Orders carried themselves outward like a wave. Bells rang to summon authority, their tones harsh and irregular. Lawkeepers, Lawspeakers, Wardens, Dreadnoughts, and Inquisitors fanned into the streets in disciplined lines, knocking on doors with the flats of blades, shattering locks where compliance lagged. Elves were pulled from apothecaries and carpentry shops, dwarves dragged from forges with soot still on their hands. Cries rose, protests followed, all cut short by binding light that wrapped limbs and stole strength.

  Kalix walked the streets as the roundups began, more to be seen and to oversee. Fear sharpened when it had a form to put to the emotion, and his armor provided one worth remembering. White and gold sunbursts gleamed against polished plates, immaculate despite the grime of the city. Where his shadow passed, resistance faltered, and where it did not, bodies were left as warnings. Even mortals with no ability to gauge the strength of a foe instinctively felt his power, like rabbits in the presence of a lion.

  The merchant quarter was chosen with care. It was broad, open, and central, a place where trade had once flowed freely and crowds gathered without coercion. There, under the watchful eyes of shuttered balconies and boarded windows, his forces erected a platform of stone and light. It rose quickly, guided by geomantic commands and anchored with sigils that drank panic and exhaled obedience. Chains were fixed into the surface, etched with runes that burned away defiance before it could form.

  By dusk, the square was filled with captives forced to their knees in ordered rows, backs straightened by compulsion if will failed them. Elven faces were pale with shock and fury. Dwarves were grim and silent, jaws set against the inevitability pressing down on them. Kalix noted it all without reaction. Diversity of response was irrelevant. Outcome was not.

  He ascended the platform as the last light drained from the sky, and the city leaned inward to listen. Magic carried his voice without amplification, spreading it evenly across stone and air. “People of Basetown,” he said, tone measured and precise. “You harbor corruption. You shelter a fey who defies the Lawgiver and disrupts the natural order of this world.”

  A few sobs broke free from the prisoners, silenced by a tightening of chains. Kalix continued without pause. “You have been given time to surrender him. That time has expired. For each hour that passes without his appearance, lives will be taken.” He gestured once, and the runes along the platform flared. “This is not cruelty. This is a balancing of the scales of justice.”

  He let the words settle, and felt belief and terror begin their work. Somewhere in the city, he was certain, the fey prince would feel it. If not through conscience, then through consequence. Either way, the matter would resolve.

  Kalix clasped his hands behind his back and looked out over the square as night fully claimed the sky. The Lawgiver’s will pressed close now, approving in its silence. Order would be restored, and if blood was required to write the lesson, so be it.

  Azuria tore free of the Void with a roar that never reached sound, momentum bleeding away as reality reasserted itself around her. The transition burned in her memory, and she folded her wings instinctively as the last echoes of nothingness slid off her scales. Below her stretched a world that made her slow mid-glide, oceans and cloud bands arranged in patterns that felt uncomfortably familiar. It was not the same world she had left, but it rhymed with it in ways that made her instincts stir.

  She felt the bond immediately, faint but unmistakable, a thread of presence that pointed like a compass needle toward Samvek. The connection was muted for some reason that she couldn’t understand. She’d previously assumed that, as soon as she reached the same world he was on, she would regain the full depth of the connection. Yet even muted, it carried enough emotion to reassure her that he lived and fought and endured. That knowledge steadied her breathing and let her focus on the more immediate problem of exhaustion. Crossing the Void always exacted a toll, even from a dragon.

  But something else did catch her attention. A realigning of their bond. Her companion had leveled several times, and because of their bond, each level produced growth in her that would have taken decades or even centuries to gain otherwise. Dragons, unlike lesser races, never stopped growing until they died. The problem was that growing midair was problematic. She needed to land and rest.

  Azuria angled downward, letting gravity take her as she skimmed through the upper clouds. Salt and water filled her senses as the ocean rushed up to meet her, and she folded her wings at the last moment, plunging cleanly into the depths. The cold wrapped around her like a familiar cloak, pressure settling against her scales as she sank a short distance before leveling out. Here, in the deep blue, the world was quiet enough for her thoughts to slow.

  She didn’t even hear the cursing from Talia about not warning her they were going underwater. Well, she heard it, but it was a distant concern. Two-legged creatures were usually fragile, but Talia was the chosen mate of her bonded. Azuria expected her to be able to carry her own weight, and it turned out she could, as long as she was surrounded in some sort of defensive bubble floating up on the surface. That was enough to tell Azuria that she could tune out the woman’s complaints.

  She floated for a time without urgency, letting her muscles loosen and her body stabilize. The water carried traces of mana that felt different from what she remembered, thinner in some places and oddly dense in others, but not hostile. It was safe enough, and that was all she needed for now. This mana was all plain, without any aspect. In that way, it reminded her of Ileria, the world of her birth. Eventually, she found a sheltered trench along the ocean floor and curled in on herself, wings tucked, tail wrapped close.

