The shelter had changed.
From the top floor of the Faction Tower, Zayden stood silently, his arms folded behind his back, eyes fixed on the world below. A week had passed since the Cascading Starlight Pond evolved into the fountain, and the ruins had been reshaped into the beginnings of a true home.
Makeshift houses now stood in neat clusters. Streets were half-cleared, lined with crude wooden beams, scavenged metal, and whatever materials the survivors could salvage. Smoke rose from cooking fires, drifting lazily toward the shimmering dome above them.
The people had begun to adapt.
The Credits system had changed everything. Men and women no longer idled in corners, waiting for charity. They worked. They cut, lifted, built, patrolled, traded. Their holographic bracelets glowed as they checked balances, calculated purchases, and accepted tasks.
For the first time since the world ended, there was structure.
But Zayden knew how fragile it still was.
He swiped his hand, and the faction screen appeared before him.
[Myth Faction]
[Leader: Zayden]
[Vice Leader: Aiden]
[Generals: Amara, Dare, Tyrel, Isara]
[Population in Shelter: 552]
[Faction Members: 211]
[Credits in Circulation: 63,200]
[Territory Size: 1000m radius — Dome Protection Active (23 days remaining)]
The numbers were improving. The ranks were filling. But with almost six hundred people living together in a confined dome, conflict was inevitable. Already, reports of disputes over Credits and resources had reached his ears. And beyond the dome, more survivors would surely come.
Zayden narrowed his eyes. If Myth was to last, they needed order — strong order.
He turned back toward the round table at the centre of the chamber.
His voice carried through the faction link, summoning the others.
The heavy doors swung open not long after.
Aiden arrived first, notebook in hand, as punctual as always. His expression was calm but sharp, the kind that measured every word spoken in a room.
Next came Amara, her eyes scanning everything like a predator sizing up her surroundings. Her twin daggers gleamed faintly at her hips, her every step quiet but deliberate.
Isara followed, her presence softer but no less firm. She moved with quiet confidence, her gaze steady as it swept across the chamber.
Dare strolled in with his usual grin, his coat dusted with metal fragments, nanites glimmering faintly in his palm as he toyed with them.
And last came Tyrel, sparks trailing from his fingertips, his energy barely contained. He crossed the room with a restless stride, lightning snapping faintly around his knuckles.
One by one, they took their seats at the circular table.
Zayden sat at the head, his gaze steady.
"Good. Everyone is here."
He gestured toward the glowing screen above the table, displaying the faction statistics.
"You've all seen it. The shelter is growing. Too fast. Five hundred and fifty people within a week, and more will come. We have food for now, water thanks to the fountain, and a system that keeps people moving. But none of it will matter if discipline crumbles."
Amara leaned forward, her sharp eyes narrowing. "You're saying we need more control."
Zayden nodded. "Yes. Rules alone aren't enough. We need something stronger — a security force. Trained, organised, and feared if necessary. A unit that enforces the rules of the shelter, and by extension, the authority of Myth."
Dare arched an eyebrow. "So, guards."
"More than guards," Zayden said firmly. "Soldiers. Enforcers. They'll be the ones who make sure no one forgets that safety inside this dome comes at a price. That Myth is not a charity, but an order."
Tyrel smirked, sparks crackling around him. "Finally. Something worth doing. Let me handle their training. If they can't survive lightning drills, they're useless anyway."
Aiden shot him a flat look. "You'll end up killing half of them if left unchecked. Training needs balance. Discipline before recklessness."
"Discipline?" Tyrel scoffed. "This is the apocalypse. Discipline doesn't save you when a Null tears into your chest. Strength does."
"And without discipline," Aiden countered evenly, "strength turns inward and destroys the shelter from within. Do you want an army that fights us instead of Nulls?"
The two locked eyes, sparks of literal and figurative lightning dancing between them.
"Enough," Zayden's voice cut through like a blade. Both fell silent.
"They need both," Zayden continued calmly. "Discipline and strength. That's why you'll train them together. Tyrel, you'll forge their combat ability. Aiden, you'll shape their discipline. Between you, they'll become something better than either of you alone could make."
