A whine of high-powered saws cut through the low rumble of dwarven earth-shaping. Teams of Presidroids moved with an unsettling, fluid efficiency at the edge of the nearby forest, felling massive trees in seconds. One would make the cut, another would catch the falling giant before it could hit the ground, stripping its branches with terrifying speed. Nozomi's two elven companions moved ahead of them, their hands tracing the rough bark of ancient trunks.
"This one," one of the elves would whisper, her eyes closed in concentration, "its spirit is weak, but willing. It understands the purpose." Nozomi would mark it with a small, glowing rune, a signal to the waiting Presidroids. They left a swathe of respectfully harvested lumber in their wake, the forest's balance carefully, reverently, maintained.
The scale of the project was a beast of its own, a relentless consumer of resources and energy. Roy stood near the edge of the construction site, watching a helicopter descend, a large, familiar-looking container slung beneath it, his Home Improvement Box copy. It settled onto a prepared platform with a solid, reassuring thud.
A tired dwarven mason, his face a roadmap of fatigue etched in stone dust, trudged past. A passing Presidroid paused and extended a hand, offering a brightly colored candy bar. The dwarf eyed the strange offering with a mixture of suspicion and weariness. "What's this, then? Some kind of human… nutrient paste?"
"Morale," the Presidroid replied.
The dwarf grunted, took the candy, and unwrapped it with thick, clumsy fingers. He took a tentative bite. His eyes, which had been dull with exhaustion, widened. He took another, larger bite, then devoured the rest in seconds, a look of pure, almost childlike ecstasy on his face. He let out a sudden, savage roar of renewed energy, spun on his heel, and returned to his work with a new, manic fervor that was both impressive and slightly terrifying.
"High-temperature forge assembly commencing," Serenity's voice announced from a network of temporary speakers set up around the site. Under her precise, disembodied instructions, a team of dwarven craftsmen began to assemble a massive forge, their movements guided by an intelligence that could calculate metallurgical tolerances to the last decimal point.
Later, Roy overheard a conversation between Greta and Serenity that made his head spin.
"Fuel reserves for the transport fleet are running at a forty-two percent deficit," one of them stated, his voice flat with concern.
"Irrelevant," Serenity replied from a nearby comm unit. "I have already accounted for the shortfall."
"Accounted for it? How?" the Greta demanded.
A brief, almost smug silence. "The automated drone assembly lines on the Nightshatter," Serenity explained calmly. "We are now manufacturing approximately twelve thousand miniature, single-use, gas-operated drone units per day. Presidroids are then tasked with… harvesting… the fuel from their tanks before they are repurposed. Our fuel shortage will be resolved shortly."
-
Construction of the mall had settled into a steady, thrumming rhythm by the middle of the third day. But that rhythm was punctuated by a new sound, the excited shouts of newcomers. A handful of adventuring parties had finally arrived, their boots crunching on the loose gravel at the edge of the site, their eyes wide with a mixture of avarice and awe. Roy, who had been enjoying a rare moment of peace on a makeshift bench with a heaping plate of fried chicken tenders delivered from Chronova, let out a long, weary sigh.
A broad-shouldered man, his armor a mismatched collection of leather and steel, strode forward, clearly the leader. He planted his fists on his hips, surveying the controlled chaos. "Oi! Name's Dornten! Is this the new dungeon I've been hearing about? My party, the Growing Filth, is here to claim the glory of the first delve!"
A sharp, high-pitched snort escaped Orden, who had been listening while quietly watching a dwarf meticulously lay a section of foundation. Roy reacted instantly, his hand clamping over Orden's mouth just in time to stifle a full, mocking peal of laughter. "Easy," he hissed.
Rising to his feet, Roy wiped grease from his fingers, his expression a mask of practiced, diplomatic charm. "Welcome. I'm afraid the facility is not yet operational. We need at least another three days to ensure all safety and security measures are in place."
"Three days?!" Dornten scowled. "We marched for five to get here! We're not waiting around in this dustbowl!"
Waiting nearby, JFK took a few steps closer, reading himself.
"I understand your frustration," Roy said, his voice smooth and reassuring. He took a bite of a chicken tender. "Which is why I'd like to make you a generous offer. You and your party are welcome to stay in our city, Otherrealm, until the dungeon opens. Food and lodging, completely free of charge. Consider it compensation for the delay."
A harsh, dismissive laugh burst from Dornten. "Free food and lodging in some backwater mud-hut village? No thanks. We'd rather make camp here."
Roy held out one of his chicken tenders. It was perfectly cooked, the breading a deep, golden-brown, the meat inside steaming and tender. A faint, heavenly aroma of spices drifted from it. "It's worth it," Roy said simply.
Chin held high, the man sneered, snatched the tender from Roy's fingers, and with a contemptuous flick of his wrist, threw it back at Roy's face. The chicken tender stopped mid-air.
