Far away on the north side of the city, there was a military base. There were different sorts of buildings, each with its own function and purpose.
Some of them were huge dome-like structures used for practicing and controlling one's aspects of affinity, while others were tall, towering complexes meant for the research and manufacturing of weapons and other equipment used by the military.
Among them stood one specific building that stood out the most. It was made up of different kinds of blocks, and there were no windows or doors for entrance.
From the outside, each block was as large as a normal-sized room, but from the inside, it was another story.
Anyone who wanted to enter the building had an ID card. They simply had to swipe that card in front of a block, then choose which block they needed to visit.
Upon selection, that block would move from its place, come to the person who wanted to enter, and then open a door for them.
It was a strange building, one that operated like a living being. Every time someone entered a block, they couldn't help but feel awe at the marvel of its design. It was created by someone exceptionally intelligent, a true engineer of genius.
Not far from it stood another building, far less impressive in comparison. Its exterior was plain, with multiple rooms attached in a haphazard layout. And among those rooms was the office of the engineer who had designed the block building and helped the army construct it.
This office was situated in a quieter wing, its walls lined with schematics and humming with the low thrum of active machinery. Within it, the air shimmered with rotating holograms and the blue light of engineering projections.
Here sat Theron Noxvel, head engineer of the southern reclamation unit, a man in his late forties, absorbed in his work. His fingers danced over the holo-interface, adjusting barrier alignments and support structures for the expanding outer zones of Drayholme. Each flicker of energy represented blueprints for survival, lives dependent on his ingenuity.
He was an ordinary man with no affinity, yet he lived a comfortable life far beyond what someone of his status should enjoy. No one knew how hard he had worked his entire life to get where he was now, or how much racism and prejudice he had endured along the way.
In this world, people with affinity were the power holders. Those without powers were seen as little better than animals. But Theron had made a difference, raising the living standards for humans with no powers.
Before him, the only livable part of the city with all the resources needed to sustain life was Draycrest. The other two districts, Ironreach and The Grind, were left abandoned, suffering from terrible shortages.
The people with powers cared only for their own district. Only after the rise of Theron did Ironreach begin to rebuild from nothing. After decades of his hard work, Ironreach finally had enough resources to sustain human life, though still not as many as Draycrest.
The Grind remained his ultimate goal, and he worked day and night to make it more comfortable to live in someday.
He was immersed in his work, trying to figure out the layout of another city, when the door hissed open with a faint release of steam.
"Still buried under your own brilliance, Theron?" a calm yet firm voice interrupted.
Adkin Scot, an old friend with a knack for mischief and wisdom, stepped inside. Tall, with warm brown skin and sharp eyes, he had a commanding presence. Today, however, his gaze held a hint of concern.
Theron looked up, allowing a smile to break through his exhaustion. "Scot! You're still alive? I figured by now some creature out there would've swallowed you whole."
Scot chuckled, stepping into the room with his usual relaxed swagger. "Too stubborn to die, my friend. You know that about me."
They exchanged a firm handshake, and Theron noticed the fatigue on Scot's face. They sat across from each other at a cluttered table, holographic displays flickering between them.
"So," Theron asked, leaning back, "how's your family?"
"Thriving," Scot said, pride in his voice. "The girls are both in the combat academies, training harder than I ever did. Makes me feel old but… proud." He gave a mock sigh. "I told them to stay away from boys, though, especially those smooth-talking Mid-District types. Overprotective father to the core."
Theron chuckled. "They'll stop listening to you the moment you blink."
"They already have," Scot smirked, though the worry behind his humor was clear. The world outside was dangerous.
Scot leaned forward, his expression shifting. "By the way, when are you moving to the Draycrest District?"
Theron's brow furrowed. "Why would I?"
"Come on, Theron. Your daughter became a captain. That comes with rights. You've earned your place there."
Theron sighed. "I know. But leaving Ironreach… it doesn't sit right with me. I want Kyle and Rosaline to have roots, not just a position.
Kyle idolizes Elysia. He's ambitious, but he's only seen what the government wants him to see. You and I both know the world outside is so dangerous that even the bravest, smartest people can vanish without a trace. What if he joins one of the three households and gets hurt?"
"Still worrying about Houses, I see?" Scot asked gently.
