Prelude: To Domathra (Isekai/LitRPG/OP MC)

The orb glowed green as Jace removed his hand, smiling at the guard.

“And your business?” another guardsman asked, the one holding the orb quickly moving on to the next person.

“Simply visiting. I grew up in Gloamview and always wished to see Promise City for myself,” Jace replied, stars in his eyes as he gazed up at the colossal shell.

The guard seemed to study Jace’s reaction for a few moments before withdrawing a wooden coin and handing it to him.

“Short-term visitor’s visa, good for one week only. If you need to extend your stay, return to one of the gates to either renew your visa or obtain another, but be prepared to justify your reasons for staying longer.

“The visa coin is enchanted with a unique signature, associated with your mana signature recorded by the orb. We know who possesses which coin, and we will know exactly when it expires.

“Do not make us come looking for you,” the guard demanded, his face stern.

“Of course! A few days will be more than enough for my purposes!” Jace exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him, conciliative.

“Enjoy your stay. Next!” the guard shouted.

Jace entered the city proper, the starry-eyed youth draining from his face like an actor stepping offstage. He walked confidently through the streets, though he did nothing to draw undue attention to himself, save a strange motion as he passed through the veil of magic surrounding the city, as if he were slipping behind a curtain.

He did not gawk at the multi-story stone buildings, nor was he in awe of the titanic shell surrounding them. He simply moved through the streets like a native, as if he knew exactly where he was going.

Three people fell in with him as he walked, keeping pace loosely. One approached his side.

“The foundation is laid, sir,” he said quietly.

“Excellent work. We will get started immediately,” Jace replied calmly.

A small silence passed between them, and Jace glanced at the man.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“No, sir. I’m just…concerned. We lost many in the battle of Gloamview. This city is much larger, much older. It has more elaborate defenses, it—” he started, his volume increasing unconsciously as his anxiety crescendoed.

“Peace, you speak as if we are going to war with Promise City,” Jace said, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Are we not?” he replied.

Jace stopped abruptly, the others skidding to a halt as well. He looked at each of them one by one before speaking.

“This city is built atop something far older than the feeble bricks that surround us. We do not need to fight this city’s current ruler to take it. We need only claim the Conductor, and the rest will follow.

“These fools think this land their own without understanding even a fraction of what they claim. We will show them the folly of building on a foundation they did not create,” Jace declared, his face growing dark and shadowed, despite the midday sun shining down.

“Come, I must assess the Aqueduct first. It has likely sat untended for centuries. Who knows what disrepair it languishes in?” he said, starting forward again.

The three shared a look between them before following, their shoulders still tense, but noticeably less so than mere moments ago.

——————————

Nephthys watched them go from her perch atop one of the buildings along the main road that led from the north gate all the way to the center of the city. She had been watching the gate since arriving, knowing that Jace and his people would likely enter through it. 

True, they could use the Ricket tunnels just as she, but Tara claimed them to be dug across the entire shell. She would have little hope of surveilling them all, so she simply watched the gate while the weavers watched the city.

The Conductor? Aqueduct?

What were these structures? She knew what an aqueduct was, obviously, but he did not speak of it the way one would a system for water delivery. In fact, he did not speak like the Jace she had observed at all. He shifted between expressions and tones as if wearing different masks.

She had not watched Jace closely in Gloamview, but from what she had seen, he was an earnest young man doing what he thought was best. This Jace…well, she was not sure she had seen him wear any legitimate emotion yet. Displays of emotion seemed mere tools to him rather than genuine expressions.

Standing, Nephthys focused on the threads tying her to her summons, mentally strumming one in particular.

“I am here, Mythmaker. Always,” Moirenea said, her voice fed directly into Nephthys’ mind.

“What have you learned of Promise City, of the marquis?” Nephthys asked.

“Precious little as of yet, I am afraid. My weavers watch and listen, but even they require time. Proper espionage requires long-term infiltration and observation.

“What I do know is what is obvious to even the layman: Promise City is in turmoil. Rumors abound about the manner in which the marquis’ son died. Regardless of the cause, Douglas seems to have shut himself in his manor near the city center, refusing all visitors and reneging on his duties to lead the city and his territory.

