For the rest of the meeting, Joel remained steadfast in his position: the company had to grow, and on a scale far beyond what anyone present had imagined up to that point.

  It all began with the decision to double the mercenaries' monthly budget, raising it to two thousand crystals. The figure landed like a thud on the table, leaving everyone visibly surprised. For a company of its size, that amount was already more than generous, bordering on unnecessary.

  But Joel didn't stop there. As the conversation progressed, new ideas began to emerge: better weapons, equipment, resources for rank advancement, incentives to retain talent, preparation for extended missions. Each proposal seemed to push the limit a little further, until, almost before anyone could fully process it, the budget doubled again.

  While his spending habits might have seemed impulsive, even reckless, the reality was quite different. Nana's monthly crystal production had already reached over eighteen thousand level one crystals, an absurd figure by any common standard. In addition, her reserves had reached thirty thousand crystals over the months.

  Even with this clearly excessive expenditure, Joel was far from jeopardizing his financial stability.

  Moreover, the meeting had an unexpected effect on him. The constant pressure that had been weighing on his mind began to slowly dissipate. His spirits lifted, the tension in his body lessened, and the physical symptoms that had been plaguing him seemed, at least for the moment, under control.

  For that very reason, Joel decided to extend the meeting.

  Topics that had previously been ignored or considered secondary began to surface, one after another, as if they had always been waiting for this moment to be discussed. One of the points that ended up dominating much of the conversation was the company's logistics: transportation, supplies, weapons and armor maintenance, health and recovery. Or, more precisely, the alarming lack of all of them.

  According to Basil, it was common for each mercenary to be responsible for their own food, weapons, medical potions, horses, and everything else necessary for the job. Only on long-duration missions, or when operating far from urban areas, did the employer take charge of the more complex logistics. Even then, it was usually limited to the bare minimum. The only ones that had a truly solid organizational structure were the regular armies and a few mercenary companies directly backed by noble houses.

  But what Joel had in mind went far beyond a simple administrative improvement. He didn't want a "slightly more advanced" structure, but rather a complete, integrated, and permanent logistical system. A system in which the mercenary wouldn't have to worry about anything other than fighting, training, and honing his skills. Everything else—like eating well, getting enough rest, having equipment in optimal condition, receiving adequate medical attention, and returning to the battlefield as quickly as possible—would be handled by the company's organization.

  None of this was an improvised idea. Joel's dream lives had given him a profound and painfully clear understanding of how different armies functioned. He had seen forces collapse not for lack of courage or power, but due to logistical errors. And he had seen others prevail simply because they were better organized.

  Logistics wasn't a secondary detail, but the very heart of any military operation.

  At some point, without even realizing it, his original plans were left behind. The idea of ??a mercenary company occasionally assisting him in his business dealings was no longer an option. He wanted something different now. A true private army. And he wasn't about to settle for anything less than mediocrity.

  From Basil's and his lieutenants' perspective, Joel's ideas bordered on the exaggerated, even the savage. Each new proposal seemed to push the company one step further from what was traditionally understood as a mercenary force, bringing it closer to something much more rigid and organized: a full-fledged military unit.

  However, there was one detail impossible to ignore. None of them would have to pay for these improvements. Joel was willing to finance everything, without hesitation or apparent conditions. And faced with that reality, any objection dissolved before it even took shape. In fact, after a few minutes of conversation, the distrustful glances began to transform into thoughtful gestures, and some soon suggested their own ideas, like Calista's dream of everyone wearing the same uniform.

  The mere notion of all the company members dressing similarly provoked mixed reactions, but no one immediately dismissed it. On the contrary, some began to debate colors, materials, and symbols, as if that future were no longer a distant possibility, but something being built right there.

  Joel, for his part, was unable to hide the emotion that overwhelmed him. As he spoke and planned, an almost youthful spark shone in his eyes. For a long time, he had accumulated ideas about how to transform warfare in those primitive worlds, how to break with centuries of inertia and brutality through the use of knowledge, organization, and concepts that, on Earth, were taken for granted.

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  And now, for the first time, he had the means and the authority to try.

  Basil and Darius were no strangers to the workings of a military force. Both had served in the Dirmistan army in the past, when they were still just apprentices and adepts. They had marched in formations, received strict orders, and participated in maneuvers and minor skirmishes within the structure of a regular army. They knew how an organized war machine operated. But what Joel was proposing went far beyond anything they had ever experienced.

  Permanent maintenance sections. Supply departments dedicated exclusively to planning and distribution. Transport units tasked with ensuring constant mobility. Specialized medical teams capable of operating both on and off the battlefield. Combat engineers prepared to modify the terrain, construct defenses, or dismantle the enemy's.

  Each new concept was added naturally, as if it were part of an obvious and inevitable scheme.

  But when the conversation turned to military formations and tactics, Joel couldn't help but be appalled. From his perspective, the way wars were fought in this world was… primitive.

  Basil was the one who tried to explain it most clearly. During his time as a low-ranking officer, he had participated in a few minor battles, enough to understand the general workings of armies.

