I spent the last forty eight hours meditating, clearing my chakras, centering my Qi, and preparing my mind for high-level diplomacy. This was my first official meeting with a Major Faction leader that wasn't orchestrated by the government. It was a step into the big leagues.

  I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. I looked calm. Like a President.

  I got out of the Terramotta and walked toward the Riverwalk.

  It was 7:50 PM. Summer was almost over, so the air was no longer humid and the smell of algae from the river was not as poignant. The sun was low, and was spread across the promenade.

  I found a bench facing the water and sat down.

  I was ten minutes early. A power move. I would be settled, relaxed, and waiting when she arrived.

  I watched the water and the few seagulls fight over a piece of trash.

  8:00 PM came and went.

  I checked my watch. Maybe she was running late. Faction leaders were busy people.

  8:10 PM.

  I adjusted my collar. My shirt was starting to stick to my back.

  8:20 PM.

  I started tapping my foot. Was this a power play? Was she watching me right now, laughing at the guy sitting alone on a bench?

  8:30 PM.

  The sun was gone. The streetlights were bright. The Riverwalk was deserted.

  Paranoia began to creep in.

  Was it really Misty who texted me? I didn't have her number saved. It could have been anyone. It could have been Axehill luring me out into the open or It could be an assassin lining up a shot from the shadowed parking garage behind me.

  I scanned the rooftops and extended my [Root Sense] into the concrete, but it was fuzzy here, distorted by the water and the lack of soil.

  8:40 PM.

  "It's a trap," I whispered.

  I stood up, my movement jerky. I had been sitting there for nearly an hour like a duck in a shooting gallery. I turned and started to speed walk back toward my car, my hand hovering over my sword hilt.

  A finger poked my shoulder.

  I spun around, drawing my sword halfway out of its sheath.

  Standing right behind me was a woman. She wore a black t-shirt, a grey trench coat that was too heavy for the weather, and a baseball cap with dark sunglasses pulled low over her eyes.

  It was Misty.

  "My expectations were low," she said. "And yet, you still managed to bring a shovel."

  I blinked, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Where... where did you come from?"

  Misty walked past me and sat down on the bench I had just vacated.

  "I was sitting there," she said, pointing to the empty space next to me on the bench. "For thirty minutes."

  I stared at the empty spot. "That's impossible. I would have sensed you."

  "I gave you thirty minutes to sense me," Misty said, shaking her head. "Instead, you checked your watch four times, sweat through your shirt, and then tried to run away. Typical male incompetence."

  She pointed to the spot next to her. "Sit before you embarrass yourself further."

  I sheathed my sword slowly and sat back down. The humiliation burned. I was a Realm 3 cultivator and major faction leader who had just announced the conquest of Michigan and she had been sitting next to me, invisible to my senses, watching me panic.

  "I assume you didn't invite me here just to hurt my feelings," I said. "You want an alliance right?."

  "I want insurance," Misty corrected.

  "Why?" I asked. "The Cove is strong. You have high grade alchemy and a monster like Lily who can go toe-to-toe with a beast like Majors. You don't need a faction like Eden."

  Misty turned her head slightly. I couldn't see her eyes behind the dark sunglasses, but I could feel the disdain.

  "You don't know what you're talking about," she said. "Lily is a cog. A very sharp, dangerous cog. But a cog is just a cog."

  She pointed north, toward the darkened horizon where White Hill lay. Then she pointed east, toward the river and the massive port controlled by Seaside.

  "Those aren't cogs," Misty said. "They are machines and no matter how strong a cog is, it always breaks against a machine."

  "Eden and The Cove," she continued. "We are the weakest factions in this city by a wide margin."

  "Weakest?" I bristled. "I just announced my entry into the Race of the City States, the first faction leader to do so, and am recognized as the rising power of Detroit by every news publication. What do you mean by weakest? I have more than meets the eye. Don’t judge a book by its cover."

  "You have a garden and a toy train," she said. "You have no idea what the board looks like."

  “H-!”

  A black owl swooped down from the darkness above, cutting me off before I could express my disbelief. Just before it hit my lap, it transformed into a stack of parchment scrolls.

  "Read," Misty commanded.

  I opened the first scroll. It was sealed with the White Hill sigil.

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  White Hill Assessment

  Status: Liquidated and Reorganized.

  Active Military Personnel: 15,000 Elites.

  Reserve Personnel: 10,000.

  Manufacturing Capabilities: 100% Self-Sufficient (Small Arms, Heavy Artillery, Siege Engines).

  "I already know this," I said, reading the numbers. "They're smaller, more effective and efficient, yes, but they still have a poor economy."

  "They're concentrated," Misty corrected. "Axehill realized that quantity was a liability so he fired the cannon fodder and kept the killers. By reducing his army from 100,000 to 25,000, he cut his overhead by 90%. That, everyone already knows. However, few people know that he isn't poor anymore. He's profitable. He sells weapons to every gang, faction and outfit in Detroit, including those in the Wilds."

  She tapped the bottom of the scroll.

  "They aren't just building guns either. They have started 'Project X.' A classified initiative to build a weapon specifically designed to crack 'Turtle' factions like yours."

  I swallowed hard. Axehill had become Sparta. A lean, invincible war machine that didn't need to eat as much.

  I opened the second scroll. It bore the purple boat of Seaside.

  My eyes widened as I scanned the data.

  Seaside Assessment

  Fleet Strength: 200 Vessels (50 Frigates, 150 Merchant Marine).

