The world did not reassemble. It detonated into being.

One moment, I was pure, disembodied transit, a soul scattered across a storm of blue-white light. The next, I had weight, substance. The air that rushed into my lungs was different — cool, perfectly filtered, with a faint, clean scent like ozone and rain-washed stone. The sound was the first thing that truly registered, a deep, resonant hum that vibrated up through the soles of my boots, the sound of a city-sized engine running at a gentle idle.

We stood on another translocation dais, this one a disc of milky, glowing quartz easily twice the size of the one we'd just left. The twelve crystalline pylons surrounding us were immense, each one a carved monolith of some black, glassy material shot through with pulsing, silver veins of light. We were inside, in a hall so vast it felt like a blasphemy against architecture. The ceiling wasn't a ceiling; it was a transparent dome that looked out into the black, star-dusted void of space, a colossal window showing the gentle curve of the planet below and the slow, majestic drift of distant nebulae. My first thought was that we were on a space station, that Akkadia wasn't on the planet at all.

Then my eyes adjusted, and my gaze dropped. Through colossal archways that could have accommodated a small army marching abreast, I saw the city.

My breath caught in my throat. I heard a soft, sharp intake of air from Eliza beside me. Even Silas, ever the stoic, made a low sound of disbelief.

The word "city" was an insult to what lay before us. This was a world-builder's fever dream given form. Towers of luminous alabaster and alloys that shifted in color from bronze to cobalt clawed their way toward a sky that wasn't sky. They didn't just rise; they spiraled in perfectly calculated helices, their designs echoing a sense of disciplined, mathematical beauty. This was Kyorian ideology made manifest, an ideology of absolute order.

An atmospheric ceiling, a second, higher dome, simulated a perfect, cloudless day. Flying vehicles — sleek, silent, arrowhead-shaped craft — cruised along invisible, glowing lanes of light that crisscrossed the air in a flawless grid. Waterfalls cascaded from hanging gardens hundreds of feet up, not in a wild spray, but channeled into shimmering, controlled curtains that fell with silent precision. Bridges of woven, solid light connected the spires, with tiny figures strolling across them as casually as if they were walking down a country lane. The entire city was laid out in a series of perfect, concentric rings, a geometric masterpiece dedicated to the ideals of control and obedience.

And hanging above it all, suspended in the impossibly high center of the upper dome, was the reason the city felt like it was perpetually in shadow.

It was a fortress. A flying mountain of geometric, obsidian-black armor plating and silent, glowing engines. It was enormous, shaped like a colossal, multi-layered arrowhead, its presence so absolute it dominated the heavens. It didn't fly so much as it reigned, a permanent, unmoving testament to the Kyorian Empire's final authority. The Citadel. Its shadow seemed to press down, reinforcing the rigid, perfect lines of the city below. A blade held to the throat of the entire world.

"Welcome, Champions, to Akkadia," a calm, feminine voice announced. A woman in an impeccably tailored, grey Imperial uniform approached us, her smile polite but devoid of warmth. Her rank insignia marked her as a Prefect, a significant step up from the Proctors we were used to. "I am Prefect Kyria. I will be handling your initial orientation. Please, follow me."

She led our shell-shocked group away from the Nexus, our footsteps echoing in the cavernous hall. I saw other teams standing in stunned silence, their faces a mixture of awe, terror, and ambition. A group of heavily armored Dweorg were murmuring amongst themselves, their bearded faces tilted up toward the Citadel. A trio of graceful, feline Felir stood with unnerving stillness, their tails twitching as their wide, predatory eyes drank in every detail. In contrast, a human team from some other settlement were huddled together, looking small and utterly overwhelmed, their bravado from the translocation center completely evaporated.

My own team was a study in controlled reactions. Lucas' face was a mask of stoic leadership. Silas' gaze was hard, sweeping the archways and guard posts, his mind not on the beauty, but on the tactical reality. Escape routes, kill zones, surveillance points. Eliza was vibrating with an energy that was almost painful to be near, her eyes wide with a manic, scientific glee. This wasn't a threat to her; it was the greatest library, the greatest laboratory, she had ever seen. Nyx, a perfect shadow at the edge of my vision, simply glanced at the impossible cityscape, her expression giving away nothing but a faint, professional disinterest.

