Chapter 355: Journey to the Evernight
The architects at the door scattered, clearing a path and watching the Vampire's
back disappear into the depths of the hallway.
Then, the firm exploded.
"To the Imperial Mainland?!" "Another world?!" "NIGERUNDAYO! What does this
signify? A business trip to another dimension?" "Can I decline? My wife is
scheduled for a delivery next month..." "Are you a logic-void? The Empire
specifically localized you. You think 'decline' is an available option?" "I
didn't say I would! I was just querying the feasibility!" "Queries are
irrelevant!"
Leo leaned against the corridor wall, hands in his pockets, listening to the
cacophony of his colleagues. Milo approached, his voice dropped to a low
whisper.
"Leo. Are you initiating the transit?"
"Do you project that I possess a choice?"
"Point taken." Milo adjusted his glasses. "But truthfully... I am experiencing a
fear-spike."
Leo looked at him. "Logic?"
"The Imperial Mainland... it's a world of the Dead. Skeletons, zombies,
vampires... patrolling the streets in high density."
"We have them here as well," Leo countered. "You audit the State Army skeletons
daily."
"That is a different variable!" Milo scratched his head. "Here, they are guests.
They are helping us; we are the home-units. Over there, we are the outsiders."
"What if they don't authorize our presence?"
"The project was personally authorized by the Sovereign," Leo said flatly. "Do
you project they would dare bypass his will?"
Milo calculated for a moment. "The logic holds. But still..."
"Logistics query: Sustainment? Is there food for humans in a kingdom of the
dead? Will they expect us to gnaw on bones?"
"Are you malfunctioning?"
"It's a valid concern! Statistical hunger is a terminal risk!"
Leo ignored him. He looked up at the Light of Evernight in the ceiling—the
unique Imperial illumination system that provided soft, flicker-free white light
while consuming negligible energy.
To another world.
To claim he wasn't nervous would be a data-error. But to claim he wasn't eager
was also false.
That evening, the twelve selected architects gathered in the firm's conference
room. Director Miller stood before a white-board, pen in hand, hesitating to
initiate the first stroke.
"The data is confirmed," Miller said, his voice raspy. "Departure in seventy-two
hours. Destination: Imperial Mainland. Objective: Urban Transformation."
"Director, specifically... what are we transforming?" a middle-aged architect in
a cap asked, raising his hand.
"The New City Initiative. The specifics are unquantified currently. The Vampire
Centurion stated we would receive a full tactical briefing upon arrival."
"Why requisition us? Does the Empire lack its own architectural units?"
"Negative," Miller paused. "But Imperial architecture is 'Old World'—stone
fortresses, timber shacks, subterranean vaults. This overhaul intends to
integrate the modern structural logic of our world."
The room hit a two-second silence. Then, a young female architect chuckled.
"So... the Empire intends for us to instruct them on how to erect high-rises?"
"That is the primary projection."
"A legion of skeletons and vampires... residing in high-density apartments?"
"The Empire is a multi-racial entity," Miller corrected. "Humans, Dwarves,
Elves, Orcs. All species require residential sectors."
"Elves..." The female architect's eyes brightened.
"Cease the non-essential fantasies," a colleague nudged her.
Miller cleared his throat, pulling the focus back to the core logic. "I am aware
of the anxieties. Leaving a familiar coordinate for a total 'Unknown' is a
high-stress event."
"But certain facts are absolute."
"First: This is a formal Imperial Mandate. It is a directive, not a petition.
However, to date, the Empire has treated us with a high satisfaction-rating. We
have been adequately compensated. Archive that truth."
No one argued.
"Second: I am initiating transit with you. A Director does not hide in the base
while his units take the field. That would be a failure of leadership."
A low-frequency murmur of approval rippled through the room.
"Third..." Miller set his pen down and sat on the edge of the table.
"Truthfully: this opportunity is likely the highest-tier event of our lives."
"In the Eldritch Realm, we are assistants, rebuilding our own ruins. But over
there? We are assisting in the urban planning of the Empire's Core Territory..."
"Think of what that signifies for your personal value-rating."
Silence.
Leo sat in the corner, his finger absentmindedly tracing a pattern on the table.
He thought of the Pre-Summons era.
Before the Scourge, he had drafted plans for a minor firm. His monthly wage
barely covered his residential tax. He crowded onto transit lines daily and
toiled until midnight without overtime bonuses.
