Chapter 359: The Volunteers
Five days later, the first draft of the blueprints was delivered to the
Infrastructure Command Center.
The Vampire Adjutant spread the drawings across the table, flipped through
several pages, and then summoned the Empire's internal architectural team for a
joint review.
The composition of the Empire's architectural team was… intriguing, to say the
least. Three Vampires handled the logistics and coordination. Twelve Skeletons
were responsible for the technical drafting. Two Dwarves served as material
specialists.
The Skeleton Drafters gathered around the table, the blue soul-fire flickering
within their hollow sockets. Their bony fingers traced the lines on the
blueprints with mechanical precision, appearing to "read" the technical data
line by line.
In the Empire, regular skeletons did not possess names. Aside from the Seven
Generals and the Adjutant of Avarice, all undead were identified by serial
numbers or functional designations.
The drafting team was simply known as Drafting Unit-01 through Drafting Unit-12.
Leo found this incredibly difficult to get used to at first.
Saying things like, "Drafting Unit-03, please hand me that scale ruler," made
him feel less like an architect and more like he was operating a series of
industrial robots.
But the skeletons didn't mind.
They received instructions and executed them. They were quiet, efficient, never
complained, and—unlike a certain Sovereign—never looked for excuses to go
fishing.
"I have the gist of your design proposal," the Vampire Adjutant said, closing
the binder and pointing to one of the elevation drawings. "However, this glass
curtain wall structure for the exterior facade differs significantly from the
Empire's existing aesthetic. The Sovereign's directive was integration, not
replacement."
"Could you retain the glass elements while incorporating the Empire's
traditional stone-carved motifs?"
Leo leaned over and consulted with Director Miller.
"It's doable," Miller nodded. "We'll use a stone facade for the bottom three
floors, maintaining the Empire's signature arched gateways and relief carvings."
"From the third floor up, we can alternate glass and stone panels," Leo added,
sketching as he spoke. "We'll cap the top with a Gothic-style spire. From a
distance, the foundation will feel like the Empire, while the upper half
reflects the modern era. The overall profile will be cohesive."
The Vampire Adjutant considered this for a moment. "Visualize it for me."
Leo grabbed a sheet of blank parchment and performed a rapid perspective sketch.
His pen moved with practiced fluidity. In less than three minutes, the
silhouette of a building blending two civilizations appeared on the paper.
Heavy stone walls and arches at the base; transparent, sleek glass ribbons in
the middle; and two symmetrical spires tapering into the sky at the summit.
The Adjutant stared at the sketch for a dozen seconds.
Beside him, Drafting Unit-03 leaned in for two seconds, then tapped its bony
phalanges against the tabletop twice. Gah-gah. Leo wasn't sure if that was the
skeletal equivalent of a "thumbs up," but he took it as a win.
"This direction is acceptable," the Adjutant nodded. "Return and finalize the
details. Produce the structural diagrams immediately. We will mark the nodes
where Mana-reinforcement is required."
"One more thing," the Vampire added, his voice dropping into a cold, clinical
tone. "Construction speed. The Sovereign is pushing for a tight deadline."
"How tight?" Leo asked.
"The first prototype building must top out within thirty days."
Director Miller's pen stopped mid-air. "Thirty days? For a ten-story structure?"
"The Empire has 80,000 volunteers signed up to assist with construction.
Combined with the Mana-reinforcement teams from the Arcane Legion and the heavy
labor units from the State Army, manpower is not an issue."
Manpower was, indeed, not an issue.
The following day, when Leo followed the construction team to the site, he truly
witnessed the meaning of "Empire Speed."
The site was swarming with life—or, more accurately, with entities.
In the center, a phalanx of three hundred Skeletons moved in perfect formation
under the command of a Skeleton Foreman. Their strength was absurd; a single
skeleton could tuck a two-hundred-pound slab of dressed stone under its arm and
walk away as if it were carrying a loaf of bread.
To the left, a group of Dwarf Blacksmiths had set up temporary forge furnaces.
The rhythmic clack-clack of hammers resounded across the site as they forged
metal structural components on the fly. Sparks flew, and the rugged work-chants
of the dwarves echoed through the air.
To the right, a dozen Orc laborers were unloading cargo. Massive stone blocks
slid off the horse-drawn carriages; a single Orc would hoist a block onto their
shoulder and sprint across the uneven ground with ease.
There were even a few Elves wandering the perimeter with clipboards. They were
surveying the site, planning the placement of the green belts and landscaping.
Human volunteers were also present in large numbers, mostly handling technical
tasks like surveying, recording data, and passing tools.
The scene was a chaotic, noisy, and vibrant tapestry that far exceeded Leo's
imagination.
And then, the "Logic Errors" began.
The first blunder occurred during the foundation pouring. The Empire didn't use
concrete; they used a magical composite material that, once solidified, was ten
times harder than standard granite. The pouring required a Lich from the Arcane
Legion to inject mana as a catalyst.
The problem was that the Lich assigned that day had a momentary "parameter
fluctuation." For some reason, his hand twitched during the mana release.
The stone-slurry solidified instantly.
But the shape… was wrong.
A massive, iron-hard "lump" erupted in the southeast corner of the foundation,
standing half a man's height tall. The Skeleton Foreman tried hitting it with a
sledgehammer; sparks showered his face, but the lump didn't even chip.
The Lich looked down at his staff, then at the lump, let out a dry, rattling
cough, and simply floated away.
Leo stood there, his mind a total blank.
