Chapter 197 - 192: Savage Growth
The gate that rose straight from the cliff face became a peculiar tale, passed along by merchant caravans until it was common gossip in the dockside taverns.
To the common laborers and dockhands of Gray Bay, the name Velin Klein gradually became synonymous with food and a chance at survival.
The number of people who answered the call was no longer in the hundreds.
Fueled by both the legend and this exponential word-of-mouth, the influx of people heading for the Grey Marsh Territory swelled into a torrent within a week.
The line in front of the makeshift registration office stretched for miles. From unemployed dockworkers of the Seven Ports Alliance to inland tenant farmers who could no longer make a living, everyone gathered here, with their families in tow.
The nine clerks at the registration office worked in three shifts around the clock, and their wrists were swollen from the constant writing.
Half a month later, the population of the temporary camp at Sharp Teeth Gorge surpassed fifteen thousand people.
The desolate gorge, where once only the sea wind howled, had transformed into a massive, clamorous, yet vibrant super-construction site.
By day, the air was filled with the ROAR of Worker Ants excavating the mountainside and the chanting of tens of thousands of laborers.
At night, countless torches were lit, casting a shimmering sea of light across the entire cliff face.
But problems soon followed.
The original Points Guild system, which had been more than adequate for managing a few thousand people in Newly Town, was now failing under the strain of a population exceeding fifteen thousand.
Fights broke out daily as people competed for jobs and vied to exchange their points for supplies.
Hidden dangers always seem to sprout in the most unexpected places.
As the number of immigrants surged, several self-formed groups began to emerge.
The most conspicuous of these groups was a crew from Broken Stone County in the Flower Province.
The mines there had long been controlled by a few powerful noble families, and the miners, in their hardship, had developed clannish and aggressive tendencies.
This group of over three hundred miners, all strong, powerfully built, and taciturn, quickly took over the best section of the camp for themselves.
That afternoon, a high-point job was posted on a new notice board.
"Urgent Job: Transport the first shipment of ’Rock Steel’ to the foundation of Pier Three. Reward: Ten points per person upon completion!"
Rock Steel was a specialized construction material purchased through the Golden Sail Commerce Association. It was an alloy forged through Alchemy, created by sintering a mixture of iron sand and Obsidian powder.
It was heavy yet brittle, a core material for the future port’s underwater foundations, and was extremely valuable.
Transporting this material required a special two-person carrying pole and synchronized steps. Even the slightest jolt could cause it to crack, which was why the point reward was so high.
A stir went through the crowd.
A farmer with his son had arrived early and was at the very front of the line.
His name was Lars, and his teenage son’s eyes were filled with excitement.
"Father, ten points! If we get this job, we can eat a proper meal!"
Lars nodded nervously, his palms slick with sweat.
Just as he was about to touch the wooden plaque inscribed with the job details, a powerful force slammed into him from the side.
He staggered and was thrown to the ground.
A mountain of a man shoved his way into the spot, snatching the wooden plaque off the board.
Behind him, a dozen other miners of similar build closed in, casting cold glances at the crowd.
It was the crew from Broken Stone County.
"You..." Lars’s son began, ready to charge forward in anger and confront them.
"Don’t!" Lars held his son back firmly. He saw the clubs hanging from the miners’ waists, felt the silence of the surrounding crowd, and finally lowered his head in defeat.
Lars, having had the job stolen from him, seethed but dared not say a word.
The others in line averted their eyes, pretending to look elsewhere.
No one stepped forward to intervene, and the guards responsible for keeping order were too far away.
Soon, this "strong-take-all" mentality began to surface in every corner of the worksite.
Smaller groups started to follow their example, relying on fists and numbers to get jobs instead of waiting in line.
...
That night, inside the nascent town hall.
Barrett handed Velin a handwritten report from the guards.
"My Lord, there were seventeen clashes today, all over people fighting for jobs. The worst one was caused by that crew from Broken Stone County."
"The worksite is descending into chaos. Everyone is just grabbing jobs, whether they can handle them or not! Take that job Lars was trying to get—after those miners stole it, they cracked one of the Rock Steel bars during transport. A complete waste of twelve Golden Suns!"
"When there were fewer jobs, our clerks had the time to help maintain order, but now..."
Velin didn’t look up, merely continuing to write on a sheet of paper with his quill.
"Patience, Barrett."
He finally set down his pen and pushed a stack of fresh parchment toward him.
"This is the ’Points System 2.0.’ It goes into full effect tomorrow."
Barrett picked up the document, and his tightly furrowed brow gradually eased.
From production roles like ’Stonemason,’ ’Blacksmith,’ and ’Ropemaker,’ to logistical support like ’Cook’ and ’Hunter,’ and even roles unique to the Grey Marsh Territory like ’Vine Constructor’ and ’Worker Ant Commander’...
Each profession had a tiered scale for its point value.
The next section explained the tiers: ’Profession Ratings.’
After a worker completed a certain number of jobs within the same profession, they could apply to upgrade their ’Profession Rating.’
Failing a job or causing a loss would deduct from their rating experience.
Jobs with greater difficulty and higher point rewards would also require a higher profession level.
For example, the Rock Steel transport job now explicitly required a team of two ’Level 2 Transporters’ to accept it.
Furthermore, a Level 2 Stonemason would earn more points for completing the same job than a Level 1 Stonemason.
"My Lord... this is..." Barrett’s fingers traced the clauses. ’This is a brilliant idea.’
It shifted the burden of verifying a worker’s qualifications from the clerks to the workers themselves; now, they had to submit proof of their qualifications to accept a job.
This would drastically reduce the instances of people fighting over jobs.
"And this," Velin said, pointing to another blueprint. "We’re decentralizing the general exchange. We’ll set up four specialized exchanges in the east, south, west, and north sectors of the worksite.
Food, tools, cloth, and medicine will all be exchanged at separate locations to disperse the crowds."
"At the same time, we’ll open a flea market. In a designated area, anyone can use their points to trade personal belongings with each other. You could trade bread you baked for a neighbor’s mended socks. Points will be the sole currency."
Barrett was utterly speechless.
He was certain that after this round of improvements, the engine known as the ’Points System’ would once again harness the countless desires of the people to drive the city’s development.
...
But just as grinding gears throw off sparks, there would always be those who tried to seize benefits beyond the rules as the engine consumed the people’s desires.
For the miners from Broken Stone County who had already gotten a taste of power, the new order was far less reliable than their own fists.
Over the next few days, Barrett reported several more incidents of vicious infighting among different groups.
Velin silently gazed at the giant sand table in the center of the room.
Many new pieces had been added to the table—wooden blocks and stones of different colors, each representing one of the immigrant groups.
Barrett watched him, puzzled.
"My Lord, aren’t we going to do something? If this continues, the rules you’ve established will become meaningless. The people who work honestly will lose heart."
Velin didn’t answer, only raising a hand to the bridge of his nose in a thoughtful gesture.
He looked out the window at the sprawling encampment, still bustling with noise and ablaze with light.
The countless points of firelight converged into a river, brimming with vitality, but also with unpredictable chaos.
"No, it’s not enough," Velin said, turning to face Barrett.
"The time to pull the weeds is after all the seeds have sprouted."