Orden's earlier mirth was gone, replaced by a palpable, chilling fury. The adventurers, however, seemed to not even notice. With a series of small, imperceptible twitches of his fingers, Orden took control. The chicken tender shot forward, a breaded missile, straight at Dornten. The adventurer's eyes widened, but he found he couldn't move. His mouth was forced open against his will, and the tender slammed halfway in. His jaw was then forced to chew, rapidly and awkwardly. For a moment, a furious, muffled growl was the only sound he could make. Then, the growl softened, turning into a low, involuntary moan of pure, unadulterated bliss.
His teammates, seeing their leader being violated by a piece of poultry, started to move. The remaining tenders from Roy's plate levitated and shot towards them, forcing the same delicious fate upon them.
"But… but my tendies…" Roy whimpered, watching his lunch being used as an instrument of divine, flavorful retribution. All that remained on his plate was a small dollop of the special Chronova sauce which he promptly chucked skyward. The air was now filled with a strange, unnerving chorus of delighted, muffled moans.
Warrex's head peaked over a nearby half-finished wall. "Uhh… what in the Six Sons of Fayls is going on here?"
With a final, triumphant chew, Orden released his control. The adventurers, now free, quickly composed themselves, their faces a mixture of confusion, lingering ecstasy, and profound, dawning shame.
"Um, yes," Dornten said, blushing furiously as he hastily wiped sauce from his chin. "We shall… we shall wait for the dungeon to be open. Patiently. In your city. Ahem. Excuse me." He and his now-silent party turned and marched away with as much dignity as they could muster.
Roy turned to Warrex, who was now looking at the retreating adventurers with a deeply suspicious frown. "Orden… force-fed them. With my lunch."
A short time later, on the other side of the bustling plaza, Eryndra and Takara were leading a newly arrived female adventuring duo toward the mall's temporary administrative office. Their path converged with that of Dornten and his team.
"That boss guy was...weird," Dornten was saying to his companions, his voice a hushed, bewildered whisper. "This is the first time I've even met the guy, and he just… forces his meat into my mouth. All I did was give him a little bit of attitude. And then bam! Like, yeah, I really, really liked it, but… he could have at least talked to me first, you know? ...I hope he gives me more in his city."
Takara froze mid-step, her face turning a pale shade of white. Eryndra, who had been blissfully ignorant, saw the look of pure, murderous rage on Takara's face and immediately, through a strange, sisterly osmosis of fury, got angry too. The two girls they were escorting took a fearful step back.
At that moment, Roy rounded the corner, a cheerful, oblivious wave ready for his crew. The two new adventurers offered nervous, hesitant smiles in return, quickly looking away. Eryndra and Takara, however, were another story.
Eryndra's smile was a tight, flat line that held no warmth. Takara's was unnervingly, painfully, sweet. Roy could tell they were mad about something, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what.
"We just passed those adventurers you were with," Takara said, her voice light and casual, but her eyes held a dangerous glint. "They seemed… flustered. Who were they?"
"Oh, them?" Roy said, his tone easy. "Just arrived a few minutes ago. I had just sat down with my plate of chicken tenders for lunch when they showed up. Told them they could stay in Otherrealm for free until the dungeon opens."
Takara's unnervingly sweet smile finally started to fail at the edges. Her eyes narrowed. "Just happened, and yet you have no food here? No plate, no leftover sauce. So what really happened, Roy? They said you put... your 'meat'... in their mouth."
Roy blinked, completely bewildered. "Yeah... My tendies. They were delicious. Warrex, you saw the end of it! Tell them!"
A devious grin spread across Warrex's face as he dropped down from the wall he had been walking on. "What are you talking about, Captain? You picked the steak lunch half an hour ago. Why are you lying?" He then turned and walked away, a low, satisfied chuckle rumbling in his chest.
"YOU BASTARD, WARREX!" Roy yelled after him. He turned back to Takara, his face a mask of panicked desperation. "Takara, I swear, I don't know what you're thinking, but nothing weird happened!"
"I don't know what any of this means, but I am very angry too!" Eryndra announced, her fists clenched, ready to defend or attack something.
"You sweet, innocent soul, you too?" Roy said, a light, desperate whimper in his voice.
Then Roy heard, "S-shut up…" a whisper was so quiet, so filled with a strange, tremulous emotion. Roy assumed it was Takara.
"Takara, please, I—"
"I didn't say anything…" Takara replied, her own expression a mixture of confusion.
From behind Takara's now very scared-looking friend, the other girl from the newly arrived female duo stepped forward, a look of shy, lustful hunger in her eyes. "You h-heard me, you idiot…"
Roy just stared, his brain having officially short-circuited. "I don't… know… what is even going on anymore?"
"Yeah, I thought so! Coward…" the girl continued, her voice a bold whisper as she gestured behind a nearby wall. "I bet you can't use your meat to… shut me up… over there, or… something."
A flicker of realization finally, belatedly, sparked in Roy's eyes. A slow, dark disappointment began to replace his confusion. He pointed a finger towards the distant mountains. "Get the hell off my dungeon..."