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

Nephthys sighed as she exited the gate, appearing in Grant’s familiar sitting room. Truthfully, she could probably guess where his actual office was and gate there, but it was always a little risky with precise locations she had not visited before. For some reason, whenever she set foot in a place, it seemed to imprint its location in her mind, making it easy to recall later.

However, she could, and frequently did, create gates to places she had not visited before, but it was an imprecise science, as far as she could discern. There was some sort of mental calculus involved, but it was all instinctual and feeling rather than equations and math, and frequently, the gate would appear in the air, or partially in the ground. That disparity would, presumably, increase with distance.

Regardless, the waiting room was a reasonable compromise to the possibility of accidentally creating a gate in the guild’s walls.

“I couldn’t tell if that was a sigh of relief, exasperation, or some other emotion,” Grantwell said, exiting the gate behind her.

“It was both of those and more,” she replied, sitting cross-legged in the air.

“Hmm, yet, from what I saw, everything appeared to go as well as it possibly could have. Bernard has tentatively claimed this city without conflict, the rebels’ cause will be carried on formally by the new nation, and your own values will influence the budding state’s foundation. Everyone appears to have won what was important to them,” Grant reasoned.

What he said was true, and all his listed points were massive wins for Nemesis and, more personally, for Nephthys. 

She had struggled for months with how she would interface with this world and wield her newfound power. She was still adamant that she would not rule this world with the iron fist of a tyrant, but she also could not sit idly while abominations like slavery existed, not while she had the power to change it.

The conditions outlined to Bernard were her answer, but they were only the beginning. The core conflict was that no matter her intentions, her power would inevitably draw attention. She would be unable to remain uninvolved in this world’s conflicts, its politics, even if she wanted to, for there would always be those seeking to use her power for their own ends.

She had decided to turn that desire against them.

If people would seek her powers, fine. She would offer them, but there would be requirements. She would not lend her strength to awful people to do awful things with. People, groups, and nations would have to bend to her ideologies, at least paying lip service to them, if they wanted her power. Through that influence, her morals would work their way into the world, spreading from person to person, nation to nation.

That was how she would make an impact on this world, not as a ruler but as an influence, a force signaling to the world's denizens that other solutions and ways of living are possible. Sometimes, all that stood in the way of change was hope, the possibility of a brighter future. Well, she would shine a light on that future, if she could.

Her first four rules were…rudimentary at best. Though she planned to add to that list, she had to be conscious of where the world currently was. It would not be possible to institute full-blown democracy overnight, and it would be unfair for her to expect it, considering the millennia of history in her own world.

Frankly, she did not even know if democracy was the right or the ideal form of governance. She just knew that it was where her own world was advancing, not whether it was the ultimate endpoint. Still, she knew the underlying principle was just: states must rule by consent of the governed.

The considerations she would impose on others seeking her aid would be nudges that, hopefully, would start the slide toward a brighter future for this world’s people. 

At the very least, it made her feel better. It was one thing to help people, but nations were complicated entities, and she would ensure that those she chose to aid at least met a bare minimum of decency.

“There is much to do,” she said with a sigh.

“Yes, I imagine so, though I couldn’t even attempt a guess at what all must be on your schedule,” Grant chuckled.

Nephthys shook her head, floating over to sit on one of the benches. Grant seemed surprised, likely not expecting another meeting, but he approached, sitting across from her with his hands on his lap. His hands were clasped together, so…was that actually him and Yvette holding hands? That was cute in a…morbid sort of way.

“Do you know why there is not more communication between other regions of Ashreach and Radaar?” Nephthys asked, starting the conversation.

“Hmm, well, the Gloam would be the largest barrier, for sure. The number of people with either the power or the means to traverse it safely is extraordinarily small,” he answered.

“Surely, others must still try. Risky or creative operations like tunneling beneath, for example. The allure of the wealth waiting to be extracted from the Crater and regions beyond must draw many,” Nephthys reasoned.

“Probably initially, but not these days.”

“What do you mean by ‘initially’?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t know what you were doing for the past two centuries, but expeditions through the Gloam collapsed, every single one. No one knew what the air out there did, so several caravans fell to it, killing each other and either running off into the mountains beyond to fester in their madness or becoming slaves to the spores, trapped in the Gloam, defending it with the other walkers, for the rest of their poor, sad lives,” Grant explained solemnly.

“And no one has been back since?”

“Well, attempts were made to study it, certainly. People learned just enough to know it’s incredibly dangerous. That’s enough for most folks. However, to your question, I imagine the luster of Crater jewels doesn’t draw many like the gleam from quick money that can be made here in Radaar,” Grant offered suggestively, though his expression was dark.

