The vehicle was armored.
Kai noted that first—before the barred windows or the reinforced doors, the massiveness of it. The way it moved through the city as though nothing could harm it, hummed engines with a suppressed energy. This wasn't a civilian transport.
This was a prison wagon with nicer upholstery.
He sat alone in the rear compartment, wrists unshackled but posture watched by the two soldiers seated across from him. Their guns were locked to their armor; fingers rested close enough to fire, a message delivered.
You're here because we let you be.
The vehicle accelerated, merging into the flow of traffic in Iron-Hollow.
The city rolled out below the small window slits in raw, unadulterated form.
Iron-Hollow was vertical, physically.
The bottom layers sprawled endlessly, densely packed with old rusted infrastructure, flickering signs, exposed pipes and closely-packed housing units piled-up like cancers against megastructures. Thick smoke and chemical haze filled the air and reduced the daylight to a dull, perpetual grey twilight. Workers wearing dirty uniforms with obscured faces (because of filters and exhaustion) flowed in tight streams below.
As the soldiers ascended higher, the city changed.
Cleaner. More well-lit. Towers stood cleanly spaced apart from each other in steel and glass, separated by controlled air corridors and patrols. The farther up you went, the greater the distances between towers and between individuals.
Kai followed the ascent with his eyes.
"Layers," he said.
One soldier cast a sideways glance at him. Did not respond.
In the middle of the tower, a single monolith rose above all others.
Blacksteel Tower.
It wasn't flashy. No neon. No decorations. Just pure, towering dominance—200 stories of matte-black alloy and reinforced glass, edges razor-sharp enough to appear as if they could cut the sky. The building did not boast power.
It presumed it.
The vehicle slowed as it reached the tower's base. Layers of automated scanners, armed personnel and biometric gates surrounded the entrance. There was no crowd. No noise.
Only efficiency.
The vehicle slid into an interior bay, slowing to a complete halt.
"Go," one of the soldiers ordered.
Kai obeyed.
The lobby consumed him.
Bright cold light reflected off of polished stone and metal surfaces. The lobby was large, yet it was intentionally empty—no chairs, no artwork, no distractions. Armed guards were positioned at precise intervals. Their presence was felt more than seen.
People rushed through the lobby quickly, heads lowered, speaking softly. Kai heard snatches of conversation as he passed by.
"She's in today—"
" —you'd better not be late—"
" —not worth the risk—"
There was a rhythm to fear in this place.
An elevator awaited them when the doors opened.
It rode silently.
The ride took long enough for Kai to stop faking being calm and instead focus on his breathing. The soldiers did not speak. Nor did the elevator.
Finally, the doors opened and the air was quiet.
The floor was covered in dark grey carpeting. The walls of glass offered views of the city from a nearly impossible height. At the far end of the room, a pair of heavy, unmarked doors waited for Kai.
They swung open as Kai approached.
Beyond the doors lay an office.
Not cluttered. Not opulent.
On purpose.
Behind the massive desk stood a single work station made from dark composite. It was immaculately clean. Behind the desk stood a wall of translucent screens displaying constantly changing information—market fluctuations, logistical reports, security feeds, projections that meant nothing to Kai but everything to the woman who controlled them.
Standing behind the desk stood Vesper Blackthorn.
She did not look up initially.
Her platinum-blonde hair cascaded down her back in perfect alignment. She wore a black suit with silver accents, every seam precisely placed, every detail deliberate. One of her eyes was human—a piercing ice blue, sharply assessing him even while only glancing peripherally.
The other was cybernetic.
A seamless implant, her iris was glowing softly with internal data streams, tracking Kai the instant he entered the room.
She finally lifted her gaze after finishing reading whatever was on her screen.
Kai felt it as a pressure wave.
"You're the guy who rammed a First World warship onto my landing pad," she said calmly.
Her tone was soft. Contained. Not loud.
Dangerous people don't have to be loud.
Kai inclined his head slightly. "I thought of it more as an emergency landing."
Her lips curved upward—just barely.
Acknowledgment.
"You're either very courageous," she said, "or very foolish."
"I'm still getting data," Kai replied.
