Chapter 322 — A Stronger Hollow
The sun had just begun to crest the mountains when Kael emerged from the dungeon. The gates shut behind him with a resonant clang, sealing the secrets of the thirtieth floor once more. The faint hum of mana still lingered on his skin, and Umbra padded silently at his side, its yellow eyes ever-watchful.
But the Hollow was already awake. Smoke rose from the forges, merchants laid out their goods in the market, and farmers passed through the gates to tend to their fields. Life moved forward—stronger, steadier, more vibrant than it had only months ago. Kael allowed himself a small moment of satisfaction before turning his mind back to his duty.
The council chamber was filled by the time he arrived. Maps of the surrounding lands lay pinned to the table, scattered alongside reports of trade, production, and militia training. The council members stood as he entered, each bowing their head in respect before resuming their seats.
Kael took his place at the head of the table, Umbra curling at his feet like a shadow given form. His gaze swept across them—Lyria, Varik, Rogan, Azhara, Fenrik, Selina, Thalos—and he spoke with calm authority.
"The Hollow grows stronger by the day. The dungeon provides resources. The freedmen are finding new lives here. But strength without direction is wasted. Each of you will take one task to make this settlement better. Something that strengthens not only our walls, but the people within them. Share your thoughts."
Rogan leaned forward first, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His gravelly voice rumbled through the chamber.
"Our militia is shaping into something real, but it isn't enough. Training is one thing—discipline is another. I say we build a dedicated training ground, with space for drills, sparring, and archery practice. Not just for soldiers either. Any man, woman, or youth willing to fight should be given a place to harden themselves."
Kael nodded. Rogan's obsession with readiness was predictable, but not without merit.
Varik tapped the table with a calloused finger, his sharp eyes scanning the maps.
"Rogan prepares us for war, but war doesn't keep bellies full. The freedmen and settlers know little of our land. Some fields yield fine crops, others are barren. I want to lead teams to survey the soil and water, mark out what grows best where, and teach the newcomers how to work the land properly. If the Hollow is to thrive, it must feed itself."
Practical, grounded. Varik's farmer's heart never strayed far from the earth.
Azhara brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, her soft voice calm yet resolute.
"Both good ideas. But health must not be forgotten. Many of the freedmen came malnourished, sick, or broken. If we wish them to stay and grow strong, they need care. I propose we expand our infirmary into a true healing hall, with trained aides under my guidance. Not just for wounds of war, but for sickness, childbirth, and all the other burdens of life."
Her eyes lingered on Kael's briefly, her devotion plain even in the professional tone. Kael inclined his head, silently approving.
Lyria folded her arms, her sharp elven features hard, yet her voice was thoughtful.
"We've taken in many who are frightened, rootless, or desperate. Protection and food are not enough to bind them to the Hollow. We need something more—an identity, a reason to call this place theirs. I suggest festivals. Ritual hunts, contests of skill, celebrations of harvest. Let them know they are part of something greater, not just survivors."
Her words stirred murmurs of agreement. Even Azhara smiled faintly at the thought.
Fenrik shifted in his chair, restless as always, his wolfish grin widening.
"Rogan, Varik, Azhara, Lyria—you're all right, in your own ways. But you're thinking too small. The dungeon gives us resources no one else has. Weapons, armor, enchantments—we could arm not only ourselves, but trade such things to others. I say we set aside workshops dedicated to forging dungeon steel and refining dungeon crystals. Imagine what we could do with gear the rest of the kingdoms can only dream of."
His ambition hung in the air, bold but dangerous. Kael's eyes narrowed slightly. It was not a bad idea, but one to be weighed carefully.
Selina smirked faintly, her tone wry but edged with intelligence.
"And who do you think will manage these workshops, Fenrik? Resources mean nothing if wasted. If you want something to make the Hollow better, Kael, then I'll say it: we need proper administration. Ledgers, schedules, rationing systems. Without order, this place will collapse under its own growth. I'll see to it that no coin, crystal, or scrap of food goes unaccounted for."