  The battles, in essence, were simple. Basically, two forces advanced until they clashed head-on. Magic served as artillery, launched from the rear or from high ground, while cavalry was used as a flexible element to pursue, harass, or flank when the opportunity arose.

  Except in the case of sieges, battles rarely lasted more than a day. Victory depended, to a large extent, on who possessed the most powerful and disciplined warriors, capable of overwhelming the enemy through brute force.

  There was, of course, a long history on Gaea filled with examples where terrain, novel weapons, or innovative tactics had tipped the scales. But the general consensus remained the same: direct force was everything.

  Battles between mercenaries were the most primitive of all. Disorganized, chaotic, and unpredictable. Each group fought as best they could, with little coordination beyond their immediate loyalty to their leader.

  Regular armies, on the other hand, maintained a degree of order: tight infantry formations, archers positioned in the rear, and high-level warriors tasked with erecting defensive magical barriers or launching attacks to try and break through enemy lines.

  But even so, it all ended the same way. The moment the front lines clashed, order crumbled. Discipline gave way to instinct, and the battlefield transformed into a bloody chaos where only those who hit the hardest survived.

  Unfortunately, that was the extent of Basil's firsthand experience. Beyond his memories as a junior officer, the rest of his knowledge came from the general understanding of the war circulating among the population—a mixture of confirmed facts, persistent rumors, and tales exaggerated by the passage of time. Among these were accounts of naval battles and, above all, the existence of air units.

  These latter units occupy an almost mythical place in the collective imagination. For ordinary people, the warriors of the sky represented the pinnacle of military power, a force both romantic and feared, and an indispensable asset for any nation aspiring to maintain strategic parity with its adversaries.

  In the specific case of Dirmistan, there were several air regiments stationed both in the capital and in other strategically important cities. The vast majority of these units were composed of warriors mounted on flying beasts: enormous, resilient creatures capable of carrying armed combatants protected by magic.

  However, only one of those regiments stood out above the rest. The most powerful of all not only had living mounts, but also ships and flying artifacts, artificial structures sustained by complex energy formations. This unit, according to rumors, was considered Dirmistan's ace in the hole, a force reserved for large-scale conflicts or existential threats.

  Joel quickly drew parallels. In his mind, the mounted warriors immediately transformed into fighter jets, fast and maneuverable, while the flying ships perfectly fit the concept of strategic bombers. Even so, the comparison had obvious limitations.

  Air warfare in this world was far from reaching Earth's level of sophistication. The main restrictions stemmed from the maximum speed that both the beasts and the flying craft could achieve, as well as the weight they could carry without losing stability. All of that reduced their range, their destructive capacity, and, above all, their sustained usefulness in prolonged campaigns.

  However, there were exceptions, as persistent rumors circulated that the dwarves had managed to break through several of these technological barriers, creating veritable flying fortresses. Colossal structures capable of remaining airborne for extended periods and unleashing devastating power. No one in the room could confirm their existence, but the mere fact that such stories were circulating was enough for Joel to take them seriously.

  Returning to the Valiant Hearts. For them, Joel decided to take an experimental approach, moving away from established norms and borrowing ideas from Earth's armies. His mind began traversing centuries of military history, evaluating formations, doctrines, and combat systems.

  The legions of Rome's golden age were the first to come to mind, followed by the Macedonian phalanxes of Alexander the Great. Both represented the ideal of discipline, cohesion, and battlefield control. But neither seemed entirely practical in the present reality.

  Both concepts lacked proper integration with magic. In that world, ignoring that factor was tantamount to signing a death warrant. Without a thorough adaptation, those formations would eventually crumble just like the regular forces of Dirmistan against high-level mystical warriors.

  It was then that Joel remembered a different concept. One that could blend protection, ranged weaponry, and magic more effectively.

  Inspired by the Spanish tercios, he designed a square formation specifically for mystic warriors. This structure was capable of utilizing spears, projectile weapons, and, above all, magical barriers, creating a theoretically optimal defensive and offensive synergy.

  The greatest strength of that formation lay in its flexibility, 360-degree defense, and ability to adapt to the terrain. In a world where chaos reigned on the battlefield, the idea was almost revolutionary.

  Of course, it wasn't a perfect design. It had clear weaknesses, demanded absolute coordination, and required an extremely high level of discipline. But even so, Basil and everyone else present were captivated. This wasn't just a tactic; it was a completely new vision of how to wage war.

  Everyone understood, however, that putting it into practice wouldn't be easy. To achieve anything even remotely similar, the company would need at least a thousand fighters to form a single effective unit, in addition to establishing a strict, prolonged, and constant training regimen, far exceeding the norm for mercenaries.

  Joel had to work hard to convince them. He promised to take care of every financial cost, every necessary resource, and every logistical obstacle. He didn't speak like a dreamer, but like someone who had already made a decision. And in the end, one by one, they all agreed.

  With that simple agreement, sealed by words, Joel's most ambitious project began: the formation of his first army.