Elmore stood beside The Beast, eyes widening as his father went over each meticulously crafted alteration, proof of the old man’s skill and the evolving world of Aither-fueled bullshit.
His father started by gesturing at the engine, now a gleaming hunk of mithril, each component replaced and reinforced. “Every inch of metal in this thing,” his father began, his voice steady and proud, “is now mithril. Strongest metal we’ve got, right? But it’s not just about strength. You won’t have to worry about wear or rust or any of that nonsense. The old rubber tubes? Gone. Mithril tubing all through the guts of it—won't degrade, won’t crack. And if you find something better well I'll just have to do this again won't I” chuckling to himself.
Elmore ran his hand along the hood, feeling the strange, cold warmth of the mithril embedded within. “And what’s this here?” he asked, noticing faintly glowing crystals nestled within the frame.
His father smirked, tapping a large crystal embedded on either side of the engine block. “Aither crystals. Got a dozen of ‘em tucked around. I was told you can do something fancy when they are put together so I hope this helps. We painted the whole exterior black again, just like before, so it looks the same. But under that paint, you’re looking at inch-and-a-half thick mithril plating. Just in case you go running this thing into a monster’s gut again, and I don't care if your chief I will woop yo ass if you break this one too” laughing to himself.
Elmore let out a low whistle, impressed. It was one thing to have a sturdy truck, but this was a tank—quietly disguised as the same faithful vehicle he’d always known.
“And the tires?” he asked, noting the faint, metallic sheen running through the tread.
His father crouched beside one, tapping it with a satisfied grin. “That’s a concoction I’ve had a couple in town working on. Mixed parts from a few creatures you’ve dragged out of that dungeon, along with powdered Aither crystal and mithril wires woven through. The result’s tougher than anything rubber could dream of. Takes shock better, too.”
Elmore nodded, his respect growing with each upgrade. He could see now just how much work had gone into this, every component carefully crafted and sourced from the strange resources of the dungeon.
“Even changed out the oil,” his father continued, eyes gleaming with excitement. “You’re runnin’ on crystal shard beetle fat. Doesn’t spoil, and works like a charm as lubricant. I figured out how to dissolve Aither crystals into it, too—makes it run smoother, more efficient. Should keep you purring along for…well, hell, I don’t know how long. It’s practically ageless now. From whyat i was told”
Moving around to the bed of the truck, Elmore noticed the strange wood—a rich, lacquered material with turquoise rivets running through it. His father rapped his knuckles against it, nodding in approval. “That there’s mushroom wood, tough as iron and lacquered so it’s weatherproof. Found it down in that dungeon of yours. Those turquoise rivets? Mithril, same as the rest.”
Inside, Elmore’s eyes caught on the familiar white interior. He hadn’t thought it’d been altered at all until his father pointed out the old radio. With a look of pride, his father flicked it on, and a quiet hum filled the cabin. “Rewired this myself,” he said, grinning. “It’s got the same effect as those first electronic awakenings you told me about. No power needed now. Connects to any radio station around the globe. Plus, it’s got a whole catalog of music saved up, along with a regular CD player for the good stuff. Had to buy that from a pawn shop up town. They have a lot of those strange pieces of hardware.”
Elmore’s glancing back at his father. “ I'm surprised you have the spare time to build mining equipment and this all on your own?”
His father chuckled, clearly relishing the look on Elmore’s face. “Just one last detail,” he said, tapping the seat foam. “This here? Not even foam. It’s a porous stone, flexible and spongy. Picked it up from one of the miners who swiped it out of your dungeon. Most comfortable rock you’ll ever sit on.”
Elmore ran a hand over the seat, marveling at the odd combination of softness and firmness.
Finally, his father led him around to the front of the truck, lifting the hood one more time. There, in place of the old battery, sat a gleaming block of pure Aither crystal, with thick copper bolts riveted in place. “Battery’s no longer necessary,” his father said, his voice low with a mixture of pride and reverence. “This crystal here powers everything, and it’ll outlast any battery by a lifetime or two at least I think so. And it puts out a constant small push of electricity so however long that thing lasts you will be good.”