  Employee Count: 57,000.

  Known Hubs: New York, Los Angeles, Houston, Atlanta, Montreal (Contact Established).

  Assets: Total Control of Shipping Lanes.

  "Two hundred ships?" I whispered. "Fifty warships?"

  "Seaside is the real deal," Misty said, staring out at the water. "It’s much more than a logistics company. It is an entity incomparable to any company pre-Collapse. They have colonies and ports across the world, a navy that enforces their trade routes and the global economy, or what's left of it."

  I looked at the scroll. Seaside was a megacorporation with sovereign power. They took raw materials from the ruins of the world and turned them into the products we all used.

  "While you were digging tunnels in the dirt," Misty said, "Mister O was meeting with the leaders of New York and Atlanta, selling shoes to their runners."

  I put the scroll down as my hands were trembling slightly.

  "Hopefully," Misty said, "you now understand how outclassed we are."

  "How do you know all this?" I asked.

  Misty ignored the question. "I want an alliance. A mutual insurance policy. If the machines turn their gears toward us, we support each other."

  "What does that look like?" I asked. "What are the terms?"

  "Defense only," Misty said sharply. "If you get a wild hair and decide to attack White Hill again, you are on your own. I will not die for your ego. But if they attack you, The Cove will intervene. And vice versa."

  "And the cost?" I asked. "Alliances aren't free. What do you want from me?"

  Misty reached into her coat and pulled out a small glass vial filled with a green liquid and held it out.

  "What do I get?" I asked, looking at the vial.

  Misty didn't answer. She just kept holding it out, her face impassive behind the sunglasses.

  If she wanted to kill me, she could have stabbed me while she was invisible on the bench.

  I took the vial, uncorked it and drank it in one gulp. It tasted like a nasty dentist mint.

  [System Notification: Insight Gained.]

  [Dao of Expansion Understood.]

  [Effect: Botanical Garden.]

  Description: The user’s Dominion is no longer tethered to physical proximity. If the user owns the soil, the user can access the Domain from anywhere.

  I blinked twice.

  The world seemed to shift.

  Suddenly, I wasn't just sitting on a bench in Detroit. I could feel the tomatoes in my backyard in Southfield, the Mandrakes in Eve and the corn growing in Adam.

  It was complete control.

  I realized I could water them from here or trigger the traps, even harvest.

  Before, I had to stand on the soil to use [Dominion]. I was a God, but a local one. Now? Now I was omnipresent. My power had no borders.

  "This..." I whispered.

  "Changes everything," Misty finished.

  "How?" I asked. "This is Alchemy? A potion?"

  "Do not concern yourself with subjects above your station male," she said dismissively. "If you were impressed by that knockoff red sludge you bought for your General, then you have no chance at understanding this."

  She stood up.

  "That is what I can give," she said. "Now, on to what you will give."

  She looked down at me.

  "I want your plants."

  "My plants?"

  "Yes," she said. "I hope I don’t have to specify which ones. I require regular shipments, similar to what you are giving to White Hill."

  "Why?" I asked. "What are you making?"

  Misty didn't answer, only slightly adjusting her cap. "Do we have a deal?"

  I looked at the empty vial in my hand. This single potion had just elevated me closer to godhood. If she could make this... what else could she do?

  "We have a deal," I said.

  We shook hands. Her grip was unnaturally cold.

  "Try not to die in the Wilds," she said, turning away. "There are strange characters out there."

  "Strange characters?" I asked. "Like who?"

  She didn't answer, twisting her form and imploding into darkness. A black owl burst from the shadows where she stood and flew silently into the night sky, disappearing over the river.

  I stood there alone on the Riverwalk.

  "Botanical Garden," I whispered.

  I had to test it.

  I closed my eyes and focused on my greenhouse in Southfield. I could see it in my mind's eye. I could feel the Verdant Jade Loam Soil.

  "Come here," I thought, visualizing a Heavenly Tomato appearing in my hand.

  I reached out with my Qi, activating [Dominion] across the miles.

  The connection popped into place but it was strong. Too strong.

  [Dominion Activated.]

  My stomach jumped and the Riverwalk vanished. The smell of the river was replaced by the smell of soil.

  I stumbled, my foot catching on a root, and I fell face first into a pile of dirt.

  I scrambled up, spitting out soil.

  I was in my greenhouse.

  Tim the Tomato Plant was right in front of me, his leaves rustling.

  "Did I? I did! I did it!" I screamed, throwing my hands in the air. "Teleportation! I unlocked fast travel as well as remote control!"

  I laughed maniacally. This was the ultimate logistical tool. I could be in Adam or Eve in a blink or I could inspect my entire empire without ever getting in a car.

  My laughter died down as the reality set in.

  I looked around the greenhouse.

  "Wait," I said.

  I patted my pockets. I had my phone and keys.

  My car keys.

  "The Terramotta," I whispered.

  My truck was parked at Riverwalk. Miles away in downtown Detroit.

  I closed my eyes and tried to activate [Dominion] to go back.

  Nothing happened.

  No return function.

  I didn't own the soil at the Riverwalk and I had no anchor there so I couldn't teleport back.

  "No," I groaned.

  I looked at the keys in my hand.

  I was home and safe. I was a man who could teleport across his empire.

  But my ride was downtown.

  I sighed, grabbing a coat from the rack.

  "Looks like I'm walking," I muttered, opening the door to the cool night air.

  I started the long walk back.