I LIVE!
So apparently I Jinxed myself on Wednesday, because the last few days have NOT been fun.
I'll spare you the details, but I'm finally started to feel better, and even manged to finish editing this chapter!
Its long overdue, I know, but on the bright side, I think this gives me a good chance to try for a "reset week" and actually get things back on schedule.
Here's hoping, but don't feel scared to call me out if something slips!
ROFL! Maybe a quick message like "HEY! OSA! Where the hecks the chapter!?" will be what I need to kick my by back into gear.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter.
These types of chapters are always my personal favorite in similar stories like "Gate - Thus the JSDF Fought There!" and other such ones. ♛———♛—————————♛———♛
“This way, please! One at a time; no pushing, thank you!”
Storyteller stood just inside the open doorway of the transport, one hand resting lightly against the frame as she guided the adventurers forward. Her voice carried without strain, bright and warm in a way that made it difficult to argue with.
Up close, the vehicle loomed larger than most had expected — long, wide, and nothing like any wagon or carriage they were used to. Its sides were smooth, dark metal, broken every few feet by panels of dark glass. The floor sat high enough that a set of evenly spaced steps led cleanly into the enclosed interior.
The adventurers hesitated at the threshold. More than a few eyed the machine as though it might bite. A couple lingered near the back, arms crossed, clearly weighing whether this was some kind of test.
Storyteller didn’t rush them, simply waited, her smile steady, until the first of them stepped inside.
“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of room for everyone,” she added.
Strom stepped forward, knowing that once someone moved, the rest would follow. He was supposed to be the ‘leader’ of the group, so why not him?
Storyteller gave him a grin and a faint nod as he approached.
Strom sighed, then made his way up the stairs, pausing just past the threshold.
Rows of soft, padded seats stretched in neat lines along both sides of a central aisle. Small lights set into the ceiling cast an even glow across the interior — the same strange, steady illumination as the train. The windows were broad and clear, offering a full view outside rather than the narrow slits most armored transports used.
He stepped forward slowly, dragging his hand along the back of one of the seats as he passed.
Soft.
He frowned faintly.
Cindy brushed past him and dropped into a seat near the middle. She bounced once to test it, then blinked. A second later, she sank back with a long groan.
“Oh man. I could get used to this. No one ever tells you cultivation doesn’t do squat for travel sores.”
Strom snorted and dropped into the seat across from her, shaking his head.
Adventurers had many rites of passage, but one that everyone complained about was that first long-distance guard shift in a rattling carriage while wearing full armor. Even as a body cultivator, Strom found the chafing and soreness after a few days rarely worth the pay.
Just as he predicted, as soon as he and Cindy were seated, adventurers started streaming through the doorway.
Storyteller followed the last person aboard, stepping lightly up the stairs as the door sealed behind her with a soft, almost inaudible hiss.
She took a moment to look over the group, noting the wary glances, the subtle tension in shoulders, and hands that hovered just a little too close to weapons.
“Since I see some of you already have questions,” she said brightly, clapping her hands once to gather attention, “I’ll start by explaining our day.”
The murmurs quieted.
“We’ll be leaving the Nexus shortly and heading for town,” she continued. “Once there, you’ll meet with a few volunteers from the previous expedition. They’ve agreed to stay behind for a short while and help you understand some of the… quirks of our home.”
The group exchanged looks.
She pivoted slightly and gestured toward the front.
“The first of which is our transportation network.”
A large glass panel filled most of the front wall of the transport, clear and seamless.
“While you’re perfectly capable of traveling by foot,” she went on, “thanks to the efforts of our citizens — and with the generous help of Mr. Alpha — we’ve developed a road system that allows for much faster movement across the cavern.”
She reached into her vest and withdrew a dark brown token. A Loam, if Strom remembered correctly.
Storyteller stepped forward.
“As for how to use them… It’s simple.”
She slid the Loam into a hexagonal slot set into the panel.
Light spread outward from the token in thin, branching lines. The pattern expanded across the panel and climbed the front windshield in a smooth wave. A moment later, the glass shifted, the outside view fading as a map took its place.
The display showed the cavern in crisp detail. Their current position pulsed near the southern wall, while a dense network of interconnected lines stretched outward, linking a series of marked nodes scattered throughout the cavern.
