While I was stealing wheat and secrets in another galaxy, the world back home hadn’t paused. It had splintered.

  Bastion was buzzing, but the atmosphere was thick with more than just mana. It was the heavy, cloying scent of political instability.

  I sat in the War Room, nursing a mug of real, caffeine-rich Earth coffee that Leoric had synthesized from my memories. The dark liquid mirrored my mood — energizing but bitter. The holographic map glowed blue in the dim light of the Sanctum, displaying the current geopolitical nightmare.

  The forty-seven Nexus points were marked. Eighteen were green — allied or under direct protection via the treaties Jeeves had drafted. These cities were thriving, integrated into the Bastion trade network, their populations stabilized by our food shipments and protected by the reputation of the Anomaly.

  But the rest of the map was a mess of red, yellow, and terrifying grey.

  “Resistance is solidifying,” Lucas reported, his finger tracing a cluster of red dots in the Eastern Hemisphere. He looked tired, lines of stress etched around his eyes. “The Iron Covenant has locked down six cities. They’ve closed their borders tight. No trade, no comms, and they’ve shot down two of our messenger drones. Their leader, estimated to be a Sovereign Battle-Mage type named Korg, broadcasted a manifesto yesterday.”

  “Let me guess,” I leaned back, swirling the coffee. “I’m the villain?”

  “Pretty much,” Lucas sighed, rubbing his face. “He claims the ‘Anomaly’ — you — provoked the Kyorians. He’s telling anyone who will listen that you caused the destruction of Delta-2 and Delta-3. He says we invited the apocalypse and then cheered when the executioner paused to reload. His pitch is simple: submission to strength. He promises that if the planet unites under him, he can negotiate with the Kyorians when they inevitably return. He calls it ‘Strategic Survival’.”

  “Appeasement,” Anna scoffed, her face hard as flint. She was re-fletching an arrow — purely for stress relief considering her Mythic bow did not need arrows — with aggressive jerky movements. “Cowardice disguised as strategy. Korg thinks he can tame a shark by feeding it his neighbors.”

  “We tried to gauge his power level,” Jeeves interjected, “But the Prime System blocks all direct scrying of designated hostile Faction Leaders. He remains a variable. However, based on the speed of his expansion… he is formidable. Likely supported by a cabal of heavy-hitters. Reports suggest a subordinate who wields Storm-Magic similar to Freja’s, possibly derived from an ancient Primordial Earthen lineage related to meteorological myths.”

  “There are others,” Lucas pointed to the southern islands. “The ‘Azure Syndicate’. Aquatic-kin variants mostly. S’skarr cousins. They control the sea lanes. Neutral for now, but demanding high tribute. Rumors say they worship a sea-deity manifested in a giant leviathan they feed dissenters to.”

  “And here,” he highlighted a forest region. “The ‘Root-Kings’. They are led by an ancient Ent-variant. Very powerful. Claims to speak for the planet itself. They despise tech. They might align with us if we promise ecological restoration, but they hate the Kyorian machines and despise the fact that we have integrated some of their technology.”

  “What about the black zone in the north-east?” I asked, pointing to a dead spot on the map that pulsed with necrotic energy.

  “Ah,” Lucas hesitated. “That is the Dominion of the Pale Lord. A necromancer who calls himself Azrael. He conquered two Nexus points not with an army, but with a plague. He killed the population and raised them immediately. He claims he ‘freed them from the shackles of biological fragility’. Eternal life, no hunger, no pain. Just servitude. We have reports of undead legions fortifying the borders with bone-walls.”

  “Necromancers,” I muttered. “Why is it always zombies? Can’t someone raise, I don’t know, cute helpful skeletons who do accounting?”

  “And the grey zones?” I pointed to the silent cities.

  “The Closed Sanctuaries,” Jeeves explained, his monocle flashing. “Four Nexus points have invoked the Prime System’s Isolation Protocol. They have walled themselves off behind System-generated barriers. Our probes can’t penetrate; the shields are administrator-level impervious. They refuse all contact. One is rumored to be led by a sect of Light Mages claiming divine heritage from a solar deity, perhaps lineages dating from myths related to Apollo or Ra derivatives. They view the System as a test of purity.”

