"The first time I leave my territory, and I'm sweating my damn balls off," Alexander said, tugging at his shirt to get some air. "Feels like I'm getting cooked out here."

  "Mr. Alexander, maybe we should take a break?" Lila asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.

  Alexander clicked his tongue as he approached a street vendor. "No, I need to at least get a sense of what I'm dealing with here, and I still can't wrap my head around your crazy heat resistance," he said, glancing at Lila. While speaking, he gestured to the vendor, pointing at a bucket filled with ominous white sauce flecked with reddish herbs, and casually flipped a silver coin toward him. "I just need to get a quick look at how you all live and operate—your culture, you know?"

  The vendor accepted the silver coin with a nod, deftly selecting a skewer adorned with half-twitching salamanders. He dipped it into the white sauce, allowing it to soak briefly before retrieving it. Without hesitation, he unleashed a burst of fire breath, cooking the salamanders alive as they let out piercing screeches.

  "Mr. Alexander," Lila said hesitantly, her discomfort evident. "This isn't part of our culture, though."

  Alexander took the finished skewer and bit off a sizable chunk, nodding toward the vendor as he spoke in djinn language with a pronounced accent. "Good job," he said, swallowing the bite. "That was a great show—and really tasty too."

  The stout and seasoned djinn vendor looked at Alexander wide-eyed before breaking into a hearty laugh. "Haha! If ya ever want real grub, ya come back here, yeah?" he said, hands on his hips, his grin stretching wide. "Ain't nobody else got proper djinn food like me, kid!"

  Alexander left after nodding at the djinn vendor. "Sure thing, old man," he said, genuinely savoring the food despite its cruelty. "Damn, I like the tingling."

  Lila squinted at the vendor. "Stop saying that!" she snapped, hurrying to catch up with Alexander as he strolled away, clearly enjoying the strange food. "Mr. Alexander, this food is filthy—only lowly commoners would eat it!"

  From far away, the vendor's voice rang out, "Say that again, ya hussy!"

  As Lila was about to explode, Alexander chuckled. "Haha! Relax," he said, taking another bite and shifting back to beast-kin dialect. "Was I ever someone who enjoyed those terrible expensive restaurants?"

  Lila wanted to argue but sighed in resignation. "Fine," she muttered, glancing at Barry, the second guard on this expedition alongside Lili. "Keep an eye out for any troublemakers, alright?"

  Beside Lili, Barry—Larry's grandfather and now a teacher at Alexander's school—was also escorting the young noble. He served primarily as an imposing visual deterrent, towering in stature with massive muscles even for ox kin. However, in terms of combat, he was more than capable of holding his own, thanks to his reaching the second Body Modification. He had joined the expedition as a personal favor to Alexander, finding genuine fulfillment in teaching and mentoring others at the school.

  As always, Lili, the fauna resembling an eerily husky-like creature, remained perpetually invisible. Yet, Alexander could easily sense her presence as she roamed about, diligently scanning for any potential dangers.

  In addition to his formidable guards, Alexander possessed five artifacts capable of absorbing impacts from threats as powerful as Lili. He also bore multiple temporary Temple tattoos, meticulously infused with natural divine [Energy] by Green, to ensure they would provide healing, alerts, or protection for at least a month in case of emergencies—he was a walking-talking castle.

  'I doubt an atomic bomb could take me out,' Alexander mused as he observed the bustling market. At the same time, Lila teetered on the edge of a nervous breakdown due to his decision to abandon all her carefully laid plans and improvise.

  Barry raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her. "Do not worry," he said, shrugging. "It looks pretty safe to me."

  Alexander enjoyed himself while Lila tried her best to make sure Barry did his job to guard them and not slack. 'Hm,' he walked to another street vendor. 'Hopefully, he will not crack her skull.'

  Time passed, and Alexander wandered through the vibrant markets. Their labyrinthine paths were lined with makeshift stalls cobbled together from a strange mix of stone and metal, with fabrics patched in as if infused with the same material. The air hung heavy with the mingling aromas of spiced meats sizzling on open fires—buckets made of special stone that held lava inside them.

  The sharp tang of acrid smoke wafting from nearby forges and the faint sweetness of overripe fruit filled his overly sensitive senses. Vendors shouted over each other, their voices competing with the clang of tools and the laughter of puppies darting through the chaos.

  'I feel like I'm home,' Alexander thought with a pang of nostalgia, recalling the bustling markets of his homeland before his flight. They had been just as vibrant and chaotic, places where he learned to barter with gestures and expressions rather than shouting—any attempt to be heard over the cacophony would have been futile.

