The Nightshatter's gangplank lowered with a heavy, final thud, bridging the gap between the ship of impossible technology and the city born from its shadow. The Higg family stood at the precipice, hesitating. Slein, his face a mask of disbelief, clutched his wife Marrine's hand. Their two small children, Bay and Coast, peeked out from behind their parents' legs, their eyes wide with a wonder that bordered on fear.
They stepped into Otherrealm.
It was the quiet that hit them first. A pleasant, low hum, the distant thrum of machinery, and the gentle whir of Presidroids on their silent, efficient patrols accompanied the murmur of calm conversation, creating an atmosphere that, while not entirely silent, was nonetheless serene. The air was clean, carrying the faint, pleasant scent of freshly cut grass and something like baking bread from a nearby storefront. The streets, paved with a smooth, dark asphalt that gleamed in the sunlight, were immaculate.
A Presidroid zipped past on a small, wheeled transport, balancing a stack of crates with effortless grace. It offered them a polite, almost jaunty nod as it went.
"It's… it's exactly as you described," Slein whispered, his voice a choked, reverent sound. He looked at the multi-story buildings that rose around them, their architecture a strange, beautiful fusion of modern glass and steel with the warm, sturdy lines of dwarven stonework.
Roy, who had been waiting for them, offered a small, proud smile. "Welcome to the neighborhood."
Their first stop, at Roy's insistence, was the restaurant Chronova. The moment they stepped inside, they were enveloped in warmth. The rich aroma of simmering sauces, roasted meats, and freshly baked pastries filled the air. A Freed, his face beaming with a genuine, infectious joy, greeted them at the door and led them to a table.
When the food arrived, the Higg family simply stared. Slices of perfectly seared, impossibly tender meat that melted on the tongue. Vegetables so fresh they snapped with a satisfying crunch. A simple bowl of soup that was so rich, so deeply flavorful, that Marrine, after one spoonful, had to set her spoon down, her shoulders shaking as she quietly began to weep. Slein, his own eyes brimming, just held her hand, his entire worldview, his very understanding of what was possible, being irrevocably, beautifully shattered.
After the meal, they ascended to a high observation deck on one of the central administrative towers. Slein gazed out at the sprawling, orderly city, at the towering, concentric walls that rose in the distance. He saw the gleam of the tram line, the neat rows of houses in the residential sectors, and the Presidroids moving with their tireless, purposeful energy.
"If any of your children show a magical aptitude," Roy said quietly, breaking the silence, "Evarran himself teaches at the academy here. Though," he added, a wry grin on his face, "I should warn you, he can be a… tough teacher."
They made a quick stop at the academy's courtyard. Evarran wasn't there, but Washington was, standing stock-still in the center of the training grounds, a faint, shimmering aura of mana pulsing around him. From behind Roy, FDR watched, a new, almost imperceptible rivalry simmering in the tense, shared glance between the two Super Elites.
Back on the observation deck, Roy pointed to a large, mostly developed, but sparsely populated, tract of land just inside the fourth wall, a sprawling estate with a clear view of the distant sea. "Serenity has already picked out a place for you. Six bedrooms, plenty of land for a garden. It's yours."
Having been rendered almost speechless by the day's events, Slein finally found his voice. He shook his head, a polite but firm refusal. "Captain Gunn, your generosity is… overwhelming. But… if I may, I would prefer something in the second or third sectors. A place where my children can be surrounded by other people. By the… the life of this city. Even if it is a smaller house."
Roy blinked, surprised but understanding. "You sure? We have plenty of larger homes there as well, so it works out either way," He accepted a new level of respect for the quiet, family-oriented appraiser settling in his mind.
There was no more time for tours. Roy headed directly to the City Hall, a hulking structure of steel and stone that served as the nerve center of Otherrealm. Inside, Serenity had already rendered the blueprints for the new dungeon covering facility on a massive display. It was a massive, enclosed, and heavily fortified structure that completely contained the dungeon's gaping maw. A fortress within a fortress. Roy, with a flash of Earth-based inspiration, called it "Technomendia: The Mall of Tomorrow."