Elmore was about to thank him when his father reached over and tapped a small, red button nestled by the driver’s seat. “And this? This here is your ace. Let’s say you’re in a tight spot. This button injects a hit of dissolved Aither crystal oil right into the engine. The whole truck’ll run like it’s got a soul on fire. Just don’t overdo it,” he added, his tone stern. “I’ve tested it once, and the thing’ll roar like a demon has it by the balls. Dangerous as hell, but the truck will survive it. Just not sure if you will.”
Elmore looked at his father, who grinned back with a manic gleam in his eyes. It was the look of a man who had defied the impossible, who had poured his heart and soul into a creation meant to last. He had taken a battered, beloved truck and transformed it into something from legend, a machine forged of both magic and metal, unbreakable in spirit and strength.
The only unchanged pieces were the original windows—glass, plain and unenhanced. “Only thing I couldn’t find a replacement for,” his father said, almost regretfully. “Can’t seem to figure out a way to improve on glass. But everything else? It’s yours, son. It’s The Beast…but better.”
Elmore’s heart swelled with pride, and he reached out to clap a hand on his father’s shoulder. “You’ve outdone yourself, old man.”
His father just gave him that fierce, wild grin again, the one that told Elmore they shared the same spirit. “Couldn’t let you go into that war without a real machine. She’ll keep you alive when all else fails. Now go make ‘em regret ever starting this mess.”
—
As Elmore rumbled down the road in The Beast, the engine growling like a hell spawn unleashed, he marveled at the landscape that had transformed over the past year. What had once been a patchwork town of centuries old mining houses, trash and rusted metal buried into the dirt and half of the roads being dirt roads had now evolved into something that felt almost timeless, eternal. The buildings, now massive stone monoliths of interlocking blocks, looked like they could stand unscathed for centuries, each one carefully cut and fitted without a drop of mortar, as though carved by the hands of giants. Elmore admired the labor poured into each structure, noting how this stonework mirrored the structures built in millenias passed.
More than that, mithril was everywhere—lining doorways, reinforcing shop signs, even woven into the railing that ran alongside the newly paved stone road. It was a sight that spoke volumes about his community’s evolution and resources. In any other place, the sheer existence of mithril would be unthinkable, something too valuable to use so freely. But here, in his valley, it was a symbol of both security and abundance, protected by the sheer strength of their community and the power of their unique defenses.
Most vehicles he passed were armored and reinforced with iron plating. they were every bit as battle-ready as his own. Yet, despite their utilitarian upgrades, each car and truck still carried a personal touch—a touch of paint, custom plates, symbols that showed pride in their families and in the work they did for the community. And though many of the vehicles were clad in thick iron plating, they were somehow anything but intimidating. After conversations with some of the old boys he agreed to donate a certain amount of town funds to making sure all the new armor plating didn't look like ass. After far too many hours of having cars painted and buying stickers that they obviously didn't need, there was more color rolling down the road now than on the pre-Aither roads, where everything was just white gray and black.
He continued down the road, feeling the smooth, solid rumble of the stonework beneath his tires. The road, like everything else, had been built with permanence in mind—large blocks laid with precision, designed to last. There was a kind of nobility in it, a sense of enduring purpose that seemed to reflect the ethos of the entire town: build it once, build it strong, and never have to rebuild it again. His personal issues with his own skill were never truly revealed to the community but he did make sure he hammered home that everything that's built needs to be as sturdy and as weather resistant and plant resistant as humanly possible.
Reaching the outskirts of his land, Elmore was greeted by the sight of a new wall, massive slabs of dark stone rising at least ten feet high, each one three feet thick. This wall circled his territory like a fortress boundary, with mithril grates fitted into the stream to guard against any would-be intruders. It was clear the community had focused its efforts on fortifying the single main entrance into the valley, allowing them to maintain a sense of both security and control over who entered their land. Looking back seeing the towering wall stretch around the tops of the valley as far as his I could see knowing that this is a monumental attack and seeing it near completion struck him that they'd all been working just as hard as he had, they just weren't all rewarded with levels like him.