  Sleep came quickly, a dragon’s sleep that hovered between rest and awareness. Even as she drifted, Azuria kept one part of herself tuned to the distant pull of the bond, mapping direction and distance without conscious effort. She knew that when she woke, she would rise and fly until that thread grew stronger. Samvek was somewhere on this world, and after a short rest, she would find him. Hopefully, he’d be suitably impressed by her growth. As all wise dragons learned, one of the best parts of being bonded was having someone who was always focused on you.

  The ship Allanna was on had finally pulled within sight of the harbor. She could feel the presence of the Order’s ascendant. She smirked. While she wasn’t a warrior, she was still a fey, and a princess at that. She knew well how to hide her presence, even if the human fools were too brutish to understand such things.

  She also felt a ping from her hidden ally. She didn’t trust a void fey, let alone one who had betrayed his own kind, but self-interest was a powerful motivator. If all went well, she’d soon have her nephew in hand and would be headed home with a scapegoat to blame for everything. She smiled. Things were coming together nicely, even if she abhorred the possibility that she might have to engage in battle.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine: Preparations

  I was done with this floor and just wanted to leave. The levels were welcome if not game-changing. The loot reward, Blood of the Herald, raised questions, but I wanted to wait until we got outside of the dungeon to review it. The immediate question was how to exit the dungeon. My new mastery of spatial mana gave me confidence, but there was also the fact that it might not be as fast as a system-guided spell.

  The message about Unity still hung heavy in my mind, but without more information, there was little I could do about it until I’d resolved my quest and the conflict in Basetown. When that was done, I wanted to explore my ability to enter the Void, and see if we could find a way home, with a pitstop in the Divided Realms.

  I glanced over at Violet. “Ready to leave?”

  She looked me up and down. “I’ve hung around with worse. To be honest, I was just trying to be quiet over here. I wasn’t certain if you’d take me with you or…” She made a slashing motion across her neck with her thumb, and her gaze trailed off to where Felania’s body had been. The dungeon had already reabsorbed her, so it was just an empty space now. A memory of a memory.

  “You know she was a dungeon monster, a shadow of a person who once lived, right?”

  “Yeah, but when I looked at your face, I wasn’t sure if you realized that. You did her a favor. No one would want to live like that.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, but heavy is the head and all that.”

  The confused expression on her face told me that the expression wasn’t one in common usage on her Earth, so I kept talking. “Eventually, I’ll want to hear more about this integration of yours. I’m going to tell you now that I’m planning on getting home. I have too many people counting on me. It will mean traveling through something called the Void, and I doubt it will be pleasant. But it is necessary. I don’t want to promise more than I can deliver, but I’ll try to get you back to your corner of the multiverse.”

  “Eventually, of course,” she said. “I don’t know what Ooglie and Ainsely would do without me. Probably get into all kinds of trouble. Learning more about other places wouldn’t be a bad thing, though.”

  I nodded. “We can work out the details later, but first we need to find the exit. Oh, and I should mention that I’m likely to get attacked when I leave the dungeon, but I’m confident I can get us away safely.”

  She tapped her hand on her blunderbuss. “Well, if you can’t, I’ve always got Ballbuster.”

  I shook my head. “I suspect I’m missing some context to that weapon’s name. But maybe I don’t want to know.”

  She grinned. “Let’s just say the bigger they are, the harder they fall… if you know the right spot to hit them. As a gnome, I found it’s usually my best option to keep my guns level with the ground, if you catch my drift. As for the exit, it’s over there. I’ve been trying to decide if I could reach it quickly enough to avoid you killing me, if you were so inclined. These stubby legs aren’t exactly good for running, although I suppose I could always roll into a ball and take my chances.”

  “Dang, not gonna let the murder thing go, are you? Let’s get out of here. I’ve even got another gnome to introduce you to.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not into shorties.”

  I could only laugh, but the laughter died when I ran into the open doorway, only to be bounced backward off of an invisible barrier. Once I righted myself, I let my perception expand and felt a faint flickering of mana sealing the entrance. That was when the voice started speaking, a booming voice that I felt in my bones but which wasn’t actually all that loud. It was also obviously intended for everyone to hear.

  This is the perfect time for you to make a decision. You have proven yourself, but you have also seen samples of how the Ways can assist you. There is also a neutral third party present.

  Will you accept the offer to become the Herald of the Ways?

  I had already decided on the answer, but I still didn’t appreciate being forced to give it. “I must respectfully decline. I already have too many obligations. But I wouldn’t mind being considered an ally of the Ways.”

  There was silence for a full minute, and I got a sense of deliberation.

  This is as anticipated. You still need a class from the Fey System, but should you gain one, we will gift you the trait Ally of the Ways. It will assist you in many ways, but per our compacts, we cannot give you traits without you first having a class. Making you a herald would have bypassed that and removed you from any authority the three queens might have.