“Meaning?” Nephthys prodded.

“There is a reason that only two cities exist in Radaar. Well, barring Sardvend’s fort on the Straight, anyway. Only the baron’s land can have isolated farms and villages. He’s known to protect his land, and he’ll chase anyone who disturbs it to the ends of the world if he has to, so his people are relatively insulated and safe, as far as frontiers go.

“Other regions? They have no protection. Anyone venturing out there, and there are always at least a few who try every year, meets the same fate.

“Bandits,” he declared.

Nephthys’ stomach tightened. She suspected he was just not indicating frequent robberies.

“The slave trade thrives here, though Radaar deals in exports, mostly,” Grant spat.

Nephthys felt goosebumps on her arms, and a fire burned in her gut. She had not seen much evidence of slavery in Radaar thus far, but she had also not studied the nobles much beyond meeting Bernard. However, it made sense that she would not see people with collars in the streets if they were being shipped abroad.

“So, the brave, or perhaps desperate, who venture out into the frontier in search of a better life are preyed upon by bandits, who capture them and bring them back to Sardvend to sell,” Nephthys clarified, her arms crossed before her, and her hands clenching them tightly.

Grant nodded.

“That said, perhaps with Bernard in charge, things will change. He always protected his lands, not just his manor, so perhaps the surroundings here will become safer, too.

“Regardless, I bring this up to say that those strong and foolish enough don’t need to bother with something as obviously risky as braving the Gloam when they can sell slaves. 

“It’s a lucrative business, from what I understand. One could live well on a single sale. Buyers in Sardvend pay handsomely, as those born in Ashreach tend to be of a higher level than anywhere in Vadenlaud. 

“A young and high-level slave? That means a worker who will keep going for decades,” Grant finished, a silence hanging in the air.

Nephthys closed her eyes, snuffing the inferno in her heart. Focus. One thing at a time. Nothing would be accomplished by her running off chasing every matter that catches her attention. Institutional change was slow, but it was the most thorough and resilient.

“So, to summarize, no one braves the Gloam due mostly to a lack of economic incentive, yes? There are those strong enough, but they are few, and there are those prepared enough, but they would be better served spending their time on easier ventures,” Nephthys said, opening her eyes once again.

“Yes, that is the gist. Though there are always exceptions. I am sure there are a few who brave the Gloam for their own reasons and interests, but I do not keep track of every passerby,” he said, shrugging. “Why so interested?”

A yellowed scroll appeared on the table before them suddenly, and Nephthys spread it gently, revealing a map of Ashreach.

“Wow, this…is extensive,” Grant muttered, inspecting the map with an interest Nephthys had not expected.

She had many copies of this map. It was a decoration from Prelude, and she loved using it as a wall decoration in her builds. Now that she thought of it, however, maps were valuable things in the pre-modern ages of her homeworld. 

She had nothing to hide, and the layout of the continent was well-known in the game, so she did not feel she was revealing anything spectacular or sensitive.

“Ah, this must be dated from when you were last in Radaar, yes? The Gloam on this map does not reach beyond the mountains to its south, yet it has fully crossed into the plains today,” Grant observed, tracing his finger across the map.

“Yes, this may be slightly outdated, though the land itself should be the same…I hope,” Nephthys muttered.

Realistically, a clash between powerful people or monsters could significantly change the landscape. Such an event would be devastating for many reasons, so she could only hope that it had not happened recently.

“Nemesis is based here,” she said, pointing to the center of the Crater. “I aim to create a route from here,” she pointed at Gloamview, “all the way through the Gloam, the mountains, and the Crater directly to us.”

Grant watched her draw the line, his brow furrowed. He had a hand on his chin, and he studied the map for several long moments after Nephthys finished speaking, deep in thought.

“That is…quite the task,” he finally said.

“Indeed. I would like your help in this matter, the guild’s help,” she said, finally arriving at the purpose of this meeting.

“Adventurers are not especially good brick-layers, Nephthys. They cost more, complain more, and drink on the job. You might seek out a trading company if your goal is to build a road,” he joked.

“My goal is to train a group of adventurers to resist the Gloam, to become familiar with it, and then to control it. I am proposing a permanent, ongoing job within the guild, sponsored by Nemesis, to patrol and guard the route.

“Nemesis will handle their training and fund the jobs. The guild will be responsible for vetting the adventurers. We do not want just anyone accepting the roles. 

“We wish to create a new guild within the adventurer guild, specializing in dealing with the Gloam and its many facets. We wish this to be the founding of the Gloamwardens.

“And I already have an adventurer in mind to lead them.”

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