I settled back into the familiar, heavy cloak of my 'Jack' persona. I let my shoulders slump just a little, a bone-deep weariness settling into my expression as I took in the impossible grandeur. It wasn't hard to fake. This place was designed to make you feel small. But beneath the tired facade, my [Predator's Gaze] was a whirlwind of activity. I saw past the luminous alabaster to the power conduits running in perfect, straight lines beneath the marble. I felt the thousands of passive, arcane sensors woven into the architecture, a silent, city-wide surveillance network. This entire city was a machine, and every corner of it was watched.

Prefect Kyria handed each of us a thin, translucent card that shimmered with an inner light. "These are your guest credentials. As champions from a sanctioned Gauntlet, you have been granted Gold-tier clearance for the duration of your stay. This will provide you access to your assigned quarters, as well as numerous Imperial facilities. The Conclave preliminaries will begin in three days. Until then, you are encouraged to acclimate yourselves to the capital. The Prime System Security Edict will expire three months after, however, feel free to apply to become permanent residents of Akkadia should you find your purpose within the Empire."

She led us out into a plaza, and the sensory input multiplied tenfold. The plaza itself was another testament to Kyorian order. The paving stones were a mosaic of interlocking hexagons, and a grand fountain at its center shot arcs of water into the air in a synchronized, repeating pattern. But on the far side of the plaza, things became wonderfully chaotic. This was the Confluence Market.

Here, the strict lines and perfect symmetry of the Empire gave way to a riot of life. The air was filled with the murmur of a thousand conversations, the chime of bells, and the aromas of dozens of strange street foods. S'skarr, reptilian merchants from the southern deserts, had blankets laid out displaying vibrant, shimmering silks. A human tinkerer, his stall covered in strange, clicking clockwork contraptions, argued jovially with a Dweorg weaponsmith over the price of a set of gears. Everyone seemed… happy. Prosperous. The Gilded Leash wasn't just a restraint here; it was a warm blanket.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

As we walked, I kept my eyes scanning the crowds. My primary mission, the one that burned beneath all the layers of strategy, rose to the surface. I looked for a familiar face. A flash of dark hair that might be Anna's. The stern, focused profile of my grandfather. It was a fool's hope. The city was home to millions. But hope was a stubborn, foolish thing.

We passed a storefront with a large, crystalline pane for a window, displaying rows of shimmering potions. My eyes landed on a deep blue flask.

[High-Grade Mana Potion. Restores a significant amount of Mana over 10 seconds. Purity: 98%.]

Beneath it, the price was displayed in the same glowing, golden script:

3 QS

I almost stopped in my tracks. Three. I mentally checked my own balance. A crisp, clean number appeared in my vision.

[Quintessence Shard Balance: 1750 QS]

A jolt of something that felt dangerously like giddiness shot through me. We weren't just solvent. In this ridiculously subsidized economy, we were fantastically, absurdly wealthy. I glanced around the plaza with new eyes. A stall nearby was selling flawless ingots of Dweorg-smelted steel for 10 QS apiece. A complete set of finely tooled, Rare-grade leather armor hung in another shop window, priced at 80 QS.

My mind raced. I could buy enough raw materials to fuel Eliza's and Leoric's wildest projects for months. I could equip half of Bastion with Epic-grade gear and still have shards left over for lunch. A wild, wolfish grin almost broke through my 'Jack' facade.

Then the cold hand of caution clamped down on my excitement. A provincial healer on a second-place team, suddenly spending like a Scion? That would put a spotlight on us bigger than the Citadel itself. This newfound wealth was a weapon, a powerful one, but it was a tool for the shadows, to be used with surgical precision, not flaunted in the market square.

"See something that catches your eye, healer?" the Prefect asked, noticing my pause.

"Just surprised at the availability," I mumbled, affecting a tone of rustic awe. "Back home, something like that is treasure."

