Tancred had expected checkpoints.

  Concrete barriers. Armed patrols. Sensor gates humming with threat.

  That was what power looked like now.

  Instead, he found a train platform.

  Not armored.

  Not hidden.

  Just clean.

  Steel beams arched overhead, half covered in transparent shielding. Construction cranes stood frozen like patient animals. Workers in reflective jackets moved alongside families dragging luggage, talking quietly, tired but not afraid.

  No panic.

  No shouting.

  No guns in sight.

  Tancred stood at the edge of the platform for several seconds, watching.

  “This is wrong,” he muttered.

  Abyss was supposed to be dangerous.

  Anything Xior built had to be.

  Yet this looked like a city still pretending the world was normal.

  A train hissed to a stop.

  Doors opened.

  People stepped out.

  And nothing happened.

  No sirens.

  No alarms.

  No soldiers barking orders.

  Tancred exhaled slowly.

  “Interesting.”

  Xior waited near the transit exit, dressed plainly, hands in his coat pockets.

  No entourage.

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  No bodyguards.

  Tancred approached.

  “You’re under armed,” Tancred said.

  “I’m under targeted,” Xior replied.

  Tancred snorted.

  “Same thing, eventually.”

  They shook hands.

  Xior’s grip was firm, controlled.

  Not a fighter’s grip.

  An owner’s.

  They began walking.

  The streets were wide.

  Deliberately so.

  Emergency lanes ran down the center, painted faintly into the pavement. Buildings rose in neat clusters, modular, expandable. Every structure had multiple access routes, visible emergency exits, reinforced lower levels.

  Tancred noticed everything.

  “How many redundancies?” he asked.

  “Seven visible,” Xior replied. “Four hidden.”

  “Only eleven?” Tancred said.

  Xior glanced at him.

  “You’re optimistic today.”

  They passed a temporary school.

  Children sat on portable benches while a teacher explained something using a cracked whiteboard. Armed drones hovered overhead. Unthreatening, silent, purely defensive.

  A little girl waved at Tancred.

  He froze.

  Xior noticed.

  “She thinks you’re a construction worker,” Xior said.

  Tancred stared at the child.

  “…Good.”

  They reached the central district.

  Here, construction intensified.

  Power cores were being installed. Water systems sealed. Transit tunnels reinforced.

  Everything pointed inward.

  “This city isn’t meant to expand outward,” Tancred said.

  “No,” Xior agreed. “It’s meant to sink roots.”

  They stopped before an unmarked building.

  No signage.

  No windows.

  Xior scanned his palm.

  A panel slid open.

  “Restricted,” Xior said.

  Tancred smiled. “Now we’re talking.”

  The elevator descended only three levels.

  For now.

  Bare stone.

  Fiber lines.

  Reinforced bulkheads.

  Servers stacked in climate controlled walls.

  Altes stood waiting.

  He looked exhausted.

  “You’re early,” Altes said.

  “Curious,” Tancred replied.

  They walked through the underground core.

  Emergency shelters.

  Defense conduits.

  Signal hubs.

  Sealed vaults.

  Tancred ran his hand along a blast door.

  “Rated for what?” he asked.

  “Direct S plus impact,” Altes replied.

  “And?” Tancred pressed.

  “Twice,” Altes said.

  Tancred nodded.

  “Acceptable.”

  They reached a central operations chamber.

  It was unfinished.

  Half installed consoles. Open wiring. Projected maps flickering.

  Yet even incomplete, it radiated intention.

  “This is where you actually rule,” Tancred said.

  Xior shook his head.

  “No,” he replied. “This is where I refuse.”

  Tancred frowned.

  “Explain.”

  Xior gestured upward.

  “Up there, people live. Shop. Study. Argue. Fall in love.”

  He gestured downward.

  “Down here, we prepare for collapse.”

  Tancred considered that.

  “You’re building two cities,” he said.

  “One honest,” Xior replied. “One necessary.”

  They sat.

  Altes poured coffee from a thermos.

  It tasted terrible.

  Tancred drank it anyway.

  “Why show me this?” Tancred asked.

  Xior did not answer immediately.

  “Because,” he said finally, “you don’t mistake preparation for cruelty.”

  Tancred’s eyes narrowed.

  “Most people do.”

  “Yes.”

  Silence.

  Then Tancred spoke quietly.

  “You’re assuming everyone fails.”

  Xior met his gaze.

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Tancred laughed softly.

  “Good.”

  Later, when Tancred left Abyss that night, he did not look back.

  He did not need to.

  He had seen enough.

  For the first time since Iria died, he had found a place that did not pretend tragedy was an exception.

  It was built into the walls.

  And he trusted it.