  “Or they are hiding something,” Kasian mused. “Or preparing. We should assume the latter. These factions are drawing power from archetypes deep in the human collective unconscious. If they tap into those myths with System mana… they could manifest devastating abilities.”

  The strategy for the upcoming event was ambitious. It required us to hold twenty-four towers. A simple majority. But we weren’t just fighting Korg or Azrael. We were fighting entropy.

  “We are spreading thin,” Freja voiced the concern everyone was feeling. Her hammer rested against her knee, crackling faintly with restless ozone. “Five strike teams. And you, handling the rest alone. It is… optimistic.”

  “It’s necessary,” I said, standing up and walking to the map. “The Coronation isn’t just about a title. It’s about the Orbital Keys. We are not even sure the extent of control having the title provides, but we know we must get it. If Korg gets the satellite network, he could invite the Kyorians. He’ll use the orbital shields to force the rest of us to kneel. Or worse, someone like Azrael might be able to use it to blot out the sun.”

  I looked at the roster we had drawn up.

  “Team Alpha: Rexxar. Eastern Sector. You take the Tower in the wetlands. Show them what a real tank looks like. Be loud. Be undeniable. Make sure to get to the highest floor possible.”

  “I will shatter it!” Rexxar cheered, banging the table. “They will know the Lion’s roar!”

  “Team Beta: Nyx. Southern Desert. It’s a stealth run. Clear it fast, clear it quiet. Don’t let them see you until the record is planted.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Nyx nodded, sharpening her Void-dagger. “Silence is my trade. The sands will tell no tales.”

  “Team Gamma: Lucas, Eliza, Kaelen, Silas and the Wyverns. Western Coast. You have air superiority. Use it. Silas, keep Rin from eating the locals. Eliza, your alchemy needs to handle crowd control if Korg’s people try to infiltrate or intervene. Kaelen, you just use your quick jumps to distract and buy space.”

  “Understood,” Lucas saluted. “Eliza has prepared new flash-freeze bombs. We’ll be efficient.”

  “Team Delta: Freja, Astrid, Bjorn. Northern Western Tundra. The Noren region. It’s your home turf.”

  “We know the ice,” Freja smiled grimly. “The tower will freeze before we do. We will hold the North.”

  Then, I looked at Anna.

  “And you.”

  “I’m taking the Central Plains tower,” Anna said firmly, cutting me off before I could suggest backup. “Nexus Delta-15. The Veridian Circle is hesitant. They respect power but fear chaos. If I clear their tower solo, they’ll respect the strength of the bloodline. It has to be me. They need to see another Kai doing the heavy lifting.”

  “It’s dangerous,” I said quietly. “There are rumors of emerging Tier 5s arriving from the locals. It will be tough to secure the top floor. You might meet peers, Anna. The competition is evolving.”

  “I hope I do,” she smirked, tapping her [Final Word] bow. “Peers are just targets I haven’t hit yet.”

  “Good. Just… check the clock.”

  “Always.”

  That left nineteen towers. Nineteen sprints.

  “I’ll be moving via portal,” I explained. “Zareth will act as the bridge in the background. I clear a tower to the top Floor — or whatever the soft cap is for the local elites to ensure dominance — claim the key, and jump to the next city. Speed is everything, since we are still not sure how long we have.”

  I paused, thinking about House Vorr.

  “While we do this,” I said, looking at Jeeves. “We need to monitor the external threat. We sowed chaos on their moon. House Vorr thinks House Lyras stole their compass. That distraction buys us time, but not forever. They will investigate. I am sure they have their own methods, so they probably will eventually trace the mana signature of the explosion. I need you to continue monitoring whatever you can.”

  “The Spire sensors are active,” Arthur assured me via comms. “If a ship enters the system, we will know.”

  We turned to our allies.

  Elder Valerius, the leader of the Elves we had integrated, stood near the map. His people had thrived since connecting to their homeworld of Aethelgard through our Spire network and giving their Council control over their continent. Their mana had stabilized, their trees were singing again.