  Each stall was a world of its own, brimming with an eclectic array of goods: crude jewelry forged from salvaged metals, bundles of dried herbs tied with rough twine, and vibrant cloths dyed in striking hues that seemed to rebel against the surrounding poverty. The hum of bartering blended with the rhythmic clink of coin, creating a melody uniquely alive in this bustling yet destitute corner of the city. Alexander drank in the atmosphere, captivated by the unfiltered authenticity and tenacity of those who managed to carve out their existence amid such harsh conditions.

  'Sadly, I can't play Henry VIII,' Alexander mused bitterly as the crowd parted for them, avoiding the beast kin whose presence was far rarer here than in Wolfsteeth for djinns. Their striking features made them too conspicuous, rendering any attempt to blend into the masses impossible.

  It was glaringly obvious that he was a visiting noble, and no one dared to lay a hand on him. Even though Alexander held no direct power, it was customary for the current ruler to establish an outer circle of protection, ensuring that any mishap involving him would be swiftly addressed to appease his influential parents.

  After wandering the market and sampling countless fascinating street foods, Alexander felt his interest wane. "So," he said, dissolving the remnants of his tenth skewer with a casual spell. "Ninety percent of culture is clothes, food, and language," he continued, cleaning his hands effortlessly with another spell. "I'm still hungry and could use a few accessories, so show me a couple more places."

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  Lila sighed but complied with his request. She had always tried to steer him away from the less savory parts of the city—an effort she might have spared had Alexander stuck to her meticulously laid plans. However, he showed little interest in the curated experiences she had prepared, likening them to visiting Wolfsteeth and only exploring the Estate and the central district. In his opinion, such an approach offered no meaningful insight.

  After hours of wandering the city and savoring its street food, Alexander found himself approaching a distinct part he aimed to visit. He paused midway across a bridge, sweat trickling down his forehead from the intense heat radiating from the lava below. The oppressive warmth pressed down on him, yet the view was undeniably grand. 'I like this city,' he thought, a faint smile crossing his lips as he allowed himself a brief moment of peace, taking in the sights sprawling before him.

  From this vantage, the city sprawled beneath him, an intricate mosaic of towns separated by glowing veins of lava that carved the landscape like molten arteries, creating small islands of towns in the wake. The air was thick with a pungent mix of sulfur, charred wood, and hints of roasted meats and herbs drifting from distant market stalls. Below, the buildings reflected the fiery hues of their surroundings, some crafted from the same stone as the stalls. In contrast, other parts looked like slums, and the buildings were patched with scavenged metal, a testament to the inhabitants' resourcefulness.

  'Yeah, the reports were bullshit,' Alexander thought with a flicker of irritation as he stood on the bridge, observing all the small towns. Ash City—a deceptively named place—wasn't a city like Wolfsteeth but rather an amalgamation of towns, divided by a network of lava rivers branching out like a spiderweb from the active volcano at its core. 'Poverty runs just as rampant here as anywhere else,' he mused grimly.

  Lila had written a report on Ash City and its demographics, but her lens skewed her perspective as a member of a wealthier clan that owned one of the more prosperous islands. Her analysis reflected this bias, painting an incomplete picture. Alexander realized it was his mistake; he had drilled into his retainers the importance of thorough statistics, urging them to create a comprehensive view of reality, regardless of whether the data reflected positively or negatively. She, on the other hand, did it like everyone else.

  While contemplating, Alexander caught a sudden waft of sulfur, his body instinctively reacting as dizziness overcame him—he grabbed the stone railing for support. 'Shit!' he cursed internally, bracing himself. Instinctively, he flinched, expecting the railing to scorch his hand, but to his surprise, the stone remained cool to the touch. "Now, this is fascinating," he murmured, his curiosity piqued.

  Lila approached, intrigued as she watched him run his hand along the stone. She nodded, eager to explain. "This is firualese—a unique blend of stone and ore only found here that can withstand intense heat."

  "Hm," Alexander said, knocking on it a few times as if testing its properties. "So, what's the catch? Why don't we use it everywhere if it's so good?"

  Lila chuckled. "Hehe, Mr. Alexander, you're not the first to ask that. It's what's known as a bizarre material," she explained, clearing her throat. "When exposed to heat, it becomes firm and hard, but as it cools, it melts and crumbles."

  "Huh," Alexander said with a nod before continuing on. "Appreciate the explanation."