A low murmur rippled through the bus.
“Once activated,” Storyteller said, as though nothing unusual had happened, “all you have to do is choose your destination.”
She reached up and tapped one of the larger nodes near the eastern side of the map, about halfway between them and the broad river that ran from north to south. The node flashed green.
“And the transport will take care of the rest.”
A deep, steady hum rose from beneath their feet, and several adventurers flinched.
Unfazed, Storyteller continued as the bus turned and began moving toward a large set of doors.
“For a bus this size, capable of moving large groups,” she said, “a single Loam will give you about two hours of operation time. More than enough to reach your destination and back again.”
The bus rolled forward at a controlled pace, gliding toward the massive doors at the far end of the station.
“For smaller transports, such as personal ‘scooters’,” she added, “a Loam will last closer to a full day.”
Several adventurers frowned at that. While Loams were a step down from the Peats they were used to handling, that didn’t make them something easily wasted.
“If you’re worried about the cost, fear not,” Storyteller said, her grin widening. “Several public transport options are available as well for only a couple of Clays per seat. Though keep in mind, these operate on a fixed schedule and don’t travel everywhere. Regardless, whatever your needs, I think you’ll find that if you need to get somewhere quickly, it’s often worth the expense.”
The bus continued forward.
The massive doors ahead parted, smooth and nearly silent. Thick slabs of reinforced material slid aside, revealing the cavern beyond.
The adventurers shifted in their seats.
Conversation died down.
The bus rolled forward and passed through the threshold.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then the murmuring began.
Ahead of them, the road stretched out in a clean, unbroken line — dark and perfectly flat in a way that shouldn’t have existed anywhere in the Deep. There were no uneven stones, no cracks, no loose gravel or paved flagstones like those on even the best-kept trade routes. Just a broad, black surface paved with something he had no name for.
Even more surprising than the road itself was the fact that they weren’t alone on it.
Dozens of transports — most smaller than their own, loaded with stacked crates or felled timber — glided past in steady lines. Occasionally, one peeled away onto a side road, while another merged in from a different direction, joining the flow without slowing the rest.
And to either side of the road wasn’t the sprawling, untouched forest Strom had expected, but buildings.
Not scattered huts or carved-out cavern dwellings, as was typical of the smaller Deep tribes, but proper structures — two and three stories tall, arranged in orderly rows. Clean lines. Straight walls. Windows that caught and reflected the steady glow of interior lighting. Some stood open, wide doors thrown back as people moved in and out. Others bore simple signs advertising goods or services that Strom couldn’t quite make out at this distance.
The space between them wasn’t empty, either.
People filled it.
They moved along the roadside in loose flows, crossing between buildings or pausing at small stands set up near the street. A few groups clustered in quiet conversation. Others walked with purpose, carrying tools or goods as they headed toward their destinations.
Strom’s gaze drifted across the crowd.
Goblins made up a good portion of it, but they weren’t alone.
A pair of tall figures passed one of the storefronts, their pale skin catching the light. They stood a full head taller than any goblin nearby, their forms long and slender. Their faces were smooth, with no visible eyes, only the faint contours where they should have been.
Cindy practically crawled over him as she leaned across the seat, peering out the window with a frown.
“Velari? Here? I thought they kept to the deeper tunnels?”
The Velari moved through the crowd with an easy, unhurried gait. One paused, tilting its head slightly, massive ears twitching. As the bus rolled past, it turned toward them and lifted a hand in greeting, a faint, fanged smile spreading across its face.
Strom didn’t comment. His attention had already shifted to another figure in the crowd.
This one was shorter than the Velari, closer in height to the surrounding goblins, but there was no mistaking what it was. Its vaguely humanoid form was a mass of writhing roots, constantly shifting and curling over one another. A Sylthari. Much like Deep Goblins, they often suffered from the reputation of their surface kin — the wild, temperamental Dryads — though in truth they were a gentle people, and rarely formed tribes or families, tending instead toward a wandering, solitary existence.
Farther ahead, a pair of dark-skinned Deep Elves stood near one building, speaking with a goblin behind a counter. Their posture was relaxed, almost casual, their eyes sharp, though their presence was easy to miss unless you knew to look for them.
Around him, the murmuring of the adventurers grew louder as more recognized the strangeness of it all.
