Chapter 149
After two days inside the void space, Daniel emerged alongside Melgil, accompanied by the crown prince Lashrael, Princess Caerthynna, and Cererindu. At first glance, anyone could see the drastic changes in the young royals. Though they had only spent a few hours away no more than four, by all accounts, the intensity of their training had left its mark.
Their posture, their gaze, even the faint aura around them spoke of newfound discipline and latent power. Servants in the castle whispered among themselves, while the king and queen exchanged knowing glances. They understood without question: their children had sought Daniel's guidance and had returned with more than anyone could have anticipated.
Meanwhile, Daniel and Melgil made their way to Lúthien, preparing to begin the migration process toward the void space. Daniel had anchored this hidden gateway beneath the castle, a secret structure sprawling beneath the surface.
The surrounding lands, roughly nine thousand acres, had been carefully cultivated. Most of it was devoted to crops and food production, while a medium-sized castle stood at the center, large enough to house a hundred people. Yet, the scene before Daniel's eyes defied expectation.
The grounds were alive with movement, yet silent in the way of the desperate. Multitudes of people had arrived from the surrounding lands, drawn here by whispers of sanctuary and the promise of livelihood. Tribes and scattered families, each worn, tattered, and malnourished, lined the fields, their eyes wary but hungry for hope.
Many sought the aid of the War Forge, a haven where survival might be possible, and here, Siglorr Bouldergrove, the War Forge's stalwart leader, offered them contracts. Under his guidance, they could serve and, in return, gain safety, sustenance, and perhaps a chance at a better life.
Daniel felt a cold pang of shock. He had not anticipated the sheer scale of this migration, nor the desperation etched into the faces of these people. So many were cloaked in rags, their bodies showing the unmistakable signs of long-term neglect, malnutrition, scars, and exhaustion. Even as he connected the void space to the War Forge castle to expand his forces without drawing undue attention, the sight of thousands sprawled on open ground unsettled him. Who were they, and from where had they come?
As Daniel and Melgil entered the main hall of the War Forge castle, Siglorr greeted them with measured respect. He led them to the council hall, where officers serving under Daniel were already gathered, their expressions a mix of concern and urgency. Siglorr spoke with quiet gravity, explaining that these were survivors of the monstrous stampedes instigated by the Evolve Drake. They had fled the vast Web Mountain Range, the barrier separating the west from the rest of the region. Few had made it out alive, escaping the southern reaches of the western lands, driven by starvation and the ravages of war.
The revelation struck Daniel harder than he expected. During his time at the Royal Academy, he had heard nothing of such battles, nothing of these horrors hidden from public eyes. Siglorr's voice carried the weight of sorrow as he revealed the truth: much of what the public and even the royal family believed to be peaceful society was carefully manipulated.
Corrupt and powerful nobles, operating from the shadows, had engineered these crises to control the flow of power and resources. The evolution of sentient life, of civilizations, had accelerated far beyond what even the old gods could predict. Populations grew rapidly, food supplies collapsed, and social structures crumbled in remote regions, leaving many to suffer in silence.
Daniel recalled the bustling merchant districts of Solnara Cererindu, where he had often wandered through the crowds, seeing what he had assumed were traveling traders and merchants. Now, he understood the grim reality: these were not itinerant merchants at all. They were refugees, immigrants fleeing lands decimated by unseen wars and starvation, their presence only thinly disguised by the veneer of commerce.
A sense of unease settled over Daniel. The carefully controlled, familiar world he had built a world of programmable outcomes, of predictable NPCs and coded behaviors, was unraveling. Those he had considered simple constructs were now living beings, propagating independently, free from the rules he once imposed.
The predictability of his creation was gone, replaced by the unpredictable chaos of life itself. The realization hit him with a weight he had never anticipated. This was no longer a game, no longer a simulation where outcomes could be accounted for. The boundaries between creation and reality, between control and free will, were collapsing before him.
As he stood among the crowds, watching weary faces turn toward the War Forge for hope, Daniel felt a mixture of awe and dread. The void space, the castle, even the loyal War Forge soldiers, they were all part of a rapidly expanding web of life that no code could contain.
The rules he once knew no longer applied. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet, persistent thought began to take shape: the world he thought he controlled had grown beyond him. And now, he would have to face it, unprepared and unarmed against the consequences of his own creation.
