The return to the Bastion was a death march. Every jolt as his Militia carried him on an improvised litter of muskets and torn cloth sent a fresh bolt of lightning through Isaac's side. The world swam in a haze of pain and the sterile blue light of the healing tendril from the Core crystal. It was coiled around his torso, its cold touch knitting bone and staunching internal bleeding, draining Essence at a steady, alarming rate.
Medical Protocol: Major Trauma Stabilization. Essence Consumption: 1 Unit/minute. Estimated time to field stability: 22 minutes.
He lay on the floor of the Core Chamber, watching his hard-won Essence reserves tick downward. 187 Units had become 165 in what felt like seconds. Across the chamber, in the newly designated repair alcove of the Manufactorum, his three most damaged Militia—M-004, M-005, and the one with the gash, M-001—were submerged in the silvery nanite slurry. Their repair costs scrolled in a separate tally.
The Purification Beacon, now inert, sat by the crystal. The golden line on his map connecting to Nexus Gamma-7 pulsed steadily. It was the only thing that felt solid.
Bastion System Synergy: 1 (Minor Nexus).
System-Wide Passive Essence Generation: +0.5 Units/hour.
Barracks Level 1 Upgrade Prerequisite: MET.
Half a unit per hour. A trickle. But it was something the Bastion hadn't had since his arrival: an income. A heartbeat.
The medical tendril retracted. The immediate, drowning pain receded to a deep, bruising ache. He could breathe without sobbing. He pushed himself up on his elbows, wincing.
"Report on unit repairs," he croaked.
M-002, standing sentinel nearby, responded. "M-001 repair complete. Minimal resource expenditure. M-004 and M-005 require extensive structural rebuilding. Estimated completion and Essence cost: 45 minutes, 15 Units each."
Thirty more Essence. His mind, even fogged with pain, did the math. He'd have about 135 left after repairs and healing. Enough for… what?
The golden prerequisite for the Barracks upgrade glowed in his vision. He could finally build it. But the cost was still 100 Essence, 50 Salvage, 10 Crystals. The Essence was there. The Crystals he had (4 left, but he could scavenge more from the Nexus site now that it was secure). The Salvage… he was critically low. He'd stripped the interior bare and used most of the Manufactorum's raw materials for the mortar project.
He needed a steady stream of resources. Not a one-time looting. An extraction operation.
He struggled to his feet, leaning heavily against the cold crystal. The System map zoomed out at his command. The Bastion. The secured route to Nexus Gamma-7. The surrounding Blasted Plain. His intelligence was pathetic. He knew nothing beyond a one-kilometer radius.
"System, can you use the Leyline link to perform a broad, passive scan of the local area? Focus on mineral deposits, salvage concentrations, and major Gloom energy signatures."
Utilizing Nexus Gamma-7 as a sensor node. Initiating low-power geophysical and etheric scan. Range: 5km. Resolution: Low.
A new overlay appeared on his map. The immediate area around the Nexus showed detail—the crystal debris field (now tagged as Volatile Salvage), the composition of the vitrified crust. Farther out, the map remained vague, but several markers appeared.
To the north-west, about three kilometers away, a cluster of symbols indicated a Metallic Anomaly. Not pure Salvage, but a high concentration of ore.
Due east, four kilometers, a large, pulsating red blotch marked a Major Gloom Convergence. The source of the regular patrols? A nest?
And most intriguingly, due south, at the very edge of the scan range, was a faint, intermittent signal labeled Ancient Signal – Bastion Origin.
Another facility? A wreck? A gravesite?
The scan cost him 5 Essence, but the information was worth it. He had a resource target, a threat, and a mystery.
But he couldn't pursue any of them. Not yet. He was wounded. His army was battered and understrength. He had a trickle of income and a single, fragile supply line to a Nexus he'd just violently seized.
The first principle of logistics was consolidation. You didn't advance your supply lines faster than you could secure them.
"New standing orders," he announced, his voice gaining strength. "M-002, you are designated Garrison Commander. You will take M-003, M-006, M-007, and M-008. Your task is to secure the route between the Bastion and Nexus Gamma-7. Establish a rotating patrol. Fortify the Nexus site with a basic defensive perimeter using available rubble. Your primary mission is to defend the Leyline link. Secondary mission: harvest the Volatile Crystals from the blast site and transport them here for processing. Understand?"
"Acknowledged. Secure route, fortify Nexus, harvest crystals."
"M-001, you are with me. We have planning to do."
As the garrison squad moved out, well-drilled and silent, Isaac limped to the Manufactorum control node, M-001 following. He needed to solve the salvage problem. Manually hauling stone from the halls was over. He needed automation.
He interfaced with the node, pulling up the schematics unlocked by the active Leyline link. New blueprints glowed, previously greyed out.
>> NEW SCHEMATICS AVAILABLE:
· Autonomous Salvage Drone (Crawler): Cost: 25 Essence, 15 Salvage, 2 Crystals. Capable of harvesting and transporting basic materials from designated sites. Slow. Requires a secured area.
· Basic Resource Processor: Cost: 40 Essence, 30 Salvage, 5 Crystals. Refines raw salvage into standardized material blocks, increasing efficiency yield by 25%.
The drone was the key. It could work the Nexus site, hauling the volatile crystals and any other salvage without tying up his combat units. The processor would stretch his dwindling stocks.
But the costs were steep. The drone alone would nearly deplete his remaining salvage. The processor was out of reach.
He had to choose. Invest in the future, or build for the now?
The Barracks Level 1 upgrade beckoned. Specialized units. Grenadiers. Scouts. The force multiplier he desperately needed for the larger threats on the map. But without a steady resource flow, upgrading the Barracks was like building a sports car with no gas station.
The logic was inescapable. The economy came first.
"Manufactorum," he ordered, the words tasting of necessity, not victory. "Begin production of one Autonomous Salvage Drone. Prioritize."
Production Queued: Salvage Drone (Crawler). ETA: 40 minutes. Essence: -25. Salvage (S/M): -15. Salvage (Advanced): -2.
His resource counters bled to near zero. Essence: 110. Salvage (S/M): 0.3. Salvage (Advanced): 2.
He was bankrupt, save for energy. He had an army of walking wounded, a single secure asset, and a robot being built.
He limped to the Barracks console, M-001 a silent shadow. He wouldn't upgrade it, but he could use its queue. He still had four functional Militia in the garrison, and M-001 here. He needed to rebuild his numbers to a baseline.
"Barracks, produce two Militia units. Standard loadout."
A tiny drain on his Essence. A forty-minute wait for two more bodies.
He stood in the center of the Core Chamber, the hum of the Bastion a constant presence. The frantic action of the assault was over. Now came the grind. The administration. The quiet, desperate race to build an infrastructure that could survive the next, inevitable storm.
He looked at the map. The Major Gloom Convergence pulsed red to the east. It had felt the loss of the Nexus. It would respond.
He had taken the Bastion's first breath from the world. Now he had to learn how to make it breathe on its own, before the world decided to snuff it out.