The fever broke. The color returned to Elder Leon's face. The two young dwarves, his grand-nephews Kael and Bren, stopped looking like scared rabbits and started looking around the basin with wide-eyed curiosity.
Elder Leon himself, however, spent his first full day in Delivery just sitting. He sat on a flat stone by the central fire, his gnarled hands resting on his walking stick, and he watched. He watched the dwarves work. He watched Balmond haul stone with a focus that had replaced rage. He watched Mavis snap at a goblin for messing up the rope measurements. He watched Kazuto.
He watched Kazuto most of all.
On the second day, as Kazuto prepared to climb to the southern rim for the final push on the dome, the old dwarf spoke. "You build a roof to protect them."
Kazuto paused, tying a coil of rope around his waist. "That's the idea."
"But you are not a warrior. I see no kill in your eyes. Only… determination. Like a man trying to assemble a complicated shelf."
Kazuto almost smiled. "That's about right."
Elder Leon nodded slowly. "A roof is a good thing. But a roof does not teach a child how to walk, or a man how to stand his ground. What will you do when the wind comes, not to break the roof, but to chill the bones of those beneath it?"
It was a good question. Kazuto didn't have an answer. "One problem at a time. Right now, the problem is a giant missing piece of ceiling."
He climbed. Today was the day. The final, central section of the Canopy Project. The keystone.
Mavis was already on the rim, her slate covered in dense calculations. The final arches would form a central hub, connecting all the radiating supports. It was the most complex piece.
"The stress vectors have to be perfect," Mavis said, her voice tense. "If the connection is even slightly misaligned, the entire dome could experience a cascading failure. It won't 'crack.' It might just… stop being a dome."
« CONFIRMATION: FINAL PHASE INITIATION. CONCEPTUAL INTEGRITY PARAMETERS AT CRITICAL LEVELS. »
Helpful, Kazuto thought. He took a deep breath, centering himself. He looked down into the basin. Everyone had stopped working. They were all looking up. Doom, Balmond, the young dwarves, even the goblins were lined up along the opposite rim, silent.
He had an audience.
"Alright," he muttered. "No pressure."
He began. He focused on the first connection point, where the last southern arch would meet the existing eastern web. He willed the barrier material to grow, not as a separate piece, but as a seamless extension. A shimmering curve of solidified air began to reach across the open sky.
It was harder than before. It wasn't just about size. It was about fit. He had to hold the entire, intricate web of the dome in his mind, feeling where this new piece locked into place. It was mental architecture. His head began to throb.
Below, Balmond shifted, his hand tightening on his axe haft. Doom chewed his lip. Mavis didn't breathe.
The first connection clicked. A soft, almost inaudible chime resonated through the basin as the magic found its perfect alignment. The shimmering curve stabilized.
One down. Five to go.
Kazuto moved to the next connection. Sweat trickled down his temple. The mental image of the dome was a heavy, glowing lattice in his mind's eye. He slid the next piece into the puzzle.
Click.
Another soft chime.
He worked methodically, like he was assembling furniture from one of his old deliveries. Check the manual (Mavis's calculations), line up the tabs, apply pressure. Each click was a wave of relief.
On the fourth connection, his concentration wavered. The image in his mind flickered. The forming arch rippled, threatening to turn opaque and fail.
A sharp, rhythmic clack-clack-clack sound came from below. Kazuto glanced down.
Elder Leon was on his feet. He had taken two smooth stones and was beating them together in a slow, steady, martial rhythm. It was the beat of a marching cadence, of hammers on anvils, of hearts in unison. He wasn't looking at Kazuto. He was looking at the dome, his eyes closed, as if listening to the shape it wanted to be.
The rhythm was simple. Solid. It grounded the air.
Kazuto latched onto the sound. He used it as a metronome for his will. He pushed. The arch stabilized and slid home.
CLICK.
The chime was louder this time.
