Manager Hisako stood on the balcony of his senate chambers, dressed in a fitted business suit. A streak of silver ran from his bangs that side-swept into neatly trimmed sandy coloured hair. His matter-of-fact speaking came with boyish good looks and a wide, firm jaw – a smooth operator with the soul of a demon.

  Xylos, the city of infinite mana, bent to his will – though its citizens called it democracy. He controlled the narrative and thus the lives of millions. Hisako looked across the bubbling molten lake to the swirling steam banks of the ventlands – this was the last bastion of civilization, and he stood at the heart of the empire of man.

  Hisako handled people, conglomerate heads, burrow bosses, pressers for the teeming masses, but his most trying duty was – the Leader.

  He needed to be careful. Emperor Mercer was a fickle man, prone to rash and unpredictable decisions. He would be reporting in soon, and the information gathered by their strike team was…inconclusive.

  The head of MaxTech assured Hisako – before their signal was lost, an abundance of mana had been discovered, readings far exceeding their wildest dreams.

  “Majordomo, inform the Leader, I’m ready to speak with him,” Hisako spoke to the air as he positioned his back to the expansive view. The Leader appreciated attention to detail and took great pride in the Senate’s view.

  Every citizen was implanted with a social chip at birth – it attached directly to the cerebral cortex, and allowed for a seamless interface between citizen and the Market. Social chips, or ‘esees,’ enabled experience or xp transactions, augmented reality video calls, and ran a host of other apps created by DevCon.

  Emperor Julian Mercer the I, the Greatest Leader of all Time, and the Systems Blessed Ruler, projected over the balcony.

  Pink pouty lips, a smug grin, and beady eyes empty of any emotion – save one, self-admiration. He was dressed as always in an olive green military uniform, tucked into calf-high brown leather boots. The uniform contained his body, like bags of cottage cheese.

  The symbol of the empire – a crimson wind serpent devouring its own tail – was emblazoned on his dual shoulder patches, and his breast was covered in brightly decorated medals. “Speak, Hisako – I don’t appreciate being made to wait – and what are you doing outside, move into your office immediately, you fool.”

  Hisako gritted his teeth, “Of course, Leader, it was absent-minded of me – I shall take more care next time.

  Hisako seated himself at his desk, the Leader’s projection now centered in his office, as he absent-mindedly fiddled with his medals.

  “MaxTech has gone over the data from our recon mission–”

  Mercer’s eyes snapped to Hisako’s, “How much mana was there?

  Hisako hesitated, only for a moment, and Mercer’s eyes narrowed.

  “How – much – mana – speak plainly, Manager.” The Emperor spoke with a barely restrained fury.

  He’s in a mood today, thought Hisako, “The readings were off the scales, Emperor.”

  Mercer’s eyes shone like diamonds. “We send the armada – I shall make the announcement today.”

  Hisako nodded, the Emperor had already cut his feed. He let his head drop, his palms pressed into his desk.

  All across the city, people stirred, from the engine rooms of Haveena to the polished streets of Aleban, where high-levels – wined, dined, and shopped from gaudy windowfront stores. The Majordomo’s announcement was on everyone's mind; the Leader would speak today.

  Leopold the [Engineer] toiled in the bowels of Haveena, where whining pumps and gouts of steam were a constant symphony. Leo wiped his brow, listening to it all, the slightest change in tone or pitch – like an alarm bell to his finely honed senses. His red coveralls and matching conductor’s cap marked him as a shift lead.

  Leo had an easy demeanor, kind eyes, a bushy mustache, and a keen sense of duty and honor – one developed after a lifetime spent in the service of Xylos.

  A hushed silence fell over the engine room – the Majordomo was speaking, the Leader’s announcement was imminent.

  Butterflies tickled Leo’s stomach. This was it, the moment he’d been waiting for – the engine room consultant had passed along his discoveries. Xylos would reach new levels of prosperity, and all its peoples would be free to xp and grow in peace.

  Leo was a rare talent – most down in the engine rooms were simply [Tool Pushers] – taking their instructions from popular apps, purchased through their esees. Work in the engine room had little value in the eyes of greater Xylos – low-level work, for simply folk down on their luck.

  Leo saw these rooms as the beating heart of the City. He knew every lever, button, hand crank, and aether condenser.

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  The Leader’s smiling projection phased into existence, and Leo’s chest swelled with pride – this was it.

  Beneath Xylos, under the lake of lava, a network of tunnels – a subway. Smooth, plas-crete bricks supported high-arched ceilings, and glowing fluorescent lamps lit small stretches of the underground.

  Thousands gathered in hundreds of small clusters, circled projectors – rigged to intercept Xylo’s main feed.

  They were dressed in rags, covered in grime, underweight, malnourished, and had the look of someone whose soul had been snuffed out. Their mechanical parts, limbs, or organs, lost in service to the City, often failed – leaving them crippled and unable to repair themselves.

  Tossed out like garbage, no longer of any use to the City, the Proles watched projected screens, with eyes devoid of hope.