Her smile was condescendingly gentle. "Here, it is simply a tool for success. The Empire ensures its assets are properly equipped. Your Gold-tier status grants you access to the Imperial Forges, the Arcane Library, and the Gladiatoriums for training, all at a preferred rate. Prove your worth, and those rates become benefits. Prove your loyalty, and they become gifts."

There it was again. The promise of more, always just one more act of service away.

We were led into one of the spiraling, crystalline towers. The lobby was an obscene display of wealth and propaganda. The floor was polished marble inlaid with veins of pure, solidified light forming the Kyorian crest. A sheet of water flowed over a massive bas-relief carving that took up an entire wall, depicting the Empire's ascendancy over a dozen alien races. An elevator — a silent, floating disc of light — carried us upward with speed that would knock an average human back on Earth unconscious.

"Residences are assigned based on Gauntlet placement and perceived potential," Kyria explained as the disc slowed. "Your performance was… noteworthy. Second place, for a previously unlisted, unaffiliated settlement, is quite an accomplishment." I could feel the unspoken question in her words.

"We work hard," Lucas said, his voice a calm, simple statement of fact that offered nothing more.

Our quarters were magnificent. Not a room, but a full suite of apartments. A spacious common area with furniture that looked more like art than seating, a fully-stocked kitchen, and individual bedrooms. The entire outer wall was a single pane of transparent crystal, offering a breathtaking, dizzying view of the city below and the Citadel above. The luxury was the point. It was meant to make us feel like royalty, a perk for those loyal to the Empire.

"The suite is yours until the end of the Conclave. A schedule for the preliminaries will be delivered to your credentials tomorrow morning. Until then, I suggest you rest. Akkadia can be… overwhelming." With a final, crisp nod, Prefect Kyria turned and left, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft, expensive hiss, leaving the five of us alone for the first time since our arrival.

The silence lasted for a full ten seconds.

Then Eliza let out a long, explosive breath and threw herself onto one of the strange, curved sofas. "Okay. Okay. Wow. Did you see the energy conduits woven into the architecture? Not shielded, woven! They're using the buildings themselves as passive magical conductors! The efficiency must be off the charts! And the flying vehicles — no audible propulsion! It has to be localized gravity manipulation, which means every single one has a miniature Aetherium core or something even more advanced!"

Silas walked to the massive window, his hands clasped behind his back. He stared down at the sprawling city, his reflection a dark, unimpressed silhouette against the breathtaking vista. "It's a beautiful prison," he said, his voice flat. "Every person down there, smiling and laughing? They're inmates who love their warden. Don't let the view fool you. The bars are still there. They're just invisible."

"He's not wrong," Lucas said, his own expression grim as he surveyed our opulent surroundings. "This isn't a gift. It's a statement. 'This is what you could have, if you just fall in line.'" He turned to face us, his jaw set. "Don't get comfortable. We're not here to be impressed. We're here for a reason. Gathering information, acquiring resources and networking with other aspirants is our priority."

I remained quiet, walking over to the window to stand beside Silas. He was right, of course. This was a masterpiece of control, a society engineered for compliance through comfort. The plan was to be the quiet support, the unassuming healer for a surprisingly competent team. Let Lucas be the face, let the others shine in the arena. My job was to stay in the shadows, to use their success as a cover to get what I really came for.

But as I looked down at the millions of lights, the rivers of traffic, the sheer, teeming life of it all, my focus wasn't on the Empire or the Conclave. I saw a sea of humanity. And somewhere, lost in that sea, were the only two people in this universe who mattered.

The hope I had felt, that fragile little spark, now felt small and foolish against the reality of this place. This wasn't a city you could search. It was a world unto itself. My mission hadn't changed, but its difficulty had just scaled to a height as impossible as the towers that scraped the artificial sky.

I looked up at the black, menacing shape of the Citadel, and a cold resolve settled over me, chilling the awe from my bones. I would not win this tournament with fire and fury. I would not tear this city apart. I would endure it. I would play their game, wear the mask of Jack the weary healer, and I would let my team become the heroes they were meant to be.

And in the shadow of their growing legend, I would find my way into their records. My path to finding my family wasn't through the arena's gates. It was through its back doors and hidden archives. And it would require a patience I was only just beginning to learn to maintain.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.