Greta and the Triplets were already there, their faces a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Takara hovered near the display, her own mind already racing with the engineering challenges. And with them, a new face. Nozomi, a young woman with a quiet, artistic demeanor and an ornate violin that floated silently at her side.
"This… is insane," Nozomi said, her voice a low, musical whisper as she studied the blueprints. "But… it could work." She despised Roy and everything he stood for. But this… this was an architectural challenge of a lifetime. "I will help," she said, her voice tight with a reluctance she didn't bother to hide, "on one condition. When the Nightshatter is docked, I am allowed to fire any of its firearms into the ocean, at my leisure. For… stress relief."
Orden, who had been quietly observing, bristled. "You dare to—" Roy placed a calming hand on his shoulder.
"Deal," Roy said instantly.
Nozomi, who had been silent throughout the presentation, finally spoke, her voice a soft but firm counterpoint to the AI's cold logic. "It's efficient. It's also a soulless metal box. People will be living and working here, Serenity, not just processing through a sterile tube." She gestured to the vast, open central plaza on the display. "This space… it feels like a warehouse. Cold. We need to break it up, add warmth. What about a grand, vaulted ceiling here? Something arched, with wooden beams? It would give it a sense of grandeur, make it feel more welcoming."
Serenity's voice, broadcast from a speaker on the display, was calm and clinical. "A vaulted, arched ceiling of that nature is architecturally incompatible with the wide-span, flat roof required to support the massive weight of the primary emergency containment system Takara and Greta designing."
Nozomi considered this for a moment, her mind quickly processing the limitations. She didn't argue the point. "I see. But we still need to address the 'warehouse' feel. What if," she proposed, her finger tracing a new idea on a touch interface in front of her, "we increase the max height of the mall, keep the flat roof, but we suspend a secondary, purely aesthetic ceiling below it? A lattice of that beautiful, dark wood we used in the City Hall, interwoven with soft, ambient lighting panels? It would give the illusion of an arched space without compromising the structural integrity of the roof above." She looked from the blueprint to Serenity. "How could we achieve that?"
A moment of silence passed as Serenity's processors analyzed the new proposal. The display flickered, adjusting. New schematics overlaid the old ones, showing a system of lightweight suspension cables and reinforced support brackets integrated into the primary ceiling structure.
"The addition of a suspended aesthetic lattice is structurally viable," Serenity stated. "It would require an additional six percent in labor costs for the interior finishing, but the design is sound. The new schematics are being rendered now."
Roy, who had been watching their exchange with amusement, turned to the Triplets. "You guys good with her design input?"
Emiko nodded enthusiastically. "Don't ask me, this is your thing. But, she's got a great eye for… you know… making things not look like a high-security bunker."
As Nozomi and Serenity began a rapid-fire, surprisingly collaborative redesign, Roy's comm unit buzzed. It was Maelara. "Captain, we've finished offloading Lad-… um, the mean elf woman's hoard. The vaults are full and then some, so we distributed a stimulus to the people, as you commanded. And the dwarven contacts you requested have arrived. They're waiting for their first payment, and they seem… eager."
"On my way," Roy replied. He turned to a nearby Presidroid. "Tell the city and security councils I'll be with them in thirty minutes. And someone get Takara and Greta to the engineering bay. They have a subway to build."
Roy met the dwarven contingent at the main gate, a small mound of gold coins already waiting in a heavily guarded crate. The lead dwarf, a stout figure with a beard braided with copper wire, grunted in approval. "A generous down payment, Captain Gunn. As agreed, we will provide the extra muscle you require. The Builder's Guild will have a thousand men here by week's end." Roy sealed the deal, and the dwarves departed, their wagons now considerably heavier.
He then strode into the security council chamber, where Siren and Grifftin Salaboar were already studying a topographical map of the dungeon's location. They looked up as he entered, their eyes gleaming with an almost predatory hunger.
"Captain," Siren began, not waiting for Roy to speak. "We have reviewed your preliminary report. This is not a request. We will be joining the initial expedition to the dungeon site."
Grifftin nodded, his massive head dipping once. "It is our duty to protect this city. And a professional obligation to assess a world-level threat of this magnitude firsthand. We will lead your security detail."
