Another month had passed, and the city of Nocture surged forward into a form even Sylvia herself had never envisioned.
Around the city, small settlements began to sprout. Some were branches of new metal production or various agricultural sectors; the rest were housing for volunteers and refugees from the old human world. Elves, dwarves, and even a few beastkin had emerged from portals and chosen to settle under Sylvia's rule.
Nocture was no longer just a city of discarded beings. It had become a center. A center of economy. A center of ideology. And, unofficially, a symbol of threat to the old world still clinging to its hollow hierarchies.
But amid all this progress...
Sylvia sat in the main chair of her office, surrounded by what seemed like an endless stack of documents. Her left eye twitched slightly, her right hand supporting her head, and her magical pen only half-heartedly filling out a report on logistic growth.
