The three main hurdles were cooling, networking, and power supply for the server array. Among these, cooling and networking were relatively easy to solve.
In this capitalist-driven society, the saying that money makes the world go round was proven true once again. If they had followed the standard procedures for layer-by-layer approval, it would have taken ages to complete. However, Iris's financial blitz was invincible; game approvals, network services, and various permits were secured without a hitch as departments gave them the green light.
Of course, they encountered some greedy individuals who kept pushing for more, even hinting that Iris should attend a 'private party'—the kind with only two people.
Makiya was very experienced in dealing with such people. He paid a personal visit to have a 'reasonable discussion.' After a friendly exchange of views, both sides reached a consensus. The official was so moved by Makiya's sincerity and vision that he tearfully expressed a desire to donate his entire fortune to charity. Knowing how the inner circle usually handled charities, he simply donated the money directly to Makiya.
After settling his assets, the official was overwhelmed with regret under Makiya's guidance. Feeling that his crimes over the years were too heavy, he left a hurried suicide note the next day and took his own life in his bedroom.
Because the suicide note involved the dark dealings of many officials and businessmen, it naturally failed to cause even a ripple. Only a few news outlets and newspapers gave it a brief mention before an invisible hand suppressed the controversy, maintaining a facade of peace and quiet.
The server array was buried deep underground, where the thick soil provided natural defense, capable of resisting even a direct nuclear strike from above. Makiya had carved arrays onto the reinforced walls, combining them with various ice spells inherited from the Glacial Master class in DNF to stably maintain the warehouse temperature at 20 degrees.
Power supply remained a significant issue. Makiya didn't trust the local power grid; he felt it was better to keep energy matters in his own hands to avoid being at the mercy of others should the power be cut.
Tony Stark's Iron Man armor was indeed a collection of high-tech marvels. In Makiya's view, the most absurd part of the suit was definitely the miniature Arc Reactor on his chest.
Cold fusion had always been a dream for humanity, representing an inexhaustible supply of clean energy and a crucial technology for breaking free from the mother planet's shackles to reach the stars. Countless scientists had poured their hearts into it, yet Tony had hand-crafted one in a cave. The gap between a genius and a mortal was displayed in full.
Furthermore, the armor's shock absorption and g-force compensation systems were equally ridiculous. Tony, a playboy whose body had been wasted by a life of debauchery, could easily play hide-and-seek with F-22s once he put on the suit, as if the g-force didn't even exist.
The Arc Reactor was a properly patented technology. The Stark Industries headquarters featured a massive reactor that provided clean energy for the entire facility while serving as the company's public face to showcase its technological prowess.
Using an Arc Reactor to power his lab and server room was undoubtedly the best choice, but Tony would certainly not sell the technology. Even if he did, the price would be an astronomical figure Makiya couldn't afford.
Makiya didn't plan on direct robbery. For the most part, he identified as Neutral-Lawful; he wouldn't resort to unprovoked mugging if others hadn't slighted him first.
However, the Arc Reactor patent wasn't exclusive to Tony. In the cold reaches of Siberia, another man held the knowledge and patent for the Arc Reactor. Currently, he lay in bed, ravaged by illness, quietly waiting for death.
"Iris, you and the others look after the place. I'm going out to handle something for a few days. My return time is uncertain. If there's an emergency, call me on the satellite phone," Makiya instructed, stepping out of the warehouse as his subordinates watched him with respectful gazes.
Leaving the dirty work to his clones, Makiya's shadow clone set off first. Casting an invisibility spell, he took to the sky on a flying sword, leaving a white trail in the high atmosphere as he sped toward Siberia.
Equipped with the data manipulation abilities of NPC Makiya and aided by numerous clones and memory searches, Makiya's speed in finding someone was anything but slow.
Yet Siberia was vast and sparsely populated. Even with Makiya's full range of abilities, finding the man immediately would take some time. His main body decided to simply wander through Hell's Kitchen to take in the local flavor.
Ever since the misfortune involving his parents, Hell's Kitchen had only been a conceptual term in Makiya's mind. He had been kidnapped by a gang right after leaving the police station, then transferred to a vampire blood bank to work as a 'living punching bag.' After gaining power, he had stayed underground doing research, never truly seeing the reality of Hell's Kitchen with his own eyes.
