The Ancap Union had become a galactic spectacle. In the gleaming spires of Tir na Lia, the Aen Elle watched the "Market War" between the Alder Corporation and Mahakam MG with the intensity of a blood sport. Naturally, racial solidarity pulled them toward Aine Aevon. They wanted the "Elven Company" to achieve total market dominance, though some ambitious Aen Elle and Aen Seidhe began drafting their own business plans, eager to launch competing subsidiaries within the Union.
But while the elites fought with ledgers, the physical world still had teeth.
Four figures in battered leather, their eyes glowing like predatory coins, stepped off the midday express at the Alder Central Terminal. Geralt of Rivia, Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir stood frozen as the ID Portal hummed behind them.
"Anarcho-Capitalism," Lambert muttered, reading a glowing neon sign. "A nation run by CEOs. Sounds like a palace, just with more paperwork and better pay."
Vesemir looked at the towering obsidian skyscrapers and the Enforcer ARs patrolling the clean streets. "Kaer Morhen is a ruin, boys. If the world is moving North, we move with it. We'll rebuild the school here—not as a fortress, but as a Private Security Firm."
But a new school required capital. Massive capital.
The Witchers didn't have to wait long. Both Alder Corporation and Mahakam MG were so locked in their rivalry that they couldn't afford a single day of downtime. Monsters were no longer "omens"—they were impediments to growth.
A barrage of high-paying contracts flooded the Witchers' Alder-issued Telegraphs.
Alder Corp wanted a nest of Draconids cleared from a new ID Portal pylon site.
Mahakam MG offered a massive bounty to exterminate Shovel-nosed Trolls blocking a deep-vein super-alloy mine.
"Look at these rates," Geralt said, checking his Alder Wristwatch. "Five thousand crowns for a night's work? I used to do this for a bowl of soup and a kick in the teeth."
"The market is efficient," Vesemir grunted. "They want the obstacles gone, and they want them gone now. Gear up. We're going to earn enough for a new keep by the end of the fiscal quarter."
Aine Aevon watched the Witchers through his office monitors. He didn't see mutants; he saw Specialized Asset Protection.
"Let them hunt," Aine whispered, his cold Aen Elle eyes tracking the Mahakam MG stock prices. "The more monsters they kill, the faster the rails move. And the faster the rails move, the sooner the Dwarves will have to accept a buyout."
Aine Aevon sat in the clinical silence of his office, his eyes glowing as he scrolled through the deep-layer diagnostics of his interface. He had been scanning the fabric of this reality for any signs of structural instability, but the readings were a perfect, steady baseline.
------
[REALITY STABILITY: 100% (NO ANOMALIES DETECTED)]
------
"So, the rules are different here," Aine whispered, his long, elven fingers tapping against the obsidian desk. "This world is physically sound. The threat is strictly an external, coordinated invasion."
His HUD flickered as it tracked a massive energy signature forming in the void between spheres—the Quasimorphic Gate.
------
[WARNING: QUASIMORPHIC GATE CONSTRUCTION IN PROGRESS]
[ORIGIN: BRAMFATURA OF THE CONTINENT (UNIFIED FRONT)]
[ESTIMATED ARRIVAL: 1,460 DAYS (4 YEARS)]
------
Aine leaned back, a cold, calculated smile touching his Aen Elle face. The invaders were building a bridge to anchor their reality to his. They weren't an infection; they were an Invading Force. And they had given him a four-year head start.
The realization didn't bring fear; it brought an Industrial Expansion Plan. In four years, he wouldn't just have an army; he would have a Harvesting Operation. He didn't just want to defeat the demons—he wanted to asset-strip them. Their bodies were rich in Gavvakh and their dimensions were filled with artifacts that could revolutionize his technology.
"James Watson died in a train accident," he mused, looking at the countdown timer on his HUD. "But Aine Aevon is going to turn an interdimensional invasion into a Quarterly Profit."
He immediately initiated Project: Sovereign Shield. He summoned the Witchers of Kaer Morhen to his office. Instead of a bag of crowns, he presented them with a holographic blueprint of a mobile command centre.
"I am not just hiring you as guards," Aine told Vesemir, keeping his tone that of a detached Aen Elle executive. "I am aiding you in forming the first Anti-Monster Contractors: The Wolf Packs. I will provide the materials—advanced Alder alloys, automated medical stations, and high-frequency scanners—to build your own mobile bases. You will be the elite response force of the Continent."
By providing them with the high-tech hardware manufactured in his labs, Aine allowed the Witchers to evolve. They began constructing Mobile Hunter Bases—heavily armoured vehicles designed to track, trap, and terminate any extra-dimensional scout that might slip through early.
To fuel this, Aine accelerated the "Trade War" with the Dwarves. He didn't want to destroy Mahakam MG—he needed their Super-Alloys for the Wolf Packs' hulls. He sent an invitation to the Dwarven CEO for a "Joint Defensive Venture" against the "Common Threat."
"Four years," Aine said, watching the timer tick down. "Four years to turn the Continent into a fortress. And once that Quasimorphic Gate opens... we don't just close it. We go through and take everything they own."