The crowd outside the War Forge castle shifted uneasily as Daniel and Melgil walked through the grounds. Many of the refugees kept their distance at first, wary of strangers with the air of authority. Mothers clutched thin, shivering children; young men and women stood with rigid postures, their eyes darting around, scanning for threats. Some looked toward the castle with cautious hope, while others seemed to brace themselves for disappointment, as if trust had long since been stripped from them. The silence among the masses was heavy, broken only by the occasional cough, a child's whimper, or the scrape of worn sandals against the dusty earth.
Daniel's gaze swept over the scene. Tents had been hastily pitched along the edges of the cultivated fields. Makeshift fires smoked in small clusters, casting flickering light over faces streaked with dirt and wear. He could see the signs of starvation—sunken cheeks, ragged clothing, and hands rough from labor and travel. Yet even amid this despair, there was a flicker of determination. Some refugees were already scavenging among the crops, gathering vegetables, turning over soil, trying to reclaim a sense of agency in a world that had stripped it from them.
Inside the castle, Melgil moved swiftly to assess the existing resources. The halls were bustling with officers and War Forge soldiers, issuing orders to organize the incoming waves of people. Storage rooms were repurposed as temporary dormitories; kitchens expanded into adjacent chambers, turning every available space into a makeshift mess hall.
Tables that once held maps and strategies were now stacked with sacks of grain and dried meat. Daniel could see the tension in every cornerthe strain of adapting a medium-sized castle meant for a hundred people to now sustain thousands was palpable.
Siglorr Bouldergrove approached Daniel, his voice low but urgent. "They will obey orders," he said. "But chaos is inevitable if we do not act quickly. They are not soldiers. They are survivors, and they have not known safety for months, perhaps years. Their patience is thin, and desperation is thick in their blood."
Daniel nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility settle upon him. He could feel the hum of the void space connection beneath the castle, an almost invisible pulse that could amplify his power and resources—but even this anchor was limited by the sheer number of living beings now under his care. "We need to divide them," he said slowly, thinking aloud. "Those who can work the land, those who can defend, those who need care. Every person must have purpose, or unrest will spread faster than we can contain."
Melgil already had plans forming in her mind. "We can create triage points for the sick and injured. Medical aid, food distribution, and security patrols. But we must also maintain morale. Without hope, they will not obey, and that will only invite chaos."
Outside, Daniel and Melgil watched as the first signs of human unpredictability began to show. A small group of men tried to claim a tent for themselves, arguing violently with another group who had been assigned the space. Children wandered too close to the edge of the fields, causing panic among their parents. One elderly man, frail and bent from hardship, collapsed under the weight of exhaustion, drawing dozens of anxious hands to help him. The castle soldiers worked swiftly, but it was clear that sheer manpower alone would not suffice.
Daniel felt a twinge of guilt, and something deeper—a creeping fear. He had designed worlds where outcomes were controlled, where lives could be simulated, and where consequences could be reset with a thought. Now, those rules had evaporated. He could command armies, shape landscapes, and manipulate magic—but the lives of thousands of sentient beings, with wills, fears, and desires of their own, could not be coded or predicted. They would act, fight, and survive as they chose, and Daniel would have to adapt in real time.
He turned his attention to the void space connection beneath the castle. By expanding the link, he could create storage for food, water, and supplies, effectively extending the castle's capacity without drawing the attention of outsiders. Yet every pulse of energy reminded him of another limitation: the more people he tried to sustain, the more the castle itself strained. The walls groaned under the pressure of expansion spells; corridors that once comfortably held fifty now seemed like narrow alleys clogged with bodies.
Melgil stepped beside him, her white hair brushing the stone floor. "We can't save them all immediately," she said quietly. "But if we act strategically, assign roles, and keep order, we can stabilize the situation."
Daniel nodded, a silent resolve forming in his chest. "Then we begin with organization. Every person must have purpose. Every resource must be accounted for. And above all… we must be ready for unrest."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the shadows of the massed refugees stretched long across the fields. Fires flickered like stars, illuminating faces etched with exhaustion and uncertainty. The castle, once a symbol of control and order, had become a hub of chaos and potential, teetering on the edge of collapse.