The back entrance to the valley, damaged and left unrepaired, had been abandoned and had the wall placed in front of it in favor of this new path. Now, a secure, winding road led down the cliff side from the guarded entrance on the mountain top. were the old town Birchhill, a name that's now mostly forgotten other than old signs as people now see his valley as the main town even though it has a lower population than oakhill. the entrance with walls and guardrails guiding any visitors through. The walls entrance had been transformed into a carefully designed combat zone—smooth, stone-paved land with strategically placed barriers and clear sightlines, a defensive stronghold should they ever need to protect their home from a frontal assault. It seems as though they had torn down multiple old homes that seem to have been abandoned, and they also dug out a lot of the terrain to make a large flat area sadly this is technically digging into Birchhill proper above so Elmore resolves that if the battle gets too bad there may be civilian casualties but he has told everyone what's coming and to be ready to evacuate because they're not his subjects he's not bringing them into that danger.
Taking a walk through the valley as he passed more of his people, he noted the glint of mithril armor and weapons. Farmers carried axes with mithril heads, hunters bore mithril-bladed knives, and those heading toward the dungeon wore full sets of mithril-plated armor, some even adorned with aither crystals inlaid into the metal, glowing faintly under the sun. The sight filled him with pride; his people didn’t look frightened. They looked prepared, capable, and proud of the life they had built.
Tourism had picked up noticeably as well, with small groups exploring the town, wide-eyed and full of questions. He could see new businesses popping up, people using their land to set up shops, workshops, and craft stalls. Everyone had space, both front and back yards, that Elmore had ensured were protected by the valley’s conventional laws and with the constant construction most homes were at least two or three stories tall and had a basement so many people devoted the bottom floor to a storefront or workshop. The sense of community and self-sufficiency was tangible; no one seemed lost or idle. Every person had found a way to contribute, creating a network of crafts and trades that kept the town alive with a vibrant hum of activity and if someone didnt want to work a “job” well they just went out collecting and killing in the woods or dungeon. It's dangerous but good money.
He caught sight of a few familiar faces as well, including a group of older, gray-bearded hippies huddled together, animatedly discussing plans for a grow house on the intersection of their all their properties. They were planning on cultivating tobacco, hops, and marijuana—a decision that had taken several votes, debates, and community agreements to approve. The group seemed pleased, talking about how they’d finally reached a compromise on the rules and regulations they’d all agreed on to keep things safe and controlled. Elmore had demanded coffee but it was eventually agreed there would be a separate site exclusively for coffee.
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Further along, he passed by a small crowd gathered around an old rafting company building just outside his territory and the wall. Some of the same older folk had begun organizing efforts to restore it, hoping to reopen river trips down to the New River. It wasn’t just talk anymore; Elmore could see that some work had already begun. The old building was still in decent shape, but there was plenty left to be done. There were plans to rebuild the bridge leading into that part of the mountains and fully restore the facility to offer rafting trips and the other attractions that they had going as a sustainable source of income for the town, drawing both locals and tourists to enjoy the natural beauty of the land past his valley. When it was brought up to Elmore months ago he said for them to be prepared to tear down a part of the wall but only after the war with Charleston.
Elmore pulled over for a moment, taking in the view, the hum of voices, the bustle of life that had sprung up around him. It was more than he could have imagined a year ago, showing what a determined, unified community could achieve. The valley had become more than just a safe haven; it was a thriving, self-sufficient town. And as he watched families, friends, and neighbors go about their work and play, he felt a surge of pride and purpose.
After his trip around the valley, Elmore felt the pressure of time. With only days until the war, he knew he needed to secure every resource that would sustain his town for the future. As he passed through the newly built gates, leaving his valley, the sight of BirchHill caught him by surprise. The town was bustling in a different way than his own—a mix of revival and lingering anxiety. Buildings were back in use, businesses reopened, and people moved along the streets with cautious optimism. There was no stonework, no gleaming mithril, but the familiarity and resilience were palpable. Political signs dotted the streets, beggars in a few places, and shops that once struggled were slowly reopening. It was a town that had taken its hits and kept moving forward, now in an upswing fueled by his success.
