The days that followed were a blur of construction, commerce, and consolidation.
Essim threw himself into the work with the focused intensity of someone who had learned, painfully, where his strengths actually lay. No more chasing leaderboards. No more competing with combat specialists on their home turf. Instead, he did what no one else in the Ascendant Realm could do: he multiplied.
Gold chests—duplicated by the tens of thousands. Their contents flooded the alliance's warehouses with rare blueprints, high-tier weapons, construction materials, and unique items that couldn't be found anywhere else. The WMA's inventory became the envy of the region. Alliances that had once ignored them now sent envoys requesting trade partnerships.
The island grew. One hundred and twenty kilometres on each side now—a territory that could comfortably hold a small country. Combined with the ten core members' merged territories, the WMA controlled over a hundred and fifty thousand square kilometres.
Twelve hundred troops became three thousand, then five thousand. Defence towers numbered over two hundred. Flying boats—constructed from blueprints found in gold chests—patrolled the perimeter. A gatekeeper system was established at each of the four main entrances, with badge-ranked guards managing security.
And the people came. Fifty thousand residents within two weeks of opening. Families. Entrepreneurs. Former soldiers. Teachers, artists, craftsmen. The City of Life lived up to its name: schools opened, restaurants thrived, a hospital was established, and an entertainment district drew crowds every evening.
Essim watched it all from his office on the fifteenth floor and felt, for the first time since arriving in the Ascendant Realm, that he was doing exactly what he was meant to do.
• • •
On a personal level, he and Aisha had consumed their Blessing Potions and upgraded their equipment to the highest tier available. Both were Level 20, both capped at Tier 1, and both increasingly aware that the Silver Badge required for Tier-2 promotion remained maddeningly elusive.
They'd opened tens of thousands of gold chests. Not a single Silver Badge.
"I'm starting to think it's not a drop," Aisha said one evening, sitting cross-legged on the balcony. "Maybe it's quest-locked. Or event-locked."
"Laras thinks the same," Essim replied. "She's been searching for six days with Haikal. Forty-six Commander-tier islands cleared. No badge."
He stared at the sky. Three moons hung low, their light silvering the clouds.
"We'll wait," he decided. "The system will give us a path eventually. It always does."
Aisha nodded and said nothing, which—from her—was agreement.
• • •
Essim was walking to lunch when someone collided with his shoulder.
Papers exploded into the air. A young woman in a black WMA uniform stumbled backward and hit the ground, scattering documents across the cobblestones.
"I'm so sorry, sir!" she blurted, scrambling to collect the papers. Her cheeks were flushed, her dark hair escaping its pins, and her expression suggested the universe had been personally targeting her all morning.
Essim knelt to help. "No harm done. Do you work at the alliance?" He'd noticed the golden-coin-and-sword emblem on her jacket—the WMA's insignia.
"Yes, sir. I'm a receptionist at the main office." Her name tag read: Sofya.
She glanced at him, then quickly away. Her status panel, visible to Essim through the system, showed Level 1, Magician class—a civilian, essentially. Someone who'd chosen administration over combat.
"I actually need to head to the office myself," Essim said. "I work there too. Shall we walk together?"
Sofya agreed, visibly nervous, and walked slightly behind him the entire way. She didn't ask his name or rank. She didn't know who he was.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the alliance headquarters—a fifteen-storey tower that Aisha had commissioned during Essim's absence. As they approached the entrance, a familiar voice cut through the crowd.
"Brother!"
Aisha descended from the upper floor in a blur of green light, landing conspicuously in the entrance hall, and threw her arms around Essim.
"You're finally back! I missed you so much!"
Whispers rippled through the crowd of employees and visitors.
"Is that the sovereign?" "Princess Aisha's brother?" "He's quite—" "Shh, he can hear you!"
"Aisha, people are watching," Essim murmured.
"Let them," she said, entirely unrepentant.
Behind the reception desk, Sofya had gone very still. The person she'd bumped into—the man she'd brushed off without a second glance—was the island's sovereign. The leader of the entire alliance.
What a terrible day,
she thought, and quietly resolved to update her life insurance.
Upstairs, in the fifteenth-floor office, Aisha had already prepared a full briefing. The alliance's progress over the past week was laid out in meticulous detail: population updates, trade volumes, defence statistics, and the growing influence of the guilds and associations that had taken root in the city.
"You did all this," Essim said, flipping through the reports.
Aisha shrugged, trying to look modest and failing entirely. "Someone had to, while you were playing hero on a rock."
He laughed — the first real laugh in days. "Fair point."
The city stretched out below them, alive with light and movement and the stubborn, improbable miracle of human civilisation rebuilding itself in a sky full of monsters. Whatever came next, they would face it from here.