Global Lords: Building the Strongest Civilization with SSS Rank Talent-Chapter 39: Short Stagnation

Two weeks passed.

In the Void, time was a fluid concept, but for the Seventeenth Continent, it was fourteen days of industrial revolution.

Red sat cross-legged in the air, surrounded by a complex holographic dashboard. He looked less like a frantic survivor and more like a CEO reviewing his quarterly earnings.

The map below him had changed.

The Bastion (Swamp) and the Onyx Hall (Mountain) were no longer isolated dots. They were connected. A jagged, paved road—built by the crushing weight of Shell-Kin and the digging claws of Kobolds—wound its way up the mountain pass.

Carts moved back and forth.

Red checked his resource graphs.

[ BASTION (SOUTH) ]

→ Exports: Smoked Fish, Hydra Leather, Medicinal Moss, Clean Water.

→ Imports: Refined Iron, Coal, Stone Blocks.

[ ONYX HALL (NORTH) ]

→ Exports: Iron Ingots, Coal, Granite.

→ Imports: Food, Medicine, Textiles.

The road between the two settlements was busy. Shell-Kin Haulers—tortoises fitted with heavy iron wagons—trudged up and down the mountain pass. They didn’t need drivers anymore; they knew the route.

It was a functioning circulatory system.

Red swiped open his [ PROFILE ].

[ NAME: RUBEDO ] [ RANK: 3 (LESSER DEITY) ] [ FOLLOWERS: 824 ]

→ Kobolds: ~180

→ Lizardmen: ~90

→ Mud-Skippers: ~120

→ Shell-Kin: ~40

→ Treants: ~15

→ Troglodytes: ~350 (Includes Zek’s Returnees)

→ Molekins: ~29 (Gifted to Gorr)

[ DIVINE POINTS (DP): 252,400 ] [ CAUSALITY CHARGE: 1,000% (10 STACKS) ]

[ RANK UP REQUIREMENTS (RANK 4) ]

→ Followers: 1,000 / 1,000 (Close)

→ DP Reserve: 250k / 500,000 (Halfway)

→ Feat: "Establish a Doctrine" (Complete)

"I’m halfway to Rank 4," Red mused. "I need 500k DP. At this rate, with the passive income from 800 followers plus the trade routes... maybe two weeks?"

He had been spending DP daily on minor miracles—[ PURIFY WATER ], [ ACCELERATE CROP ], [ MEND BONE ]—to keep the population healthy and working hard.

After the war celebration feast where they had eaten the Troglodytes they had killed, some of them had fallen sick, and since then Red prohibited them from eating, and instructed them to only eat what he provided. Unless, except, there was no other option.

Red had also religiously saved his Causality Charge. He had ten bullets in the chamber, ready for a catastrophe.

The investment Red had made using his DP and staying at rank 3 by spending DP every day was going to give him a big boost in the future. What he had achieved in such a short time would have taken decades.

Red zoomed in on the Onyx Hall.

Smoke poured from the vents. The furnaces were burning hotter than ever, fueled by the [ BLUEPRINT: BLAST FURNACE ] Red had sent them (Cost: 5,000 DP).

Inside the Great Hall, Warlord Gorak sat on a simple stone stool. He refused the throne. He was currently sharpening a massive iron drill-bit.

Standing next to him was Elder Zek.

The "Coward" Zek had been found three days ago in a valley to the East. When Gorak’s scouts, accompanied by massive Shell-Kin, found him, Zek didn’t fight. He saw the gleaming shells of the tortoises, he saw the well-fed scouts, and he did the math.

Zek surrendered instantly.

Now, Zek was the Administrator.

"Iron output is up 15%," Zek reported, reading from a slate. "But the coal veins in Sector 4 are running dry. We need to push deeper into the Dark-Web."

"Push then," Gorak grunted. "Send the penal squads. If they find ore, they eat. If they find a Deep-Stalker, they die."

"And the tribute for the Bastion?" Zek asked.

