We were right in the middle of town. A fountain filled with crystalline water stood before us, and the ground was covered in cobblestones. Surrounding the fountain, a large avenue stretched from one side of the mountain peak to the other, and alongside it, several buildings had been raised.

  Some were very small, like studio apartments for struggling students, while others were large and tall, fitting far more people.

  The houses were made of simple white stone, with wooden windows and doors. They weren’t meant to be practical, but beautiful.

  Alongside the blocks of houses were parallel side streets, but no buildings. In one corner of the peak, a semicircle had formed, with a few squares placed side by side, five feet apart.

  When I looked in that direction, the word “Crafters” appeared before my eyes, but there were no crafters there—whatever that meant.

  “You did it, Zach. It was kinda scary, but it was awesome too,” Mary said, stepping close and punching me on the shoulder. Normally her punches made me stumble, even when she was joking. This time, I stayed in place. My Constitution was showing results where I didn’t expect.

  I smiled at the short woman and looked down, where Max’s body was supposed to be—but he wasn’t there anymore.

  Whatever the system had done to him, in one way or another, it was as if he didn’t exist.

  “Thank you,” I said to Mary. Elk and Tress walked up and took turns hugging me.

  Elk’s hug was awkward and brief—he ended up patting me on the side of the arm.

  “What is this?” I asked, laughing.

  “You hugged me the other day. Thought you’d want one now or whatever. Also saw Mila embracing one of her friends.”

  "You're terrible at giving hugs, Elk, but thanks. I'm glad you're alive."

  He only nodded as Tress moved ahead and gave me a strong hug. I felt her arms press against my ribcage, but I let it happen. She smelled salty and, at the same time, flowery.

  "I told you I wasn't going to die," I reassured her. She cracked a smile—she’d seemed about to cry a second before.

  "You barely made it, though," she said and caressed my face with her gauntleted hand.

  "He was a little stronger than I thought, but I managed."

  "We could hear the voices, dude. The gods’ ones, I mean—they were inside our heads too. Max’s one... I don’t know if it was wise to threaten it."

  I shrugged. I’d already done it and meant every word, so there was no reason to be doubtful now.

  "We'll see what happens," I told them, watching as Mila's party and the elves from Tress’ tribe entered the veil and started wandering through the town.

  I took a look at my system messages again and searched for something related to the town. There’d be more the next day—the hostess had promised me—but I was sure there were still things to learn now, and I hoped I’d learn them before I had to answer questions.

  After searching for a second, I finally saw it.

  As the city owner and administrator, you'll earn 2% of every transaction made with credits inside your city, be it through the shop, direct trade between competitors, or between competitors and assigned crafters.

  You and your party have a house designated for you. It will be comfortable and spacious, with separate or shared rooms for everyone. This housing is free for your party. All other city members will have to pay a daily price to stay here. If they want to keep having a safe haven, they'll need to fight monsters and earn credits, be sponsored with credits, or trade them for what they deem necessary.

  Anyone can check the price of housing at the shop. Some products are cheaper in town than they are outside, and all members of the town will be healed 3x faster inside the city's boundaries.

  You'll have to accept them one by one. Other people can enter the town if it doesn't have walls or gates, but they won't be able to interact with the features unless you give them permission or delegate someone to do so.

  The town, as it is now, is a template. Tomorrow, you'll learn more about how to expand it.

  Wait for the show.

  "Right," I muttered. That was a lot of information, but not too complicated for now.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  As Mila approached with a big smile and a tight hug, I matched her happiness.

  "Does it make me a bad person to be happy he's gone?" she asked.

  "It only makes you human, I guess," I replied, hugging her again, happy she was alive and free of the fear she'd been carrying all these days.

  I explained the city to her and how it worked, and as I did, a message appeared before my eyes:

  Do you want to accept Mila Martinez as a member of Triad City?

  [Y/N?]

  I thought yes, and she seemed to receive a message inside her brain.

  "I'll do this with everyone else now, right?" I told her, and she gave me space as I moved toward one of the members of her party. I explained it to the first one in line, deciding to make it an individual speech instead of a public one. Some people overheard the individual conversations, but I still had to repeat it a few times.

  By the end of the next thirty or so minutes, I knew the names of almost twenty-five people, and they were all ready to decide where they'd stay based on their economy.

