The ocean was calm again, though Dock 13 looked as though a storm still raged across its bones. Shattered platforms floated like driftwood, seawalls cracked and buckled under the Herald's assault, and blood still stained the plaza stones. Survivors worked tirelessly to recover fallen comrades and patch up what little remained.
Ethan stood at the center, exhaustion heavy on his shoulders, but his eyes burned with determination. He had endured the Herald's onslaught, and though Dock 13 was barely standing, the Iron Bastion had kept its word.
All along the seawalls, dwarf masons and smiths hammered new plates of steel into place. Runes were etched into the reinforcements, glowing faintly with protective wards. Ballistae and cannons, forged from Iron Bastion designs, were already being mounted.
[System Notification]
Dock 13 Integrity: 42%
Status: Under Reconstruction – Iron Bastion Overseers Present.
Next Upgrade: Fortified Walls (ETA: 3 Days, Resource Cost Bypassed).
Brandon whistled, watching dwarves march in neat lines with crates of materials. "Gotta admit, boss. These little guys work faster than a player on caffeine. Dock's already looking less like a graveyard."
Kaela, standing beside Ethan, kept her gaze sharp. "Fast, yes. But don't forget—we paid a steep price for this. Half the Verdant Mines' output goes straight to the Bastion now. That gold, that iron… all theirs."
Ethan's jaw clenched. He knew it was true. The alliance had been necessary—without the Bastion, Dock 13 would already be gone. But every clang of a dwarf hammer was a reminder: Dock 13 was no longer entirely their own.
Arrival of the Overseer
A shadow fell over them. Turning, Ethan spotted Overseer Grumhald, the dwarf leader sent by the Bastion. His beard was braided in iron rings, his armor dented but sturdy, and his eyes sharp as cold steel.
"Ye fought well, lad," Grumhald said, his gravelly voice carrying over the plaza. "Without ye, the dock'd be naught but splinters. But remember this—Iron Bastion keeps its allies alive. And in return, its allies keep their mouths shut and their hands open."
He gestured toward the seawalls, where workers were pouring molten steel into cracks. "Dock 13'll be a fortress when we're done. A bastion on the sea. No Herald'll break it again."
Ethan nodded, meeting his gaze. "As long as the Bastion keeps their end of the deal, I'll hold mine."
Grumhald chuckled, stroking his beard. "Ye've got fire in ye, lad. Just don't let it burn down yer own home."
The Other Factions
The peace didn't last. Later that day, horns sounded from the water. Three ships approached—sleek, menacing, and flying banners that turned every survivor's blood cold.
The Magisterium Arcanum, with sails glowing with rune-light.
The Shadow Consortium, their black silk banners fluttering like carrion birds.
And smaller vessels trailing behind—merchant guilds, scouts, opportunists.
Brandon swore. "Great. The vultures smell blood."
The Magisterium's envoy, Archmage Velorian, stepped onto the dock, robes immaculate. He eyed the dwarves hammering away and sneered. "How… quaint. You think steel and stone will protect you from the abyss? Only magic can hold back the Heralds. Step aside, and the Magisterium will claim Dock 13 properly."
Grumhald growled, hand on his hammer. "Over my beard, ye pompous stick-waver."
Then came the Shadow Consortium envoy, a cloaked woman with eyes like daggers. "So many banners, so little loyalty. The Magisterium would chain you. The Bastion bleeds you dry. We offer freedom, profit, and fear in equal measure. Dock 13 could be the black heart of the sea, if you let us guide it."
The crowd of NPC survivors murmured nervously, caught between temptation and dread.
Ethan's Stand
Ethan stepped forward, cutting through the noise. His voice was sharp as the steel blade at his side.
"Dock 13 doesn't belong to mages or assassins. It's under Iron Bastion protection—and mine. You want to take it?" His eyes burned, his aura flaring, silencing even the dwarves behind him. "Then you'll have to go through me."
[System Notification]
Your choice has strengthened your alliance with the Iron Bastion (+200 Reputation).
Your rejection has worsened relations with:
Magisterium Arcanum (-150 Reputation)
Shadow Consortium (-200 Reputation)
Kaela's lips curved in a faint smile. "Bold as always."
Brandon grinned. "Now we're really making friends."
Velorian's eyes narrowed. His voice was a hiss. "Very well. But do not think your dwarves will save you from what's coming." He turned sharply, robes sweeping as he retreated to his ship.
The Consortium envoy smirked, bowing slightly. "We'll see how long your iron holds against shadow." Her ship slipped away, silent as a predator.
Iron Bastion's Vow
Once they were gone, Grumhald clapped Ethan on the back hard enough to almost knock him forward.
"Ye've got spine, lad. That's why the Bastion took ye in. Mark me words, the Magisterium'll send their spells, the Consortium their knives. But we'll send steel, fire, and blood. Dock 13 will stand."
[System Notification]
Quest Updated: Iron Walls, Crimson Resolve
Current Status: Dock 13 Reconstruction in Progress (42% → 60%).
Next Herald Wave: ETA 12 Days.
Threat Level: Unknown (Increased due to hostile factions).
Ethan stared out over the sea, watching the rival ships vanish into the horizon. His hand tightened on his blade.
"Let them come," he whispered. "This dock isn't falling. Not to Heralds. Not to factions. Not to anyone."