The adrenaline of the siege faded, replaced by the claustrophobia of the box.

  We were standing on dirt. The only light came from the bioluminescent moss on the ground. Grace looked like she was about to hyperventilate. Sal looked bored. Aiya was inspecting a leaf.

  "We can't live like mole people," I said. "If we're going to be under siege, we're going to do it in comfort."

  I walked to the center of the enclosure.

  "Dominion."

  I reached out with my mind, grabbing the Heavenly Bamboo wall and I pulled.

  I wove the stalks inward, creating a lattice of horizontal beams about ten feet off the ground. I thickened them, fusing the wood until it formed a solid floor.

  "Second story," I said.

  I pulled more stalks from the ground, shaping them into a staircase. I wove walls to separate rooms. I pulled up roots to form bed frames, tables, and chairs.

  In an hour, the dirt box had transformed into a two story bamboo villa.

  Downstairs was an open concept living area and a kitchen space. Upstairs were three bedrooms and a bathroom. I even hollowed out channels in the bamboo for plumbing, connecting them to the Spirit Soil below to act as a natural filtration system.

  "Not bad, Boss," Sal said, testing a bamboo chair. He sat down hard yet it didn't squeak. "Better than my apartment."

  "It’s functional," I said.

  I walked over to the "kitchen." It was just a counter made of woven wood.

  "Sal," I said. "I need appliances. We need a stove and a fridge to keep the monster meat fresh. We need a generator for power."

  Sal looked at me, beer can in hand. "Okay. And?"

  "And make them," I said. "Use your Path."

  Sal blinked. "My Path? Boss, I'm a [Master Builder]. I reinforce structures. I make walls that don't fall down. I don't conjure Freon and copper wiring out of thin air. I'm a contractor, not a magician."

  I frowned. "Then how did you make Eden?"

  I pointed around vaguely, as if the memory of the supermarket could manifest the answer.

  "The gas station," I pressed. "It was high tech. You installed holographic touch screens. You put in the self cleaning nozzles. You set up the neon lighting systems that matched my aesthetic perfectly. You built a futuristic rainforest in six hours."

  "Yeah," Sal said. "I installed them. I didn't make them."

  "So where did you get them?"

  "I ordered them," Sal said.

  "From where?"

  "Seaside."

  "Seaside?" I repeated, my voice dropping an octave. "Mister O? Why did you order from my competitor and not a neutral party?"

  Sal looked genuinely confused. He crushed his empty beer can.

  "What do you mean, competitor? Since when is Eden and Seaside competitors?"

  "Since we became a faction," I snapped. "We are rivals. I would never give Mister O my business."

  "Did you forget your car is from them?" Sal asked, pointing toward the driveway where the Terramotta was now buried under a layer of Whispervine outside our walls. "That truck is a Seaside exclusive."

  "That was pre-Eden," I lied quickly. "That was a legacy purchase before I understood the geopolitical landscape. Plus, Big Rig is technically independent!"

  Aiya, who was testing the springiness of the moss floor, piped up.

  "Actually," she said, "You bought the truck the day we left for the Wilds. We had already formed the faction. You paid for it with the tomato money. Technically, that was post-Eden capital expenditure. Also, Seaside controls majority shares making Big Rig functionally, not independent."

  I glared at her. "Shut it, Aiya."

  Sal stared at me. Then, a snort escaped his nose.

  He started to laugh.

  He laughed for a full minute, slapping his knee.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Grace looked uncomfortable. "Sal? What's funny?"

  "A neutral party!" Sal wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "He thinks I could have gone to a neutral party!"

  He took a breath, trying to compose himself.

  "Kaz," Sal said, shaking his head. "There are no neutral parties. Did you forget we are in the apocalypse? Neutral parties are a thing of the past. 'Mom and Pop' shops don't exist anymore. Everything in this city comes from a faction or is affiliated with one."

  He pointed to the imaginary appliances.

  "Where have you been last year? Where did you think I was getting all the high tech appliances and lights from? Did you think I was spawning smart glass out of the ether? Did you think there was a secret Pro Depot that hadn't been looted?"

  "I thought you were getting it from the store," I said, my voice sounding smaller than I intended.

  "What store, Kaz?" Sal asked. "There are no more stores. Pro Depot fell in the first week. Save your Buck! in the second. Your Eden Supermarket would have been the first since. Everything you saw me furnish your buildings with came from Seaside. Before you bought us, Sal Construction had a retainer contract with Seaside Appliances. We ordered from their catalog. They delivered via the port."