  Projections of green interlocking runes slid across screens – a digital manifestation of the feed's language – flashed white, before Emperor Mercer blinked into existence.

  He wore a serious expression, arms behind his back, as he looked directly into the camera. “These are dark times, my people – dark times indeed.

  He lowered his chin as he pursed his lips, as if unsure where to begin. Suddenly, he lifted his head, dramatically, gripping his chin in a cupped fist.

  “The threat of the barbarian horde, foul creatures winding their way from the depths of the Scar, and the City’s mana bar under constant danger of dipping below the safe zone – We have waged war on those lazy, criminal elements – that would drain our xp and threaten our way of life.

  He started pacing, arms gripped behind his back, as his speech reached a fevered pitch.

  “You’ve all seen the bar’s improvements since I took power – never before have we lived with such high levels of mana – and yet, and yet – it is not enough.

  He pointed to the sky as he paused to look directly into the camera, for the second time.

  “I have found a new mana source – and even as we speak, Xylo’s armada is forming up!

  He smiled, like a wolf in sheep's clothing, striking fear into the hearts of the Proles, as he slashed his hand down.

  “The System is my guide, and I shall not fail you – steel your hearts, my people, for victory will be ours.”

  Emperor Mercer slapped his fist across his heart and clicked his heels as he stood straight and proud. His image unwavering, burned into the minds of all, before winking out – the message delivered.

  Leo stared into the air, all the blood drained from his face – he was numb all over. He sat where he’d been standing. The armada – a new source of mana? Xylos did not need any of that; peace was already here – his new condensors operated at unprecedented levels of efficiency.

  With the armada being launched, all exploration and research would come to a halt. Xylo’s would be singularly focused on war – and the armada, the great pride of the City, had not been launched in…

  Already, Leo heard excited whispers from the workers, but he didn’t care; he knew something was terribly wrong.

  He hardly noticed when two soldiers garbed in black, their polished boots clicking on the decking, dragged him to the nearest lift.

  They held him roughly between them, threats of a beating failing to bring any life to the [Engineer]. The lift stopped at the Senate Burrow, accessible only to those above level [50] and their families.

  Leo ignored the flat roofs, acute angles, and simple brutal designs around him. He barely noticed the green grass, sparkling fountains, and laughing children, who splashed and played without a care in the world.

  It was nothing like the small, geometric, and stacked dwellings of the lower levels; not even Aleban could compare to its immense wealth.

  There was no hope left in Leo. He knew he wasn’t going to be rewarded. He thought about the conversation he’d had with Consultant Tin, how the man had listened to him, made him feel heard. He could still picture Tin’s warm smile and reassuring tones as he gripped Leo by the shoulder and assured him his discoveries would be taken to the Burrow Boss.

  As he was marched into the colosseum’s celler, Leo thought of his family, of his Father, who, like he was an [Engineer]. He missed his father so much that it hurt; he had been the last person Leo could speak passionately to about his work.

  The cellar sloped down like a giant funnel, at its center a void sphere – swirling with grey, and crackling with energy.

  The guards stopped at the edge, before shoving Leo, whose face impacted the sloping wall as he rolled and bounced down the side, vanishing like a stone cast into a pond, passing through the void sphere.

  The two guards dusted their hands and smiled at their xp gains, as they turned on their heels and marched from the colosseum – they had a party to attend.

  The City of Xylos was a flurry of activity after the Emperor’s announcement. The atmosphere was primarily festive as preparations for the armada took place.

  Burrows gathered in celebration – last meals with family and friends. Song and dance could be heard in the lower levels, while spirited debates and competitive wagers took place in the upper burrows.

  Those of means and levels more interested in placing bets on favored champions, gladiators, and imperial guards. Levels, custom classes, and deaths would and could all be wagered – a favorite pastime of the elite.

  In the lower burrows, levels were sacrificed, as those not joining the armada purchased goods and supplies with xp, so that their loved ones would have the best chances of success.

  Xylo’s mana bar surged as purchases skyrocketed.

  The City shook that night, as calls of celebration and triumph echoed across the Elysian Fields.

  The next day, citizens watched with rapt attention, frozen in place wherever they stood, as the first engines of war rolled from Baylor’s silos.

  Proud Consultant flanked by legions of [Tool Pushers] watched as tanks, transports, and ornithoptors emerged.

  Transport vehicles like armored torpedoes splashed in tan and brown camouflage paint, each carrying thousands of shock troops. Tanks towered above transports, their sleek angles, sharp corners, and matte black colours splashed with the city’s crimson symbol. Ornithoptors were mounted onto the sides of transports – two on each side, ready to take wing.

  The armada moved across the Burrows decks, heading for the teleportation ring – soon to be activated for the first time in decades.

  A cacophony of Cheers rang across the city as the portal shimmered – springing to life, a sharp, crackling orange field danced across its surface.

  The lead tank's cannon disappeared through the barrier. As the cheers intensified, the armada vanished, one by one – until the portal winked out, leaving the City of Xylos to wait for the return of their heroes, and the glory of their people.