The Kingdom did not vanish with the dawn. It remained, a permanent, glorious fixture in the sky. The golden light it cast wasn't like sunlight. It was softer, warmer, and seemed to make colors more vivid. The two great rivers of light flowed silently, endlessly, beneath the floating citadels.
For the people of Delivery, waking up was a disorienting experience.
Kazuto opened his eyes in his sleeping scrape. The familiar rock ceiling of the basin was gone, replaced by a breathtaking view of the underside of the celestial city. Spires of light descended like inverted mountains. It was beautiful, and deeply weird.
He sat up. The air was perfectly still, but fresh. It smelled clean, like after a rain, but without the damp. He could hear… almost nothing. No wind. No distant animal calls. Just the faint, deep hum of the rivers above, a sound you felt more than heard.
The first to approach him was Ban. The cook had dark circles under his eyes but moved with purpose. He held out a steaming cup. "Tea. Mint. For the nerves." He glanced up, his neck craning. "The light is good for growing things, I think. Very even. But the quiet… it will take getting used to."
Kazuto took the tea. "Thanks. How is everyone?"
"Confused. In awe. A little scared. But… safe. You can feel it. Like being wrapped in a very thick, very polite blanket." Ban pointed with his chin. "The scary lady is still on the rim. She hasn't moved."
Kazuto looked. Talene sat exactly where she had sunk down, knees drawn up, staring at her hands. She looked smaller.
He drank his tea and walked over to where Doom and Mavis were standing, looking at a section of the basin wall.
"The dome is gone," Mavis said, not looking at him. Her fingers traced the stone. "But the structural integrity of the tunnels is unchanged. The Kingdom's effect seems to supersede the need for physical reinforcement. It's fascinating. And terrifying."
Doom grunted. "It's also very bright. Good for detail work. I can see every flaw in my mortar." He sounded almost offended by the perfection of the light.
"What about…" Kazuto gestured vaguely upward.
"The Kingdom is a conceptual overlay," Mavis said, finally turning to him. Her eyes were alight with analytical fire. "It doesn't replace physical reality; it enforces a new set of rules upon it. Within the twenty-mile radius, the primary rule is 'No Harm.' All your sub-skills are now passive, ambient effects. You don't need to activate barriers. The very space refuses to allow violence."
"So we're… done?" Doom asked. "We just live here now, in this… this postcard?"
"Not done," Kazuto said. "We just have better lighting." He looked at the planters. "The gardens will grow faster. The water is pure. We have room to expand. A lot of room."
He walked towards the rim, climbing the now-unnecessary invisible steps out of habit. He stopped a few feet from Talene.
She didn't look at him. She was flexing her fingers, watching them move. "I tried to summon a spark," she said, her voice hollow. "Just a little one. To light a candle. I can't. The thought forms, but the universe here… ignores it." She finally looked up. Her amber eyes held no fury, just a deep, exhausted confusion. "What do you do in a world where you can't burn?"
"You learn," Kazuto said. It sounded stupid, but it was true. "You do something else."
"I am Entropy. I am Ash and Fire. There is no 'something else.'"
"Then you sit," Kazuto said, not unkindly. "And you watch. And you see if maybe 'something else' finds you."
He left her there and descended back into the basin. The daily routine was starting, but everything felt different. The goblins weren't on the rim; they were inside, poking at the golden-lit ground with sticks, chattering about the strange, warm dirt. Lunch the lizard was basking in a beam of light, looking more content than ever.
Elder Leon had gathered his students. "Balance!" he called. "Find your center! The ground may be peaceful, but your feet still need to know it!"
Balmond was practicing his axe forms, but the movements were different. Without the driving need to unleash destructive force, they were becoming more precise, more artistic. He looked less like a berserker and more like a very large, very intense dancer.
The overseer in its original cube was pressed against the wall, gazing up at the Kingdom with an expression of religious terror. The new, bigger prisoner on the rim had rendered its own containment quaint.
Mid-morning, the first "visitor" arrived.
It was a fox. A normal, reddish Scablands fox. It trotted right into the basin through the now-open gully, its nose twitching. It completely ignored the people, walked over to Lunch's pen, sniffed the air, and then curled up in a patch of light a few feet away and went to sleep.
No one had ever seen a wild animal act so calmly around people. It wasn't tame. It was just… unafraid. Harm was not possible here, and the fox somehow knew it.
Hat the goblin stared at the sleeping fox, then at Kazuto. It pointed at the fox, then at its own mouth, then shook its head vigorously. Not food?
"Not food," Kazuto confirmed. "Neighbor."
Hat looked disappointed, then thoughtful. It walked over and cautiously placed a single, shiny pebble next to the sleeping fox, a gift, then scurried away.
The day progressed. People worked, but the work was quieter, more focused. The constant, low-grade fear that had been the background noise of their lives was gone, leaving a strange silence they had to fill themselves.
By afternoon, Talene came down from the rim. She moved slowly, like someone in a dream. She walked through the center of the basin. Dwarves moved out of her way, not out of fear, but out of a sort of bewildered respect for her former power.
She stopped at Ban's kitchen area. Ban, who was kneading dough, froze.
"What is that?" Talene asked, pointing at the dough.
"Bread," Ban said, his voice tight.
"It… changes state. With heat."
"Yes."
She watched him knead for a full minute. "That is a kind of fire," she said quietly. "A slow, transformative fire." She looked at her own hands. "I cannot make fire. But… perhaps I can understand it."
She didn't offer to help. She just stood and watched, her intense, amber eyes following Ban's every movement as if it were the most complex magic she had ever seen.
At dusk, the golden light of the Kingdom softened, deepening into a twilight that felt cozy rather than dark. Stars became visible through the intricate, glowing architecture above.
The community gathered, as usual, but the mood was contemplative. They ate Ban's bread and a rich stew made with the first greens from the planters, which had indeed grown noticeably in the perfect light.
Kazuto stood up. All eyes turned to him. He didn't know what to say. 'We won' felt wrong. This wasn't a victory over an enemy. It was the start of a new condition.
"The delivery is complete," he said finally. "The address was here. The package… is all of this." He gestured around. "Our job now is to be good caretakers. To figure out what a place where nothing can be broken… can build."
He looked at Talene, sitting apart, watching the fire. He looked at the overseer in its cube. He looked at the sleeping fox, at the contented lizard, at the hopeful, confused, determined faces of his people.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we start mapping the new territory. All twenty miles of it. We've got a lot of space to fill."
He sat down. No cheers. Just a slow, collective release of a breath no one knew they were holding.
Under the eternal, gentle gaze of the Kingdom, the Safe Haven Federation began its first, peaceful night. The world outside was still cruel and dangerous. But here, for twenty miles in every direction, a new rule was in effect.
And the manager of this strange, peaceful branch office was finally starting to think about the paperwork.