The late afternoon sun spilled molten gold across the skyline of Velmora, the Golden City of the North.
Compared to Duranth, Velmora was a titan. It was ten times larger. Ten times richer. The metropolis basked in sunlight and gilded power, ruling the northern horizon.
Skyships floated overhead, hulls encrusted with enchanted bronze and runes. Sails, stamped with noble and merchant insignias, unfurled above the city.
Glass-paneled towers shimmered with illusion spells that tracked the shifting sky. Gold-leaf banners on balconies marked wealth and ambition.
Street musicians played magical instruments—notes swirling around like a welcome. Carts floated by along smooth, glowing paths.
Aroma-kites hovered, releasing scents of peach blossom, cinnamon, and mana-simmered cider.
Velmora didn't just breathe money.
It did it.
And on a scenic hill rising east of the Moonblossom Plaza stood Charles Alden Vale, also known as Charlemagne Ziglar reborn, his cloak billowing like living ink in the breeze and his eyes gleaming with vision.
"So this is Velmora," he murmured. "A kingdom within a kingdom."
Borris smirked. "Going to conquer it with cuisine?"
Charles smirked. "Cuisine. Commerce. And a little bit of silent Warcraft."
Then his gaze snapped westward, piercing through illusion-shaded treelines, merchant estates, and a half-forgotten tract of wilderness.
What others saw as untamed parkland, he saw as opportunity incarnate.
"SIGMA—urban reconnaissance and analysis AI system," Charles said mentally, "commence urban scan protocol. Terrain mapping: Area Delta-West.
Begin at the lower-elevation curve behind the merchant villas. Prioritize mana-rich soil, spring-fed land, and spatial leyline activity. Cross-analyze with Velmoran city zoning codes and projected trade route extensions."
[Initiating Scan… ] SIGMA, the AI system, replied.
[Overlaying projections. Adjusting economic vectors. Preliminary scan confirms 12.4 kilometers of usable space. Multiple node intersections. No sovereign claim. Potential acquisition is viable through three shadow brokers and one idle land steward.] SIGMA's synthesized voice delivered the results with mechanical precision.
Charles's eyes sparkled.
"A mall," Charles said, eyes glinting.
Borris blinked. "A… mall?"
"A full-scale high-magic commercial zone. Ground-level retail for noble boutiques, artifact kiosks, spell-tech displays. Second level: food towers and dining terraces. Third level: entertainment lounges. Open roof garden with enchantment-bloom conservatory."
He gestured wider, fingers slicing through the horizon.
On the southern ridge will be an amusement park—sky-coasters, illusion theaters, beast-tamer arcades, and a time-dilation maze—bringing excitement to aristocrats and working families alike.
"Controlled chaos?" Borris arched an eyebrow.
Charles nodded solemnly. "Is there a more profitable kind?"
He turned eastward slightly, his tone shifting from excitement to precision.
"On the neighboring slope, I want a teleportation hub. We will build five platform rings. Priority gateways connected to Duranth, the Davona Royal Capital, and the Imperial border. Include a dimensional freight dock. This area will become a portal district. Secure Stellar Bank exclusivity for instant credit transfers through the spatial pylon link."
Borris muttered, "You're building a trade empire dressed as a tourist trap."
"I'm building Velmora's beating heart."
Charles's eyes flicked toward the more shaded grove nestled near a bubbling mana-fed spring.
"There," he said, voice quieter.
"That's the spot for our Alchemy Boutique Street. Ten buildings. Rotating sigil storefronts. Lab-forge hybrid stations. I want our Glowroot team relocated there. The flagship shop is at the center. The rest? Offer to the highest-bidding rogue alchemists and potion artisans we can find. Give them autonomy. But tie them to our supply chain."
He wasn't finished.
Two blocks behind, a warehouse complex: five stories deep, three above. Vaults, enchanted floors, and tracking arrays managed by SIGMA and trusted rune clerks. All goods are stored here before teleportation export.
Charles paused, then gave Borris a sideways glance.
"Get me the deeds. Quietly. Pay the right bribes, charm the correct stewards, and if someone gets in our way…"
He smiled like a chessmaster holding a sword.
"…remind them that House Ziglar is not in the business of second chances."
Borris gave a short nod, visibly impressed. "I'll get started."
Charles turned back to the skyline, the sun warming his face.
Velmora would soon be more than a stage for nobles and courtiers.
It would be his main office. His field of crops. His message to everyone in the world.
When war came, when revolution and fire threatened to destroy everything, Velmora would stand.
Because he made it.
Because he owned it.
And because his empire was already starting to grow inside its golden walls.
They entered Velmora's Lighthollow District as the sun went down. It was a quiet, mysterious place full of old magic and secrets.
They stopped at a narrow store called "Glowroot Remedies," with a weathered sign and herbs hanging from the eaves. Hand-made wards glowed on its entrance.
As he looked through the open door, Charles's eyes got sharper. The store didn't look like much from the outside, but the shelves inside told a different story.
Vials with labels for plants no longer alive. Salves made from recipes found in old, forgotten records. Charles found one potion base. Lady Duchess Evelyne had last seen it in her personal ledgers. Everyone thought it was lost with her old sect.
This was no common apothecary.
A boy emerged from the interior—perhaps fourteen. Sharp-eyed, ink-stained fingers, dressed in simple robes. He gave a respectful nod.
"Welcome to Glowroot Remedies. Are you looking for pain relief, memory tonics, or rare supplements?"
Charles didn't waste a second. "I need Diana Marnel. Please call her."
The boy blinked. His neutral expression barely shifted, but Charles noted the flicker behind his eyes.
The boy answered, voice even, "No one here by that name."
