NOVPUBAfter a couple of hours, the curtain of light begins to dissolve—slowly, like fog under a rising sun. The glow softens, dimming in waves, and then—
Fwum.
A sudden gust of energy rushes outward as the last remnants of the veil vanish. The crowd gathered in Misorn gasps as one, all eyes locked on the newly revealed structure at the heart of the plaza.
It stands like a crown of marble and obsidian—arched gates woven with glowing filigree, shimmering runes etched into the frame, pulsing gently with power. A dome of crystal above the structure rotates slowly, channeling ambient mana into the node. Within the gate, a swirling pool of silver light shimmers—active.
The portal is open.
For a heartbeat, the monsters are silent. 𝓃𝓸𝓋𝓹𝓾𝓫.𝒸ℴ𝓶
Then a young harpy in the crowd lets out a shriek of joy. "IT'S DONE! IT'S REALLY THE LEGENDARY PORTAL!"
"By the gods, look at that beauty!" an elderly troll mutters, leaning on his cane, eyes wide with reverence. "Minister Thano wasn't kidding. This thing's… a miracle!"
A pair of fox-kin merchants start hopping in place. "Do you think it connects to the others already?" one asks.
"Who cares! I'm jumping in first!" shouts a bulky minotaur youth, pushing forward with laughing eyes.
The excitement spreads like fire through dry grass.
Children scamper closer to the gate, held back by laughing parents. Traders with carts are already discussing routes. Guards post themselves instinctively at its sides—not out of fear, but pride.
"It's open in Cras too!" someone shouts from the back, waving a communication crystal. "I just got word—people are already stepping out of the portal there!"
The cheers rise louder.
In Delon City, far to the east—known for its artisan guilds and majestic forges—the scene is no less electric. Crowds gather in the Artisan Plaza, where sculptors, enchanters, and master smiths pause their work to witness the unveiling.
As the light fades, revealing their own intercity portal, a slender lizardfolk with golden spectacles gasps, "The craftsmanship on that gate… who built this? It's divine work."
A dwarf-shaped golem, humming softly beside him, claps its stone hands together. "Function and form… at last! We can send apprentices to Misorn for rare ores without waiting weeks!"
From the steps of the Stonewheel Foundry, Guildmaster Renki folds his arms, nodding in approval. "All hail the king," he says gruffly. "This is a miracle."
---
In Varestand City, the site of the Celestia Magisterium Academy, the students have poured out of their domed lecture halls. Robes flap in the wind. Young monsters of every kind—scaled, horned, winged, and shadow-wrapped—gather near the tower's southern courtyard where the portal has formed.
"Ohhhh! Look! It's glowing like an arcane reactor!" a young naga squeals, floating slightly from excitement.
A bat-winged professor adjusts her monocle. "No… this is far more advanced. The spatial layering alone—do you feel the binding spell around it? More than tier 5! At least!"
The gate hums once—and a handful of civilians from Misorn walk through, blinking in surprise as they step onto Varestand's soil.
The students lose it.
"I WANNA GO TO CRAS!" one shouts.
"I'm visiting Delon! I've always wanted to see the Singing Anvils!"
"Forget class today! This is historic!"
Inside the highest spire of the Celestia Magisterium Academy, the air smells faintly of scorched paper and old ink. Magical scrolls hum quietly from their racks. The walls of the Headmaster's office are lined with tomes, crystal globes, and jars of rare beast eyes. But at this moment, none of it matters.
Groth stands on the wide stone balcony just outside his office, clawed hands resting on the smooth railing, his long crimson tail twitching behind him. The wind carries the distant cheers of students and citizens below, but his golden eyes are fixed squarely on the swirling, silver gate that now pulses in the courtyard.
The old salamander's voice is rough and low, like coal scraping iron. "...So. It's real."
His molten gaze narrows slightly.
He watches the portal churn and shimmer with otherworldly power, its energy pressing against the very air like the breath of a slumbering god.
Groth doesn't move. Doesn't blink.
He just stares.
Then he lets out a slow, smoky breath through his nostrils, steam curling from the corners of his mouth. "…Your Majesty," he mutters under his breath, the edges of his voice worn with awe and disbelief. "You are full of surprises."
His clawed hand rises, gently stroking the edge of his jaw as if to reassure himself he's still awake. "Portals… real portals… in my lifetime…" He chuckles once, dry and disbelieving. "Never thought, I would see one. We used to call them legends. Lost magic."
He shakes his head slowly, voice quiet but laced with reverence. "And yet here you are… building them in a day."