Some adventurers leaned across their seats to get a better view. A few pointed openly. Others sat stiffly, watching in silence as the scene slipped past the windows.
The more Strom saw, the deeper his brow furrowed.
Eventually, he turned toward Storyteller and raised his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Strom?” she asked, bright as ever.
“If you could, I’d appreciate it if you cleared up a point of confusion,” he said. “The report I was given stated that the village in this cavern held roughly a hundred and fifty individuals. It also mentioned that it was only recently established.”
Storyteller nodded, encouraging him to continue.
His gaze flickered toward the passing buildings, then back to her. “Would you mind explaining these… discrepancies?”
A few heads turned at that.
Storyteller’s grin widened.
“No need for such formal language, Mr. Strom,” she said lightly. “You’ll find we’re not quite as sensitive as the clans and sects you’re used to working with.”
A few chuckles rippled through the bus.
She swept one hand toward the window as the transport rolled past another stretch of buildings.
“But as one of the original villagers you’re likely thinking of,” she added, “let me assure you — you’re in the right place.”
That earned her a few skeptical looks.
Without missing a beat, she turned and tapped the front panel.
The map flickered back into view.
But this time, it was different.
Gone were the clean lines. The roads. The network of nodes.
In their place was something rougher, less defined. A wide stretch of green filled most of the display, broken only by a small cluster marked as a village toward the northeast and a single point along the southwestern wall labeled “Nest.” The rest of the map was either dense, unbroken forest or simply empty.
Several of the adventurers leaned forward to get a better look.
“To be more specific,” Storyteller said, “the village you’re likely thinking of is where we’re headed, not where we currently are.”
She gestured toward the passing buildings.
“What you’re seeing now is something much newer. Built to support visitors entering from the Nexus. Very few people are allowed deeper in at the moment.”
A woman in the back scoffed.
“You expect us to believe all this was built in under two months?”
Storyteller turned toward her, still smiling.
“I know it’s difficult to believe,” she said. “But as I mentioned earlier, you’ll find many things in this place you would have thought impossible before coming here.”
She tilted her head slightly, then gestured toward the window again.
“But don’t take my word for it.”
The bus moved on, the road stretching ahead as the buildings began to thin.
“We’re drawing near the development zone,” she added. “Why don’t you take a look for yourselves?”
Several heads turned at once as the next stretch of road came into view.
Sure enough, the crowd outside thinned as the bus continued onward, and the steady bustle of the town gave way to clear signs of ongoing construction.
At first, nothing seemed particularly strange.
On either side of the road, half-finished buildings stood in various stages of completion. Workers moved between them with practiced efficiency, calling out measurements and hauling materials as needed. Streams of gray, mud-like substance drifted through the air in slow, controlled arcs, guided by mages who stood with hands raised and eyes narrowed in concentration. Nearby, tall metal cranes lifted slabs of stone and metal that would have taken a full team of laborers to move by hand.
It was unusual, sure, but not impossible.
Strom had seen similar work in Halirosa. The scale was larger, and the tools were… different, but the rhythm of it felt familiar. Organized. Understandable.
Even if every single worker were a goblin.
A few of the adventurers relaxed slightly, tension easing from their shoulders as they watched. Someone muttered something about “fancy toys,” and another snorted in agreement.
Then the bus rolled farther in.
The change came slowly at first.
They passed several buildings where they would have expected to see bricklayers setting walls or carpenters perched atop scaffolding, yet only skeletal frames stood — lattices of dark metal rising several stories high. Clean lines formed rigid outlines of future structures, but nothing filled the spaces between them. No stone. No wood. Not even any visible materials waiting to be set.
Just bare frameworks.
Strom frowned.
The next thing he noticed was the workforce.
The goblins thinned out, replaced by clusters of small, floating spheres. Each orb was no larger than a man’s head, its smooth surface glinting faintly under the cavern light. Dozens of them moved in loose formations, drifting between the metal frames without any visible means of propulsion.
The bus slowed slightly as it passed one of the sites.
A goblin stepped forward from somewhere, as if he had been waiting for this moment. Nearly two dozen of the orbs trailed behind him, following like a flock of lost puppies. He paused and lifted a strange helmet from under his arm — smooth and dark, with no visible seams. Without hesitation, he set it over his head and walked toward the skeleton of the building.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then he raised both hands.
