CHAPTER 43: BUT FIRST A SHOW OFF

Ward lowered the tablet after confirming the command room’s prep time. "Twenty minutes. Enough to show them the surface level of what they’re dealing with."

Albert nodded once and motioned for the three adventurers to follow. The food stalls behind them remained busy—soldiers clustering around tables, some grabbing quick meals on rotation, others lingering with cups of coffee. The adventurers lingered too, but the promise of understanding this overwhelming place pulled them away.

Ragna wiped the last of the biscuit crumbs on her sleeve and fell in beside Mira. Lyris kept a slight distance behind Albert, studying everything he passed like a scout mapping unknown terrain.

The group followed the main paved road. The texture under their boots was still something none of them could reconcile. It didn’t bend. It didn’t crack. It didn’t feel like stone or clay. Lyris crouched at one point, running her fingers across it again.

"This road," she murmured. "How did you make it so smooth? So even?"

"Automated paving equipment," Ward said. "Machines that lay this down in layers. Faster and stronger than anything by hand."

"Machines," Mira repeated. "So much of this world runs on machines."

Albert cast her a sidelong glance. "It’s how we live. How we build. You’ll see more of them soon enough."

They walked until the plaza opened into a wider space—what once might have been Aldo’s central square. Now it looked nothing like a village center. The area was ringed with metal posts topped by bright lights. Cables ran underground. A digital board overhead displayed rotating messages in English and icons the adventurers didn’t recognize.

A pair of Atlas engineers walked by carrying a large cylindrical tank between them, chatting casually.

Ragna narrowed her eyes. "I’ve never seen people carry such heavy objects so easily."

"They’re not," Ward said. "It’s a lightweight oxygen tank."

Ragna blinked. "...That’s light?"

Albert didn’t stop. "Follow me."

They approached one of the newly built structures—three stories tall, steel-framed, with tinted glass windows. The adventurers stared at the glass the longest. Transparent stone that didn’t shatter under a tap. Lyris placed a hand on the window, watching her reflection warp faintly.

"It’s so clear..." she whispered.

"Glass manufacturing," Albert said. "Mass-produced."

Mira folded her arms tightly. "Your world must have an army of artisans."

"No," Ward replied. "Factories. Good thing we had those in stock."

"Factories," Mira repeated. "Another strange word."

Albert stopped at the intersection where two roads crossed. Vehicles rumbled past—JLTVs, fuel trucks, a forklift moving pallets of ammo crates. Every engine growled at a different pitch, making the adventurers’ ears twitch.

Lyris instinctively pulled her cloak tighter. "Everything here moves. Everything here breathes without magic. It feels... alive."

"That’s the point," Albert said. "A forward operating base must function like a small city."

Ragna frowned at the mention of Aldo. "This was a village. Now it looks like a noble’s capital district."

Ward glanced back. "We didn’t intend to disrespect the land. But when we build, we build fast."

They turned a corner and reached a fenced-off section. The sign on the gate read: REFUGEE HOUSING BLOCK — AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

Lyris stopped walking. "Refugees?"

Albert looked back at her. "Your villagers."

"You... kept them alive separately?" Mira asked.

Ward responded, "We didn’t want to risk putting civilians near heavy equipment zones. They’re fed. They have beds. Medicine. Heating."

Ragna’s ears flicked. "And they’re not prisoners?"

"No," Albert replied. "They’re waiting for relocation options. We don’t own them. They choose where to go next."

The sincerity threw them off. The three exchanged glances—silent, uncertain.

Ward pushed forward. "Next stop."

They followed a side road leading to a long metal warehouse with massive loading doors. When the doors rumbled open, Lyris instinctively reached for her nonexistent bow.

Inside, rows of armored vehicles gleamed under bright overhead lights—tan, green, and black. MRAPs, Humvees, a pair of Strykers. Engineers worked with tool carts and diagnostic equipment.

Ragna stepped in timidly. "These... these are like metal beasts. You use them in war?"

"Yes," Albert said simply.

"They don’t need horses?" Lyris asked.

"No. They run on fuel."

Mira squinted. "Fuel... like oil?"

"Refined oil. Diesel, JP-8, gasoline—depends on the engine."

None of those words meant anything to them.

Ward realized it and shifted the explanation. "Think of it as a strong liquid that burns. We use that force to make engines turn."

"Magic-less golems," Ragna muttered. "Strong ones."

Albert didn’t deny it. "Close enough."

They left the motor pool and entered another building connected to it—a workshop. Welders worked behind protective curtains. Sparks flew in bright bursts. The adventurers recoiled at the sight of the welding arcs—blue light that hummed sharply.

"That’s dangerous," Mira said quietly. "You shouldn’t stand so close to light magic."

"That’s not magic," Ward corrected. "It’s welding. Melting metal to metal."

"How?" Mira asked.

"Electricity."

Again, baffled expressions.

Albert guided them out the workshop exit and continued walking. "You’ll learn. Slowly."

They crossed another paved road and reached a large, open-air area where soldiers were drilling. A platoon underwent formation exercises. Another practiced disassembling rifles on command. Downrange, a small firing drill took place—rifle shots echoing sharply.

The sound made Lyris freeze. "That noise—"

"Gunfire," Albert said. "Training rounds."

"Your archers must be terrifying," Lyris murmured.

Ward chuckled. "We don’t have many archers left."

Ragna pointed at the rifles. "Those sticks shoot sound?"

"They shoot metal," Albert said. "Fast. Very fast."

The three adventurers shivered in unison.

They continued the tour past satellite trailers, comms cables, antenna towers, and the primary generator yard. Every section had movement. Every building served a purpose.

But the strangest sight awaited them at the very end.

A full field hospital—white canvas tents, metal mobile units, soldiers in scrubs tending to wounded on cots. Some villagers were resting inside too.

Lyris’s breath caught. "Aldo had no healer of this scale."

"We’re stabilizing who we can," Ward said. "Medicine is one of our strengths."

Ragna lowered her gaze slightly. "You didn’t have to care for them."

Albert answered firmly, "We don’t leave civilians to die."

The conviction in his voice silenced any reply.

Finally, they reached an elevated walkway overlooking the entire base. Albert stopped there and let the adventurers take in the full view.

The paved roads.

The barracks.

The communications towers.

The rows of armored vehicles.

The engineers and soldiers.

The smoke trails from the workshops.

The glowing signs of the food plaza.

The hum of generators.

The organized chaos of a self-sustaining outpost.

Aldo Village—the simple, vulnerable settlement—was gone.

In its place stood Atlas.

Lyris exhaled shakily. "Your world... is beyond anything we imagined."

Mira hugged herself, not out of fear, but overwhelm. "If this is only a part of your power... then the Demon Lord may truly fall."

Ragna placed her hands on her hips. "I don’t know what a ’helicopter’ is, or why your food hurts my tongue, but—" She grinned. "—I like this place."

Ward straightened. "Briefing room is ready, sir."

Albert nodded and turned back toward the main building.

"Then let’s begin," he said. "You’ve seen what Atlas is. Now you’ll learn why we’re here."