The sun didn't rise in Sector 4; the smog just turned from black to a bruised purple.
Inside the Foundry, the morning was announced not by a rooster, but by the seismic rumbling of Goran's snoring. The Berserker was asleep on a pile of empty grain sacks in the corner of the main office, sounding like a diesel engine trying to turn over in zero-degree weather.
Elian sat at the rusted metal desk, staring at a mug of hot water. He looked exhausted. He hadn't slept. He had spent the night monitoring the perimeter sensors, paranoid that the rats would return.
"My back," Silas groaned from the floor. The merchant was curled up under his expensive silk cloak, which was now stained with grease. "I have slept on featherbeds in the Inner City. I have slept on silk sheets. This concrete... it is a war crime."
"Quit whining," Kara mumbled from her perch on top of a filing cabinet. She was curled into a ball like a cat. Concrete is better than mud. At least it's dry.
Elian took a sip of his hot water. It tasted like rust.
We need infrastructure, Elian said, his voice raspy.
Goran snorted, choked on his own tongue, and woke up with a start. He looked around wildly, grabbing the air for his axe. Rats! Where?!
No rats, Elian said. "Just morning. And we have a problem."
"Yeah," Goran rubbed his stiff neck. "We're out of food. And I think a spider laid eggs in my boot."
"The problem," Elian corrected, standing up, is morale. A Guild can't function if its members are sleep-deprived and hungry. Today isn't about fighting. It's about construction.
He picked up the bucket of Mana-Rat Cores they had harvested yesterday. They glowed with a dim, sickly purple light.
Silas, how much are these worth?
Silas sat up, adjusting his monocle. Raw? Maybe 10 credits each. They're low grade. Unstable. Used for cheap heaters or Mana-Batteries.
"Exactly," Elian grinned. "Heaters."
Elian led them down to the factory floor. The air was freezing. The heat from the Blast Furnace didn't reach the side rooms where the old worker barracks used to be.
The barracks were a row of four small concrete cells. The doors were gone. The beds were rusted frames.
This is where we live? Silas looked at the cells with disdain. It looks like a prison.
"It's a fortress," Elian corrected. "It just needs a remodel."
He walked into the first cell. He placed the bucket of cores on the floor.
Watch and learn.
[Class Skill: Edit Mode]
Elian placed his hands on the rusted bed frame.
[Target: Steel Frame (Degraded)][Action: Reshape]
He poured mana into the metal. The rust flaked off like dead skin. The metal groaned and shifted, thickening, straightening. The sharp edges smoothed out into sleek, modern curves.
Then, he grabbed a handful of the Rat Cores.
[Skill: Material Synthesis][Rat Cores (Thermal) + Concrete Floor]
He pressed the cores into the floor. The stone hissed. Violet veins spread through the concrete like a root system, connecting to the bed frame.
Hummmm.
A soft, radiant heat began to emanate from the floor. The room, previously freezing, warmed up instantly to a comfortable temperature.
"Heated floors?" Silas's jaw dropped. Do you know how much that costs in Sector 1? Only the high-lords have radiant heating!
It's efficient, Elian shrugged, wiping sweat from his brow. "The cores provide the heat source. The concrete acts as a thermal mass. It'll stay warm for weeks."
He turned to the bed frame. He didn't have mattresses, so he improvised. He used [Edit Mode] on the piles of grain sacks, fusing the fibers together into a dense, hammock-like mesh that stretched across the frame.
It wasn't a featherbed. But it was suspended, warm, and clean.
Room one, Elian gestured. "Who wants it?"
Me! Silas dove for the bed. I claim it! Squatter's rights!
He flopped onto the mesh. "Oh... oh, it's warm. It warms the kidneys. Vance, you are a genius. A tyrant, but a genius."
Goran looked at the bed, then at Elian. The big man shuffled his feet. Can you... make one big enough for me? Standard beds break.
Elian looked at the 6'8 Berserker. I'll reinforce the frame with rebar. Give me an hour.