Yet amid the tumult, Daniel felt a spark of something new. This was no longer a game, no longer a controlled experiment. This was life—unpredictable, brutal, and utterly alive. And if he could navigate it, he might just transform despair into strength, chaos into order.
But first, he would have to survive the night.
Lúthien were a whirlwind of movement, noise, and meticulous planning. Daniel and Melgil had immediately set to work, coordinating the distribution of food, shelter, and tasks with the help of the Siglorr Bouldergrove clan. The entire clan, seasoned in both war and administration, moved like a single organism, issuing orders, organizing lines, and assigning roles to the influx of thousands of displaced souls.
As the transfer gate hummed to life, more familiar faces arrived. Those who bore Daniel's insignia came in, their expressions a mixture of shock and determination. Many had never anticipated witnessing such suffering firsthand—the sheer scale of it overwhelmed even the most battle-hardened. Among them were the Velvet Knights, human players who had long trained under Daniel's guidance. Jin Xifeng, twenty-five and captain at level twenty-five, scanned the fields with a clenched jaw, his eyes narrowing at the sight of tattered children and exhausted parents. His twin sister, Bai Xifeng, twenty-three, could only shake her head, struggling to reconcile the suffering before her with the structured world she knew.
Even the Tower's residents, people used to order and precision, were visibly shaken. Adam Roughbrook, fifty-six, stout and bulky at just over five feet, strode through the crowds, distributing food and water, his long beard brushing against his chest with every hurried step. Beside him moved his daughter, Anika Roughbrook, twenty years old, with sleek black braids and a height that seemed to command presence despite her slim physique. She knelt repeatedly beside the weakest, helping those who could no longer stand, her hands gentle yet efficient.
Outside the castle walls, the Grey Ogre leader Bralthor and his members trudged through the fields, moving with deliberate care, their massive forms both reassuring and intimidating. Nukra, Bralthor's second-in-command, coordinated with smaller clans and tribes, ensuring that the distribution of supplies reached the outermost fringes of the refugee encampments.
This sudden gathering had been orchestrated by Elaria Syrune, an elf of ninety years with a slender, petite frame, white skin, green eyes, and delicate red lips, whose adoption into the community had made her a quiet pillar of compassion. Her voice, though soft, carried authority. She directed her adopted family and allies with precision, awakening them to the reality of the flood of people now occupying their lands. The crops were still young and fragile, the fields untested for such a population surge, and the burden weighed heavily on all who lived within the domain.
The first sparks of unrest were inevitable. Children cried for food that could not be immediately distributed; arguments broke out over tents and sleeping spaces. A few refugees, desperate and embittered, challenged the assigned roles, questioning why some had work while others were left to wait. Daniel, observing from the balcony of the main hall, realized that this was the first real test of his leadership. He could organize armies and construct worlds, but here, unpredictability reigned.
He stepped down into the fields with Melgil at his side. Their presence alone brought a momentary hush, but it was not enough to stop the growing murmurs. Daniel raised his voice, calm yet firm, addressing the crowd. "You have all suffered greatly. Here, you will have safety. You will have food, water, and work. But you must also understand—disorder will only prolong suffering. Each of you has a role, and every role is vital for survival."
Melgil moved among the refugees, assisting the Roughbrooks and Siglorr's clan in stabilizing the most vulnerable. She knelt beside a group of shivering children, distributing blankets, her voice soft but commanding. "You are not alone anymore. But you must trust us and trust each other. Only together will you endure this."
Over the next few hours, the war forge castle and grounds slowly began to adjust. Barricades of hay, wood, and cloth were erected to divide living areas; triage stations were set up to treat the sick and malnourished; lines for food, water, and medical aid stretched across the fields, each monitored by veterans and soldiers. Even so, Daniel could feel the tension in the air. Every misstep could ignite chaos.
Among the refugees, reactions were varied. Some moved with hesitant obedience, grateful for direction and sustenance. Others seethed silently, pride and despair intertwining as they watched the able-bodied work while their families waited for aid. The sight of unfamiliar faces, the Velvet Knights, Bralthor, Adam Roughbrook, and even Daniel himself elicited both fear and awe. Whispers of hope began to mix with complaints of unfairness, the first true signs of the social struggle Daniel knew he had to manage.