  He looked at me with pity. "Seaside has been the retailer for every renovation, every construction project, and every infrastructure repair since month two of the Collapse. Mister O owns the supply chain."

  I sat down on a bamboo bench.

  It all made sense.

  The "Futuristic Rainforest" aesthetic. I thought it was my brand. I thought I had created something unique.

  I hadn't.

  I had just bought Seaside's premium lighting package and slapped it on my plants.

  I had been larping.

  I had been roleplaying as a tycoon. I walked around in my armor, giving speeches about "sovereignty" and "competitors," while living entirely inside Mister O’s ecosystem. I scoffed at him while driving his car, using his lights, and building with his materials.

  I wasn't a rival. I was a customer. A VIP customer with a delusion of grandeur.

  Then, a specific memory flashed in my mind.

  The purple truck.

  I had followed a Seaside Logistics truck leaving the empty lot next to the gas station. I had tailed it to the port, thinking I was James Bond uncovering a secret base.

  "Oh my god," I whispered.

  "Kaz?" Grace asked, stepping closer. "Are you okay?"

  "It was in fucking plain sight this entire time!" I screamed.

  Grace jumped, clutching her pearls. Sal just raised an eyebrow.

  "The truck," I muttered, staring at the dirt. "I followed a truck leaving my lot. I thought I was being clever and I was spying."

  I looked up at Sal, my eyes wide. "That truck... it wasn't stealing from me was it? Nor was it spying on me."

  "It was probably dropping off the HVAC units and the freezer panels for the supermarket," Sal confirmed.

  I put my head in my hands.

  I had followed a delivery driver leaving my own driveway.

  "I’m an idiot," I said.

  "You're not an idiot," Aiya said, sitting next to me. "You're just... specialized. You know plants. You know swords. You don't know logistics."

  "I focused on the leaves and ignored the roots," I said. "I tried to build a retail empire before I had a manufacturing base and I tried to be a middleman in a world that kills middlemen."

  I looked at the bamboo ceiling.

  "The colony," I said. "Adam. That should have been step one. If I had spent this year building the colony, securing the mines, and building factories... we wouldn't be hiding in a box right now."

  I squandered a year and got greedy. I wanted the image of power before I had the substance of it.

  I stood up.

  "This siege," I said. "It's good."

  "Good?" Grace asked, looking around the room. "How is this good?"

  "Because I need to sit in the dark," I said. "I need to think. I need to stop playing CEO and start planning like a Warlord. I need to analyze everything I missed."

  I looked at the empty kitchen counter.

  "Dinner," I said.

  I walked to the corner of the garden where the Heavenly Produce grew. I harvested four Heavenly Corns, four Heavenly Potatoes, and four Heavenly Tomatoes.

  There was no stove to cook them. No Seaside appliances.

  I handed them out raw.

  We sat in the twilight of the moss, eating raw vegetables in silence. The crunch of the corn was the only sound in the bunker. It was a humble meal. A fitting meal for a faction that had just been humbled.

  "Bed," I said when I finished.

  I went to the second floor and collapsed onto the woven bamboo mat.

  I fell asleep instantly, exhausted by the weight of my own stupidity.

  I woke up to pitch black.

  My phone buzzed on the floor next to my head.

  I picked it up. The screen was blindingly bright in the darkness.

  Caller: Mayah

  I answered. "Report."

  "Sir," Mayah’s voice was tinny, distant. "I watched the news."

  "Tell me," I said.

  "The restaurant is gone," she said. "White Hill used demolition charges. It’s a crater."

  I closed my eyes. "And the gas station?"

  "Same," she said. "Leveled. They wanted to make sure nothing was salvageable."

  "Territory?"

  "Annexed," Mayah said. "White Hill flags are flying over Midtown. They’ve declared Sector 2 under Martial Law. Axehill has squads going door-to-door in Southfield. They’re looking for you, Kaz. They have a kill order."

  I lay there in the dark.

  My assets were gone, my territory was gone and my enemy was hunting me in my own neighborhood.

  I felt light.

  The fake empire was gone. The larp was over. All that remained was the truth: The Garden, The Colony, and the Mine.

  The roots.

  "Thanks for the update, Mayah," I said.

  "Sir? What are your orders?"

  "Keep digging," I said. "Keep the stones flowing."

  "But what about you?"

  "I'll deal with it tomorrow," I said.

  I hung up the phone and pulled the rough bamboo blanket up to my chin.

  I went back to sleep.