After the Scourge, everything was deleted. The city became a graveyard.
Survivors huddled in bunkers, consuming compressed biscuits and recycled water,
existing in a state of terminal terror.
When the Evernight Empire arrived, he began to draft again.
But this time, his ink became stone. He witnessed the districts he designed grow
from the rubble, inch by inch. On the day the first residents achieved entry, an
elderly woman stood on her new balcony and wept.
In that micro-second, Leo felt that his existence as an architect had finally
achieved a "Perfect Eval."
"I am deploying," Leo stated.
The room turned to him.
"Good," Miller nodded.
"I am in," Milo raised his hand. His voice was shaky, but his hand was steady.
One by one, the remaining units confirmed. Total count: Twelve.
Miller stood, picked up the marker, and wrote two lines on the board.
TRANSIT TIMESTAMP: CYCLE +3. OBJECTIVE: EVERNIGHT EMPIRE. IRON FORTRESS
TERRITORY.
The seventy-two-hour preparation window evaporated. Leo finalized the hand-over
of his current projects, packed his drafting tools, calculator, and reference
scrolls into a high-capacity rucksack. Milo went further, dragging two heavy
trunks.
"Identify the logic for such a massive inventory," Leo noted. "This is a
deployment, not a relocation."
"I am carrying my entire reference archive. What if the coordinate lacks
data-nodes?"
"...You project the Empire is deficient in 'Books'?"
"I lack data on their library density. I cannot afford a loss of information.
These scrolls have guided my logic for a decade."
Leo looked at the trunks and chose to delete the query.
On the morning of the third cycle, the twelve units gathered at the firm's
entrance. Their expressions were a spectrum: excitement, apprehension, and those
feigning indifference while their hands vibrated with tension.
Retrieving them were two Liches from the Arcane Legion.
They wore dark robes, their hoods casting absolute shadow over their faces. Twin
clusters of ghostly green soulfire flickered in their sockets, radiating a faint
chill. Milo nearly dropped his trunk.
"Units."
One of the Liches spoke. The voice was dry, hollow, and echoed as if transmitted
from the bottom of a deep well.
"Follow."
No greetings. No social protocols. The directive was lean and cold. The twelve
architects looked at each other, hoisted their gear, and marched into the
unknown.
Evernight Transit Hub.
When the light of the array dissipated and Leo snapped his ocular sensors open,
he projected that he was still in a dream-cycle.
A gargantuan, domed space manifested before him. The ceiling was at an
impossible altitude, encrusted with a high density of Lights of Evernight that
simulated a night sky. The floor was a single sheet of polished obsidian,
mirroring the silhouettes above.
Dozens of counters lined the perimeter. Behind them sat various... entities.
Skeleton clerks auditing files. Vampires applying official seals. A Ghoul
sharpening a pencil—or perhaps a claw. And a young human in a uniform, guiding a
squad of Dwarves toward a side-channel.
Leo stood frozen, his boots anchored to the stone. Beside him, Milo's jaw was
slack, his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose.
"This..."
"Welcome to the Evernight Transit Hub."
A voice called from the flank. Leo turned to see a young man in a grey uniform
approaching. Human. Early twenties. Hair aligned with military precision. A
silver badge was pinned to his chest.
"I am Eric, Transit Liaison on duty. I have been tasked with your reception."
His expression was calm, his politeness professional and clinical.
"Please follow. We must first finalize your Entry-Audit."
The procedure was more complex than Leo had projected. Each unit had to complete
a dense form: Designation, Age, Vocation, Skill-Set, Coordinate of Origin,
Objective of Visit. Standard data points.
But the final sections were head-scratchers.
"Mana-Tier..." Milo stared at the paper, his pen hovering. "We possess zero
Mana. Identify the required input."
"Input: Null," Eric stated, standing by with patient focus.
"Battle-Qi Rank?"
"Input: Null."
"Racial Authority?"
"Input: Null."
Milo finalized the last row. Looking at his form—three consecutive "Null"
values—he felt a sharp pang of biological insecurity.
"Does everyone in the Empire possess Mana or Qi?"
"The majority of combat units do. A significant percentage of civilian units
also possess active signatures."
Milo looked back at his colleagues—a group of physically unranked draughtsmen.
"Are we... statistically the weakest units in the room?"He asked..
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