The hatch of the Golden Ark lowered. As we stepped outside, we were greeted by an old man in a straw hat waiting for us just ahead. For a moment, we were at a loss for words.

It was because he was standing there looking up at us, with nothing below his knees.

It was unsettling, yet so abrupt that it left us feeling more puzzled than frightened. Was he trying to evoke pity or intimidate us? Before we could figure out how to react—

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Seeing those dumbfounded faces never gets old!"

The old man laughed mischievously and took a deep breath. Hissssss. The sound of air filling something rang out as his body suddenly rose. Before I knew it, he was at eye level with me, laughing heartily.

It wasn’t just below his knees that he was missing. His entire lower body was gone, replaced instead by pistons that allowed him to walk.

Hecto, the Oppressionist Overseer. The Overseer of the Heat Nation, who wielded pistons as if they were part of his own body, approached us cheerfully, his joints hissing with every step.

"It's been a while, Verdant Overseer. My apologies for the sudden halt. I was busy working and received the report late. But I trust you'll understand."

"Do you think saying 'sorry' is enough? I spilled all my tea because of the abrupt stop!"

While everyone else reacted, I was the only one who had made a fool of myself earlier. Who's going to compensate for my mental trauma? I grumbled under my breath, but Hecto just shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "What do you want me to do?"

"What else could I do? A Shardship smashing through farmland while dismantling rock and steel is no small matter. I offered my apology purely as a formality. If you'd trampled a cornfield, I'd have flipped the whole thing over."

His booming response was so straightforward that I doubted my ears for a moment.

Every Heat Nation Overseer I'd met so far was either a cogwheel enthusiast, a hothead, or someone incapable of holding a proper conversation. Based on that inductive logic, I'd assumed the next Overseer would also be abnormal. And since this guy had yanked the Golden Ark into the air with a lift, I’d pegged him as an enemy or a lunatic. But… he’s surprisingly articulate?

"What’s with this? Why does he seem normal?"

Ah, crap. Did I just say that out loud?

"Haha! In this country, I'm the odd one out! But don't you think a nation needs at least one sane person to keep it running?"

He really is strange. He dismissed my comment as a joke and laughed it off. Is this guy truly from the Heat Nation? It just goes to show you can’t judge a book by its cover. Who would’ve thought a man with no legs could have such a pleasant personality?

With an affable smile, Hecto extended his staff and adjusted it into a cane to steady himself. Balancing on his pistons, he turned to Peru and asked sharply, "Well, then. If you had no business, you could have bypassed me and continued on your way. But since you’ve come down, you must have a reason. I’m not as spry as I used to be, so why don’t you get to the point?"

The Regressor stepped forward, cutting Peru off. "We’re peace envoys from the Military Nation. We’ve come to discuss halting the war and negotiating an agreement with the Golden Mirror."

A direct pitch. It was so honest there was no room for misinterpretation, which paradoxically made it even harder to believe. Even Hecto was briefly taken aback, blinking at the Regressor in disbelief. He stared at us, doubt evident in his eyes. Luckily, Peru was there to vouch for our credibility.

"Is that true, Verdant Overseer?"

"...Yes."

"Do you have any proof of your identity?"

It was a reasonable request, but the Regressor had no such proof. As he hesitated, Hilde stepped in.

"We do have proof, but would you recognize it if you saw it? Alternatively, I could tell you why Maximilian failed to become an Overseer."

"That won’t be necessary. If you’re really from the Military Nation, that’s good enough. After all, who but a fool would cross the Heat Nation aboard the Verdant Overseer’s Juggernaut if they had no business with the Golden Mirror?"

Satisfied, Hecto furrowed his brow, stroking his beard. "Hmm. A peace envoy, eh? I didn’t expect the Military Nation to make the first move."

Fair enough. The Military Nation didn’t expect it either. If not for the Regressor, they would have sent soldiers, not envoys.

Such an important matter couldn’t be resolved so easily. Hecto scratched at his straw hat, glanced around at the wolves encircling us, and said, "This isn’t the best place for political discussions. Shall we go inside and talk?"

"Sure. Lead the way."

The Regressor agreed readily, and Hecto paused mid-step.

