"The future doesn't whisper. It drops the bass."
Scene 1 – Where Bards Go to Die
The Dusty Mug was the kind of tavern where dreams went to rot and ale flowed cheaper than water. Smoke clung to the rafters, mixing with the stench of old boots, unwashed travelers, and a floor permanently stained with spilled mead.
In one dim corner, a bard wheezed into a wooden flute like he was in a duel to the death—with the flute winning. His notes wobbled, sad and off-key. Half the crowd snored through the performance. One man booed. The barkeep looked like he was considering homicide.
"One more toot from that stick and I'm setting it on fire," he muttered darkly.
That's when the tavern door creaked open.
Not slammed. Not kicked. Just a smooth, effortless squeak—yet somehow, it sounded cooler than anything the bard had managed all night.
Every head turned.
Zayden Core stepped through, wearing black shades the world didn't have words for. His boots glowed faintly at the seams. Under one arm, he carried a rectangular object—sleek, silver, alien.
"Who's the shiny boy?" a drunk mumbled.
"That's the burger sorcerer," someone whispered in awe.
Zayden said nothing. He walked straight to the bard's corner, scanning the dusty wooden stage like it was a crime scene.
"You play music?" he asked, voice calm but sharp.
The bard blinked up at him, pale and sweating. "I… I try, m'lord."
Zayden set the object on a table and pressed one side.
It unfolded.
Lights blinked to life. Circular pads glowed like arcane runes. Sliders shimmered along the panel. The tavern didn't know what it was—but instinctively, they all leaned in.
Zayden tapped a pad.
The tavern shook.
---
Scene 2 – The First Drop in History
It started with a pulse. A low vibration that hummed through the wooden floorboards, up through boots, bones, and blood.
Then came the bass.
A deep, throbbing beat pounded through the air like a war drum from the future. A synth melody soared above it, sleek and impossible.
People ducked. A barmaid screamed. Someone yelled, "IT'S DEMON NOISE."
Zayden grinned and twisted a dial. The sound shifted—warmer, smoother, irresistible.
Then he looked at the bard.
"Sing," he said simply. "Just feel it."
The bard stared. "I—I don't know this music!"
"Exactly," Zayden replied. "No one does. You're the first."
The crowd held its breath.
The bard hesitated. Then, timidly, he opened his mouth.
At first, it was awkward. Broken notes. Misplaced rhythm. But the beat caught him. The melody wrapped around his voice like a lifeline.
Something changed.
The voice grew stronger. Deeper. Full of soul. It echoed through the tavern like fire and starlight. The bard no longer sounded like a nervous old man.
He sounded like a legend.
The tavern erupted.
Mugs clashed. Feet stomped. Tables shook. A knight broke into a full-body dance. Even the barkeep, grizzled and heartless, wiped away a tear.
"By the gods," someone whispered, "is this… future music?"
Zayden leaned back, arms crossed.
"Welcome to Core Sounds™," he said.
---
Scene 3 – The Birth of a Genre
By night's end, The Dusty Mug had become the loudest place in the kingdom.
The bard—once known as Old Gregor the Meh—was now G-Rock, Brimvale's first-ever performer of Beatcraft: a genre no one understood but everyone instantly loved.
A line formed outside the tavern. Merchants sold glowing mushrooms on sticks they called "light wands." Children hummed G-Rock's first chorus: Ale in My Hand, Fire in My Heart.
Inside, a drunk noble cried openly at the breakdown.
Zayden uploaded the performance to his capsule's memory bank.
M.A.I.A. pinged in his ear.
"Note: cultural shift achieved. Bard popularity up 600%. Local economy disruption: minor. New rumors: 'Demon DJ builds army of enchanted minstrels.'"
"Good," Zayden replied. "Let's build a music empire."
---
Scene 4 – Eyes in the Dark
Far beyond Brimvale, deep within a candlelit fortress wreathed in fog, a council of cloaked figures circled a glowing scrying orb.
Within the orb: the image of G-Rock mid-performance, sweat shining under future lights.
"This… noise bends minds," growled a hooded sorcerer.
"He turns peasants into performers. Merchants into madmen," a robed general spat.
"His influence spreads too quickly," said a woman in golden armor, her voice cold as winter. "He must be watched."
"Or stopped," another murmured.
The orb dimmed. The room fell into shadow.
The past was changing. And the old powers did not approve.
---
Scene 5 – Zayden's New Plan
Back at his base—still disguised as a humble bakery—Zayden stood before his glowing map of the continent.
The board was alive now, lit with dozens of blinking nodes. Food hubs. Music pavilions. Tech labs in planning. Medical domes sketched in neon.
M.A.I.A. chimed.
"Three villages have requested Core Bites locations. One noble house has offered to sponsor G-Rock's next concert. Also, someone sent you a goat."
Zayden blinked.
"A goat?"
"Strapped with a thank-you note and a bottle of blackberry wine."
Zayden sighed. "Add 'Goat Handling Department' to the to-do list."
He studied the map.
They'd fed the people.
They'd moved their feet.
Now, it was time to change something deeper.
"Alright," he murmured. "Next…"
A slow smile spread across his face.
"We heal their world."
---
📘 END OF CHAPTER 3
Next Chapter:-Chapter 4: The Plague Stops Here🦠