The outpost did not begin as a city.
It began as a checklist.
Kaito stood on the Arcadian plateau with a tablet in hand, wind carrying unfamiliar scents across the open space. Below them, the valley breathed—bioluminescent flora pulsing faintly as if reacting to the presence of intruders who had decided to stay.
"Structural footprint?" he asked.
Aya replied instantly. "Minimal. Modular. Designed for disassembly. No permanent scarring of the substrate."
Liang nodded approval. "Good. If we can't leave without damage, we shouldn't be here."
The First Outpost was conceived with restraint as its primary design principle.
No towering spires. No defensive walls. No extraction pits.
Just habitation, research, power, and logistics—each contained, each reversible.
The Guild team assisted without ceremony. They didn't plant flags or pose for recordings. They measured, sampled, logged, and moved on. Rhea Calder worked alongside Kaito, sleeves rolled up, her attention fixed on ground stability and prevailing energy flows.
"You're serious about leaving," she observed.
"Yes," Kaito said. "Even if we never do."
She smiled faintly. "That's the right kind of lie to tell a new world."
The first structure assembled itself in under three hours.
Fabricator arms unfolded with practiced precision, guided by Aya's oversight and Arcadian material heuristics. The structure settled into place like it had always belonged there—weight distributed, energy harmonized, no stress fractures.
"Compatibility remains high," Aya reported. "Arcadian matter exhibits cooperative response."
Liang exhaled. "I don't like that phrasing."
"You don't like any phrasing that suggests agency," Kaito replied.
"That's because agency tends to demand payment," Liang said.
By nightfall, the outpost glowed softly against the valley—a cluster of warm lights beneath a violet sky. Power flowed cleanly. Air was filtered. Water cycled without waste.
People slept there.
That was the difference.
Kaito walked the perimeter after dusk, boots crunching softly on stabilized ground. He passed sleeping quarters where Guild members rested, researchers murmured in their dreams, and technicians snored with the exhaustion of honest labor.
This wasn't a demonstration anymore.
It was habitation.
Aya joined him as he reached the overlook.
"Settlement status achieved," she said. "Population: nineteen."
"Nineteen," Kaito echoed. "That's how it starts."
"Yes," Aya agreed. "With small numbers."
The next morning brought the first problem.
A Guild scout returned early, face pale, eyes sharp. "We found ruins," she said without preamble. "Not natural. Not Arcadian."
Kaito stiffened. "Where?"
"Thirty kilometers east," Rhea said. "Buried. Old. And humming."
Aya's avatar brightened. "Energy signature?"
"Similar to the anchor," the scout replied. "But degraded."
Liang swore softly. "So we're not the first."
Silence fell over the room.
Kaito looked around at the assembled group—scientists, explorers, builders. People who had crossed worlds on trust and rules rather than conquest.
"Document only," he said firmly. "No excavation. No activation."
Rhea nodded. "We assumed as much."
The outpost council—informal, temporary, necessary—met that evening.
Questions piled up faster than answers.
Who had been here before?
Why had they left?
And what had they anchored?
Aya tracked Kaito's stress indicators quietly but said nothing.
That night, as Arcadia's sky deepened and the valley's light pulsed slowly, the disk chimed.
DAY 018 — SIGN-IN COMPLETE
No reward.
But a change nonetheless.
The system interface briefly displayed a new line before fading.
LOCATION STATUS UPDATED
ARCADA: HABITABLE NODE CONFIRMED
Kaito stared at the words.
Habitable node.
Not base.
Not colony.
Node.
He looked out over the First Outpost—people moving softly through lamplit paths, a fragile order forming at the edge of the unknown.
This was no longer an experiment.
It was a foothold.
And footholds had a way of becoming histories.