Her words earned a few groans from the others, but even Rogan begrudgingly nodded.
Thalos, arms folded behind his back, spoke last. His voice was deep, smooth, and deliberate.
"Strength of arms, strength of field, strength of body, strength of spirit—all of these are needed. But strength of wall and stone cannot be forgotten. The Hollow sits in a valley, protected by terrain, yes—but terrain shifts. Rivals grow bold. I say we fortify. Stone walls, towers for watchmen, reinforced gates. We've seen too much to think we'll be left in peace forever."
Silence followed his words. Kael could feel the weight of them. Each council member had spoken from their heart, from their domain of strength. Each answer carried merit.
Kael leaned back, steepling his fingers. "You've given me much to consider. Each of your proposals will be weighed—and many of them may be pursued together. The Hollow will not grow from a single idea, but from the combined will of its people."
He looked at each one in turn, his voice steady, commanding.
"You are my council. My shield and my spear. Each of you will oversee your task, with the resources needed. We will grow stronger together—and when the world looks upon the Hollow, they will not see a hidden town, but a rising power."
Umbra raised its head at his words, as though sensing the gravity of the moment. The council members bowed their heads, pride and determination burning in their eyes. The Hollow had found its direction.
The chamber was heavy with thought after each of the council had spoken. Their ideas lingered in the air like smoke—practical, ambitious, hopeful, and necessary. Kael let the silence stretch, weighing their words, feeling the fire of resolve in his chest.
At last, he leaned forward, his voice steady, commanding.
"All of your ideas have value. And we will not waste time debating which should come first. The Hollow must grow in every direction at once, or it will crumble when pressure comes. Each of you will begin your projects immediately. Oversee them. Shape them. Make sure they are done—and done correctly. This is not suggestion. It is order."
Rogan thumped a fist over his heart, a fierce grin on his scarred face.
"Finally. I'll have my men working a training ground before the week is out. When I'm through, no militia will break like brittle wood again."
Varik gave a slow nod, scratching at his beard thoughtfully.
"Then I'll see to the land. I'll take the newcomers, teach them the soil, mark out the good fields. By the next harvest, we'll know what crops the Hollow can stand on."
Azhara's eyes glistened, not with tears, but with quiet resolve.
"The healing hall will be ready. I'll need volunteers, hands willing to learn the arts of mending. But I'll make sure no one in our care goes without aid again."
Lyria's lips curved faintly, a spark of pride flashing in her sharp eyes.
"Then I'll bind them together. The settlers, the freedmen, our people—all of them. Festivals, hunts, ceremonies. They'll stop calling themselves refugees and start calling themselves Hollow-born."
Fenrik's wolfish grin widened.
"And I'll get those workshops running. We'll forge weapons from dungeon steel, armor laced with crystal. Let the world gnash its teeth—we'll be armed better than kings."
Selina folded her hands neatly, smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"Then it falls to me to keep this chaos from spiraling. Ledgers, records, rationing, schedules—if so much as a nail goes missing, I'll know. And if anyone wastes what we've built, they'll answer to me."
Thalos inclined his head, his deep voice calm but resolute.
"Walls will rise. Gates will be strengthened. Towers built. The Hollow will not only endure the next siege—it will crush it before it begins."
Kael's gaze swept over them all, the weight of command sharp in his eyes.
"Good. Then you know your tasks. See them done—not halfway, not barely, but fully. This Hollow is ours to shape. Each of you has the power to raise it from shadow into strength. Fail, and we all pay the price."
The chamber fell silent. One by one, the council members stood, each bowing their head, each carrying the fire of determination as they left to begin their work.
Kael remained seated a moment longer, Umbra's glowing eyes fixed on him from the corner of the chamber. The Hollow had direction now—each project a thread weaving into the foundation of something greater.
And Kael would see it rise.