"You step so readily onto potentially trapped ground. Do you not sense the danger? If peace envoys like you disappear, peace itself will vanish with you."

"Go ahead. Try."

Wow. That’s so cool. When will I ever be able to say something like that?

Even with mind-reading powers, I couldn’t pull off a line like that. I might accidentally provoke someone and cause real trouble. You’d need the confidence to survive the heart of an explosion like the Regressor does.

Though overly bold, the Regressor’s answer prompted a hearty laugh from Hecto. "Hahaha! I like your spirit! Of course, this city has its traps, but I won’t be using them against you! Come, follow me! I’ll lead the way!"

Things seemed to be progressing smoothly. Even if the Regressor charged in headfirst, conversations like this went well with someone as rational as Hecto. Or maybe Hecto was accommodating him because he recognized the Regressor’s caliber.

‘He’s not hostile despite the bold approach. I should remember this.’

The Regressor, prepared for battle just in case, sheathed Heavenly Shadow and followed Hecto, whose piston legs hissed rhythmically as he walked. Thoughts churned in his mind.

‘The Oppressionist Overseer, the Verdant Overseer, and the Heat Breaker Overseer. No matter how quickly leadership changes in the Heat Nation, I’ve never heard of these names. The only Overseer I knew was the Thunder Overseer of Claudia.’

Hecto’s distinct appearance made him unforgettable. The sound of air escaping his pistons and the creak of his metal legs left a lasting impression. This wasn’t unique to him; the Heat Breaker Overseer, Locket, also stood out. Even among them, Peru—who rode a Juggernaut or a mechanical mount—was the closest to "normal."

Yet the Regressor didn’t recognize any of them. I couldn’t read his memories of past regressions, but it was likely because he hadn’t met them before.

‘Were they wiped out by the war? Or… did they die before it even began?’

It was still midday. Tir avoided sunlight, and Azi wasn’t much help in serious conversations—he only barked nonsense. There was no reason to linger in the city with good Juggernauts available, so I decided to accompany the Regressor and Hilde for a short while. After all, it’s always useful to read minds.

Hecto issued a few quick orders, and his subordinates scattered efficiently. Though not as disciplined as the Military Nation, their cohesion was still impressive. Just the fact that Hecto could command the wolves demonstrated his leadership.

Walking along the main road, Hecto led us to a plaza paved with white stone. Benches without backrests were scattered around a central statue. Hecto sat on one of the benches and adjusted his pistons to get comfortable.

The Regressor glanced around and remarked, "This doesn’t look like a good place for political discussions either."

"Of course this isn’t the end. Just wait and see."

Hecto pointed a finger at the statue.

It depicted a middle-aged man with a solemn expression, crafted with remarkable realism. However, the statue’s head was capped with a rounded steel cover, like a lid from a cooking pot, ruining its sense of gravitas. The mismatched material suggested it had been added later.

Hecto activated his unique magic, directing it at the steel cover.

To forge steel, it must first be hammered into shape. Even with the advent of alchemy, shaping steel through pounding has remained a common practice. The unique magic of the Oppressionist Overseer embodied this concept.

Hecto's ability applied pressure to steel—regardless of its shape or form. If it was steel, he could impose force upon it. While directing the pressure at twisted angles might make movement difficult, crafting pistons allowed him to channel immense force in a single direction. This precision enabled his pistons to operate without relying on heat or air. It was the same power that had lifted the Verdant Overseer’s Juggernaut.

Hecto applied this power to the steel cover, expanding it outward from within. The cover began to grow, its malleable, alchemically enhanced properties stretching like a balloon under Hecto’s control. Normally, even metals would tear at a certain point, but Hecto, as a master alchemist and magic user, managed to maintain perfect control. The steel swelled without breaking, expanding steadily.

At some point, the cover touched the ground, dwarfing the statue beneath it. It continued to grow, eventually overshadowing the entire plaza.

Though alchemy could transform materials, creating such precise forms required a craftsman’s intuition. Stretching steel thin and even was more about the artisan's skill than the alchemy itself. Yet with his unique magic, the Oppressionist Overseer could replicate rolling processes manually, producing steel sheets thinner than paper with his bare hands.

