Chapter 362: Enlistment
Leo hadn't expected it, but before the "Bobo Variable" could be fully resolved,
a much larger "Logic Shift" occurred.
On the morning of the twenty-second day, the twelve architects gathered at the
construction site as usual, only to find the atmosphere significantly altered.
The Skeleton Laborers were still working with their mechanical rhythm, but the
Vampires and the rest of the management team were nowhere to be found. Even the
usually loud-mouthed Dwarf Foreman was silent, crouching quietly in front of the
workshop shed, nursing a mug of water.
Director Miller circled the perimeter before finally getting the status report
from a human volunteer.
"Word is, someone from 'Above' arrived."
"Above? How far above?"
"The 'directly-above-the-Command-Center' kind of above."
Miller's expression shifted. If they were looking at someone above the
Infrastructure Command Center, they were talking about an official with at least
the rank of Chiliarch.
The twelve architects waited on-site for nearly half an hour. Finally, the
Vampire Adjutant returned, his walking speed roughly three times its usual pace.
"Mr. Miller, gather your team and all design blueprints. Follow me."
"Where to?"
"The State Army Headquarters. Someone wishes to audit you."
Miller didn't press for details. He glanced back at his team; everyone was
present, their expressions ranging from confusion to sheer anxiety. Milo's face
had already turned several shades paler.
The twelve of them followed the Adjutant to the Headquarters. The entrance was
now guarded by four Skeleton Sentinels. Unlike the standard patrol skeletons,
these were immaculately maintained—their armor polished to a mirror finish,
their blue soul-fire burning with absolute stability.
As they pushed the doors open and entered, several unfamiliar faces greeted them
in the Command Hall.
One particular Blood-kin stood out. He wore a formal, dark crimson military
uniform, and the skull-shaped insignia on his chest was one size larger than the
Adjutant's. His face appeared young, but the sheer aura of pressure emanating
from his core made everyone instinctively stiffen their posture. Two attendants
stood behind him, also Blood-kin, as silent as shadows.
"So, this is the architectural team from the Eldritch Realm?" The Blood-kin
swept his gaze over the twelve humans.
The Adjutant immediately bowed. "Yes, Sir. Mr. Miller is their designated lead."
the official's eyes landed on Miller. "Mr. Miller, I am the Chief Overseer of
Infrastructure for the Iron Fortress Territory. Serial 747 Direct-Command
Sequence, Centurion-Class."
Miller stood at attention. "A pleasure."
"Let's skip the pleasantries." The Centurion walked to a table and pulled back a
black cloth.
Beneath the cloth lay a massive sandbox model—a miniature, high-fidelity replica
of Iron Fortress. The craftsmanship was exquisite; every street, building, and
wall was accounted for. In the eastern sector—the area where they were currently
working—over a dozen new model buildings had been added. High-rises, mid-rises,
and low-rises were arranged in a sophisticated layout. Some were residential,
some commercial, and one was the new campus for the Evernight Academy they were
currently designing.
However, the scope of this model was at least five times larger than their
current project.
"This is the complete roadmap for the New City Plan." The Centurion's finger
traced the air above the sandbox. "What you are currently handling is merely a
minor fragment of Phase One."
"The full roadmap consists of four phases: Residential, Commercial, Educational,
and Public Utilities. The total construction area is twelve times your current
projection."
Twelve times.
Milo's jaw twitched, but no sound came out.
"I am here today to relay a new directive from the Sovereign," the Centurion
continued, picking up an official document. "Based on your performance during
the first phase of construction, it has been decided that your scope of
involvement will be expanded to encompass all four phases of the New City Plan."
"Simultaneously, your status is being upgraded. You are no longer 'Temporary
Technical Consultants.' Your profiles are being converted to Permanent Imperial
Engineers, integrated directly into the Empire's Infrastructure Hierarchy."
Silence gripped the room for several seconds.
A shift from temporary to permanent. In any bureaucratic system, this was a
massive "Parameter Update."
Miller was the first to process the data. "If we are integrated into the
Imperial Hierarchy, what happens to our contracts...?"
"Your three-month temporary visas remain valid. However, if you are willing, you
may apply for a contract extension—up to one year," the Centurion stated.
"During this period, all compensation and benefits will be executed according to
the Empire's Official Personnel standards."
The Centurion paused. "Of course, if anyone is unwilling to continue, you may
return to the Eldritch Realm once your three months expire. The Empire does not
employ forced-labor protocols for technical specialists."
No force. But an opportunity like this would never manifest twice.
