Chapter 358: The Experience
"Medieval Magic fused with Modern Urbanism... that's a structural mismatch my
Academy professors never conceptualized."
"Then consider it your current directive."
Director Miller tapped the white-board with a sharp clack.
"Execution of the preliminary designs commences tomorrow. I want the first
iteration of the blueprints archived within five cycles."
"For the remaining hours of this cycle, I suggest you conduct a field survey.
Witness the city. Localize some inspiration."
After the session terminated, Leo intended to head toward the Evernight Mall to
audit their inventory of construction materials. But Milo intercepted his
movement.
"Leo, have you perceived the signal for The Succubus's Dream?"
"Identify the entity."
"It's a franchise here in the Iron Fortress! It features a massive, animated
pink signboard at the entryway!" Milo's face was a mask of intense focus. "I
encountered a Dwarf in the lobby earlier. He stated the sector is 'Mystical.'
You achieve entry, you enter a sleep-cycle, and you experience a customized
dream!"
"A dream-cycle of your own design!"
Leo showed zero interest. "I prefer to audit the Mall's inventory of stone and
glass."
"Negative! The Dwarf stated they offer a 'Free-Trial' buff for new arrivals! I
have already secured a reservation for your unit!"
"You—"
"Move out, Leo! Consider it a 'Logic Reset.' Our processors are redlining from
all the coordinate calculations."
Milo dragged Leo toward the Commercial District. The Succubus's Dream branch was
localized on a primary street corner; the gargantuan, animated magical signboard
was visible from three blocks away.
A chibi succubus was winking at pedestrians, the small horns atop its head
flickering with a rhythmic pink glow. Leo stood at the entrance, experiencing a
sharp wave of "Aesthetic Dissonance."
They breached the threshold. The hall was saturated with a faint, floral
perfume. The walls were lined with promotional "Talking Manga" frames for
various dream-templates.
[ADVENTURE-LOG: THE TRUE DUNGEON CHRONICLE!] [GOURMET-DATA: THE THIRTY-PLANE
FEAST!] [GOLD TSUNAMI: LIQUID ASSET SATURATION!] [APEX-UNIT: SOVEREIGN FOR A
DAY!]
Milo's saliva-production hit a critical high. "Sovereign for a day... is that
legally authorized?"
"Welcome to The Succubus's Dream!"
Behind the counter, a young Succubus looked up, offering a textbook
"Commercial-Allure" smile. Her tiny horns wobbled slightly, and her tail
performed a rhythmic, graceful sweep.
"Is this the first manifest for your units?"
"Ah... affirmative," Milo stammered, his ocular sensors fixing on the ceiling to
avoid the distraction-buff.
The receptionist audited her ledger. "Master Milo and Master Leo? The 'New
Arrival Free-Trial,' correct?"
"YES! YES!"
"Please follow. I shall narrate the protocol."
She rounded the counter and led them into the inner sanctum. The corridors were
lined with private suites, the doors marked with status indicators: [ACTIVE],
[VACANT], [PREPARING].
"The protocol is elementary," the Succubus explained.
"First, you select a Narrative Theme from the menu. Upon suite entry, a Senior
Sister will facilitate the dream-construction. The cycle persists for one to two
hours. Upon extraction, your biological fatigue-rating will be zero. You will
feel as though you have achieved a 'Perfect Respite'."
"Halt," Leo interrupted, his logical mind demanding data. "Define
'Dream-Construction.' Identify the methodology."
"The Succubus race possesses an innate Authority over the subconscious Plane,"
the receptionist replied matter-of-factly. "Individual sisters specialize in
different tiers. Some are elite in the 'Adventure' category, others in
'Gourmet,' and some in... 'Romance'."
"Romance?" Milo's furry ears (metaphorically) stood up.
"That requires a premium tax," the Succubus added with a mischievous grin. "The
price-point is quite high."
Milo's ears slumped.
Leo selected [The Artisan's Dream]. The tagline read: Experience the kinetic joy
of manifesting a monumental structure with your own hands. Milo, after a long
period of internal conflict, selected [Sovereign for a Day].
