I drove the Terramotta through the expanse of the Wilds. The heater hummed, fighting against the winter, but my mind was focused on the destination.

  I hadn't seen the colony in a month. I had left a few frightened sisters and a pile of dirt in a desolate valley.

  When I rounded the final bend, I hit the brakes.

  The valley was gone and in its place was a city of light.

  Sal had outdone himself. Adam looked like a movie set where the Wild West had crashed into a biblical future.

  The perimeter was fortified by the Heavenly Bamboo, now reinforced with black steel walkways and watchtowers. Inside, the structures were modular and gritty, built from dark metal and wood, but they were bathed in the teal glow of the Heavenly Moss. Neon signposts buzzed in the snow.

  It was a boomtown.

  I rolled the truck through the open gates. The streets were busy, even at this hour. I saw people I didn't recognize—men covered in dust, women carrying crates of supplies, traders haggling on corners.

  I drove up toward the largest structure on the hill.

  Mayah’s "Mansion."

  It was an imposing structure.

  I parked, walked up the steps and knocked on the door.

  "I told you idiots not to knock on the fucking door without permission!" Mayah’s voice screamed from inside. "If it isn't a cave in or a breach, I'm throwing you in the pit!"

  The door swung open violently.

  Mayah stood there, disheveled, holding a datapad. She was wearing a thick fur coat over practical work clothes. She looked ready to strangle someone.

  Then she saw my face.

  The color drained from her skin instantly. She dropped the datapad and fell to her knees, her forehead touching the floor.

  "Mr. Kaaz! I... I didn't know! I thought it was the foreman! I'm so sorry!"

  I stepped over the threshold. "Get up, Mayah. I don't care about your management style. I want a report."

  She scrambled to her feet, dusting off her knees, looking terrifyingly anxious.

  "Right. Yes. A report. Please, come in."

  She led me into a large office that overlooked the colony. Maps of the mines were spread out on a table.

  I stopped before looking at them. I realized I had put a woman in charge of a massive operation without knowing her capabilities.

  "Actually, before the report," I said. "What is your Path?"

  Mayah blinked, surprised by the question. "My Path? Oh. I... I'm a Realm 1 Body Cultivator."

  I frowned slightly. "Boring."

  It was the most common path. Useful for a foreman who needed to break up fights or haul crates, but it lacked the nuance of something like my own. Still, it made her durable.

  "Functional," I corrected myself. "Proceed with the update."

  Mayah exhaled, relieved I wasn't firing her for being basic. She walked over to the balcony window and pointed down at the glowing town.

  "The colony is booming," she said. "The Spirit Stone vein is... it's absurd, sir. We are pulling fifty million stones a week."

  I kept my face neutral, but internally, I whistled. Fifty million. A week. That was empire money.

  "The labor force has swelled to four hundred," she continued. "Refugees from Rushfall and the smaller surrounding settlements. They heard about the walls and the food."

  "And the loyalty?"

  "Transactional," she said. "I offered them citizenship. As long as they mine, they stay. The moment they stop, they are evicted back into the Wilds. Nobody wants to go back to the Wilds."

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  She tapped the glass. "Plus, they serve the local economy. We pay them in stones, and they spend those stones at the General Store and the Rent Office. The money leaves our left pocket and enters our right pocket."

  "Good," I said. "That's sustainable."

  "However," Mayah said, hesitating. "We are bottlenecked by skill. I have plenty of muscle. I have diggers. But we don't have professionals. I need a sheriff. I need teachers for the schoolhouse. I need actual doctors for the clinic. When miners get hurt, we're just patching them up with tape and Healing Paste."

  She looked at me tentatively. "I would like permission to recruit. I want to headhunt professionals from other zones. Offer them a premium to live out here."

  "You have full autonomy, Governor," I said. "Build the society you need to keep the spice flowing. Just keep the stones coming."

  Mayah smiled widely. "Thank you, sir."