  “The Seekers will hold the perimeter,” Valerius promised, his voice melodic and resonant with ancient authority. “Our Seekers are deployed around the key Allied cities. We cannot clear any tower floors, the System restricts our entry as non-natives of this specific challenge tier, but we can ensure no one stabs you in the back while you climb. No Warlord army will march on a city under our watch.”

  “And the governance?” Jeeves asked.

  “Self-rule,” I stated firmly. “We aren’t conquerors. Once we claim the Lord title, we validate the local councils. We protect them. We trade with them. But we don’t rule them. We don’t put governors in their palaces. We give them back their world. We show them the alternative to the Kyorians and to Korg.”

  “A gentle ruler,” Eliza noted, drifting through a stack of books. “History rarely rewards them. But perhaps the System will.”

  “Some of our allies are powerful,” Jeeves added, highlighting a few green dots. “Nexus 12 is run by a Kinetic-Mage who soloed a Rift-Guardian last week. Mid Tier 5. And Nexus 40 has a Necromancer who uses only bone-constructs for construction work. Very pragmatic. There are some powerful Primordial affinities blooming out there, Master. The integration stress catalyzed evolution.”

  “Competition is good,” I said. “It keeps us sharp.”

  As if listening, the air shivered.

  A chime sounded — clear, piercing, universal.

  A new blue window appeared, floating in the center of the room, rotating slowly.

  [EVENT UPDATE: CORONATION PROTOCOLS]

  [Time Remaining: 12 Hours.]

  [Objective Clarification: To claim a Nexus, a Faction Representative must clear the ‘Benchmark Floor’ before any rival faction. If another Faction claims a higher Floor, they will take over control after 1 hour. Clearing higher floors grants additional planetary authority points.]

  [Once a Planetary Lord is designated, they will be granted the right to Rename the Confluence.]

  [Reward Preview: Planetary Territory Expansion. The Lord may designate new safe zones and integrate sub-dimensional spaces into the World Map. Access to Orbital Defenses granted.]

  “Rename the world?” Eliza adjusted her glasses, peering at the text. “That’s… surprisingly egotistical of the System.”

  “It’s branding,” Zareth grinned. “Perhaps calling it ‘The Void-Star’ would instill fear into your enemies.”

  “We’ll call it something that isn’t an all consuming weapon,” I muttered. “But Territory expansion… that’s interesting. We could integrate the Dungeon floors directly into reality. We could expand and shrink territories based on my understanding. This will grant us control to set up better defenses and fortify certain positions.”

  The final hours ticked down.

  We dispersed.

  I portal-jumped to my first target: Nexus Delta-27.

  It was a city unlike Bastion or Aurelia. It was underground — a vast, subterranean metropolis carved into the roots of a mountain range. The air smelled of sulfur, molten metal, and forging. It was a Dweorg city, fiercely independent and currently neutral.

  I stood on a ridge overlooking the city entrance — a massive set of bronze gates carved into the cliff. A few miles away, protruding from the rocky plains like a dark splinter against the twilight sky, was the Tower.

  It was sleek obsidian, pulsing with neon-blue mana veins. It looked alien, geometric, and perfectly indestructible. A ladder to the sky built by an indifferent god.

  I checked my comms. The team was in position across the globe.

  “The Alpha is eager for action!” Rexxar’s voice crackled, eager and loud.

  “I am in position,” Nyx whispered, her signal barely registering.

  “I am ready,” Anna said calmly.

  “Shield team set,” Lucas reported.

  “Storm-caller ready,” Freja added.

  “I am at the target,” I said into the link. “Delta-27. I see the Tower. It’s quiet.”

  My Void-Star Hunger spun in my chest, anticipating the mana-density of the trials inside. The bracelet on my wrist was cold and quiet, a loaded gun waiting for a target.

  “Remember,” I told them. “We aren’t just climbing. We’re planting a flag. For Delta-2. For Delta-3. For everyone the Kyorians dusted. For every frozen soul in Alpha-Prime. We take this world back, floor by floor.”

  I looked at the Tower.

  The entrance shimmered. The blue barrier keeping entrants out began to dissolve into mist.

  “Game on,” I whispered.

  The barrier fell.

  “Climb,” I ordered.

  And across the planet, the assault began. The doors opened, and the race for the soul of the world started with a single step.