  After a week of arduous travel, Alexander finally arrived in Ash City, the capital of the Eros Alliance. Here, he was set to meet with Lavafist and Pascal to negotiate a pivotal deal for the future. The city rivaled Wolfsteeth in scale and bore a striking resemblance in its sprawling layout, but the oppressive heat set it apart. As he drew nearer, the temperature escalated to absurd levels, making him grateful for his unnaturally high resistance—without it, enduring such conditions would have been unimaginable.

  But this didn't mean he was merely indulging in sightseeing or trying to shut himself off—he had two pressing tasks to complete before any meeting could occur. 'Is this how Peter the Great felt?' he mused, recalling the Russian czar's efforts to open a window to Europe, traveling abroad to bring back innovations and technologies. It resonated deeply, aligning with Alexander's own pursuit of anything novel or valuable.

  'So what if others had already discarded such materials?' Alexander thought, irritation simmering as he considered the untapped potential. He knew the material had immense value, especially given the technological advancements that would demand superior heat resistance. Even if it had been deemed worthless by others, he wished someone had at least documented its properties—but, to his knowledge, no such records existed.

  Firualese seemed like something Alexander could begin to decipher—a material that likely relied on heat to solidify its molecular bonds. Although he wasn't yet certain of its full potential, his intuition screamed that it was akin to manullium, a resource brimming with untapped possibilities and unimaginable value.

  With a sigh, Alexander committed the observation to memory, ensuring he wouldn't forget. He continued his deliberate tour around the city, visiting one poverty-stricken area after another, carefully saving the most significant one for last to avoid drawing any unwanted attention.

  'Now,' he smiled inwardly; his instincts assured him it was the right move—a calculated political maneuver that was both highly manipulative and perfectly aligned with his moniker as the Saint. 'Nobody is that cruel, especially not straightforward bastards like him.'

  Alexander stepped onto the final island, ostensibly on a sightseeing tour, his curious eyes taking in the surroundings. 'It's time to import culture,' he mused, though he firmly decided against following Peter the Great's infamous practice of mandating beardlessness.

  As Alexander walked around the island, his heart clenched. 'What a mess,' he thought, his expression remaining stoic as he resolved to eliminate such sights from his own city. Yet, he acknowledged that without his parents' relentless efforts before him, his city might have looked much the same.

  Before him lay a sprawling slum, a harrowing picture of desperation and decay. The streets were narrow, uneven dirt paths flanked by shanties made of rusted metal sheets and rotting wood. The air was thick with the stench of waste and smoke from makeshift fires, and using the hazardous river underlined the bitterness of hopelessness.

  "Lila," Alexander's voice wavered slightly, emotion thickening his tone as his words caught in his throat. "Do you understand the meaning of this place?"

  Lila, visibly unsettled by the people around her, shook her head. "No," she said, moving closer to Barry, who remained calm and steady. "I don't understand why we're even here, walking among such trash," she added, her expression shifting as her gaze swept over the ones around them.

  Emaciated figures shuffled through the filth, their hollow eyes reflecting lives of relentless struggle. Puppies, too frail for their age, scavenged through piles of discarded scraps, their laughter absent in the oppressive silence that hung over the place. Vendors sat behind rickety stalls, their wares pitiful—cheap trinkets, wilted vegetables, and tattered cloth—all desperate to make a living. It starkly contrasted the vibrant markets he had wandered earlier, and the contrast weighed heavily on him.

  "Of course, you don't know," Alexander said, stopping before a vendor selling jewelry displayed on a faded, threadbare carpet. The patterns on the trinkets caught his eye—they were reminiscent of designs he had seen in parts of Northern Argentina. However, the colors here were far more vibrant, almost desperately so, as if trying to distract from the cheap materials. The accessories, adorned with colorful feathers and an assortment of makeshift ornaments, seemed to represent a collective attempt by the people to craft beauty out of the squalor surrounding them. It was their fashion, their defiance, a small way to reclaim dignity amidst the overwhelming poverty.

  Alexander squatted before the vendor, his gaze hollow and distant. "I'll take three earrings for my left side," he said, pulling out a wooden container filled with colorful mush alongside a couple of silver coins. "What do you think would suit me, boss?"

  The vendor silently looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's alright, old man," Alexander said with a gentle smile. "I promise you'll never have to worry about hunger again."

  ...

  "Boy," a loud booming voice reverberated through the entrance throne room, dripping with a mix of laughter and fury. "You're quite the cocky little bastard, aren't you?"