  We walked down to the town proper a few minutes later. Mayah wanted to show me the new commercial district. We stopped in front of the gas station—Eden Oil Up: Adam Branch. It was identical to the one in Detroit, glowing like a spaceship in the mud.

  "The colony functions well," Mayah said. "Profits are up across the board. Once I get more workers, the yield will increase."

  I stopped and pulled out my phone.

  I opened the banking app and tapped a few times.

  Mayah’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out.

  Her eyes bulged. Her face turned as red as a Heavenly Tomato.

  [Transfer Received: 1,000,000 Spirit Stones]

  "Sir?" she squeaked. "Is this...?"

  "Your yearly salary," I said.

  I watched her reaction. She looked like she might faint.

  This wasn't charity, rather it was a calculation. She was sitting on top of a fifty million stone weekly revenue stream. If she was poor, she would eventually be tempted to steal. She would skim off the top.

  But if she was rich—guaranteed rich—she had no reason to risk the golden goose. A million stones bought a lot of loyalty.

  "Don't spend it all in one place," I said. "I'll leave you to it."

  "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" She bowed again, clutching the phone like a holy relic.

  I turned and walked back toward the truck.

  As I passed the makeshift clinic a man stepped out.

  He was wearing a cloak but his hands were visible as he pulled the door shut.

  They were scarred, stitched together with surgery. The fingers moved stiffly.

  Bells Ruper.

  The tyrant of Rushfall. The Wind Cultivator who had claimed everything he could see.

  Now, he was just another citizen living behind my walls, getting patched up in my clinic, likely working in my mine.

  He saw me and froze.

  I smiled, got into the Terramotta, and started the engine.

  I drove back toward the city.

  The transition from the Wilds to the Safe Zone was jarring, but tonight, the city felt electric.

  It was New Year's Eve.

  I pulled up to Eden HQ in Midtown around 11:00 PM. The parking lot was full and the restaurant was packed, light spilling out onto the snow covered patio.

  I walked in through the back. The kitchen was alive with activity, but Aiya wasn't on the line.

  I went upstairs.

  Aiya had transformed the second floor into an ultra exclusive VIP lounge. The lighting was low, the furniture was velvet, and the clientele was wealthy.

  On every wall, flat screen TVs were tuned to the same broadcast.

  It was downtown Detroit. Campus Martius Park. A massive stage had been set up, and a digital ball was suspended above the crowd. The government was desperate to show that life went on.

  I walked out onto the balcony overlooking the skyline. The air was cold, but the heat lamps made it comfortable.

  Grace and Aiya were standing at the railing, holding champagne flutes filled with gold liquid.

  "You made it," Grace said, turning to me. She looked regal in a silver dress. "We thought the Gardener might get stuck in the snow."

  "The roads were clear," I said, joining them.

  Aiya handed me a glass. "To the garnder."

  I looked at them. Grace, the money and the politics. Aiya, the heart and the production. Me, the power.

  "We are the Core," I said, leaning against the railing. "The three of us make this faction turn. If one of us falls, Eden falls."

  Grace nodded, looking out at the city lights. "We've come a long way from a failing gas station and a duplex."

  "And a garden," Aiya added.

  On the TV screens inside, the chanting started.

  Ten...

  The crowd in the park screamed.

  Nine...

  I raised my glass.

  "To survival?" Aiya asked.

  "No," I said.

  Three...

  "To sovereignty," I said.

  Two...

  "Happy New Years to us," Aiya whispered.

  One...

  "Happy New Years to Eden," Grace said.

  On the screens, fireworks exploded over the Detroit River, showering the ruins of the old world in flashes of red and gold. The sound reached us a few seconds later.

  We had officially lived one year in the apocalypse. We had built a foundation. We had gathered wealth. We had secured resources.

  The tutorial was over.

  "This year is the year Eden becomes a player on the board," I said. "The year we assert ourselves."

  I took a sip of the drink.

  "The real apocalypse begins now," I said. "This year, we go to war."