"I'm not worried for the Houses," Theron corrected. "I'm worried for Kyle. He won't let the world dictate his life, and that's the kind of person the world breaks."
Scot's expression softened. "He'll find his way. And if he's anything like you, he'll be just fine."
Theron chuckled softly. "Let's just hope he takes the good parts from me."
They shared a quiet laugh, but the moment didn't last long.
"Are you prepared for what's coming?" Scot asked, his tone turning grave.
"In this area, it's unlike anything we've dealt with before," Theron said, leaning in. "The terrain is half-collapsed, riddled with water channels and unstable walkways. It's a nightmare."
Scot nodded. "Then you need to explain it to everyone involved very carefully. I know with you backing us, we can complete this mission."
The two men stood and walked to the massive block-structured building. Scot swiped his card, selected "Operation Command," and a block from the top shifted position, descending toward them before opening a doorway. They entered, and the door sealed behind them as the block returned to its place.
Inside was a vast hall filled with soldiers in sharp uniforms, each captain wearing a stern expression. At the center stood a large square table. Scot stepped forward, and all eyes turned toward Theron, a mix of skepticism and intrigue flickering in their gazes.
"Good," Scot said with authority. "We're about to embark on an unprecedented mission, one that requires our best. Listen well." He gestured to Theron. "Take it from here."
Theron steadied himself and approached the table, activating the holo-interface. Projections of terrain, structural instability charts, and weak points filled the air.
"It's good to meet everyone gathered here for this mission," he began. "I know how hard it is beyond the walls. Venturing out to reclaim land demands more than courage, it demands everything."
The soldiers fell silent, pride straightening their postures.
"This time," Theron continued, "our mission is to reclaim a city near a water resource. We all know water is vital. Securing this city will resolve most of that problem. The city was built along a mountainside, with a river that flows into a sea."
At the word sea, a palpable wave of excitement rippled through the room. For most of them, the sea was a myth, a legend. The thought of seeing it filled their eyes with light.
"But," Theron's tone darkened, "when the unknown beings descended, people had to flee. This city lies near the river, the sea, and the mountains. The danger it represents is three times greater than any city we've reclaimed so far."
The excitement faded into grim focus.
Theron pointed to a glowing section on the hologram. "From the looks of it, the city seems abandoned, but it's not. It has a life of its own. We've recovered most of the maps, but one crucial area remains elusive. We tried scouting it with high-speed drones, but every time, they were intercepted. Twenty percent of the area remains unknown. In a city this size, that's enough to hide horrors we can't even imagine."
He paused, then lowered his voice. "Sometimes, before we lose them, our drones behave… strangely. They don't just fail, they're played with. The footage shows the air itself bending, like a black hole devouring all light."
The screens flickered with three videos showing the distortion, the air collapsing into nothingness.
A deep chill spread across the hall. Even the seasoned captains shifted uneasily.
"And according to our research," Theron said, his voice heavy, "we believe this is the work of a devil."
The word struck like a thunderclap. The air thickened. Eyes widened. It was no longer a myth; it was a warning.
"This area is under the influence of a devil," he continued. "We don't know what type, but it's at least Devil Phase. We never recovered the drones. Something is interfering. We don't have time to continue scouting; the three great clans already have their eyes on other regions.
We must act now. But we're not sending you unprepared. Major Scout Adkin will take command against the devil himself."
A young female captain raised her voice. "Why this city? There are other water cities; why not go for an easier target?"
"Because those 'easier' cities are already claimed by the three great clans," Scot replied firmly. "They'll capture those first. This one is harder, yes, but it matters. It holds the potential for a teleportation gate, clean water, and trade routes. The future of Ironreach and The Grind depends on it. This isn't ambition, it's survival."
Doubt and fear flickered among the soldiers.
Theron slammed his hand on the table, the sharp sound cutting through the tension. "You're afraid. Good. You should be. But we're not asking you to fight blind. This first operation is about preparation, understanding the creature we face."
He gestured to the map. "These are partially intact structures you can use as safe zones. I've mapped paths through submerged corridors hidden from the creatures."
"Are you suggesting we run and hide?" a voice scoffed.
"No," Theron shot back. "I'm suggesting we outsmart them. Knowledge is our weapon. We observe, learn, attack, and retreat strategically. We'll find the devil's type, its weakness, and then Major Adkin will finish it. I'll help build its death trap."