He rode through, noting how his valley's success had rippled outward, pushing the neighboring town toward a resurgence. Yet there was a tension in the air, a nervous buzz as everyone awaited news of the war. He knew BirchHill would benefit from their strength and stability if he prepared correctly. His chiefdom needed to be more than just protected—they needed to be ready to innovate, to become ready for anything.
Elmore started by hitting the local hardware stores, grabbing the heaviest and most versatile machines he could find. He cleared out metalworking tools, milling equipment, heavy-duty drills from old coal mines, and just about every piece of manufacturing machinery that he could find in the county. Trips to a few big-box stores added supplies—welders, spare metal sheets,
structural supplies, and an assortment of nuts, bolts, springs ect…. He made several trips back to his valley, each time unloading another bed full of machines, parts, and tools.
But he wasn’t done. An old ironworks, about an hour away, had been struggling to stay afloat since the Awakening. The place was dusty, quiet, its machines nearly unused. Elmore knew the owner—a good man who had been a friend of his fathers for years—and after a conversation, they struck a deal. The owner was ready to sell the business, and Elmore saw the value in acquiring it. Within hours, he had set up transportation to move every machine and tool back to the valley, securing the building and every piece of equipment inside.
After loading up on the tools, he made his way to the bank. He walked in, feeling the weight of the cash hidden in his truck—an amount that would probably make most people go pale. The staff recognized him, especially as the chief of his valley, and after a few tense glances, he assured them he wasn’t about to rob the place. They relaxed enough to help him with his deposit, one that could have paid for entire towns before the Awakening. A bit of paperwork, a few exchanged pleasantries, and the cash was safely stored. Knowing that internet transactions were still possible, he nodded, thanking them as he left.
Finally, with every tool and machine he could gather locally, he returned home, booted up his computer, and dove into the world of online shopping. He went through page after page of industrial and manufacturing sites, selecting everything from 3D printers to CNC machines to metalworking equipment. And then he found it—the crown jewel in his hunt for technology: an entire setup for silicon wafer manufacturing, complete with the tools to make circuit boards and early CPUs. They were relics from the late 90’s early oughts, but they would be perfect for his purposes. With his town’s recent advancements and their own resources, they could use these machines to produce their own technology—maybe even improve upon it in ways the old world couldn’t.
For hours, he clicked through options, selecting each piece with care. Every tool, every machine he ordered was an investment in the future, not only for his generation but for those who would come after. If he couldn’t rely on the outside world for supplies, he would ensure his town had the means to manufacture and sustain itself. By the end of the evening, his account was nearly drained, but his heart was full, knowing he had secured the foundation of a self-sufficient fortress. the biggest hit was when he needed to directly call protection crews for the many semi trucks on their way. The town knew he would spend their money right and after just one question ”how much cash does his people have to protect future generations.” ALL of it was the answer. He was stumped as to why until he realised. They never used cash between citizens. Somehow they kept a cashless barter society going with thousands of people all in one place. The cash all came from tourists buying things.
As the sun dipped below the mountains, Elmore took a deep breath, pushing away the day’s weight. He found Ash and Edward in the living room, Ditzy curled up by their feet. They spent the evening as a family, unwinding in each other’s company, laughing at old stories, and watching Edward’s favorite shows on the big screen. Tomorrow, he knew, would be back to the grind, preparing for the war and the future that lay beyond it. But tonight, he was just a father, a husband, surrounded by the people who meant everything to him.
And as he finally slipped into bed beside Ash, exhaustion washing over him, he felt a sense of calm. The future was uncertain, but he is doing everything he could to make it secure.
The next day was a whirlwind of back-breaking work, though Elmore hardly felt it. The Hall of Beginnings, the largest building in town, transformed into a warehouse of wonder, its vast interior filled floor to ceiling with machinery, supplies, and resources that had never before graced this valley. Semi truck after semi truck had been unloaded, and a hundred townsfolk from all backgrounds had rallied to help, their bodies now aching from the exertion. Elmore not alone this time seemed unfazed; they moved heavy machinery and lifted crate after crate as though they weighed no more than sacks of grain, Aither permeated through their bodies to empower their endurance and strength. This newfound ability allowed them to move without tiring, to push themselves beyond mortal limits.