Every person in the room felt their internal thoughts racing. Milo discreetly
tugged at Leo's sleeve, but Leo didn't move. He was staring at the sandbox.
Twelve times the area. Four phases. The entire urban landscape of Iron Fortress
was about to be rewritten. And they were being invited to architect every single
piece of it.
This wasn't just "patching up" a city. This was a scale of work Leo hadn't even
dared to dream of during his ten years of drafting back home.
"Mr. Miller," the Centurion said, tucking the documents away. "You do not need
to provide a decision immediately. Report your answer within three days."
With that, he and his attendants vanished from the room.
The twelve humans were left alone with the sandbox. The silence lasted about
fifteen seconds before everyone started talking at once.
"A whole year? What about—" "What about my family back home?" "But the salary…
it's several times what we make in the Eldritch Realm!" "How many times in a
lifetime do you get a project of this magnitude?"
Miller slammed his hand on the table. "Silence."
The voices cut off instantly. Miller looked at the sandbox, his fingers tapping
the frame.
"This decision is individual. If you have ties back home that you can't leave,
go back. No one will judge you. But for those who want to stay… I'll stay with
you."
"Take twenty-four hours to process this. Report your final decision to me
tomorrow night."
That evening, the lights were still burning in the hallway of the temporary
quarters.
Every door was closed, but Leo knew that not a single soul was asleep. He
couldn't sleep either. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling—the
Imperial-style stone ceiling, rough-hewn but unshakably sturdy.
He thought about the architectural firm back in the Eldritch Realm. He thought
about his old life, the days spent struggling among the ruins. Then he thought
about everything he'd seen in the last half-month in Iron Fortress.
Skeletons hauling stone. Dwarves forging iron. Orcs carrying beams. Bobo carving
walls. Liches having migraines. Dragon-men arm-wrestling. He remembered the
cheers on the day the first tower topped out, and the taste of barbecue and malt
liquor.
And he thought of that sandbox. A brand-new city, waiting to be manifested from
paper.
A knock came at the door.
"Who is it?"
"It's me, Milo."
Leo got up and opened the door. Milo was standing there in his pajamas,
clutching his Imperial Transit Pass.
"Chief Leo."
"Yeah?"
"Are you staying?"
Leo looked at him. "Are you?"
"I want to stay," Milo said. His voice wasn't loud, but it was surprisingly
steady. "It's not because of the pay, and it's not even about the
'once-in-a-lifetime' opportunity. It's just… here, the drawings I make become
real buildings the very next day. I've been a drafter for ten years in the
Eldritch Realm, and I've never felt like this before."
Leo remained silent. Milo bit his lip. "So… what about you?"
Leo looked at his desk, where his Empire-made drafting pen lay—the one that
never ran dry and had adjustable line-weights.
"I'm staying too."
The following night, the twelve gathered in Miller's room.
The result was in. Twelve out of twelve. No one was leaving.
Miller scanned their faces. "Good. We'll process the paperwork tomorrow." He
picked up a few bottles of malt liquor—more gifts from the Dwarf blacksmiths—and
poured a round.
"Since we're all staying, I'll say one thing. From this moment on, we are no
longer 'Outsiders' to the Empire. We work when it's time to work, and we eat
when it's time to eat. We follow the Empire's protocols and we build
relationships with the Empire's people."
"Let's build these towers right."
Miller raised his glass. Twelve glasses clinked together.
From the hallway, a sudden series of rapid, staccato footsteps approached. They
were low and hurried, like a small creature sprinting.
The door was kicked open.
Bobo stood there, still clutching his mop, panting heavily. "Chief Leo! I heard
the news! You're all staying!"
"Your intelligence network is as efficient as ever, Bobo," Leo remarked.
"In that case… can I join your design team?!" Bobo's large eyes were fixed on
them with a desperate intensity. "I only need one pen and one sheet of paper!"
Leo looked at Miller. Miller looked at Bobo, then at the mop in Bobo's hand,
which was currently dripping water onto the floor.
"Put the mop down first."
Bobo discarded the mop into the hallway with the fastest speed he had ever
displayed in his life. Miller then took a blank sheet of parchment and a pen
from the table and placed them at the corner.
"Show me a sketch. Draw the best building you can imagine."
Bobo's eyes lit up. He scrambled onto a stool, huddled over the table, and began
to draw with feverish speed.
Leo leaned against the window, sipping his drink, watching Bobo's small head
bobbing as he worked. Outside, the night sky of Iron Fortress was quiet, but
beneath that silence, a city was being born.
☆☆☆
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