"Double it," Gorak ordered. "Iron-Scale sent a message. He says the ’Grey-Fins are getting fat on fish.’ I will not let lizards outwork us."

The competition Iron-Scale had started was working. The Troglodytes worked not just for survival, but out of spite. They wanted to be the most valuable asset in Red’s portfolio.

Red panned down to Bastion.

It was unrecognizable. The "Huts" were gone. In their place were multi-story structures made of stones that were imported from the North, and reinforced with Iron-Wood.

→ The Aqueducts: The Grey-Fins had built a system of bamboo and clay pipes that brought fresh water from the Lunar Spring directly into the city. No more drinking from the swamp.

→ The Training Grounds: In the shadow of the wall, Iron-Scale ran drills. Kobolds were learning to ride Shell-Kin. Treants were practicing throwing boulders.

→ The Sanitation: Red had purchased a [ BLUEPRINT: SLIME SEWER ] (2,000 DP). A colony of acidic green slimes lived in the sewers, eating waste and keeping the city disease-free.

But the biggest change was the Temple.

Krug had expanded it. It was no longer just a bunker. It was a cathedral of obsidian and bone. The violet fire burned day and night.

Red zoomed in on the Marsh District.

He had purchased the [ BASIC LITERACY ] blueprint weeks ago, but now it was bearing fruit.

A large, open-air pavilion had been built on stilts. Inside, a Mud-Skipper Elder stood before a blackboard made of slate.

Sitting on the floor were twenty students. Five Kobold hatchlings. Three Grey-Fin spawn. And... two massive, adult Troglodytes who had come down from the mountain to learn.

"The First Rune," the Mud-Skipper chirped, drawing a spiral. "Is ’Growth’. Say it."

"Gwoth," the Troglodyte grunted, struggling with his heavy tongue. He held a delicate stylus in his massive, rock-breaking hand, trying not to snap it.

"Again!" the Skipper snapped, tapping the board. "If you cannot read the order, you cannot fill the order!"

Red smiled. The Troglodytes were embarrassed, but they were learning. The administrative language of Bastion was becoming a pidgin of Common and Draconic. They were writing inventory lists, trade manifests, and patrol reports.

[ LITERACY RATE: 15% (RISING) ]

→ Effect: +10% Administration Speed / Reduced Waste.

Red panned to the Plaza.

It was no longer just a meeting place. It was a dojo.

Iron-Scale walked the lines. He wasn’t training them to fight as individuals; he was training them to fight as a Unit.

"Shields!" Iron-Scale barked.

Ten Shell-Kin slammed their front legs down, retracting their heads to form a solid wall of iron-shell.

"Breach!"

Five Troglodytes (who had rotated down from the mountain) charged the shell-wall. They didn’t hit it with hammers; they planted their feet and lifted the tortoises, acting as mobile siege ramps.

"Vault!"

Ten Kobold Skirmishers sprinted up the backs of the Troglodytes, jumped over the Shell-Kin, and stabbed at straw dummies behind the line.

"Again!" Iron-Scale ordered. "Faster! The enemy does not wait for you to find your footing!"

Gorak, who had come down to deliver a shipment of ore, watched from the sidelines. He wasn’t wearing his Warlord armor. He was wearing the simple leather of a worker. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

"They move like water," Gorak muttered to Krug. "My soldiers were strong, but they were stiff. These... these are dangerous."

"Water erodes stone," Krug replied, polishing his axe. "Join the line, Gorak. You are getting fat."

Gorak grunted, but he picked up a wooden practice spear and joined the formation. He was no longer the King. He was just the biggest soldier in the army.

Red noticed a Troglodyte guard sharing his water skin with a Grey-Fin driver. They weren’t friends yet, but they were colleagues. The hatred of the war was fading, replaced by the pragmatism of the job.

He was comfortable. He was safe. He reached for a piece of Mana-Hardtack.

Buzz.

The obsidian slab didn’t just vibrate; it flashed red.

[ INCOMING CALL: GORR (RANK 4) ] [ PRIORITY: HIGH ]

"Just when I was about to eat! What’s with this timing?!"