He looked around the table. "Their name will be the Black Guard. They will wear the emblem of Myth, and they will answer directly to us. Their purpose is simple — uphold order, protect the shelter, and ensure that no one undermines the system we've built."
Amara's lips curved into a faint smile. "The Black Guard. I like it. A shadow behind every corner, reminding people not to step out of line."
Isara nodded softly. "And with a visible guard, people will feel safer. Even if fear is part of it."
Dare leaned back, grinning. "Sounds fun. I'll whip up some equipment for them. Nothing fancy, just enough to make them look the part. Uniforms, maybe shock batons. Visuals matter."
Zayden inclined his head. "Good. Recruitment begins tomorrow. Within a week, I want the first Black Guard unit operational."
He shifted the screen again, the map of their dome glowing above the table.
"The next issue. The dome keeps us safe, but it also traps us. Survivors are out there, scattered across the city, waiting to be torn apart. If we stay locked inside, we're no better than cowards."
Amara's eyes lit up. "So you want expeditions."
"Yes," Zayden replied. Teams that go beyond the dome to find survivors, gather resources, and scout the city. Risky, yes — but necessary. The more people we save, the stronger Myth becomes."
Dare frowned. "Risky is putting it lightly. Nulls aren't exactly welcoming neighbours."
"They'll be armed," Zayden said. "And their bracelets will track their missions. If they die, their data will return to us. If they succeed, they'll rise in rank and earn Credits."
Aiden tapped his notebook. "It will also serve as a release valve. Ambitious people will have a way to prove themselves, instead of stirring trouble here. Controlled risk is better than festering resentment."
Tyrel leaned forward, lightning snapping eagerly around his hands. "Then let me lead the first one. I've been dying to stretch my legs."
"You'll get your chance," Zayden said, his tone firm. "But not yet. For now, we build. When the first expedition sets out, it must not fail. Failure will spread doubt. Success will spread hope. So we prepare carefully."
The generals nodded.
Zayden let the map fade, his gaze sweeping over the table once more.
"There is one more matter."
The tone of his voice shifted. The others straightened instantly.
"In the coming weeks, I will need to leave."
Silence fell.
"Leave?" Amara repeated, her tone sharp. "Where?"
Zayden's expression didn't change. "That's not something I can tell you. Not yet."
Dare frowned. "And you expect us to just accept that?"
"Yes," Zayden said flatly. His gaze was steady, unshakable. "What matters is this: I will be back before the dome falls. Until then, the shelter must stand without me. That's why we're putting these systems in place now. The Black Guard. The expeditions. Discipline. Order. With them, Myth will survive my absence."
Aiden studied him for a long moment. "You're serious."
Zayden nodded once. "Completely."
The table grew quiet.
Finally, Isara spoke softly. "Then we will hold the line until you return. But if you're asking for our trust, Zayden… you must give us yours. Don't disappear without warning."
"You have my word," Zayden said. His eyes hardened. "I will return. And when I do, Myth will be stronger than ever."
That was the end of it. None of them pressed further. They understood that if Zayden refused to speak, it wasn't because he didn't trust them — it was because he couldn't.
The generals and Aiden departed, their footsteps fading down the stairwell.
Alone once more, Zayden let out a slow breath. The weight of leadership pressed on him like an invisible chain. He carried the burden willingly, but even he needed moments of quiet.
He turned toward the far side of the chamber, where a dark-scaled creature lay coiled upon a cushioned nest.
Kuro.
The dragonling had hatched two days earlier, on the fifth day of the week. The moment it had broken free of its shell, Zayden had known it was his. The bond had been instant, undeniable.
Now, Kuro raised its head as he approached, glowing scarlet eyes locking onto him. Its body was serpentine, covered in dark scales broken by streaks of red, purple, and gold. Shadows curled faintly around it, whispering like smoke.
"Kuro," Zayden murmured.
The dragonling slithered toward him, climbing onto his arm and curling around his shoulder. It purred lowly, the shadows at its body rippling in response to his presence.
A faint screen appeared before him.
[Companion: Kuro — Dragonling]
[Abilities: Darkness Manipulation, Phantom Summoning, Blood Control]
Even now, its power pulsed faintly, unrefined but undeniable.
Kuro hissed softly, a sound that was less threat than promise.