For some, those five minutes passed in a blur. For others, they dragged on like five long hours.

  At last, it was time to move.

  Alaric tried to stand but faltered, his limbs heavy with exhaustion while his mind was, at times, fading. Hector stepped in without hesitation, wrapping an arm around him.

  “Don’t push yourself. I’ll carry you,” he whispered, hoisting a half-unconscious Alaric onto his shoulders. His gaze then shifted ahead to Nox and Shira, who were sprinting toward them.

  Alaric murmured a quiet thanks before surrendering to the weight of fatigue. His eyes closed, and he let himself slip into unconsciousness.

  Nova observed the scene briefly, then turned his attention to the pair approaching. As they skidded to a halt before him, he asked simply, “Done?”

  Shira said nothing, a quiet nod was enough for her.

  “Everything’s settled,” On the other hand Nox replied. “The commanders will meet us at Quarath.”

  After moving through the channels of their respective factions, they spread word of the new plan to both their factions and the other five ones. Their swift return was made possible by the two’s meticulous preparation and the necessity of maintaining rapid communication—an essential need for forces without a true base of operations.

  “Good. We leave now,” Nova said, stepping forward. With a burst of energy, he launched himself into the air, ascending so quickly that, to those without the strength to follow, he soon became nothing more than a distant dot.

  The generals exchanged glances—wordless understanding passing between them—before leaping after him, following their leader’s path through the sky.

  Covering thousands of kilometers was now a trivial feat for them. The journey passed without incident. Though Nova could have reached Quarath in a mere half an hour, he deliberately held back, choosing instead to travel alongside his generals. The slower pace gave him time—to think, to reflect.

  Several hours later, they arrived.

  Quarath stood tall on the horizon. By the standards of the Federation, it was a well-developed city, not unlike Univara in structure—but with a distinctly different soul.

  Quarath was infamous.

  It held the highest crime rate in the entire Federation. Every vice imaginable had its own district: gambling, smuggling, black market trades—even assassination had its place.

  And for Nova, that made it perfect. In this den of shadows and shifting loyalties, they would lay the foundation of their organization.

  Nova led the seven generals into the heart of the city, his eyes fixed forward. Without breaking stride, he spoke, voice calm and commanding.

  “Shira. Find us a large complex—preferably uninhabited or cheap. It needs to accommodate at least a few hundred people.”

  No response came. But by the time his words ended, Shira had already vanished.

  Nova continued, not wasting any time even though they still didn’t have a base he assigned tasks as they walked.

  “Malachi, once we secure a location, you'll be in charge of maintaining it—repairs, logistics, all of it.”

  He shifted slightly, his tone steady.

  “Hector, your faction will handle security. Make sure no one gets close without our say-so.”

  “Darius, continue training your people. Keep them sharp.”

  He paused for a breath, then turned his head just enough to glance at Adira from the corner of his eye.

  “As soon as we find a place you’ll begin your training immediately. No breaks. No excuses.”

  Adira swallowed hard, a faint but audible gulp escaping her. She gave a quick nod in reply, and Nova turned his gaze back ahead.

  “Nox, you're on standby for now. But don’t get too comfortable—I’ll have something for you soon.”

  He exhaled, the sound just barely touched with fatigue or thought.

  “That’s it for now. I’ll speak with Alaric when he wakes up.”

  They moved through the city, weaving between dense crowds. Quarath was teeming with life—noisy, chaotic, and far more crowded than anything Nova had seen in Univara. The sheer energy of it pulsed through the streets like a living thing.

  ‘The city with the highest crime rate… yet it's this busy? Strange.’ Nova walked on, eyes scanning the bustling streets. ‘Is there some kind of unspoken agreement between the people? Or is chaos the norm here?’

  His gaze drifted across the storefronts until it landed on one with a bold sign hanging outside:

  “Survive with My Weapons.”

  Outside the shop, several cold weapons were on display—swords, axes, spears. They looked sturdy but unremarkable, likely average-quality pieces meant to attract attention without being too valuable to steal.

  Nova mused ‘I wonder how far Humanity’s blacksmithing has come.’

  Without fully realizing it, his feet changed direction, carrying him toward the shop.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Behind him, the generals began murmuring among themselves.

  “Did Boss take a liking to a weapon?” one whispered.

  “Unlikely,” another replied flatly.

  “Don’t forget,” a third chimed in, “he’s been trapped inside that portal for six months. He probably hasn’t seen anything like this in a while.”

  Nova stepped inside.

  The shop was dimly lit but clean, the walls lined with weapon racks and display cases. A small crowd had formed, waiting patiently at the counter, where a girl—no older than her mid-twenties—handled customers with brisk efficiency. Her expression was calm, practiced, like someone used to fast-paced work.

  There was little noise beyond the low murmur of customers and the rhythmic clanging of metal echoing from a room in the back—likely the forge. The air smelled of iron, smoke, and old wood. Nova took it all in silently.

  He paused, tilting his head slightly as he listened to the quiet chatter and the distant ringing of metal. But after a few seconds, his expression tightened into a frown.

  ‘Why do they sound so... off?’ he wondered, brows knitting. ‘Crude technique. Uneven rhythm. It’s like they’re forging with their eyes closed.’

  Shaking his head, he turned his attention to the weapons on display inside. He stepped toward them, letting his gaze sweep across the racks of swords, spears, and daggers.

  The closer he got, the deeper his frown grew.

  Reaching out, he ran his fingers along the surface of a nearby sword. Even with the lightest touch, he could tell—it was poorly tempered. The balance was off. The metal would likely snap after a few days of real use—maybe weeks, if handled delicately.

  Unable to help himself, he muttered under his breath, voice laced with disbelief:

  “What is this garbage?”

