The silence that followed the Battle of the Bone Fortress was heavy with implications.

  Back in the Sanctum, I sat with my Anima in what we had started calling the “Coronation Lounge” — a less formal, more comfortable version of the command center. Rexxar was eating a roasted leg of something massive; Nyx was sharpening her daggers on a piece of void-glass; and Jeeves was projected on the main screen, sorting through millions of terabytes of data harvested from Azrael’s crumbling network.

  “The Gaze,” Jeeves mused, his shadow form pacing through the holographic map of the galaxy. “You felt it distinctively, Master? Not a probe, but a recognition?”

  “It was heavy,” I said, leaning back and nursing a cup of Essence enriched coffee. “Like gravity with an ego. The Synod saw their herald get eaten. They tried to look closer. And then… the door slammed shut.”

  “The Prime System’s ‘Quarantine’,” Jeeves nodded. “We have always known the Confluence was under a restricted status, preventing high-tier physical entry. But this… this confirms the veil extends to divination and conceptual interference as well. The ‘Century Veiling’ doesn’t just stop ships; it stops eyes.”

  “It makes sense,” Leoric piped up from a pile of schematics in the corner. “If Earth is a ‘Cradle’ or a ‘Drafting Room’ for new Sovereigns, the System wouldn’t want outside variables corrupting the test data. The Synod tried to cheat by using a proxy to blow a hole in the Veiling from the inside. When we patched the hole… the Veil refreshed.”

  “Meaning we are safe from intergalactic reprisal,” Jeeves summarized. "For now. The Synod cannot touch us without breaking System Law, which would invite Retribution from the Prime Administrators. We are, effectively, in a cosmic timeout corner.”

  “A very profitable timeout,” I noted, pulling up the map.

  In the two months following Azrael’s deletion, the world map had turned overwhelmingly green.

  I hadn’t just sat around. With the Pale Dominion shattered, its towers were masterless. I had spent weeks doing the circuit, clearing Nexus Delta-12, Delta-19, and Delta-41 to Floor 50, overriding the necrotic protocols and installing my own.

  The miasma was gone. In its place, the “Void Star” towers pumped out clean, dense mana that accelerated crop growth and stabilized local mana storms.

  [Towers Held by Void Star: 25.]

  We finally controlled more than half the board.

  “We have achieved ‘Dominion Status’ according to the event rules,” Lucas reported, walking into the room with a stack of dataslates. He looked tired but satisfied, his armor scuffed from months of dungeon delving and tower climbing.

  “Twenty-five towers. That gives us a commanding majority. The resource income is going to be… ridiculous, Eren. Our charts are already predicting we will be extracting more raw materials in a week than all our Dungeons used to produce in a year.”

  “Good,” I said. “We have many ways to spend it.”

  “Recruitment?”

  “Expansion,” I corrected. “We can’t be everywhere. My ‘Void Walk’ lets me police the globe, but I can’t administer it. Besides, I don’t really want to. We need proper infrastructure.”

  We spent the rest of the meeting drafting the blueprints for the “Void Forward Operating Bases.”

  Each controlled Tower would become a hub. Not just a defensive fortification, but an academy. We weren’t going to hoard the secrets of the climb.

  “Set up training camps on the Lobby Floor of each allied tower,” I instructed, sketching a layout in the air with mana. “We will use the low-level mobs as a safe grinding zone for the locals. We can provide the instructors — retired veterans from Bastion, allied Elves from Aethelgard. We teach them aggro management, party composition, mana-cycling. We turn the refugees into real Cultivators. It will be purely merit based and the only contracts they will pledge are going to be made just to guarantee loyalty.”

  “Democratizing power,” Anna noted, looking up from her bow maintenance. She had finally cracked Floor 50 of her tower last week, having developed a legendary skill that worked with her mythic probability skill. The combined skills aimed to sever the Soul’s connection to the physical plane, an idea she got after I shared my insights on the Lattice “It’s risky. Giving the masses weapons.”

  “An armed populace is a safe populace,” Rexxar grunted. “Let them fight! If they are strong, they do not need us to save them from every goblin.”

  “Exactly,” I agreed. “They will gain power regardless, this way we at least have some sort of system going. We will build a base at the foot of each tower. Logistics, healing, trade. We make the ‘Void Star’ brand synonymous with stability. People are tired of Warlords. They want to know that if a monster wave hits, there’s a wall to stand behind and a sword to borrow.”