The silence turned into murmurs of resolve.
Scot's voice rang out. "This mission starts in three days. Squad leaders, coordinate with Theron. Engineers, prepare your equipment. The rest of you, train like your life depends on it. Because it does."
The tension shifted, no longer fear, but determination.
When the hall finally emptied, Theron and Scot exchanged a knowing glance. Shadows loomed, but so did hope.
After some time, Scot departed to train, leaving Theron to continue his duties. Half the day remained, and with it, another task in the southern part of the city—where a reclaimed section of forest awaited.
That forest had been reclaimed by the army.
It was a scarred land, once vibrant, now a memory of ruin. After the descent of the unknown creatures, it had been abandoned for generations, a place ruled by monsters and beasts. Most weren't individually dangerous, but their sheer numbers could overwhelm any defense.
When the government called for help, only one of the three great houses responded, sending a single transcendent human. Many thought it pointless at first, but one transcendent held more power than an army. Together, they cleared the forest and built the great metal wall of enhanced alloy.
These heavy walls now shielded the entire city. But any devil-ranked creature could still tear them apart. It was only thanks to the first generation of heroes, those who repelled the descent—that the cities stood today. Among them was a saint with divine-level enchantment affinity. Because of that one hero, four great cities still thrived. The enchantment kept them safe, and the walls merely kept the civilians from seeing the horrors beyond.
The reclaimed forest was still littered with corpses of beasts, some venomous, some with skin too tough to cut. Their presence had altered the very nature of the wood. The trees that remained were unnaturally dense, so tough that the army had to use enchantments to fell them.
But the true problem wasn't the trees, it was the soil.
The ground was infertile, its surface a hard, toxic crust. Theron's new task was to assess this blighted land and find a way to make it fertile again, to bring life back to the soil.
He shut down the glowing holograms and stepped out of his office. The vehicle hadn't arrived yet, so he spent the waiting time reviewing the mission plans once more. Every map, every line of data, he studied them all.
When the transport finally arrived, a sleek, silent beetle of polished metal, Theron boarded, and it surged forward.
The hovercraft glided like a ghost along the circular roads that surrounded Drayholme, moving at astonishing speeds.
As the city passed by, Theron gazed out the window, admiring the breathtaking fusion of steel and nature. Trees climbed up high-rises, and canals shimmered under the sunlight. This was Draycrest, a dream of balance between modernity and life.
Forty minutes later, the vehicle reached its destination: a vast clearing where the forest had once stood. Felled trees lay like fallen titans, their remains being loaded onto trucks. The towering wall loomed nearby, silent and cold.
Theron stepped out, feeling the weight of the dead earth beneath his boots. Inside the research facility, scientists worked tirelessly, four of them, each devoted to restoring the land.
"Theron!" one called, adjusting her glasses. "We were just about to update you."
He approached quickly. "What's the situation? Any progress?"
"Slow but promising," said Dr. Nyra. "We've identified the creatures responsible for the toxins. Some evolved into Venomwraiths, beasts that exude a poison we call Baneveil. It seeps into the soil and kills it."
Dr. Eldran added, "We've created a neutralizing compound, Purity Elixir, by diluting Baneveil and mixing it with Aether Serpent blood. It purifies the poison but doesn't fix the soil's hardness."
Theron frowned. "That's a start. But we also need functional machinery. If the ground remains too dense, farming will fail."
Nyra nodded grimly. Ten to fifteen machines have already broken. The soil kills them."
Theron walked outside with the team. Rows of shattered vehicles lay across the barren land. He looked at them, then said, "We'll modify them. The topsoil is hard, but it's softer underneath. What if we install a water irrigation system directly into the machinery?"
The scientists looked intrigued.
"Each machine could carry a small tank," Theron continued. "As it plows, it releases water, or Purity Elixir, to soften the ground. We'll turn plows into sub-soil aerators."
Dr. Eldran's eyes lit up. "Brilliant. It could pierce through while hydrating the soil."
"Exactly," Theron said with renewed determination. "Let's get to work."
That night, they labored tirelessly. Sparks, machinery, and the glow of hope filled the lab. Theron's heart was heavy, yet driven—by his duty, by his family, and by the fragile dream of rebuilding a dying world.
"We're going to take this land back," he said quietly. "And we're going to do it in a way that ensures a lasting future for Drayholme and its people."