By the time the last semi was unloaded, half of the 100ish townsfolk were slumped on the steps of the Hall, catching their breath and rubbing sore muscles, murmuring to one another about what on earth they had just unpacked. Massive, unfamiliar machines, compressors for collecting and separating gases, 3D printers for metals ,plastics ,ceramics, and resins, raw elements in neatly packed containers, racks of glassworks machines, precision metalworking tools, and an entire semi filled to the brim with compressed gas tanks filled with refined elements like oxygen, acetylene, argon, xenon. The Hall, already impressive with its high ceilings and open floor plan, now felt like the heart of a bustling industrial age waiting to happen.
After catching their breath, the curious and the skeptical began to approach Elmore. They wanted to know just what this avalanche of machines and materials was meant for. He noticed the spark of curiosity in their eyes, that they needed to understand how this all fit into the vision of the valley’s future, noticing that all those who were the best workers were also far smarter and asked follow-up questions about every tool they moved, there was a qualitative difference between level one and level twos. So, with a quick nod, he called for an impromptu meeting. Everyone who had a skill for making things, anyone with a craft or trade, or simply anyone interested in building something new—he wanted them here. Word spread quickly, and within two hours, the outside of the Hall was packed with blacksmiths, carpenters, tailors, tinkerers, inventors, and more than a few curious onlookers eager to see what their chief had planned.
As Elmore stood at the front, the entire crowd’s attention focused on him. He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before addressing them all.
“I know today was a hell of a lot of work, and I thank each of you for pushing through. What you see here—what’s piled up in there—isn’t just a warehouse of tools. It’s a step into our own future. With these machines and resources, we’re no longer limited to what we can find, or what’s given to us from outside. Now, we can make our own future.”
He gestured broadly at the collection of machines behind him. “What we have here covers nearly everything imaginable. We’ve got metalworking machines, glassblowing and shaping equipment, chemistry kits, and even full industrial furnaces and forges. There are machines here for crafting parts from resin, plastic, and metal, tools that will let us produce wires, power lines, pipes—anything we need to keep our town running and improving. I want every one of you to feel that if you can imagine it, if you can draw it out, we now have the means to make it.”
The crowd murmured in awe, whispers of excitement growing louder. Elmore smiled, letting the thrill settle over them before continuing. “Now, let’s get to the big stuff,” he said, unveiling a machine wrapped under a thick tarp. Pulling it back, the machine revealed itself—an old silicon wafer manufacturing setup, along with everything needed to build circuit boards, CPUs, and more. “I know it’s not the modern stuff you’re used to seeing, but this setup will allow us to make tech right here in the valley. It may be bulkier and slower than what’s out there today, but this equipment gives us independence. We won’t need to rely on anyone else to keep advancing.”
He caught the eye of the blacksmiths in the crowd, grinning. “And for you guys, I finally got what you’ve been waiting for—a machine for crafting rifle rounds, modular for any size you might need. From standard ammo to something big enough for a howitzer, you name it, we can make it.”
The announcement ignited a spark in the room. Craftspeople, blacksmiths, and tinkerers broke into applause and cheers. The blacksmiths were already eyeing the machinery, planning out what they could make, while the tailors whispered about outfitting the town in better armor and gear. Conversations sparked around him, people debating and sharing ideas as new possibilities unfolded in their minds. Some were practically vibrating with the excitement of what they could create. They could make weapons, yes, but also tools, appliances, art—the potential seemed endless.
Elmore watched, arms crossed and feeling that familiar swell of pride, as his people discussed, theorized, and dreamed out loud. It reminded him of the surge of creativity that had come during past eras of discovery, like a modern Renaissance sparked by Aither itself. This wasn’t just survival anymore; this was the beginning of a thriving, self-sustaining civilization.
After a while, he saw Brent approaching, a look of quiet seriousness on his face. “Elmore,” Brent said, nodding toward the group of fighters behind him. “The men wanted to have a talk with you. All of us. After everyone’s done here.”
Elmore nodded, not yet understanding the weight behind his words. The energy of the gathering was electric, but it had to give way eventually. As the craftspeople and inventors continued examining and discussing their new tools, he could feel the shift in the air. They knew the war was coming, and their spirits were burning bright, but there was a somber undertone beneath it all.
