The tunnels groaned with each strike of metal against stone. Daniel swung Flicker—reshaped into a sturdy pickaxe—again and again, sparks flying, sweat soaking through his shirt. Beside him, Kai pressed his tattooed palms into the rock face. Stone peeled away under his touch, as though the mountain itself had agreed to surrender its bones. Every block vanished into his storage until he carried tons of stone inside himself, veins of copper folded in with it.
Daniel paused, panting, leaning on the pickaxe. "You don't even need tools. Me? I'll be lucky if my arms don't fall off."
Kai smirked. "Tools make progress. Don't think your swings mean less than mine."
They pushed forward, laying crude stone rails that let a makeshift cart rumble through the tunnels. Wheels clunked unevenly, but it worked. Daniel shoved the cart along, laughing. "Stone carrying stone. Ridiculous—and brilliant."
When they returned to the village, the dirt huts looked pitiful against the mountain of resources. Kai raised his hands and molded the walls into stone, sturdy and square. He gathered sand, focused, and burned it into glass. Transparent panes set into the walls gleamed in the light.
The villagers gasped.
"See-through sand!"
"It's like ice that doesn't melt!"
"This is called glass," Kai explained simply. "Heat sand enough, and it changes." He moved on, unfazed by their awe.
The next day, a lone merchant trudged into the village. His donkey carried baskets of onions, garlic, coarse salt, and strips of cured hide. His clothes were patched, his sandals worn thin. He looked ready to haggle over coppers—until his eyes fell on the houses.
He froze. His jaw sagged. "What… what is this place?"
Kai realized he didn't name his kingdom and awkwardly said it was unnamed.
His donkey brayed, ignored as the man stumbled forward. His gaze darted from stone walls to shimmering windows, to a table where villagers shared flat loaves of bread Kai had baked. The smell caught him first—warm, yeasty, alive.
He rushed closer, almost dropping his goods. "What is that smell? That… that food?"
Daniel grinned and tore off a piece, handing it to him. The merchant bit down, eyes widening, then widening further. He chewed slowly, reverently, as though afraid to swallow. "Bread. By every saint above—bread? I've only heard of it in stories from the Old Cities."
Kai shrugged. "Flour, water, heat. Simple."
The merchant shook his head furiously. "Not simple. This is… this is civilization." His gaze snagged on the windows next. He pressed both palms to the glass, staring through it as if peering into another world. "See-through walls? No… no, I've never seen the like. How? How is this possible?"
Kai didn't bother with drama. "Sand, changed with fire."
The merchant stumbled back, almost tripping over his donkey, breathless with awe. "Bread. Glass. Stone homes. Pipes of copper." His eyes darted to the coils Kai had shaped earlier. "All of this—in a place like this? In days? Do you know what kings would pay to have even one of these wonders?"
Kai let his tattoo flare for the man's sake. Ore in his hand glowed, reshaped, and an ingot of copper slipped free, smooth and gleaming. The merchant nearly dropped his onion basket in shock.
"I brought garlic," he muttered weakly, staring at the ingot. "Salt. Hides. And you—you make palaces. I thought to trade onions, but now I stand in a city of marvels."
Kai said evenly, "There's more I plan to build."
The merchant's voice cracked. "I believe you. And I'll not miss my chance. Let me come back—weekly. I'll bring you what I can. Tools, spices, wool, whatever my poor hands can scrounge. You—" His eyes gleamed with a mix of desperation and excitement. "You, builder… what's your name?"
"Malakai," he said. "Call me Kai."
The merchant clasped his hand like a lifeline. "Kai, I swear this: I'll spread word of bread, of glass, of stone homes. You'll have more than farmers here. You'll have a kingdom begging to trade."
That evening, Kai turned to his greatest work. All the stone he had gathered flowed from his storage at once, his mind shaping it as if laying a thousand bricks in a single breath. A castle rose from the ground—walls textured, towers tall, courtyards wide enough for gatherings. By the time the sun dipped low, a fortress the size of a football field loomed where only huts had been.
The villagers stared, awestruck into silence. The merchant fell to his knees, eyes shining with disbelief.
Kai looked upon the castle and felt a spark. Not just survival—life. Sports, games, music, joy. A society needed more than roofs and bread.
Flicker's voice slithered through his thoughts, sly and amused. 'The Old Realm is starved, Kai. You're about to feed it more than food.'
Kai smiled faintly. The castle was no end. It was the first step into a world remade.