Daniel and Melgil worked tirelessly, moving between strategy and empathy, observing, redirecting, and correcting. Melgil's quiet efficiency complemented Daniel's presence, their combined aura of authority and assurance slowly weaving order out of chaos. Yet, as night fell over the fields, and the soft glow of fires reflected against countless weary faces, Daniel knew the true challenge had only begun.
This was not a game anymore. This was survival—messy, unpredictable, and alive. And every decision he made from this point forward would ripple across the lives of thousands, shaping not only their fate but the very future of the world he had thought he controlled.
The refugees, though exhausted, had begun to stir. Some were awake before dawn, scavenging for stray pieces of food or firewood, while others huddled near blankets, trying to recover from the long journey and the harsh reality of displacement.
Daniel stood at the balcony of the castle, Melgil beside him. For the first time, he allowed himself a slow, careful assessment of the situation. Thousands of people. Multitudes of races, ages, and temperaments. Every person had a history he could not know, a will he could not predict, a need he could not fully meet. This was not a simulation; this was real. The controlled logic of his Tower, the predictable outcomes of his experiments, no longer applied. And yet, the power of the void space beneath the castle pulsed quietly, offering potential solutions, but also raising more questions than answers.
"The void space…" Daniel muttered, half to himself. "It is vast… large enough to accommodate all of them. But can it sustain life? Can I truly trust that nothing will go wrong?"
Melgil's eyes, calm yet piercing, met his. "You've tested it before. We know it can exist. But sustaining thousands… that's different. This isn't just expansion—it's responsibility. Are you willing to bear that?"
Daniel's jaw tightened. He had always operated with control, logic, and predictability. The Tower had been a place where outcomes could be calculated, actions predicted, and failures corrected. This… this was different. Here, every decision could have unforeseen consequences: starvation, disease, conflict. Lives real lives , depended on his choices. And he could not simply reset the simulation.
The first coordinated labor efforts began with Siglorr Bouldergrove and his clan taking the lead. Groups of refugees were assigned sections of the young crop fields, each accompanied by an experienced War Forge soldier. Daniel watched as humans, elves, dwarves, and even goblins learned to work side by side. Some adapted quickly, their skills from home lands, farming, building, crafting translating directly into the new tasks. Others struggled, unfamiliar with tools or overwhelmed by exhaustion.
Conflicts quickly surfaced. Small disputes over shelter, food rations, and labor assignments escalated into shouts and even scuffles. Daniel felt a twinge of frustration. In his world, order had always been enforced with invisible systems, subtle nudges, or the occasional coded punishment. Here, there were no scripts. Here, he could only intervene directly. He dispatched the Velvet Knights Jin and Bai Xifeng to mediate, their presence both commanding and reassuring. Even they struggled to maintain calm, their training designed for battlefield hunting tactics, not delicate human social dynamics.
Yet amid the chaos came miracles. A pair of siblings, emaciated and nearly unconscious when first discovered, were revived by the efforts of Anika Roughbrook and Melgil. A small group of refugees stumbled upon a hidden spring in the far edge of the farmland, providing fresh water that had gone unnoticed. Daniel observed these moments carefully, noting that even in unpredictability, some threads of fortune and resilience wove through the suffering.
Food, security, and logistics consumed Daniel's mind. The void space beneath the castle offered almost unlimited room for storage, he could expand it to hold grain, water, and supplies but he knew that simply stockpiling resources was not enough.
He had to manage distribution, prevent hoarding, and maintain morale. Security was equally pressing. Thousands of desperate people, if left unchecked, could turn against one another, and the castle itself could be overwhelmed. Patrols were established, boundaries marked, and sentinel points manned, but Daniel understood that no amount of planning could fully predict human behavior.
The first night saw small fires break out one accidental, one intentional, from the frustration of displaced families. Daniel and Melgil moved swiftly, containing the fires and calming the crowds, but the tension lingered. He realized, with a cold clarity, that trust would have to be earned. He did not know these people; he could not see into their hearts or predict their loyalties.
Yet to manage this growing population, he had no choice but to rely on them, guiding them through incentive, compassion, and clear expectations.
As he surveyed the fields and the castle, Daniel reflected on the changes within the Tower itself. The NPCs, once rigid and predictable, were now alive, autonomous, capable of evolving beyond their original code. The same principle seemed to apply here: control was an illusion. The void space, the War Forge, even his own commands, these were tools, not guarantees. Life, in all its chaotic, unpredictable glory, had taken over.
