy was the one who caused headaches…”

Mina gave me a sidelong look, her lips curling slightly. “Well, congratulations, Randy. You didn’t just build a bathhouse. You accidentally founded a…. KING…DOM.”

“EEEEEHHHHH!??” I screamed.

Luna’s hammer slammed down beside my foot, the ground splitting in a perfect crater. The shockwave made my bones rattle like dice in a cup.

“You’re dead meat, Randy…” she hissed. Her face was crimson—half fury, half… something else.

I gulped so hard it hurt. Yep. I was officially screwed.

But desperate men do desperate things.
Pssshhh!
Smoke bomb.

“RANDY!!!” Luna’s voice howled through the thick haze like a banshee. “You can’t hide forever!!!”

I was already sprinting through the smokescreen, bolting toward the construction site where the golems were still working tirelessly.
Focus, Randy. Forget the scary yandere knight. Focus on the machines.

The hospital’s walls were rising quickly, stone blocks stacking in flawless precision under the golems’ guidance. Inside, Ilmar was already gathering volunteers—bright-eyed but clueless.

Ilmar turned to me, his scholar’s robe swishing with his movement. “So… tell me, boy. How will all of this—these strange contraptions—be useful for my people?”

I looked at the volunteers. Half of them didn’t even know which way was up on a wrench. Yeah. Too advanced.

I called over one of the golems.
“Hey, can you show them how to operate the machines here?”

“Affirmative,” the golem replied in its monotone voice, immediately beginning a step-by-step tutorial for the wide-eyed villagers.

Ilmar adjusted his glasses, astonished. “By the gods… they teach as well as they build.”

I smirked. “Multifunctional, Ilmar. Like me.”

Still, one problem remained—the refugee camp looked like a dump. Rows of makeshift tents, mud puddles, and smoke from crude fires. It wouldn’t last.

I found Logan, the wolf-folk leader of the refugees, his scarred face weary but resolute.

“Logan. I need your help organizing this place,” I said.

He blinked. “…Organizing?”

“Yeah. Right now it’s a mess. If this is going to be your new home, we need order. Streets, housing, supply lines.”

Logan’s tail flicked thoughtfully. Then he nodded, determination flashing in his eyes. “Very well. If you give the structure, we’ll provide the discipline.”

“Good.” I waved over another golem. “Let’s start drafting a proper layout. Temporary homes—no, houses. Durable. Modular. Something that can be expanded.”

And so the transformation began.

to be continued