  We can, however, provide you with a tool. After examining your system interface, we believe that with your title, Tinker with All Systems, we can grant you an upgrade to one of your abilities, which will serve our purposes as well.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Only that we can offer a modification to your ability The Majesty of Space. It would become The Majesty of Space—Seed-Bearer of the Ways. Among other things, it would allow you to plant a Seed of the Ways in various other systems, allowing new paths for travel to grow.

  You seem to be one who values connection. This is a way to make the multiverse more connected. It touches upon Unity indirectly.

  If you are bothered by the vague terms we offer, then feel our sincerity. We mean you no harm and will do everything in our power as governed by the compacts to further empower you. This is new territory for us, so the exact shape the boon will take is unknown.

  We will also assure you that we have no intention of building roads for war, even if passages through the Ways could be used in such a manner by others. Our intention is purely to facilitate growth. We wish to cover the entire multiverse, providing an alternate means of travel.

  They were right. I could feel their sincerity. It was like a supernatural doubt removal. That was weird in its own way, but I couldn’t bring myself to question the intentions of the offer.

  I only thought about it for a second before agreeing. As soon as I accepted, the response was immediate.

  The power that surged into me was more than the typical flow of mana or life force, or even Vitae. Instead, it arrived as orientation. My awareness expanded sideways rather than upward, touching distances that were not measured in meters or miles but in relationships. I sensed intersections, dormant junctions, and half-formed routes scattered across realities I could not see, only intuit. The Ways did not speak again, but I felt their influence settle into me like a guiding hand placed just shy of contact, present without pressure.

  The dungeon quieted around me. It was subtle but unmistakable, like machinery spinning down when a higher-priority process took control. The ambient mana thinned, stepping aside, leaving space for something else to pass through. I realized then that the power I was being offered was not meant to be consumed or hoarded. It was meant to be directed, shaped, and embedded into something that already existed.

  I turned inward and found The Majesty of Space waiting.

  It no longer felt like a single ability so much as a region of authority, a domain within me that understood distance, position, and passage as malleable concepts. I did not reach for it the way I would have triggered an ability. Instead, I framed the problem the way an Architect would. I asked what this ability was supposed to become if it were allowed to grow rather than being optimized for combat. There was so much potential there.

  I took hold of the power and authority flowing into me and funneled them into The Majesty of Space. Being an Architect of the System on its own didn’t give me carte blanche to manipulate the system as I wished—if it did, my list of worries would be much shorter. But it did open doors for me and gave me permissions that virtually no one else had. The system wanted to be improved. It wanted new processes. And yet, for some reason, Gallarosa had actively caused it to stagnate.

  Architect of the System opened up the doorway for me, and then I leaned into my title Tinker with All Systems. The enhancement helped me find a bridge between the Fey System and the Heavens. I began to work, shaping the ability and trying to graft on the new power. I fought to make sure that it didn’t lose any of its versatility, and somewhere in the process, I felt a moment of panic.

  Too much of my build, my very survival, had been based on Here Not Here, along with my manipulation of space. I could not afford to lose that ability, so I fought to hang on to it, trying to create a power that transcended my current limits.

  I conceptualized space not as a thing to be traversed but as a medium capable of hosting growth. Pathways were not just shortcuts. They were arteries, capable of carrying influence, energy, and intent between places that would otherwise remain isolated. The Ways had offered me Seeds, not roads, and that distinction mattered. Seeds implied patience, adaptation, and environments that could accept or reject what was planted.

  Resistance answered almost immediately.

  The Heavens reacted the moment I attempted to bind this new framework to The Majesty of Space. It was not hostile, but it was firm, like an immune response detecting an intrusion. It was already familiar with the Fey System and considered it to be inferior. It was open to expansion, but there were still rules. Structural checks flared through my awareness, constraint validations testing for violations of jurisdiction and authority. I felt the system attempt to quarantine the modification, to isolate it as an external add-on rather than allow it to integrate.

  I didn’t push back with force. That would have been a mistake. I wasn’t able to overwhelm the system—either of them—even with the help of the Ways. What I could do was shape the best possible outcome.

  I framed the change as an extension of Architectural responsibility. The Majesty of Space already governed movement and connection within permitted bounds. Seed-bearing did not violate that mandate, but rather enhanced it by allowing those connections to form organically. I demonstrated how the Seeds would respect local system rules, adapting their growth patterns to the environment they were planted in. No forced portals. No unauthorized breaches. Just potential, waiting for acceptance.

  The resistance wavered.

  I felt the Heavens System reassess, its logic loops cycling faster as it tested compatibility. The pushback softened into curiosity, then into something that felt uncomfortably like eagerness. It startled me. I had expected compromise at best, grudging tolerance at worst. What I felt instead was relief, as though the system had been straining against limitations it could not remove on its own.

  Acceptance followed, and after that, a sense of exuberance.

  The Heavens System did not merely allow the change—it leaned into it. Logic frameworks unfolded and reconfigured, making room for the new architecture as if it had always been intended but never implemented. The Ways’ influence threaded through that restructuring, aligning disparate priorities into a shared direction. For the first time since I had begun interacting with multiple systems, I felt them cooperate.