  The implementation was rapid.

  Silas and his Wyverns took point on the logistics. With both Wyverns evolved to Tier 5 thanks to the high-density mana of their cleared tower, they were now massive enough to carry cargo containers. They established an aerial supply chain, moving food, medicine, and mana-batteries between the twenty-five hubs.

  “Silas is enjoying himself,” Nyx commented, watching a feed of the Rogue executing a mid-air barrel roll while dropping supplies to a remote mountain village. “He calls it ‘Express Dragon Delivery’.”

  “He’s gotten stronger,” I noted. “His new Aerial-Combat style is unique. He uses gravity drops to accelerate his daggers. Very efficient.”

  The political landscape settled into an uneasy quiet.

  I pulled up the updated Faction Leaderboard.

  [GLOBAL LEADERBOARD: FACTION CONTROL (8 Months Remaining)]

  I. FACTION: VOID STAR - 25 Towers

  II. FACTION: SOLAR ASCENDANCY - 7 Towers

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  III. FACTION: ANONYMOUS (ANON) - 5 Towers

  IV. FACTION: THE IRON COVENANT - 4 Towers

  V. FACTION: AZURE SYNDICATE - 4 Towers

  “The Pale Dominion is gone,” I said, noting its removal from the list. “And Korg… is stuck at four.”

  “Internal strife is still ongoing,” Jeeves supplied the intel. “Korg is fighting mutinies. His ‘Submission’ doctrine is failing because people look at our cities — free, prosperous, safe — and then look at his militarized camps. Defections are rising. He has locked down his four towers, enforcing a ‘Kill on Sight’ perimeter to stop his own people from leaving.”

  “He reached out,” Lucas mentioned, dropping a sealed letter on the table. “A truce offer. He promises not to expand past his four towers if we respect his borders. He knows he can’t win the Coronation, but he wants to hold onto his fiefdom.”

  “Ignore it for now,” I said. “Let him stew. If he stays in his box and does not start problems, we can leave him be. But if he stirs up too much trouble, I’ll visit.”

  I pointed to the third entry.

  “This is an interesting one. ANON. Five towers. I noticed the name was a bit strange at first but now it’s become very interesting. They crept up quietly while we were fighting Azrael.”

  “We have almost zero data on them,” Jeeves admitted, sounding frustrated. “Based on initial scouting, we believe they originate from the industrial sectors of the old world. Silicon Valley ruins. Tokyo. Shenzhen. The technological centers.”

  “Technomancers?” Leoric asked, his goggles whirring. “Or a non biological entity perhaps?”

  “Scouts report ‘automated defense grids’ but no visible leadership,” Jeeves continued. “Their towers are cleared with mathematical precision. Always following the exact same schedule. Same day of the month with the same duration on each floor for each Tower. Just pure… optimization.”

  “A sentient AI faction?” I mused. “Or a hive-mind of cyborgs? Either way, they are expanding efficiently. And unlike Korg or the Solar zealots, they haven’t sent a diplomat. No threats, no offers. Just silence and spreadsheets.”

  The time was approaching.

  “The Council,” Kasian reminded us. “By ancient custom — and System suggestion — the dominant factions convene two months after the halfway mark. A summit to discuss terms, trade, or just to size each other up before the final sprint.”

  “It’s in four weeks,” I said. “Hosted in the Neutral Zone. We’ll be sending Lucas as our primary representative, backed by Freja and covered by the Elven Seekers.”

  “Me?” Lucas blinked. “Eren, you’re the Faction Lead. They expect you.”

  “Oh, I will show up,” I smirked. “I just have a different meeting in mind first so I might be a little late.”

  I stood up, walking to the window that overlooked Bastion. The city was glowing with mana-lights, a beacon of civilization in a healing world.

  “We have diplomatic channels with Korg, Lady Sol, and the Syndicate. But ANON is a ghost. I don’t like ghosts.”

  “You intend to invite them personally?” Nyx asked.

  “I intend to knock on their door,” I corrected. “They hold Nexus Delta-01. The Prime Tech-Hub. If they are a machine intelligence, they might be the only ones on the planet who can actually understand the higher-tier problems Leoric is working on. Or they might be a Rogue Defense System trying to sanitize the planet. Either way, I need to know before the Council meets.”