That got her complete attention.
She examined him clinically now, disassembling him into elements. His clothing. His posture. How long he maintained eye contact without challenging.
"You don't resemble a general," Vesper said.
"I am not a general," Kai replied.
"You don't appear to be a zealot," she said.
"No," Kai replied.
"And you certainly aren't a relic-hunting expeditionist from the First World," Vesper said.
Kai shrugged. "I found it by accident."
Her cybernetic eye whirred softly.
"That's impossible," she said bluntly.
Kai did not disagree.
There was silence.
Vesper stepped around the desk, heels clicking softly against the floor, and leaned back against its edge. From here, the height difference between them was negligible—but the power gap wasn't.
"Your ship," she said, "matches classified fragments from pre-Cataclysm archives. Leviathan-class. Warships designed to operate inside the Void Sea."
Kai felt a flicker of unease. "You know a lot about it."
"I know what my predecessors tried to forget," Vesper replied. "Which brings us to the interesting question."
She tilted her head slightly.
"How did you survive integration?"
Kai chose his words carefully.
"I didn't do anything special," he said. "I woke up in an escape pod. Crashed into the ship. Sat in the chair."
Vesper's human eye narrowed. Her artificial one brightened.
"And the Ark System accepted you."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Kai met her gaze. "If I knew that, I'd be much more confident right now."
For the first time, Vesper smiled.
Just a little.
"Honest," she said. "Or very good at pretending."
She pushed off the desk.
"Let's assume you're telling the truth," she said. "That you stumbled into a First World warship and survived where no one else has in four centuries."
She paced slowly, each step measured.
"Let's also assume," she continued, "that your arrival wasn't an act of war."
Kai nodded. "I don't want a fight."
"Good," Vesper said. "Because you'd lose."
She stopped in front of him.
"Now tell me," she said softly, "why I shouldn't dismantle your ship piece by piece."
Kai didn't hesitate.
"Because Iron-Hollow is starving."
The words landed like a dropped blade.
Vesper's smile vanished.
"Explain," she said.
Kai inhaled. "Your lower levels are overpopulated. Your food imports are failing. Your synthetic production can't keep up with demand."
Her cybernetic eye flickered.
"You've done your homework," she said.
"I saw it on the way here," Kai replied. "You can hide inefficiency in spreadsheets. You can't hide hunger."
Vesper studied him for a long moment.
"And you think you can fix that," she said.
"I think," Kai said carefully, "that I can trade with places you can't reach."
Her eyes sharpened.
"You're claiming you can cross the Void Sea," she said.
"I can," Kai replied. "No one else can."
Silence.
The city stretched endlessly behind them, a monument to control built on scarcity.
Vesper turned away, walking towards the window.
"For a thousand years," she said quietly, "Iron-Hollow has existed in isolation. We build. We ration. We optimize."
She turned back to him.
"And you're suggesting you can alter those rules?"
"I'm suggesting I can open the game," Kai said.
She turned back to him completely now.
"What do you want in exchange?"
"Trading," Kai said. "Access. Long-term contracts."
"Control," Vesper corrected.
Kai shook his head. "Stability."
She chuckled softly at that.
"You're smarter than you appear," she said. "And you're much more deadly."
She walked back to her desk, tapped something on her console, and then gazed at him once again.
"Dinner," Vesper said.
Kai blinked. "Dinner?"
"Yes," she said. "We'll finish our conversation in a less...formal setting."
He paused. "I figured it would be jail."
"That's still an option," Vesper said cheerfully. "However, I generally assess the value of an asset prior to disposing of it."
For a moment, something appeared almost warm in Vesper's expression.
Then gone.
"Honest," she said. "Or really good at appearing that way."
She pushed herself off the desk.
"Let's see how clever you are," she said.
Kai nodded slowly. "Okay."
As he turned to follow the guard, Vesper called out to him.
"Oh," she said lightly, "one more thing."
He turned back to her.
"The last merchant who attempted to cheat me," Vesper said, smiling without warmth, "is doing hard time in the Foundry Districts."
Kai swallowed.
"Good to know," he said.
Her smile broadened—only marginally.