With the immediate threat of the Lord extinguished, the focus of Last Light Valley shifted from survival to sustainability. The influx of refugees from Claire's Citadel had swelled our numbers to over a hundred, and while we had secured the immediate area, the food situation was becoming a logistical nightmare. The surface fields were productive, but they were vulnerable. We needed a fail-safe.
I stood in the command center, the holographic map of the valley spinning slowly before me. My arm had healed, leaving a jagged scar where the bone had knitted together, a permanent reminder of the Titan fight.
"System," I commanded. "Status of the World Anchor."
[WORLD ANCHOR: READY]
[COOLDOWN: COMPLETE]
[CHARGE: 100%]
The fight with the Lord had earned me a massive amount of Survival Points, but more importantly, it had leveled up the Base Core. I could now sustain a permanent two-way connection to a chosen world. But I didn't need mercenaries this time. I needed infrastructure.
"System, scan the database for worlds with advanced agricultural technology. Specifically, high-density food production. Keywords: Hydroponics, Vertical Farming, Arcology."
[SCANNING MULTIVERSE DATABASE...]
[MATCH FOUND: WORLD 4-KAPPA (ECO-TOPIA)]
[TECH LEVEL: HIGH]
[BIOSPHERE: ARTIFICIAL]
[TRADE DEMAND: UNMUTATED GENETIC MATERIAL]
"Open a trade channel," I said.
The air in the center of the room shimmered, not violently like the combat portals, but smoothly, like water settling into a glass. The image of a sleek, white room appeared. It was filled with rows of glowing towers—plants growing in vertical spirals, bathed in purple UV light.
A figure approached the portal. It was a woman with green skin—literally green, due to the chlorophyll in her cells, a standard adaptation for her world.
"Founder Shen," she said, her voice sounding like wind through leaves. "We received your signal. You offer unmutated seeds?"
"Heritage seeds," I corrected, holding up a pouch. "Pre-Mist corn, wheat, and soy. Genetic stability 99%. In your world, that's a rarity."
"Invaluable," she breathed. "What do you ask in return?"
"Hydro-towers. Ten units. Solar-charged, self-cycling. Plus the schematics for the nutrient solution."
The negotiation was short but tense. In the end, I traded the heritage seeds and a small crate of the Spirit Stone dust—useless to them for magic, but a fascinating geological curiosity—for the towers.
When the portal closed, we had the equipment.
"Marcus," I called into the radio. "Get a team to the command center. We're moving heavy equipment."
Over the next three days, we converted the largest of the cleared tunnel caverns—the one where I had fought the fungal nest—into an underground farm. The hydro-towers hummed to life, their purple lights casting an alien glow over the rock walls. We planted fast-growing algae and nutrient-dense leafy greens.
It wasn't just a farm; it was an insurance policy. Even if the surface burned, even if the walls fell, we could feed a hundred people indefinitely underground. We were evolving from a camp into a complex organism.