Roy simply smiled. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
The main engineering bay at the harbor was a vast, echoing space, filled with the scent of hot metal and ozone. There, Takara and Greta leaned together over a workbench, their heads bent in concentration as they examined a new idea Roy had just sketched out and sent to them.
"Four separate train lanes," Takara murmured, her finger tracing a line on the datapad. "One for heavy cargo, two for civilian transport, and a dedicated worker line. It's gonna be tough."
"But not impossible," Greta countered, a manic, excited gleam in her eyes. She was already sketching out potential engine designs. "With the dwarven earthmancers carving the tunnels and our runic amplifiers powering the main drive… we can make this work."
Roy leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "I have faith in you two. Don't blow up the city. Or at least, try not to."
Before leaving the city, Roy took a moment for himself. He made his way to the outer wall, to the vast, living corridor that now housed Viperael. The serpent was incomprehensibly massive, its neon-purple and obsidian coils a living, breathing extension of the city's defenses. It sensed his approach, and its colossal head, larger now than an apartment building, lowered to greet him. A massive, forked tongue, impossibly gentle, wrapped around him in a protective, affectionate gesture that still terrified Roy on a primal, fundamental level.
I do good? Viperael's voice echoed in his mind.
"Yes, yes, you do good," Roy replied, his own voice a shaky whisper. "Now please put me down before I'm completely saturated in super-ultra-mega-titanoboa spit!"
Told you. I protect.
"Don't get cocky!" Roy said as Viperael gently set him down. "You've still got some room to grow in this wall. If you keep getting bigger, I may have to build you another."
No wall will contain final size.
"That's… terrifying."
Two days later, the expedition was ready. The Nightshatter's largest ground vehicle, a massive heavy-hauling truck, was airlifted from the flight deck and dropped onto the dirt road just beyond the city limits. It was hooked up to a marvel of dwarven engineering, a specialized, modular construction trailer. It was designed to be cannibalized, its very frame and panels to be stripped down on-site and used as foundational supports and raw building materials.
Half of the available Presidroids, their movements a symphony of synchronized efficiency, loaded onto the truck and trailer, alongside dozens of dwarven mages and construction specialists. The combined weight was immense. The truck's massive engine roared to life, but its tires immediately bogged down in the soft, unforgiving dirt roads beyond the city's paved limits. The whole expedition ground to a halt before it had even begun.
Then, Eisenhower, one of the Elite Presidroids, detached himself from the group and landed with a metallic thud on the hood of the truck, his optical lights flaring with a sense of dramatic, almost theatrical purpose.
"Finally! It is my time to shine!" he declared, his voice booming with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
Serenity's voice came over the comms, her tone one of weary, maternal exasperation. "Eisenhower, what in the world do you think you are doing?"
He paid her no mind. He raised his hands, and a holographic 3D map of the surrounding ten-mile area materialized in the air in front of the truck. He dramatically announced the activation of his unique ability, his voice echoing across the silent plains.
"Arcane Runic Arts, Transportation Magic: The General's Highway!"
With his finger, he drew a single, glowing line on the map, a direct, unwavering path from their current location to the distant dungeon crater.
Under and in front of the truck, the very earth began to churn. Solid, paved slabs of dark asphalt materialized out of nowhere, laying themselves down in a perfect, smooth road that continued to form in front of them as they moved.
The truck's engine roared as its tires found purchase on the new highway. Instead of a slow roll forward, it launched. The vehicle zoomed down the magically appearing road at a terrifying one hundred and fifty miles per hour, the wind of its passage a screaming, howling banshee. In the back, the dwarven specialists and the other construction workers were thrown against the trailer walls, their expressions a perfect, comical blend of sheer, abject terror and profound, slack-jawed awe.
"Why didn't you tell us you could just lay down roads?!" one of the dwarves bellowed over the roar of the wind.
"Yeah!" another screamed, clinging desperately to a support beam. "It would have saved us untold hours of grueling, back-breaking labor!"
The truck rocketed across the landscape on a highway that was paving its own path to the dungeon, second by agonizing, exhilarating second.