Fifth connection. Sixth. The dome was a vast, transparent jigsaw puzzle with one final piece missing—a complex, star-shaped hub in the very center.
This was it. The keystone. If this failed, everything might unravel.
Kazuto's vision swam. The headache was a pounding drum behind his eyes. He gathered every ounce of focus. He blocked out the sky, the people, the fear. There was only the shape. The final shape.
He reached out with his mind and placed it.
For a second, nothing happened. The final, central piece of barrier material hung in the air, not connecting.
Then, a sound like a hundred crystal bells ringing in perfect harmony filled the basin. Light—not blinding, but a warm, golden-white radiance—flashed along every seam, every arch, every pane of the dome. It traced the entire colossal structure in an instant, a net of light across the sky.
« NOTICE: MACRO-STRUCTURE 'SETTLEMENT CANOPY' COMPLETE. »
« CONCEPTUAL INTEGRITY: 100%. »
« LINKING TO PRIMARY SETTLEMENT BARRIER… LINK ESTABLISHED. »
The light faded. What remained was… clear. Perfectly, utterly clear. The dome was so transparent it was almost invisible. Only the faintest shimmer, like heat haze, gave it away. It encased the entire basin, from rim to rim, a perfect, seamless half-sphere of eternal refuge.
Silence.
Then, a goblin on the north rim threw a rock into the air. It sailed up, up, and then tinked gently against the inside of the dome high above, falling back down.
The sound broke the spell.
A cheer erupted. It started with the dwarves, a deep, roaring shout of triumph. The goblins joined in with shrieks and chitters. Balmond let out a gruff "Hah!" and slammed a fist into his palm. Doom hugged a surprised young dwarf. Mavis sagged against the rock, a real, exhausted smile on her face.
Kazuto slumped, sitting down hard on the rim. The headache was gone, replaced by a deep, satisfying emptiness. He'd done it.
Elder Leon stopped his clacking rhythm. He looked up at the impossible ceiling, then at Kazuto. He gave a slow, respectful nod.
That evening, under their new, invisible sky, the mood was celebratory. The goblins had contributed a haunch of some large, unlucky rodent. Combined with the last of the tubers, it made a stew that felt like a feast.
Elder Leon sat by the fire, Kael and Bren at his sides. He looked at the faces around him—dwarves, a human, a berserker, a witch, and the distant, watching eyes of goblins on the now-inside of the dome.
"A roof is a good thing," he said again, his voice carrying. "But now you have a training hall. A dojo with the finest ceiling in the world." He looked at Balmond. "You, with the axe. You swing like a landslide. Powerful, but predictable. You leave your left side open for a full second on the backswing."
Balmond frowned, defensive. "No one has ever lived to exploit it."
"A dead teacher is no teacher," Leon said. He turned to the young dwarves, and even to the watching goblins peeking from behind rocks. "Tomorrow, we begin. Not to make warriors for war. But to make bodies strong, minds sharp, and hearts steady. A strong community is not just a safe one. It is a capable one."
Kazuto listened, stirring the stew. The old dwarf was right. The dome solved the immediate problem of anything getting in from above. But it didn't solve the problem of what happened next. Of people feeling helpless.
He looked at Balmond, who was actually considering Leon's critique. He looked at the young dwarves, sitting straighter. He looked at the goblins, who were mimicking slow, careful punches at each other.
The delivery was complete. The package—this fragile, absurd nation—was now under one giant, unbreakable bubble wrap.
But the shipping notice had been sent. The Seats knew they were here. The next delivery wouldn't be refugees or berserkers.
It would be an invoice. And Kazuto had a feeling the Black Phoenix didn't accept brick currency.
He took a bite of stew. It was salty, gamey, and tasted like the first real victory they'd had. Tomorrow's problems could wait. Tonight, they had a roof.
Above them, the first stars appeared, their light slightly distorted by the perfect, curved barrier that now stood between Delivery and the endless, dangerous sky. It didn't feel like a cage. It felt, for the first time, like home.