By noon, the barracks were livable. They had heat, beds, and Elian had even fixed the plumbing in the communal shower by fusing the broken pipes with the Mana-Furnace's steam output.
Elian stepped out onto the roof of the Foundry to clear his head. The smog was thick, but up here, he could see the skyline of Sector 4.
The Rust Bucket was a sprawling shantytown of corrugated iron and misery. To the South, the massive walls of Sector 1 gleamed like a mirage.
"Nice view," a voice said.
Elian didn't turn. He knew Kara's footsteps. She walked silently, a habit from her days as a thief.
She sat on the edge of the roof, her legs dangling over a fifty-foot drop. She was eating a can of peaches Elian had opened for her.
"Better than the view from the sewers," Kara added.
"Anything is better than the sewers," Elian said, leaning on the railing next to her.
Kara looked at him. Her eyes were sharp, evaluating. You're not from a Guild, are you? I mean, really.
Elian raised an eyebrow. I have a Charter. I have a license.
Yeah, but you don't act like them, Kara said, kicking her heels against the brickwork. Guilders are... shiny. They look at us like we're dirt. You look at us like we're... I don't know. Tools? But useful tools.
Thanks, Elian snorted.
Why me? Kara asked suddenly. The playfulness dropped from her voice. "Goran is strong. Silas has connections. I'm just a rat who steals copper wire. Why did you bring me here? Why give me a bed?"
Elian looked at her. In the original timeline—Kaelen's timeline—Kara didn't survive. Kaelen had read a report about a street thief in Sector 4 who was executed by the guards for stealing medicine. Her name was Kara. She died next year, alone, in a dirty alley.
Elian couldn't tell her that.
"Because you're hungry," Elian said simply.
Kara frowned. Everyone in Sector 4 is hungry.
Not for food, Elian tapped his chest. In here. Goran wants redemption. Silas wants money. You? You want to prove you exist. You want to prove that you're not just trash to be swept away.
He looked out at the city.
"I know that feeling," Elian whispered. Being the bottom of the food chain. Watching the 'Heroes' fly overhead while you dig through their garbage. It makes you angry. And anger is a good fuel.
Kara stared at him. She stopped kicking her feet. So what are we doing, Elian? Really? Are we just going to kill rats and sell scrap?
Elian smiled. It was a cold, sharp smile.
No. We're building a foundation. Because when the sky falls—and it will fall—Vanguard is going to be the only thing left standing.
He pushed off the railing.
But for now, Elian said, his tone lightening, we need dinner. I saw a flock of Mutant Pigeons nesting in the west cooling tower. Ever had squab?
Kara grinned, the tension breaking. "Pigeon? That's gourmet. I'll get my slingshot."
While Elian and Kara hunted dinner, a mile away, a single mechanical bird perched on a telephone wire.
Its eyes weren't biological. They were camera lenses, zooming in on the Foundry.
The feed was being transmitted to a secure server in Sector 1.
Vice-Guild Master Vane watched the screen. He saw the smoke rising from the Foundry's chimney. He saw the reinforced gate. He saw the heat signature of the activated Mana Furnace.
He reactivated the Leyline, Vane mused, swirling a glass of wine. Impressive. Most people would have blown themselves up.
A hologram of a subordinate appeared on his desk. Sir. The Architect has fortified the perimeter. Shall we send the retrieval team?
No, Vane said. He has a Berserker and a defensive advantage. A frontal assault would be messy. And the Big Three are watching him too closely.
Vane zoomed in on the image of Elian on the roof.
We need to test him. We need to see if he found the entrance to the Deep Roads yet.
How?
The Supply Shipment, Vane smiled cruelly. Redirect the Sector 4 Mana-Waste disposal. Route it through the Foundry's drainage system. Flood his basement with toxic sludge and Grade-C monsters.
Sir, that will contaminate the entire neighborhood.
I don't care about the neighborhood. I care about the reaction. Let's see if our Architect can swim.
Vane terminated the call.
Build your castle, Vance, Vane whispered to the screen. Dig deep. You're doing the hard work for me.