  "Now, we have just one more thing to deal with," I muttered as I looked in the other direction. Still close to the veil but not threatening to pass it, the rest of Max's party stood watching us. Some had sat, but others were standing with crossed arms.

  I walked toward them and heard my party's steps getting close.

  "No. Stay there. It's part of the plan, and it's not one where I put myself in danger," I reassured them before they could ask anything, then kept walking.

  I stopped ten steps away from the veil. They were only seven people—three men and four women. I knew the dark-skinned man was the smiling one from the beach, and also seemed to be Max's number two. One of the women, with black, military-cut hair, was the mage who'd made the meteorite. She had a sword in hand.

  The others I didn't know or hadn't seen. One of them, though, caught my attention. He was a teenager—the first one I'd seen in the competition. He had freckles all over his face, was very lean, and his red hair leaned toward dark orange. He stared at the ground the whole time and seemed the most out of place of them all. For a moment, I could swear he was muttering something.

  I pitied him, being so young and thrown into this situation. Some of the others looked grim—one man looked angry at me—but most of them just looked exhausted.

  "You can enter. Nothing will happen," I told them, and they traded a few glances. They apparently knew some of these walls could burn people if touched from the wrong direction. "I'm telling the truth." I gave an earnest smile, and the dark-skinned man moved ahead.

  He crossed the veil and came out completely intact on the other side. The others followed one by one, forming a line.

  I looked back and saw Tress clearly distressed, with Mary holding one of her hands and saying something to her.

  "So, what do you want to do? Max is gone—which, I must admit, I'm not sad about. He wasn't a nice guy. You all saw the show when he killed someone to make sure he'd survive, even if they still had a chance together." Jaws twitched, eyes looked down, and some seemed eager to speak, but as I continued, silence reigned over the space. "I understand you, though. He was strong—very strong. Sometimes we need a guy like that to make things work. I'm strong, but I don't have the crazy part... most of the time. So, what do you want to do?"

  I crossed my arms and waited, looking at each one of them with a never-wavering smile.

  "You'll pay for what you did!" the woman shouted at the top of her lungs.

  "Don't be stupid, Sarah," Max’s second intervened, grabbing one of her hands. "We lost."

  "The bastard killed Max. He saved our lives," one of the men added. He was grizzled and had a solid build for his age—probably around fifty.

  He and the black-haired woman weren't my fans, and that was all I needed at the moment—an example.

  They shared a glance, and he produced a hammer in his hand.

  Both of them dashed toward me fast, probably an F2 and F1 in speed, but it didn’t matter. As soon as they reached five feet from me, their weapons raised in the air, a shockwave hit them like a truck.

  Then flames burst out of thin air, and they were hurled away. The smell of burning meat and hair hung thick in the air as the sound of them tumbling down the mountain echoed in my ears.

  "So, I assume the rest of you want to join?" I asked.

  The teenager got up, wiped his clothes, and moved toward me, extending his hand.

  "Name's John, sir. I'm a mage, as you can see on my bracelet. Thought it’d be nice to throw magic spells. I was wrong." He chuckled as I shook his hand. "If you ask me, Max was a piece of shit. I wouldn't mind joining the town. Is that possible?"

  Do you accept John Thorn into your town?

  [Y/N]

  The kid's eyes lit up as he saw the message. The others moved fairly quickly to join John instead of Max's loyalists.

  "You sure you want this? I thought you were his second," I asked the last of them—the dark-skinned man.

  "I was, sir. He was nice most of the time, at least with me, but he gave me the creeps. I want to survive. I’ve got two sons and a wife back home. My loyalty's with them, if you understand me."

  "I do. One day at a time."

  "One day at a time," he replied, flashing his wide grin. "I was hoping the non-lethal shot in your friend would be enough to convince you I can be trusted." He offered, eyebrows slightly raised.

  "So, you want me to believe it was intentional?"

  He grinned again. "I can only shoot once per day, sir. But I can show you tomorrow—I’m the best hunter in all Angola."

  "I can't wait to see it." I smiled as we shook hands, and I accepted the man I now knew was called Adriano into the town.

  Two kids and a wife—the exact number of people he could help.

  When he walked toward the city center, he probably scanned his messages, because he halted, his back straight, and looked back at me.

  He was crying—a stream of tears poured from his eyes without consent.

  I nodded at him, feeling proud of myself for the first time in ten years.