He waited until the last of the crafters filed out, their voices fading as they left to share news and ideas with the rest of the valley. before he turned his attention to the group of fighters gathered outside the now-quiet but still stuffed Hall, his mind readying itself for whatever lay ahead. He pulled up his screen and saw a new tab slightly hazy but there in the shape of a simple house, ignoring that for now he placed the next immortal structure token ok the hall of beginnings. Seeing it and the wall as the only good places for them but holding the last one for now. Turning his back and joining his men to walk over to the group.
Elmore couldn’t hide his astonishment as he took in the sea of his townsfolk, all clad in an array of mithril armor. The front Hall was filled with the gleam of expertly crafted metal, each piece slightly unique, reflecting the individuality of its wearer. His people had grown in number and resilience. His valley’s homes, built for expansion with multiple floors, now served entire families across generations, bringing people from across the country. Elmore was proud to see that even in war, they bore the marks of life and family.
Each suit of armor held traces of personal stories and creative flair: carvings, etchings, splashes of paint, and toys hanging off belts as silent tributes to loved ones. Some had intricately etched designs running down their vambraces, others carried symbols painted on with care and intent. One man had chiseled markings onto the face of his helmet to mimic war paint, the patterns dug deep into the metal as if to say that even though he wore armor, he wasn’t hiding who he was.
Brent stepped forward in armor that was lighter and more mobile than the rest, optimized for his swift, agile fighting style. “Chief,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of pride and gravity, “we’re ready. Here’s the breakdown. We have 1000 level ones, 450 level twos, 275 level threes, 115 level fours, and 10 level fives.” He glanced over the battalion, his eyes alight with conviction. “Everyone is fully armed and armored. Every one of these men has mithril weapons and armor, and we’ve loaded all firearms with mithril slugs or regular rifle rounds. Shotguns with mithril shot are standard for most—rifle ammo is running thin, so we couldn’t equip everyone with it.”
Elmore nodded, feeling the weight of Brent’s words and the sacrifices that had gone into their preparations. “It’s impressive, Brent. You’ve done good work. The alchemist found a way to extend the shelf life of those healing potions, right?”
Brent nodded. “Yeah. We’ve got enough for each of these folks to carry at least one, maybe two each if they’re lucky. Not everyone has a combat skill, but they’re all willing, and those with combat-oriented abilities will make a difference.”
Elmore gave a thoughtful look over his assembled forces. “Alright. I want to know who each of these people are—who they are beyond their armor. Have them write down their skills, stats, names, ages, weights, heights, and details on how their abilities work. And the name of a closest kin” He gestured to a pile of paper nearby. “They’ll hand those to me, and I’ll study each one. I’ll have a better idea of who can work together and how to split us into teams.”
It took a moment, but soon a flurry of motion began as his troops grabbed sheets of paper, pens scratching as each man recorded his details. Some were quick, others more deliberate, but all completed the task with a sense of purpose. As they finished, they handed their papers over, Elmore’s hands filling with names, statistics, stories. He took a deep breath, feeling a sense of responsibility for each life here, each person who would follow him into the unknown.
As the last paper was handed over, he ordered each man to stand before him, one by one. Using a piece of chalk, he marked a number on their backs, organizing them carefully. He mentally grouped them into small squads, assessing how to balance strengths and cover weaknesses based on what they’d shared.
In each face, Elmore saw determination, readiness, and the shadow of fear they wouldn’t show each other. This was his family—men and women who had been strangers only a few years ago but were now brothers and sisters-in-arms. As he looked over his battalion, a deep resolve settled over him. They weren’t going into this alone, and as long as he had breath in his lungs, he’d lead them to victory or, at the very least, ensure that their sacrifices were worth the life they were building here.
Turning back to Brent, Elmore took a steadying breath. “lets Get them prepped and briefed on their roles. I want every man and woman here to know exactly where they’ll be, what they’ll do, and who they’ll fight alongside. No surprises.”
The gathering of armored warriors, now organized and informed, felt more like an extension of himself than simply followers. As they looked to him with steady confidence, he knew that whatever came, they were ready to face it together.