They were directed into separate sectors. Leo's suite was modest, featuring a
high-comfort lounging chair and soft, ambient lighting. A Succubus in a loose,
flowing gown awaited him, a silver pin holding her hair back from her horns.
"Master Leo? Please assume a horizontal posture. Relax your logic-cores."
Leo stiffly lowered himself onto the chair.
"Seal your visual receptors. I shall handle the input."
A wave of warm energy radiated from his cranium, and Leo's consciousness began
to blur.
Transit initiated.
He was standing in a vast, open plaza. Before him was a monumental vacant lot.
Stacked in infinite, orderly rows nearby were every construction material
archived in his memory. Stone, timber, steel frames, glass panels... Drafting
tools and blueprints were arrayed across a massive workbench.
The sky was a vibrant blue; the wind was warm.
He seized a pen and initiated the first line on a blueprint. With every stroke
he made, a wall erupted from the dirt in reality. For every dimension he noted,
the structure adjusted itself with mathematical perfection.
He toiled for sixty minutes.
A twenty-story spire grew from the void—brick by brick, glass by glass—entirely
hand-crafted by his own design. He watched it "grow" in a time-lapse of
architectural ecstasy. As the final glass curtain-wall clicked into its anchor,
the tower reflected the sun with a blinding, triumphant glare.
Leo stood in the center of the plaza, head tilted back, auditing his
masterpiece.
Then, he extracted.
The moment he snapped his eyes open, every cell in his frame reported a state of
"Maximum Comfort." It felt as though he had soaked in a high-tier thermal bath
for hours or achieved a decade's worth of perfect sleep.
"Assessment?" the Succubus in the suite asked, her head tilted.
Leo sat up, silent for several seconds. "...Is a repeat-cycle available?"
"Certainly. Future manifest will be at the standard rate—one silver coin
baseline."
A temptation of the highest order, Leo thought.
He exited the suite, encountering Milo in the corridor. Milo's status... was
anomalous. He was leaning against the wall, his legs looking like jelly, his
expression one of profound, dazed loss.
"Milo?"
"Leo... I was the CEO of a multi-planar trade empire for sixty minutes. I
possessed the gold of a thousand worlds."
"Mmh."
"And then I achieved extraction. I audited my current assets. Three silver
coins." Milo's voice was a hollow rasp. "The dissonance is... terminal."
Leo patted his shoulder. "Logic check: it was a simulation. Move out."
They departed the shop and made a stop at the Evernight Mall. The Mall was
gargantuan—a three-story megastructure divided into category-coded zones:
Armaments, Armor, Potions, Sustenance, Commodities, and an extensive Archive
sector.
Leo halted in the Archives. The shelves were filled with diverse texts: Imperial
History, Magical Theory, and Adventure Narratives. He localize a standalone rack
with a prominent label: NOVELS.
He pulled a volume from the shelf. The art style... was eerily familiar.
He flipped to page one. It was a narrative regarding a "Juvenile Hero"
attempting to save a world. The setting was cliché, yet the prose was fluid and
the pacing was high-velocity—the protagonist liquidated three Boss-tier enemies
within the first five pages.
"This tactical template..."
Leo scanned several pages. He felt a nagging sense of déjà vu. But he dismissed
it. Why is it strange? He had been raised on Earth's web-fiction; to manifest in
another world and find literature of a similar frequency shouldn't be a logic
error. The Sovereign of Evernight was a being of ancient, unquantifiable power;
it was only natural his cultural output was advanced.
Milo leaned over to audit the text. "The narrative output is of high quality."
"Mmh."
"Do you project they have a 'Monthly Popularity Chart' for these?"
"Cease the data-mining. We have finalized our procurement."
Leo bought two volumes; Milo bought a massive bag of localized snacks. They
returned to their quarters.
That evening, Director Miller audited the items on their table. "Your
adaptation-rate is statistically high."
"Director, this coordinate is actually quite... comfortable," Milo said, his
voice muffled by a mouthful of toasted biscuits. "Aside from the high density of
skeletons in the streets, the parameters are excellent."
Miller said nothing. He picked up the novel Milo had purchased, scanned a few
paragraphs, and set it down with a silent, contemplative nod.
Interesting indeed.
The transition to the New Era was proceeding without error.
☆☆☆
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