Isaac returned to his office not long after accepting the class advancement quest.
Papers were stacked everywhere. Reports, requests, budget sheets, manpower allocations, construction schedules.
The city was growing faster than anyone had expected, and growth always came with problems that no amount of combat power could instantly solve.
Administrative work was endless.
Thankfully, he wasn’t alone anymore.
Old Man Jeremy sat across from him, sleeves rolled up, glasses perched low on his nose as he flipped through documents at a steady pace.
His movements showed his experience.
He didn’t waste time rereading things he already understood, and he didn’t hesitate to mark issues that needed Isaac’s attention.
For a while, the only sounds in the room were the scratching of pens and the occasional rustle of paper.
Then Jeremy stopped.
He picked up a file from the side, frowned, and adjusted his glasses. His brows slowly knit together as he read the header again, as if hoping the words would change.
After a few seconds, he turned the file around and looked at Isaac.
"We are going to have a concert?" he asked.
Isaac didn’t even look up right away.
"Yeah," he said, nodding as he signed another document.
Jeremy stared at him for a moment, then let out a long sigh that was more like a grumble.
"Why? We are already busy as it is. Why are we having a concert now? Are you hoping I’ll die from exhaustion?"
Isaac finally looked up, a faint smile on his face. "Don’t worry, old man. I’ll bring you back even if you die."
Jeremy’s eye twitched. "That is not comforting."
Isaac chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "I’m serious about the concert, though. We’ll use Celia’s popularity to calm people down. Too many things have been happening recently. Monsters, wars, city takeovers, refugees. People are anxious, even if they don’t say it out loud."
He gestured lightly toward the window, where the distant sounds of the city could be heard.
"An event like this, something bright and familiar, projected all over the city, will help stabilize people’s emotions. It gives them something to focus on that isn’t fear. From a governance perspective, it works in our favor."
Jeremy considered it in silence, then nodded slowly. "That... does make sense."
Isaac continued, casually, "Also, the more popular she gets, the more followers I gain for my religion."
Jeremy froze.
He lowered the file and stared at Isaac with a very specific look, the kind usually reserved for troublesome grandchildren or suspicious cult leaders. Yes, it was the former, definitely not the latter.
"...So the rumors were true? People really are praying to you as a god?"
Isaac’s smile twitched.
"It’s not like I wanted this to happen. It just sort of... happened," he said, rubbing his temple.
Jeremy leaned back in his chair. "I doubt that."
Isaac didn’t reply immediately.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the system panel he tried very hard not to look at too often.
His domains.
Specifically, the one sitting at the top.
NTR.
His expression darkened.
’Should I cancel the concert?’ he wondered.
The thought crossed his mind more than once.
’If Celia gets even more famous, and more people start developing crushes on her...’
’I might really end up as the God of NTR.’
The idea made his stomach twist.
He had worked too hard for this. He had built city, saved people, farmed land, managed logistics, fought against monsters. And yet, somehow, that was the domain the system thought suited him best.
Regrettably, the concert still had to happen.
Isaac let out a quiet breath and straightened up.
"At this point," he muttered, half to himself, "I just hope the Market finishes quickly. If my image as a farmer spreads more, maybe the Farmer Domain will overtake the NTR Domain."
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "Did you say something?"
"Nothing important," Isaac said quickly. "Just... hoping some things disappear soon."
Jeremy gave him a skeptical look but didn’t press further. They returned to their work.
Time passed.
Then, without warning, voice of Qlippoth—the Abyss Monster of Isaac and the giant White Parasite Tree—echoed in Isaac’s mind.
[Master, there are dangerous people outside the city.]
[They teleported there.]
Isaac’s pen stopped mid-stroke.
His expression turned serious in an instant.
Jeremy noticed immediately.
"Is there a problem?" he asked.
"It’s nothing. Just a minor situation. Let’s keep working," Isaac replied calmly.
Before Jeremy could say anything else, Isaac had already sent a clone toward the city border.
The clone arrived near the main gate within seconds.
Five figures stood there, clearly waiting.
They were impossible to mistake for humans.
Red skin. Four arms. Black, pupil-less eyes that reflected light faintly. Their bodies were tall and solid, with a natural sense of pressure around them.
The one standing at the front radiated the strongest presence.
Beside him stood a man with a distinctly scholarly air, holding a staff and wearing layered robes etched with unfamiliar symbols. The remaining three stood farther back, positioned near the gate walls, silent and alert.
The scholarly man stepped forward first and gave a respectful bow.
"Greetings, Lord Isaac. We are of the Solkara race. This is our lord, Averon Solkara. We heard of your coronation and came to offer our congratulations," he said.
Isaac studied them carefully before responding.
"Thank you for coming," he said with a polite nod. "Please, follow me. I’ll guide you to a proper place to talk."
Despite their sudden appearance, Isaac didn’t show hostility right away.
He had long intended to shape the city into a trade hub, a place where different races could interact without immediate bloodshed. If he bared his fangs at every unexpected visitor, that goal would never be achieved.
As they walked, his thoughts moved quickly.
’Red skin. Four arms.’
’Solkara race...’
He remembered something Professor Catherine had mentioned before.
’Near the Eltari race.’
That detail made his gaze sharpen slightly.
These people had skipped Emily’s city entirely and come straight to him.
That alone made the visit suspicious.
They were led into a luxurious living hall within the office building. The furnishings were tasteful but not overly extravagant. A maid soon arrived with tea and quietly placed cups in front of the guests before leaving.
"It’s a nice place," Averon said, sitting down with ease.
He was the only Solkara seated. The scholarly man stood behind him, while the other three remained near the walls, standing guard.
"Thank you for the compliment, Lord Averon," Isaac said, taking his own seat. "Now, I believe you have something important to discuss. Otherwise, it would be hard to explain such a sudden and... forceful arrival."
Averon smiled. "Please pardon us. We should have sent a message in advance, but circumstances forced us to act quickly."
Their conversation was polite.
Their smiles were calm.
And yet, Isaac felt an unpleasant sensation crawling at the back of his mind.
It was subtle, like something sticky he couldn’t quite shake off.
He didn’t like Averon.
Not just because of the Solkara race’s actions, but on a more fundamental level. Something about the man felt displeasing, even though he couldn’t pinpoint why.
"You recently captured the Eltari race’s city. One of their overlords escaped and came to us, hoping we could help them reclaim it," Averon said.