Daniel exhaled slowly. "This is… bigger than I imagined. Bigger than the Tower, bigger than the void. I can guide them, protect them, provide for them… but I cannot control them. And that" He paused, his eyes sweeping over the fields alive with motion and noise. " that is something I must learn to accept."
Melgil nodded. "Then start with small victories. Stabilize one field, one camp, one group at a time. The void space can help. The rest… will come with patience."
And so, the first day of true adaptation began. Labor lines moved, conflicts were mediated, and supply chains established. Small victories, a healthy child, a successful harvest plot, a conflict resolved peacefully served as tentative proof that order could emerge from chaos.
But as the sun set behind Lúthien, casting long shadows over the fields, Daniel knew that tomorrow would test them further. Disease, hunger, and unrest could strike at any time. The void space offered room, the castle offered walls, but neither could substitute for leadership, wisdom, and the ability to make hard choices.
For the first time in his life, Daniel understood that control was no longer absolute, and that understanding would be the key to surviving the storm he had unwittingly unleashed.
A chill hung over Lúthien, but the air carried more than frost, it carried the first waves of real crisis. Reports trickled in from the outskirts of the fields: several refugees were too weak to rise, some showed the telltale signs of malnutrition, and others exhibited early symptoms of disease. Panic spread like wildfire.
Mothers clutched their children tighter, young men began bickering over rations, and even the most disciplined among the War Forge personnel felt the tension knotting around their hearts.
Daniel observed the chaos from the balcony of the main hall, his gaze sweeping over the sprawling encampment. This was no simulation. No controlled scenario. The rules had changed. Every instinct screamed that immediate action was required or Lúthien would descend into uncontrollable disorder.
He called the War Forge's sixty-five personnel together.
"Separate those strong enough to work or defend from those who are too weak or dying," Daniel ordered, his voice cutting through the din. "We must triage now. Delay, and we risk losing them all."
The soldiers moved quickly, forming temporary pens and triage stations. Refugees were sorted with care: the weakest were carried gently to the central hall, where blankets, warmth, and immediate attention awaited; the strong were assigned labor duties tending young crops, fortifying shelters, collecting water. Even with precise organization, Daniel knew manpower alone would not suffice.
Beside him, Siglorr Bouldergrove's massive frame radiated calm authority. "We will follow your lead," he said solemnly. "But there are far too many."
Daniel's eyes lifted to the sky, then to the invisible pulse of the void space beneath the castle. It could store supplies, expand living quarters, stabilize the environment but could it sustain life at this scale? He needed to test it, and fast.
"Vaelith, Nyxiel, Kitsune," he called. From the shadows, his familiars emerged in their evolved humanoid forms. Vaelith, the black serpent, moved with sinuous grace, carrying crates of food and medicine. Nyxiel, the horned owl, swooped above the crowds, distributing supplies and mapping movements from the air. Kitsune, the nine-tailed fox, darted between the weak and sick, delivering blankets, food, and water with uncanny precision. Each moved with purpose, responding to Daniel's silent commands, their presence both awe-inspiring and comforting to the refugees.
The Velvet Knights, Jin and Bai Xifeng, and the Grey Ogre clans led by Bralthor and Nukra, spread out across the fields, hunting game, foraging plants, and ensuring fresh food reached every corner. Their efficiency was remarkable, yet even their efforts could not hide the desperation etched across the faces of the displaced.
Meanwhile, the women of the War Forge Wrenla Bouldergrove, her adopted daughter Elaria Syrune, and their son Olmar worked alongside Melgil. Melgil's white hair glimmered as she moved between the weak and sick, casting healing spells with exacting control. Each incantation was precise, drawing only what she could manage without losing control. Her calm presence radiated reassurance, easing the panic that threatened to overwhelm the vulnerable.
Daniel turned to Siglorr, lowering his voice. "The void space archway gate that i have connected beneath the castle… it can hold them. It can store supplies, expand living quarters, even stabilize the environment. But it must be managed carefully. If I open it fully, even for a moment, I risk losing control. Any misstep could be catastrophic."
Siglorr's sharp gaze met his. "Then we plan. You oversee the void. I manage the workforce and distribution. Melgil handles healing and morale. Everyone else has defined roles. But thousands cannot live here indefinitely. What then?"