Like a conductor leading an orchestra, the orbs responded instantly. Their formation tightened as they surged forward as one.
What followed unfolded too quickly to fully process.
The orbs moved in eerie unison as panels slid into place along the skeletal frame, locking together with sharp, precise clicks. Narrow pipes threaded themselves through open channels, weaving tight patterns along the interior. Bundles of colored wiring followed, snapping into position in clean, ordered lines.
Even as they watched, the structure began to fill in.
By the time the bus had moved past, nearly a third of the building had taken shape. Behind the swarm, a team of goblins moved in, tools in hand, as if picking up where the orbs had left off.
Cindy leaned over Strom, her eyes wide. “That’s…” she began, though no words followed, as if she couldn’t quite find them — a rare thing for the talkative woman Strom had learned always had something to say.
The woman who had scoffed earlier sat rigid in her seat, staring out the window, giving her best impression of a fish.
Farther back, three robed mages leaned toward one another, voices low and urgent as they argued in low whispers.
If that had been the end of it, Strom didn’t doubt it would have been enough to convince most of the adventurers on the bus.
But it seemed Storyteller had one more surprise for them.
Beyond the skeletal frames, the scene shifted again.
However, what should have been empty lots awaiting construction was instead something that sent a chill down Strom’s spine.
Thick clouds of darkness rolled across the next stretch of land, each one contained neatly within its own plot. They churned in slow, shifting patterns, folding inward and spreading outward again in a way that made them feel… alive.
The bus fell silent.
Several adventurers straightened in their seats. Hands drifted toward weapons. One man half-rose before catching himself.
“What is that…” someone whispered.
As they drew closer, the clouds began to thin.
Shapes emerged from the darkness.
At first, they were faint — little more than outlines, barely visible through the shifting mist. Then they sharpened.
Inside the swirling black, the forms of buildings appeared. Similar to the metal frameworks they had just passed, but… incomplete.
Though only for a moment.
As they watched, beams formed out of nothing. Lines of metal appeared in the air before locking into place with precise, deliberate motion. Supports thickened. Joints reinforced themselves. The entire structure grew outward, piece by piece, as if the building itself were unfolding into existence.
This time, the silence inside the bus was absolute.
No one spoke. Even the faint shuffle of armor had gone still, as if the entire group had frozen in the face of what they were seeing.
They simply watched as the structure within the cloud took shape at a pace that defied reason.
Strom swallowed.
Then, without looking away from the window, his voice slipped free in a flat whisper.
“How fast can these buildings be constructed?” he asked — the question no doubt on every mind.
Storyteller’s smile widened, as though she had been waiting for that exact question.
“From breaking ground to fully operational,” she said, “our current construction time sits at about fourteen hours for standardized commercial buildings. Slightly longer for more specialized structures.”
She clasped her hands behind her back.
“Though Mr. Alpha believes we can reduce that to ten with proper scaling.”
For a moment, Strom didn’t respond. His mind went blank, as if it refused to process what he’d just heard.
Then his eyes widened.
Two buildings a day.
He leaned back slowly, his gaze drifting from the clouded plots to the passing road.
That was impossible.
Even the largest sects couldn’t manage something like that without dedicating entire teams of high-level cultivators. The coordination alone would take weeks to organize. The materials. The manpower. The cost—
His thoughts stalled again.
He turned his head slightly, looking back toward the last site they had passed.
Not one of the workers he had seen had been above peak-Bronze Spirit.
And that had been a single building.
He looked farther out.
More clouds drifted in the distance. Not one or two, but dozens, scattered across the development zone like seeds waiting to take root.
A knot tightened in his gut.
When the clans and sects wanted to boast of their power and reach, they did so with grand displays of cultivation or magic. They moved hills, filled valleys, and called down mighty storms.
Yet never once, in nearly a century of life, had Strom heard of anything like this.
This…
This was something else.
For all his experience — for all the strange and mystical things he had seen — if someone had told him this was possible, he would have laughed in their face.
Strom exhaled slowly and turned his attention back to the front of the bus.
Storyteller met his gaze with the same cheerful, friendly smile as before.
Yet now, that smile unsettled him in ways he couldn’t quite understand.