  The reaction was immediate.

  Heads turned. Every person in the shop stared at him—some with confusion, others with narrowed eyes and smug smiles, as if daring him to repeat himself.

  A middle-aged man near the counter, holding a sword of his own, scoffed.

  “Garbage? Are you new here or just stupid? This is one of the top shops in Quarath.”

  A few others nodded in agreement, puffing up with local pride, while the rest remained silent—curious, entertained, waiting to see what would happen next.

  Nova didn’t even glance at the man. Instead, he gripped the sword more firmly and turned it over in his hand, analyzing its weight and craftsmanship with a practiced eye.

  A soft chime echoed in his mind as a system notification appeared, displaying the weapon’s stats and properties.

  [The Best Sword]

  · Strength: +1

  · Dexterity: +1

  ‘This blacksmith must really love himself’, Nova thought, lips twitching with the ghost of a smirk. A quiet chuckle slipped out as his eyes landed on the price tag:

  Price: 1 Gold Coin.

  He shook his head. ‘At least he’s self-aware. Even he knows this sword is trash.’

  Deciding he’d wasted enough time in the shop, Nova turned without another word and signaled his generals. One by one, they followed him out in silence. He didn’t spare a glance for the others in the room—didn’t care to know their names, didn’t want to know the blacksmith’s, and had no interest in meaningless conversation.

  To him, they were irrelevant.

  But not everyone in that room would forget him.

  Among those still lined up was a young man, barely fifteen, with unkempt pitch-black hair and wide, curious eyes. He clutched a greatsword almost as tall as himself. Before Nova’s arrival, he’d admired it—awed by the craftsmanship, impressed that such weapons could be forged without the aid of modern tech.

  But after hearing Nova’s dismissive words… after seeing the presence he commanded, the six figures who followed him without hesitation…

  He looked down at the sword in his hands—and saw it differently.

  Where he once saw strength, he now saw flaws. The weight distribution was awkward. The edge was dull. The lines weren’t clean, the forging uneven.

  It wasn’t a mighty weapon. It was just metal—unrefined, uninspired, shaped into something that only resembled a greatsword.

  And in that moment, something shifted inside him.

  Realizing the stranger had been right, the young man made a quiet decision. Without hesitation, he returned to the shelves and placed the greatsword back where he’d found it. The admiration he’d once held for it had vanished.

  He left the shop without a second thought.

  A single, passing comment from Nova—spoken without intention, without even noticing him—had changed the course of his path.

  Meanwhile, the six generals continued walking through the dense streets of Quarath, weaving through the crowds in silence. Ten minutes passed before Shira reappeared, moving swiftly toward Nova with a thin folder in hand.

  She held it out as she approached. “This contains the top locations where we can set up,” she said.

  Nova took the folder with a nod. “Good work.”

  Finding a relatively quiet spot away from the crowd, he opened it.

  There were four listings.

  ‘Only four?’ Nova frowned slightly as he flipped through the documents, skimming them one by one. ‘Fewer than I expected for a city this large.’

  He didn’t bother looking at the prices. That part was irrelevant. All that mattered was space, location, and potential.

  The first complex had sustained minor damage in recent events. Its residents had already been evacuated as a precaution, but to Nova, the damage was nothing significant—easily repairable.

  The problem was the location.

  It was in a safe district. Too safe. Too clean. Too controlled.

  ‘Next.’

  The second option was far worse—a crumbling structure on the verge of collapse. According to the report, a fight had broken out between two residents, both of whom had used their class’ elemental abilities. The clash had destabilized the foundation.

  Nova didn’t hesitate. He shook his head and turned the page.

  ‘Useless.’

  The third complex immediately caught his attention. It sat at the border between two zones—one moderately safe, the other more chaotic. The building itself was partially destroyed, but the foundation remained solid and untouched. Structurally sound. And crucially, spacious enough to accommodate hundreds—possibly close to a thousand.

  ‘This... has potential.’

  Still, he flipped to the last entry.

  As soon as he saw the location, a knowing look crossed his face. He didn’t even bother reading further. Without another thought, he snapped the folder shut and turned toward his generals, who stood a few meters away, chatting while waiting.

  “We’re taking two complexes,” Nova said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

  Malachi blinked. “Two?” he echoed, as if trying to confirm he hadn’t misheard. His voice carried a trace of disbelief—he was already feeling a little lightheaded at the implications.

  “Yes, two,” Nova confirmed, his tone steady. He glanced at Malachi and added reassuringly, “Don’t worry—you’ll be in charge of our main complex. Leave the other one to a commander better suited to handle it.”

  Malachi let out a quiet breath of relief and gave a respectful nod. “Understood.”

  Nova turned to address the rest of the group, his eyes scanning each of his generals.

  “The reason we’re taking two is simple.”

  He held their attention with a calm authority.

  “One of the buildings sits right on the border between the safe zone and the crime zone. It’s strategically placed and stable—perfect for a commander to oversee. That complex will serve as our bridge to the outside.”

  Darius raised a brow. “Isn’t that enough, though?” he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. “Why take the second one?”

  Nova’s gaze shifted to him. “It would’ve been—if I hadn’t seen where the last complex is located.”

  He paused for effect, a smile playing at his lips.

  “It’s right in the heart of the crime zone.”

  Hector nodded slowly, piecing it together. “One’s the bridge…” he murmured, “and the other is the main HQ.”

  “Exactly,” Nox added, smiling. “It’s a perfect setup.”

  Darius took a moment, running the idea through his head. The logic was sound. With both locations, they could operate in both worlds—legitimacy and control on one side, and power and influence on the other.

  Nova turned toward the southern part of the city, taking a measured step forward he said “Now, let’s go visit our new home.”

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