ad-fusion Chapter 118 : Chapter 118
Chapter 118 : Chapter 118
Chapter 118. Logaris Now That Is Talent
Half an hour later. The experimental fields outside Winter City.
This place was indeed filthy. The frozen soil had just been turned over, mixed with plant ash and fertilizer, and the smell was quite pungent.
Lilith was squatting at the edge of the field, holding a dry grass stalk and idly drawing circles in the snow, her face full of displeasure. Today, she had been dragged here by Logaris West as “security,” but in reality, she was just a supervisor.
“They are here, they are here.”
Lilith tossed the grass aside and stood up, brushing off her clothes. “I thought that pampered elf prince had died inside his house.”
Iowen was wrapped in a thick cotton coat, bundled up like a green dumpling, with only his eyes exposed.
Logaris bent down, dug up a Stoneheart Potato from the soil, and tossed it to him.
“Take a look.”
Iowen caught it. The thing looked no different from a rock—hard and rough, its surface coarse enough to be used as sandpaper.
He closed his eyes and pressed his slender fingers against the potato. A faint green glow lit up at his fingertips. That was the innate racial talent of natural elves—communicating with plants.
After a while, Iowen opened his eyes, his expression as uncomfortable as if he were constipated.
“This thing… is very bitter at heart.”
“Speak plainly,” Logaris said impatiently.
“This thing, in order to survive in such an extremely cold environment, has poured all its vitality into thickening its skin and compressing its starch structure.” Iowen tossed the potato back and dusted off his hands. “Its ‘soul’ is closed off. It refuses to grow and refuses to soften. It is like… well, like a stubborn old maiden.”
Lilith burst out laughing beside them.
Logaris did not laugh. He was a pragmatist.
“Can it be improved?”
“Yes.” Iowen lifted his chin, finally regaining some of the confidence of a high-ranking elf. “It lacks love. I need to find it a ‘partner.’”
“…What?”
“Hybridization. Understand?” Iowen pointed toward the south. “Get me seeds from southern ‘Blazegourds’ or ‘Sweetroot Vegetables.’ I do not need many—just the pollen. I know a unique hybridization technique. Even stone, once nourished by love, will become soft and juicy.”
Although this theory sounded rather mystical, filled with the unreliable romanticism of a bard, Logaris still chose to trust a natural elf from the upper ranks of the Elven Royal Court.
“I have the seeds.” Logaris snapped his fingers. “I will have someone deliver them later.”
He turned to Lilith, who had been watching the show.
“Lilith.”
“What?” Lilith took a cautious step back. “I am not farming! I cannot even keep a cactus alive!”
“No one is asking you to farm.” Logaris pointed at Iowen. “From today onward, you are the supervisor here. Keep an eye on him. If he dares to slack off or turns my experimental field into a flower garden, then you…”
Logaris paused, adjusted his glasses, and spoke in a tone as calm as discussing the weather.
“…then you beat him.”
“Huh?!” Lilith froze. “Are you serious?”
“As long as you do not kill him or affect his ability to work, do whatever you like,” Logaris added expressionlessly. “Do I need to explain such a ‘stress-relief benefit’ further?”
Lilith’s eyes lit up instantly—it was the look of someone who had just found a brand-new, durable punching bag.
All the resentment she had accumulated from doing hard labor these past few days suddenly found an outlet.
“Deal!”
Her attitude changed immediately, all reluctance vanishing without a trace.
She turned to Iowen with a sweet smile, sizing up his delicate frame. The dagger in her hand spun so fast it left afterimages, producing a sharp, chilling whistle in the air.
“Do not worry, boss. I am Good at ‘supervision.’ I will make sure every minute of his life is… fulfilling and exciting.”
Iowen felt a chill shoot from the soles of his feet straight to his scalp, and he could not help but shiver.
…
With the rear matters settled, Logaris could finally focus on serious business.
Back at the Governor’s Residence, Aaron was already waiting.
The young man had studied under Logaris at the academy for a period of time and had now spent some time managing factories in the Northern Territory. He was beginning to carry himself more like an official.
Aaron’s hair was neatly combed, and he held a stack of freshly printed brochures.
“Professor, these are the promotional materials for our recruitment trip to the royal capital.”
Aaron handed over the booklet, wearing a smile that was both proud and slightly guilty.
Logaris opened it to the first page. One glance nearly made him lose his composure.
On the cover were several gilded words—[Northern Magitech Industrial Base: Where Dreams Set Sail].
The illustration was a heavily beautified—one could even say misleading—bird’s-eye view of Winter City. The artist had thoughtfully turned the black smokestacks into sleek, magical towers full of technological flair, and the snow-covered land into a romantic silver wonderland.
Then he looked at the content.
[Salary and Benefits: Starting salary three times higher than equivalent positions in the royal capital, with no upper limit! Includes food, lodging, and private apartments!]
—That part was actually true. The Northern Territory did not lack housing at the moment—it lacked people.
[Research Environment: Absolute freedom! No academic hierarchy, no seniority-based restrictions! As long as you have talent, you can request as much project funding as you need!]
—Also true. After all, there were barely any experts in the Northern Territory. There was no one to form a hierarchy even if they wanted to.
The most outrageous part was the final line, printed in bold oversized font at the most eye-catching position. It was even accompanied by a handsome and highly professional side-profile image of Logaris in a laboratory:
[Top-Tier Mentor: Lifetime Honorary Professor of Saint Arcadia Academy and Head of the Magitech Engineering Department—Logaris West—personally overseeing everything!]
—Also not wrong. It was just that he might not actually have time to guide anyone.
As for the most critical issues—climate, safety, and the almost nonexistent entertainment facilities—not a single word was mentioned.
“Now that is talent.”
Logaris closed the booklet and patted Aaron on the shoulder with a complicated expression. “With writing like this, it would be a waste if you did not go into fraud.”
Aaron chuckled awkwardly and scratched his head. “The key is to get people here first—uh, I mean, invite them over. Once they arrive and experience the energetic atmosphere of development in the Northern Territory, they naturally will not want to leave.”
“Fine. We will distribute these as they are.”
Logaris stuffed the booklet into his bag. “Let us go. The carriage is waiting outside.”
…