“Many have attempted to fill the vacuum his absence has created, from nobles to ambitious merchants. However, none have made much headway due to the amount of competition

“Many top city officials remain loyal to the marquis. They regularly seek audiences with him, hoping he will eventually overcome his grief and reaffirm both his authority over the city and their own authority within their respective dominions, for their grip on power slips away with every passing day,” Moirenea reported.

That was quite a bit for having ‘precious little’, Nephthys thought.

“What of Jace and his rebels? He has only just arrived, but it sounds like his people have been here for days already. What have they been doing?” she asked.

“I do not know in great detail, Mythmaker, but I suspect that their goal is broad destabilization. Whether they are Jace’s people or not, I cannot say for sure, but there are many dissidents in bars and taverns and inns throughout the city who regularly preach about the marquis’ absence and incompetence over the froth of their mugs.

“Ordinary citizens now whisper in marketplaces about increasing prices for essential goods, and a growing majority are concerned for the city’s safety after rumors arrived of Gloamview’s revolt. Many see it as a sign of destabilization for the larger marquisate, but others see it as proof of concept.

“‘If it worked for them, could it work for us’ and the like,” Moirenea said.

Nephthys silently digested the report, turning the information over in her head with her recent observations of Jace.

“Get in touch with the baron. Inform him of what you have told me. Tell him that the time to decide nears. Ask him: when all other potential stabilizing forces are gone, and only he remains, what will he do?” Nephthys ordered.

“Of course, Mythmaker. Am I to infer you have given up on the potential for Jace’s just leadership?” Moirenea asked.

Nephthys squinted, watching Jace as he stalked further into the city. In particular, she cast her gaze into his body, watching his soul, previously a bright white fire burning with ambition, smolder, a sickly pale green.

“I do not think Jace is with us any longer,” she declared.

Moirenea took the information in silence, allowing the statement to breathe.

“Deliver this report to the baron, and tell Tara to remain at the inn. Instruct her not to leave under any circumstances. I must remain and observe Jace, or whoever it is that now possesses his body,” Nephthys commanded.

“As you will, Mythmaker,” Moirenea replied, the line of communication cutting off.

Nephthys’ brow furrowed in concentration. How could something have taken Jace over without her notice? When had it happened? 

She needed to pay far better attention to these matters. Though they did not directly impact her, she required a stable, legitimate trading partner with whom to establish a route.

She vanished from the rooftop without a sound, appearing closer to Jace’s group, cloaked in a shroud of invisibility so thick that she was confident even a dragon would have a difficult time piercing it, and watched them walk.

What are you up to, creature?

————————————

Tara stood in the dark fog of a back alley. Built atop precarious wooden scaffolding barely secured to the sides of the Guardian’s shell, the Ricket was in near perpetual darkness. Sunlight filtered down through the hole at the center of the shell, but eternal twilight gripped the ramshackle wooden city that ringed it.

She stared at the alley blankly, unmoving, as if frozen. Memories flowed through her mind. She saw the men dragging her away from her father in slow motion. She saw the look of delusional ecstasy on his face as he undid the stopper on the glass vial, barely even looking at her as he uttered the last words she would ever hear him speak.

“Don’t worry, little cub. We’ll be together again soon.”

Aka nudged against Tara’s leg, drawing her out of her misty-eyed reverie. She shook her head, wondering what she was even doing here. Did she intend to track him down? What good would that do? What could she possibly hope to gain from such a situation?

“Young Tara,” a woman suddenly called from the mouth of the alley behind her.

Tara turned around to find a woman with blonde hair and eyes that, while normally blue, flashed a glowing red before returning to their natural blue.

One of the weavers, then.

“The Mythmaker bade us inform you that she suspects trouble soon. You are to shelter in the inn and not leave under any circumstances. She is unable to return immediately, but she suspects that the Ricket will, ironically, soon become the safest place in the city,” the weaver explained.

“I see. Thank you for the report. I will return shortly,” Tara said, glancing back at the alley one more time. “I don’t even know why I came here…”

Tara turned back toward the weaver, who had vanished without a trace, as expected, and left the alley and her past behind her.

For now.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!