Borris stepped forward. "Tell her that Borris and Young Lord Charlemagne Ziglar are here. She'll understand."
That got a reaction. The boy, Geo, stiffened slightly. He gave a shallow bow, then disappeared into a back room without another word, like a shadow slipping behind a curtain.
"She's hiding her identity," Borris muttered. "Can't blame her."
They waited in silence until Geo returned. He gestured for them to follow. They descended a narrow staircase. Passed through a modest alchemical lab filled with calibrated instruments and runes so finely tuned they hummed in harmony.
No mass-produced junk here. Only refined precision.
At the center, a woman sipped green tea, her emerald eyes sharp, silver-threaded green hair braided.
Charles met her gaze. "Lady Diana."
She smiled faintly. "Rumor was you were dying, Lord Ziglar."
Charles inclined his head. "I got better."
Her eyes drifted to Borris. "You look better, too."
"Therapy," Borris said. "Four more sessions."
Diana raised an elegant brow. "But your condition was—"
"Fractured Shadow Meridian Syndrome," Borris said. His voice was steady. "I know. We all thought it was incurable. Until the young lord showed up with a cure."
He straightened, pride in every syllable. "One session. My auxiliary soul channels are thirty percent repaired. Qi flow to my legs and diaphragm is returning."
Diana blinked, then activated her perception field. Her eyes widened.
She saw it—the reconstruction, the stabilizing threads, the faint glow of soul-thread mending.
"How…?" she whispered.
Charles didn't hesitate. He explained the treatment process: layered qi compression baths drawn from three-element resonance, dual-enzyme marrow purification using phoenixgrass and silverroot bloom, and most importantly, micro-soul acupuncture performed with affinity-guided thread arrays, adjusted through elemental foci.
Diana listened with growing astonishment. These were not textbook techniques; they were revolutionary blends of lost sect theory and modern enhancement protocols.
"Where did you—" she began.
Charles simply said, "I synthesize knowledge. And I make things that people say can't be done."
With a thud, Charles dropped two thick books on the table. They were made of leather and had shiny rune-threaded clasps that hummed softly, as if they were holding something dangerous or alive.
"These," he said with a proud smile, "are Volume One of my personal alchemy book."
Diana raised an eyebrow. "You're what?"
"Over a thousand recipes," he said, patting the book like it was a beloved pet.
"Pills that heal, elixirs that glow, ointments that could wake the dead—or at least make them smell nicer. Some are pieced together from lost ruins, others from forgotten sects. Stuff most alchemists wouldn't even dream of in their whole lives."
She blinked. "And you just... wrote it all down?"
He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Yeah."
Curious, Diana reached out and undid the glowing clasp. The book opened with a soft whoosh, like it had been waiting for someone.
Then she froze.
Every single page was packed from margin to margin with notes, drawings, alternate ingredient swaps, scribbles about what worked and what exploded, and even little warnings in bright red: DO NOT BREATHE THIS IN UNLESS YOU WANT TO GLOW FOREVER.
She flipped a page.
Then another.
One page had a guide to making qi-tonics from mana pollen, something the Alchemist Guild called 'hopeless nonsense.' But here it was: neatly outlined with steps, tips, and a doodle of a beaker wearing sunglasses.
"This… this shouldn't exist," she whispered.
Charles just smirked and pushed the second book toward her.
"That one's called Alchemy Through Chemistry," he said.
"It's not just old spells and guesswork anymore. This is a new system. Logic, experiments, formulas that actually work. Less magic mumbo-jumbo, more repeatable awesomeness."
Diana opened it. Her hands were shaking now. The pages were cleaner and more organized, like a spellbook and a science book mixed together, but they were even more interesting.
There were charts, glowing runes that changed when she touched them, and little notes in the margins that said things like "Don't mix this with coffee."
It was both familiar and brand new, like seeing the future of alchemy peek through the cracks of the past.
She could hardly breathe when she said, "This could change everything."
"Exactly," Charles said. "No more secrets, no more guesswork. Just real, powerful alchemy—shared with everyone."
Diana looked up at him, wide-eyed.
And for the first time, she didn't just see Charles the oddball alchemist.
She saw a revolution.
"This could reform the entire field," she whispered.
"It will," Charles said, eyes sharp. "With your help."
He leaned forward. "I want you to join me. Head the alchemy division of the Shadow Legion—mage corps, research, and product development. Help me train a new generation."
She hesitated.
"I have a family," she said quietly. "I resigned for a reason. I want peace. My husband's away on a trade route to the southern territories, and Geo's still learning."
Charles's voice lowered. "Then I'll be direct. Peace won't last. The South is mobilizing. The Revolutionary faction will burn its way north to capture the Royal Capital. Velmora is the frontline. You won't have peace here when war comes. But you can help shape what survives."
She stared at him.
Then nodded once.
"I'll need to speak with my husband."
Charles gave her a rare, genuine smile. "Bring your whole family. I'll give them all contracts, training, and cultivation resources. You'll have safety. Purpose. And all of Volume Two."
Borris chuckled. "So that's all it took."
Diana laughed softly, then introduced Geo properly. "He's my son. Foundations Realm Rank 6. Water affinity. Trains in both arrays and alchemy."
"Impressive," Charles said. "And your husband?"
"Anton Gust. Former knight from a fallen house. Fire affinity. Unity Realm Rank 1. We decided to settle down when the world stopped making sense."
Charles nodded. "Time to start making it make sense again. I look forward to your visit to East Wing Manor."
Diana's gaze lingered on the two volumes—her fingers unconsciously resting on the alchemy compendium.
"Be honest," she said. "How many more volumes are there?"
Charles's grin could have split the stars.
"Enough to rewrite the heavens."