Groth turns his gaze skyward, toward the distant direction of the Noctaris City. There's no way to see Alix from here, but it doesn't matter.
--
In Cras, the trade capital, things move faster.
The second the light fades, merchant caravans already waiting at the base of the plaza surge forward. Porters load boxes. Couriers sprint toward the gate. Money changes hands at record speed.
A grizzled orc merchant grins as he flips a gold coin into the air. "You know what this means?" he says to his partner, a sleek goblin in a bright vest.
The goblin grins. "Business. Big business."
"New customers, new routes, same taxes," the orc chuckles. "Praise the King."
Around them, traders are already stepping into the portal with bags of goods, slipping through to Misorn and beyond.
And in the fifth city—Norrest, the frontier city closest to the southern marshlands—things are different, but no less electric.
Here, the population is wilder, more rugged. Beasts with coarse fur, swamp-scaled lizardfolk, towering insectoids, and outcast mutants roam the streets. The city's architecture is rough-hewn and fortified, built for defense against what lurks in the wilds beyond.
When the curtain of light fades, even the wind pauses.
Then a chittering hiss erupts from a mantis-woman standing near the front. "It worked…!"
A deep-voiced ogre near her slams his fists together with a booming laugh. "No more swamp slogging! We're finally connected!"
"WE'RE ON THE MAP, BABY!" a two-headed kobold screeches in perfect unison, tail flicking with glee.
The portal pulses once, then stabilizes with a resonant hum.
A group of armored beastkin step through from Misorn, blinking against the brightness of Norrest's crimson sky. The crowd breaks into a roar.
"Look at them!" someone yells from the crowd. "They came straight through! That's real, it's real!"
One of the marsh-born lizardfolk kneels low, clawed fingers splayed on the stone at the gate's base. "Solid mana foundation. Old magic… real old." His voice is reverent. "This isn't just technology. This is… history reborn."
-----
Far across the sea, the light of the portal dims behind Alix and Thano as they step out onto rough, untouched ground. The air here is heavier, untouched by civilization for centuries—wild and brimming with old mana.
"Here we are," Thano mutters, adjusting the satchel on his hip and scanning the terrain.
Alix nods, his gaze calm as he surveys the surroundings. The field is flat and surrounded by distant ridges of black-stoned hills. A perfect place to anchor a new gate.
Thano wastes no time. With a gesture, he calls over a team of builders and enchanters already waiting on standby—elite specialists that had come through ahead of them. Wooden crates of materials, glowing crystals, and metallic rods are already being unpacked.
The Minister claps once, sharp and clear. "Form the base circle! Mages, stabilize the leyline flow. Enchanters, follow me!"
Construction begins at a rapid pace. In moments, runes are carved into the soil. Floating anchors rise, humming softly as they align. The very earth starts to pulse with latent energy as the frame for the new portal begins to form—an elegant echo of the others, but raw and incomplete.
Alix watches in silence, hands behind his back.
But then—
Flicker.
A crimson glow pulses softly from a metal token hooked to Alix's waist. Another pulse. Then a third, faster and insistent.
Thano wipes sweat from his brow, a long iron beam hovering in place beside him, suspended by mana threads. Sparks flicker from a nearby forge, casting a glow on the half-finished structure towering behind him.
Alix approaches, his steps firm. "I'll be heading out for a bit."
Thano glances over his shoulder, eyes squinting against the firelight. "Alright. After you come back, everything will be done and ready, Your Majesty."
Alix gives a small nod. "Good."
---
Back at the base, the air is cooler, quieter. The moon hangs high above the darkstone walls as Alix steps through the arrival gate. Gander follows close behind.
Lathar is at his desk, scrawling something across a stack of reports when the shimmer of the gate catches his eye. He looks up, surprise flickering across his face.
"Oh, you're back already?" he asks, standing. "Where's that person you were with?"
Alix adjusts his cloak, voice steady. "They called another meeting. As for him—he already left, he will be back."
Lathar raises an eyebrow. "Another meeting, huh? Must be something serious, then."
"It is," Alix replies. "That's why we need to go."
Lathar doesn't miss a beat. He grabs his coat from the nearby stand. "Then I'm coming with you."
Alix gives him a brief nod, then gestures toward the inner teleportation hall. "Let's move."
They step through the portal, the runes flaring around them.
A heartbeat later, the two appear in the central building, already humming with activity. Officers and aides move quickly through the halls, papers and crystal tablets in hand.
No time is wasted. They walk with purpose, their boots echoing sharply against the polished obsidian floor. Guards stand at attention as they pass, some saluting, others quickly stepping aside.