The Regressor observed this display closely, his thoughts churning.

‘Impressive. If he can expand steel, he can probably compress it too. Is he planning to use this as a warning—an implicit threat to attack us if necessary?’

“Ha! Ha! Ha! What do you think? Isn’t it much more private now?”

No, it seemed he just wanted to show off.

Adjusting the length of his pistons, Hecto grinned but quickly erased the humor from his face as he got to the point.

"Let me say this upfront. I don’t particularly want war either."

The Regressor nodded approvingly, though Hecto’s reasoning was not what he expected.

"I harvest and sell food for the Heat Nation. If people die in a war, my potential customers decrease. It’s as simple as that."

"That’s your reason?"

Pragmatic and profit-driven. That was the Heat Nation for you. Different in details, but the core values remained the same.

"I’m willing to help you. As Verdant Overseer, you probably know this, but the Golden Mirror isn’t far from here. I even know the exact location."

"Then why bring us here instead of taking us directly to them?"

"Because, for now, it’s not possible. I’d need at least a day. Can you wait?"

There was still some time left, but delaying any further would only make things more complicated. The Regressor, visibly dissatisfied, pressed for an explanation.

"Why?"

"I have no obligation to tell you, but since you’ve been honest, I’ll return the favor. The Golden Mirror is currently farming nearby."

"Farming? Isn’t there already farmland here?"

"More. Because this isn’t enough."

The cornfields we’d passed were already immense, yet they were still planting more. Were they planning to feed the entire Heat Nation and stockpile even more?

The Regressor’s thoughts aligned with mine.

"Why would homunculus farms even matter? Isn’t Claudia’s real food supply what’s important to you? This corn should already be plenty, so why—?"

His words were sharp, perhaps overly so.

The mention of homunculus farms—one of the Heat Nation’s secrets—made Hecto flinch. He turned to glare at Peru, his body trembling with shock.

"Verdant Overseer! Did you tell them?"

"...They already knew."

"What? They already knew?"

"...Do you think I’d just blurt it out?"

‘That makes sense. Even Verdant Overseer wouldn’t reveal such information to outsiders, especially envoys from the Military Nation. Their intelligence network must be more formidable than I thought.’

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Hecto spoke again.

"Even so, this food isn’t meaningless. Better to eat something than to starve. Besides, humans process this food in their bodies. Eating homunculus crops doesn’t cause immediate resonance with the Golden Mirror. There’s a delay of several weeks. If fermented into alcohol or used as livestock feed, the consequences are delayed even further—by several magnitudes."

Hecto planted his staff into the ground and continued, his voice filled with pride.

"The Drum Trading Company, which I run, processes homunculus crops. The more I work, the more food is distributed across the Heat Nation. Edible food with minimal risk! That’s my job, my mission, my pride!"

He added in a smaller voice, almost as an afterthought, "Of course, I take a little profit along the way, but that’s unavoidable."

"So, it’s all for money?"

"It’s not just about the money. It’s also for the Heat Nation. Homunculus crops don’t yield endlessly. The harvest window is short. If I miss this opportunity, the Heat Nation’s food supply will dwindle. So I’m asking for just one day. If you choose to proceed without my help, I won’t stop you. But if you wait, I’ll personally guide you to the Golden Mirror."

It was a reasonable explanation and a fair offer. The Regressor fell silent, lost in thought.

‘It’ll take time to locate the Golden Mirror anyway. Accepting his offer doesn’t cost us anything. If it doesn’t pan out, we can always head straight to the Golden Palace ourselves.’

This so-called hero of justice had some truly dark, practical thoughts. Just as the Regressor was about to accept Hecto’s proposal, I interjected.

"Hold on. I have a question."

While everyone else had their say, I deserved answers to my curiosity too. Sure, I could read their thoughts, but hearing it directly made things clearer.

"Ask away," Hecto said.

"What happens to humans who resonate with the Golden Mirror?"

"I’ve already said plenty. I don’t need to—"

"Do they turn into something like that statue?"

I pointed at the eerily lifelike sculpture of a man, perched atop a patterned pedestal, its craftsmanship far too exquisite for an amateur to have created.