Old King Alexander practically folded in half, his hoarse and resolute plea echoing through the vast hall. Every word seemed to have been written in blood.
"Please… teach us!"
Allen didn't respond immediately, nor did he even move to help the elderly monarch up.
His fingers tapped against the armrest, making a rhythmic TAP… TAP… sound.
Allen had already anticipated what the old King was going to say halfway through his plea.
He needed to consider this request carefully.
'This kingdom's mineral resources are abundant. It occupies an entire continent, after all, making it far larger than my old war zone in the Molten Iron Mountain Range. If these resources could be exploited, they would generate at least tens of millions of Magic Stones in revenue each year.'
'However, these natives are… special. There's a high probability that dealing with them could trigger unknown risks, including, but not limited to, direct intervention from the mission-issuer.'