Director Miller crouched by the edge of the foundation, measured the lump's
dimensions, and remained silent for a long time. Finally, he spoke:
"...Revise the blueprints. We're turning this spot into a tiered planter bed."
The second blunder was even more dramatic.
A group of Orc volunteers was moving timber. One Orc, carrying a massive main
beam, was walking too fast. As he rounded a corner, he collided head-on with a
Dwarf's temporary forge.
The furnace toppled.
A half-finished iron component flew through the air and slammed directly into
the skull of a Skeleton Laborer.
The skeleton's cranium popped off instantly, rolling three meters away.
The skeleton's body remained standing, still clutching its stone slab. It stood
there headless for two seconds—or perhaps the system was just processing the
impact—before setting down the stone and bending over to grope for its head.
It picked up the skull, snapped it back onto the cervical vertebrae, and
continued walking.
The entire site went silent.
The Orc stood there, frozen in terror. "I… I didn't mean… Is it okay?"
The skeleton didn't even look back.
A nearby human volunteer patted the Orc on the shoulder. "Don't sweat it. The
Undead Lords are built different. They can take a hit."
Milo, watching from a distance, silently scribbled a line in his notebook:
URGENT: Establish Safety Production Protocols (Undead Edition).
The third blunder involved the Goblins.
Bobo, the Goblin who had been flagged by the Ghoul clerk during registration,
had somehow managed to sneak into the plumbing sub-division.
He was responsible for connecting the water supply lines for the new building.
During the evening inspection, the team discovered that every single pipe Bobo
had installed was… reversed.
The intake was connected to the outlet, and the outlet was connected to the
sewage main.
When they tested the system, clean water geysered out of the sewage vents,
shooting high into the air and drenching three Dwarf blacksmiths who were
packing up their tools.
The roars of the dwarves shook the entire construction site.
Bobo ran half a block with his hands over his head, screaming, "It works! It
still works if you use it backward! Water doesn't have a sense of direction!"
Leo couldn't even catch him.
He stood in the center of the water-logged site, his boots filled with water,
watching Bobo disappear around a street corner.
Behind him, Milo's voice drifted over. "Chief Leo."
"Yeah?"
"I finally understand why that Ghoul clerk wrote 'CLOSE MONITORING' next to his
name."
"Yeah." Leo took off his water-filled boot and poured it out.
Despite the constant string of "Logic Errors," Leo had to admit that the
Empire's multi-racial construction model was frighteningly efficient.
Skeletons didn't need rest, rotating in 24-hour shifts. The Dwarves' forging
speed was nothing short of a miracle. The Orcs' lifting capacity replaced the
need for small cranes. The humans handled the precision and coordination.
Every race complemented the others' weaknesses. It was a bumpy process, but the
progress bar was moving at a staggering pace.
On the way back to their quarters each evening, Leo could see exactly how much
had been accomplished. The foundation was poured; the first-floor walls were up.
By the third day, the second-floor framework was being assembled.
By the seventh day, the first prototype building had "grown" from the ground to
the fourth floor.
Milo leaned against the windowsill of their apartment, looking at the distant
Evernight Lights illuminating the construction site.
"In the Eldritch Realm, building a ten-story tower would take four months at
best," Milo mused. "Here… it might not even take a month."
Leo was flipping through a discount flyer for The Succubus's Dream. He had to
admit, he was getting a bit caught up in the excitement. "The tech is different.
You can't compare them directly."
"But don't you feel it? The rush?" Milo turned around. "The drawings we made are
becoming real buildings at an insane speed. Back home, you'd have to wait
months. Here, the skeletons start laying bricks the day after we finish the
sketch."
Leo didn't respond, but he felt it too. This immediate transition from blueprint
to reality was addictive.
The door pushed open, and Director Miller walked in carrying a bottle of
Dwarf-brewed malt liquor—a gift from the blacksmiths on site.
"Is the plumbing issue resolved?"
"Sorted," Leo said, putting down the flyer. "Bobo the Goblin has been kicked out
of the plumbing unit and reassigned to the landscaping team."
"Putting a Goblin in charge of greenery?"
"An Elf gardener promised to keep an eye on him."
Miller was silent for a moment before setting the bottle on the table. "I have
good news."
"The Infrastructure Command Center just notified me. The progress on the first
prototype has been moved up. At this rate, we'll top out in twenty days."
"Ten days ahead of schedule."
Milo sat bolt upright. "Then we—"
"The Adjutant said that if the prototype tops out successfully, the second phase
of design tasks will launch immediately. It's not just residential this time.
We're looking at commercial blocks, public facilities, and a new campus for the
Evernight Academy."
He paused, his voice turning serious. "Also, he mentioned that 'The One Above'
is very satisfied with our work."
There was no need to clarify who "The One Above" was.
The room fell quiet for a few heartbeats.
Then, Milo raised a glass of juice he'd bought from the mall. "To the first
high-rise of the Iron Fortress Territory."
Miller clinked his bottle against the glass.
Leo rolled up the flyer and raised it like a baton. "To Iron Fortress."
To Leo, everything felt perfectly natural.
This world had magic, dream-shops, Dragon-men, and skeletons that farmed. It had
novels—various styles of novels. Under the rule of a Sovereign who had presided
over a multi-planar Empire for an unknown length of time, all of this was simply
"Standard Protocol."
No one would ever look at that absolute existence and associate him with the
word "Transmigrator."
That would be a statistical zero. A total absurdity.
☆☆☆
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