Makiya strolled through the streets and alleys. In less than ten minutes, he witnessed a robbery, and one even involved a gun. It truly lived up to its reputation as the neighborhood with the highest crime rate.
Every short distance along the road stood a swaying passerby—a product of this 'free and democratic' society. Their pants were layered like an onion, and their clothes were tattered. With dull expressions and drooping heads, they swayed as if a gust of wind could knock them over.
These were addicts high on drugs, behaving almost exactly like the zombies in Resident Evil movies. It seemed humans really couldn't imagine things beyond their own perception; artistic inspiration was always rooted in reality.
"Please, don't kill me! I've given you everything I have!"
"Hehe, I definitely won't kill you."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Ahhh!"
After three gunshots, three black men ran out of a nearby alley. The leader held a pistol, currently looking frustrated as he rummaged through the stolen wallet.
"Damn it, that guy was broke. This wallet is cleaner than my own ass. There's nothing in here."
They tossed the wallet aside, clutching the ten or so dollars they had managed to snatch. Cursing under their breath, they stepped out of the alley and looked up to see Makiya watching them with curiosity.
"What are you looking at, you damn yellow monkey? It's because of you people that we're losing our jobs! Hand over your money, now!" The three men's eyes lit up as they pulled their guns and surrounded Makiya.
They felt lucky. Asians were the easiest targets—they usually had a habit of saving money and preferred to give it up to avoid trouble, often choosing to swallow their pride when bullied.
Just as Makiya was about to act, he felt a special presence approaching. Looking up, he saw a person in dark red tight leather standing on the roof, gazing down from above.
The setting sun cast a fiery red glow across the land, shining on the dark red suit and making it look somewhat eccentric.
Despite the strange attire, this costumed man with the rugged chin was actually Hell's Kitchen's local superhero: Daredevil. Occasionally, he'd be mistaken for Batman's neighbor.
Daredevil, or Matt Murdock, was the son of a boxer. As a child, he was disappointed after witnessing his father beating someone up. While running away, he nearly collided with a forklift. To avoid Matt, the driver made a sharp turn that caused a canister of chemicals to fall, splashing radioactive waste into Matt's eyes and blinding him.
But when God closes a door, he opens a window. Having lost his sight, Matt's other senses gradually strengthened. His hearing, touch, smell, and taste underwent unknown changes, giving him radar-like superpowers that allowed him to 'see' every corner of Hell's Kitchen even while sitting at home.
After gaining these powers, Matt didn't broadcast it, choosing to keep his secret hidden. But life wouldn't let his talent go to waste; inevitably, tragedy struck. His father was killed in the street by thugs. Overcome with grief, Matt vowed to avenge all innocent victims and fight the city's evil to the end. After rigorous training, he became Daredevil to deliver justice.
As a lawyer, Matt understood better than anyone that many villains appeared respectable on the surface while being adept at using legal loopholes to protect themselves, leaving victims with nowhere to turn for justice.
Thus, Matt spent his days working as an ordinary lawyer. When night fell, he donned his red suit to become Daredevil, fighting crime in the city's shadows and settling scores the courts couldn't handle, delivering justice to those the law couldn't reach.
A lawyer by day and a vigilante by night—Matt's spirit was commendable, but most people would have died from exhaustion with such a sleep schedule. Only someone with a mutated body would dare to play that way.
"You guys again!" Matt's voice was low and magnetic, his signature gravelly tone making the three thugs tremble.
They were all too familiar with that voice. Last time, the owner of that voice had leapt from the darkness and taken them all down in three moves before sending them to prison. They had only just been released. How could they be this unlucky?
The three thugs tried to resist, but Daredevil dropped from above and took them down in a flash, giving them no chance to even raise their guns.
"Are you alright?" After finishing off the three thugs, Daredevil walked over to Makiya. "Leave this place quickly before it gets completely dark. Hell's Kitchen is very dangerous at night."
"Thank you. I'll be leaving now." Makiya nodded politely, then pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to Matt. "Actually, I'm the owner of a gaming company. Take these two activation codes. Remember to play when the server goes live. I won't disappoint you."
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