Daniel exhaled slowly. "We begin by testing the void as a temporary refuge for the weak and sick. I will channel resources there food, water, warmth and observe how it sustains them. Those who survive and stabilize will gradually return to Lúthien. If the void fails, we reassess immediately. No one is expendable."
Siglorr nodded once. "Then let us begin."
Daniel raised his hand. A subtle shimmer traced across the castle floor, connecting to the newly created archway gate hidden within the keep. Unlike the exposed transfer gates previously used, this archway led discreetly and securely to the void space, allowing War Forge personnel to move freely while remaining unseen by the refugees. The gate was meant to be opened slowly, step by step, but the urgency of the situation demanded adjustment.
Vaelith, Nyxiel, and Kitsune came back and emerged from their respective territories, each carrying wagons and crates filled with food, medicine, and other essentials. The Velvet Knights and Grey Ogre clans helped distribute the supplies while explaining to the refugees who they were and whom they served. News of the Netherborn Disciple had reached only fragments of the population, but the refugees, preoccupied with survival, accepted guidance from these unfamiliar but clearly powerful figures.
Reports also arrived that a settlement had begun forming on the fallen lands once dominated by the Evolved Drake. Its monstrous denizens were gone, slain by the Netherborn Disciple, and the refugees had chosen Lúthien as a safe haven.
Daniel's pulse quickened as he gave the final command. Slowly, carefully, groups of the weakest refugees were transferred into the void. The effect was immediate. Pallid, trembling bodies were met with warmth and nourishment.
Food and water appeared magically, organized and rationed with precise care. The air was clean and stable a stark contrast to the crowded, chaotic fields outside. Some fell to their knees, tears of relief streaming down their faces. Others, stronger and more skeptical, stared at the impossible, luminous landscape before them in awe.
Watching the void respond, Daniel felt a cautious hope. It could work. It could sustain life. But the space demanded constant oversight. Every individual, every ration, every movement would need monitoring. Trust would have to be earned, discipline maintained, and morale carefully guided.
He looked back at Lúthien, where strong and healthy groups still argued, scavenged, and wandered, and realized that while the void offered a solution, it was only part of the answer. This was life messy, unpredictable, and alive. Every decision carried weight. Every action had consequence. And for the first time, Daniel understood the true gravity of ownership, not of a void space, a castle, or an army but of the lives that now depended on him and those who serve and trust him.
Daniel coordinated everything my using the communication device he gave those who have position at the war forge, mages serving the war forge made sure to cast illusion spells so those who entered the Void archway gate didn't succumb to sudden shock , every staff and personnel accompanied the weak and sick and security was high as each person young and old male or female can be a potential enemy, a spy working for another organization. the void space followed Daniel will , the his sanctuary was hidden, until those who were willing to follow him and signed the contracts being a citizen of his newly establish domain,
Daniel wanted to blend the Void space seemingly with the tower floor and let everybody accept the place to there new temporary home. at time works differently inside the void Daniel used this to ensure everybody can benefits from it, spending five days was just 5 hours outside the void, that alone was a huge advantage for them, but Daniel also new the void feeds on the mana he can produce, he fears that what if he gets killed what will happen to all these people inside, these were the questions in his mind but, seeing Melgil help those who are sick calm his wearly mind again.
The void space was still uncharted territory. Daniel couldn't risk everything on an idea that hadn't been tested or proven to meet his standards. Still, for the time being, using the void in this way might eventually save everyone.
The War Forge staff carefully documented everything, with Nukra and Imgrim Bouldergrove taking the lead in gathering crucial information about those who entered through the void archway gate. Among them, a few were discovered to be bandits and criminals attempting to infiltrate the War Forge. These infiltrators were quietly eliminated by Vaelith and Bralthor the Grey Ogre without anyone else noticing.
An entire day was spent serving those in need. Then another passed, and another—until the second, third, fourth, and finally the fifth day inside the void came and went. Those five days changed the way many people thought. They saw with their own eyes how Daniel and his followers did everything they could to save them—using their skills and abilities to heal, organize, and care with the utmost concern. None of them had ever witnessed such noble acts before. They were humbled, struck deeply by Daniel's kindness and generosity.