  “I’ll prepare the coordinates,” Jeeves said. “Though, if they are digital, it might be wise to bring a more… diplomatic person with you, Master.”

  “You’re coming with me,” I assured him. “You can handle the talking while I’ll just smile and be ready to be a hammer if we need one.”

  The next four weeks passed in a flurry of administration.

  I oversaw the establishment of the Council of the Star — a governing body for our twenty-five cities. It was composed of local leaders, Guild Masters, and representatives from the refugees. I gave them autonomy over local laws, keeping only military and inter-city trade under the “Void Star” mandate.

  We held tournaments for people to gain access to higher Floors and harder dungeons. We established trade routes. We slowly were turning the apocalypse into a renaissance.

  By the time the eight-month mark approached, the “Void Star” wasn’t just a warband. It was a nation.

  But the silence of ANON bothered me.

  Five towers. Perfectly managed. No communication. But at least they halted expansion.

  “Let’s go say hello,” I told Jeeves.

  Nexus Delta-01 was located in the ruins of a mega-city that had once been the heart of human innovation. Now, it was a jungle of metal and glass.

  I materialized at the city limits.

  “What do you see?” I asked.

  “Heavy interference,” Jeeves reported. “A powerful active camouflage with Essence, mana and physical masking. The city is here, but the sensors say it’s empty.”

  I looked at the skyline. It was pristine.

  Too pristine. The rubble had been cleared. The glass skyscrapers had been repaired with what looked like hard-light constructs. Drone swarms moved in synchronized clouds, repairing bridges and welding supports.

  It was a circuit board.

  “Hello!” I shouted, amplifying my voice with mana. “I’m looking for the System Administrator! Or the CEO! Or whoever drives the bus!”

  A drone descended. It was a sphere of polished chrome, featureless except for a single red eye.

  It scanned me.

  [Identity Confirmed: EREN KAI (Void Star).]

  [Threat Level: Extinction-Class.]

  [Diplomatic Protocol: Initiated.]

  A hologram projected from the drone.

  It wasn’t a face. It was an avatar made of shifting geometric shapes.

  “Welcome, Anomaly,” a synthesized voice spoke. It didn’t sound robotic like how I’d expect from a pre-system AI. It sounded... tired. “We calculated a 94% probability of your arrival. We are ‘ANON’. We hold Nexus Delta-01 through 05.”

  “Are you an AI?” I asked, cutting to the chase.

  “We are… the Remnants,” the voice corrected. “Minds uploaded during the Fall. Preserved in the server banks of the tech-sector. We are not one; we are thousands. Integrated. Optimized. We seek survival. Not conquest.”

  “Then why take the Towers?”

  “Because biological leadership has a 100% failure rate historically,” it stated. “We deemed it necessary to secure a partition of the planet for Logic. Korg is irrational. Azrael was malware. You… are an outlier.”

  “I like to think of myself as a patch update,” I grinned. “Look, the Council is meeting soon. I want you there. If you represent thousands of uploaded minds, you deserve a seat. We don’t want to control you. We want to network.”

  The shapes shifted, forming a rough approximation of a human nodding.

  “Network… implies exchange of data. We have observed your ‘Void Star’ protocols. Efficiency is high. Stability is optimal. We will attend. But be warned, Eren. Our logic suggests that the Coronation is merely a tutorial for a much harsher update cycle. The System is preparing us for war.”

  “I know,” I said. “That’s why I’m gathering the strongest players. Humans, Elves, Dweorg, Lorian, S’skarr, and… whatever you are. We’re going to need all the RAM we can get.”

  The drone beeped.

  [Alliance Proposal: Logged.]

  [Representative Unit: ‘ANI1’ will deploy to ‘the Neutral Zone’.]

  [Welcome to the grid, Void-Walker.]

  I turned to walk back to the portal point, feeling the hum of a million digital ghosts watching me.

  Twenty-five towers. Plus five from ANON. Plus our allies.

  We had the map. We had the army. And now, we had the machine-gods on speed dial.

  The Council meeting was going to be interesting.

  But first, I had to pick out a suit for Lucas. Politics is just war by other means, and I intended to win that front too.