The Grand Opening of the Vayne City Convention Center was the social event of the century, but few of the guests looked happy to be there.
They had arrived in gilded, horse-drawn carriages, expecting a muddy mining outpost. Instead, they stepped out into a nightmare of the future.
Vayne City hummed. The air didn't smell of coal smoke; it smelled of ozone and ionized mana. The streets were lit not by torches, but by neon tubes pulsing with blue and purple light. Above them, polished chrome towers scraped the sky, and silent, floating Sentinel Drones watched them with unblinking red eyes.
The Dukes adjusted their heavy velvet robes, suddenly feeling ridiculously overdressed. The Generals gripped the hilts of their swords, realizing their steel felt obsolete against the humming machinery surrounding them.
They were the masters of the old world, standing in the capital of the new one. And they felt small.
They were ushered into the main auditorium—a cavernous space of glass and acoustic paneling that could seat five thousand. The air inside was cool, regulated by invisible machines. The lighting was steady, without a flicker.
The lights dimmed. A single spotlight hit the center stage.
I walked out.
I wasn't wearing the armored suit of a Baron or the robes of a Mage. I was wearing a black Wyvern-wool turtleneck, tailored indigo denim trousers, and clean white sneakers.
It was simple. It was arrogant. It was a fashion revolution.
I stood in the center of the stage, looking out at the sea of confused, powerful faces. I didn't bow.
"Time," I began, my voice amplified by hidden speakers, crisp and clear in every corner of the room. "Time is the only currency you cannot mint more of."
I paced slowly across the stage.
"For thousands of years, the speed of information was limited by the speed of a horse. Armies have been lost, fortunes squandered, and empires toppled because a message arrived a day too late."
I stopped in the center of the spotlight.
"The world is too big. It is disconnected. It is inefficient."
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a slim, rectangular slab of polished black glass.
"Today, the world gets smaller."
I held up the device. The screen illuminated with the glowing blue V logo of Vayne Corp.
"Introducing the VayneCom."
A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd. What was it? A scrying mirror? A talisman?
"A demonstration is worth a thousand words," I said.
I tapped the screen.
Behind me, a massive holographic display—fifty feet tall—flickered to life.
The image was crystal clear. It showed Seraphina, standing on the observation deck of the Blackstone Mines, five kilometers away. The wind whipped her hair, and the massive Mana-Crucible glowed behind her.
The crowd gasped. Scrying magic was blurry, unstable, and required immense mana. This was... perfect.
"Can you hear me, Seraphina?" I asked, not raising my voice.
Her voice echoed through the auditorium, loud and sharp as if she were standing next to me. "Loud and clear, Boss. The signal is strong."
Pandemonium erupted.
A fat merchant in the front row nearly choked. He realized instantly: I could check the grain prices in the southern ports before the ships even dock.
A General stood up, his eyes wide. I could command five fronts simultaneously from my war room.
It wasn't a toy. It was a paradigm shift.
"The VayneCom offers instant, encrypted voice and video transmission across the continent," I continued over the noise. "No mages required. No mana drain on the user. It just works."
Suddenly, a sharp, electronic trill cut through the noise.
Ring-Ring. Ring-Ring.
I looked down at the prototype in my hand. The caller ID flashed on the main screen behind me, fifty feet tall for everyone to see.
[Incoming Call: Unknown Number (Imperial Palace Origin)]
The auditorium went dead silent. The Dukes turned pale. Everyone knew who held the only other prototype I had released.
I smiled. "Ah. An unexpected caller."
I tapped the screen, putting it on speaker mode.
"Baron Vayne speaking. Who is this?"
The voice that boomed through the speakers was unmistakable. It was deep, powerful, but with a slight, rattling wheeze underneath it.
"You are a bold man, Lucas Vayne."
Emperor Aldric III.
The entire room stood up and bowed to the screen. I remained standing.
"Your Majesty," I said pleasantly. "To what do I owe the honor? Did you enjoy the gift I sent via your courier last night?"
A low chuckle came through the speakers, ending in a wet cough.
"The assassin Wraith was... very expressive in his delivery. You humiliate my best killers, then invite my entire court to worship your new toys. You have no respect for tradition, do you?"
"Tradition doesn't pay the bills, Your Majesty. I'm just selling the future. Are you buying?"
The line went silent for a moment. The tension in the room was suffocating. The Emperor could order my execution right now.
"Ten thousand units," the Emperor finally said. "For the Royal Army. I want them delivered within the month."
The Generals in the audience let out a collective breath. The Emperor had just capitulated. He had acknowledged the new power.
"Consider it done," I said.
"But be warned, Lucas," the Emperor added, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper that echoed in the massive hall. "When you connect the world, you also connect its enemies. The shadows are deeper than you know."
"I'm counting on it, Your Majesty."
Click. The call ended.
I looked back at the audience. Their fear was gone, replaced by naked, frantic greed.
"The pre-order queue is now open," I announced.
It was a stampede. Dukes were shoving merchants out of the way to get to the sales terminals. Money—millions upon millions of gold credits—began to flow into Vayne Corp accounts seconds after launch.
Seraphina stepped out from the wings, standing close behind me on stage as the numbers climbed on the holographic screen. Her hand brushed mine—a rare, grounding touch in the chaos.
"You just connected the world," she whispered, her eyes scanning the frantic crowd, sensing the shift in reality. "And you woke something worse."
"That's just the cost of doing business," I murmured.
But she was right.
The signal was spreading. It rippled out from Vayne City, passing through mountains, crossing oceans, and reaching even the darkest corners of the Empire.
Far away, in a cold, stripped-bare dormitory room, a stolen VayneCom lit up in the dark.
Kaelen sat in the shadows, his face gaunt, his eyes reflecting the blue glow of the screen. His mutilated left hand twitched, and the Cursed Ring on the severed finger—which he kept in a jar on his desk—pulsed a sickly green, syncing with the network frequency.
He smiled, staring at my face on the screen.
"Now I can find you anywhere," the fallen Hero whispered.
Back on stage, the blue system windows in my vision turned a violent, flashing red. An alert appeared that only I could see.
[ EMERGENCY SYSTEM ALERT ]
[ Global Connectivity Threshold Reached. ]
[ The 'Signal' has penetrated the deep earth and ocean floors. ]
[ WARNING: The Third Calamity has awakened early. ]
[ Entity Detected: 'The Leviathan of the Deep'. ]
I stopped smiling. The Emperor was right. I had connected the world. And something down there had heard the ringtone.
[ Technological Singularity Achieved. ]
[ Reward: +5,000 Destiny Points. ]
[ Item Received: Server Key (Root Access to Precursor Network). ]
I pocketed the VayneCom and walked off stage as the world celebrated its own impending doom.