The morning sun burned through the thin veil of mist that clung to the back of the colossal rock tortoise. Below, the sea shimmered like liquid glass, and the sky was streaked with pale gold. From the high ground — the heart of Black Tortoise City — the view stretched endlessly, a vision of vastness and promise.

Mirean Moon stood beside the long table in the council hall, gazing toward the horizon. "Where are we going now?" she asked softly, her fingers brushing the edge of her quill. "We can't just stay out here forever, can we?"

Luciel's gaze flickered. Her question had been on his mind all morning. The Black Tortoise had grown — the city had expanded, evolved — but remaining adrift in remote waters was no future.

He turned his eyes toward the white-haired girl seated at his right. "Elara," he said thoughtfully, "that prosperous city you mentioned before… was it the Sacred Sun City?"

His plan was simple in principle, ambitious in scope: move closer to civilization. Let merchants and nobles come to them, not by chance, but by design. The farther they remained from the world, the less their influence would matter. But near a great city — with trade routes, gossip, and gold — the Black Tortoise could become legend.

Elara hesitated, her silver eyes shifting slightly. "Yes," she said at last. "That's the one." Her tone was soft, uncertain.

She hadn't told him everything — not yet. The city she called Sacred Sun, known to most as Amestris, was not merely prosperous. It was dangerous. The sort of place where a name could get you killed, and an identity could burn down an entire dream.

Leaning closer, Alina whispered into her ear, voice trembling. "Are you sure? If we go there — if anyone recognizes us — it could put Black Tortoise at risk."

Elara's expression didn't change. Her hand, hidden beneath the table, found Alina's leg and gave a subtle, warning squeeze. Not now, the gesture said. She'd speak to Luciel privately. This was not a conversation for the council.

Luciel, oblivious to the silent exchange, began to calculate aloud. "How many days to Amestris from here?"

Elara thought a moment, recalling the tortoise's steady, mountain-like pace the night before. "At our current speed… eight days," she said. "If the Black Tortoise slows or evolves again, perhaps ten."

Luciel nodded. "Then we slow it ourselves." His eyes hardened, taking on that sharp, commanding glint that always seemed to still the room. "Before we reach Amestris, the new city must be complete — functional, defended, alive. We arrive as a force, not as wanderers."

A murmur of assent rippled through the council.

"Good," Luciel said. "Then today's meeting ends here." He rose to his feet, his cloak catching the light. "It's time to begin the final transformation."

The words carried like a spark through the room. Chairs scraped back. Boots thudded on stone. The air was thick with anticipation.

Outside, the high ground buzzed with life. People gathered in the wide street below, craning their necks toward the ledge where Luciel stood. His silhouette, framed against the sun, looked carved from bronze — immovable, commanding.

He raised his hand and closed his eyes. His voice dropped to a low murmur, as though he were speaking to something vast and ancient that only he could hear. "Black Tortoise," he said. "I need stone. And earth. A lot of it."

A tremor rolled through the air — deep, resonant, and alive.

Then came the sound.

A guttural roar, low and rumbling, tore through the plains. The ground beneath them shuddered as the mountain-sized creature stirred. Its cry was ancient, echoing from its chest like thunder trapped in stone.

The tortoise's massive head turned toward a nearby hill — a mountain, really, a hundred meters tall — and with a sound like cracking worlds, the beast reached into the earth itself.

The ground heaved.

The entire hill collapsed.

Boom after boom split the air as soil and stone broke free, rolling upward in waves that darkened the sky. It was as if the ocean itself had risen — a tide of earth and rock, surging toward the tortoise's back.

The people below froze.

Mouths hung open.

Not a single word was spoken.

Mirean stared in disbelief, her lips parting. "This… this is how he's transforming the city?"

Alina's eyes widened. "He's going to bury us alive!"

Elara grabbed her arm. "He won't," she said quickly, though her own pulse had quickened.

Ariel, eyes gleaming gold, whispered, "Incredible…" Her voice trembled, not from fear, but awe.

"Tier Seven power…" Yue Weiyan murmured. Her crimson gaze burned with envy and hunger. "So this is what that looks like."

Mino had gone pale. "He's doing it again," she said weakly. "Every time I think I've seen the limits of what he can do…"

Beside her, Sophia clung to Mino's sleeve, eyes wide as coins.

"This is the real strength of Lord Luciel," Alec said reverently, though he took an involuntary step backward. "Unbelievable."

Far below, panic rippled through the lower streets. People screamed, pointing at the sky as boulders the size of houses drifted upward like leaves in a storm.

"Did someone attack us?" shouted a voice.

"No — it's the City Lord! He's… building!" another called out.

The Variety Witch, who had been halfway through plotting her next escape, froze mid-thought. Building? She rushed to the window — and stared as the world turned upside down.

The air was thick with dust and magic. Whole chunks of earth floated through the sky, reshaping themselves into towers and walls.

Her heart sank. "Hopeless," she muttered. "Completely hopeless. No one escapes that."

Luciel's eyes glowed faintly as he spread his arms, guiding the earth like a sculptor commanding clay. His will extended through the tortoise, through every rumble of the ground.

First came the walls.

The old ramparts, once no higher than four meters, rose in seconds — stone fusing to stone until they stood fifteen meters tall and six meters thick.

Massive diagonal supports extended outward like the ribs of a beast. Towers emerged at each corner, their battlements carved smooth by invisible hands. They would serve as both sentry posts and shelters for the patrols — fortresses against the winds, and the storms of the world below.

"That should hold," Luciel murmured, surveying the work.

Everywhere he looked, the city shifted, reshaped. What had once been scattered buildings now formed clear districts.

"Beyond the gate," he said aloud, "the outer street will be the trading quarter. Line both sides with shopfronts. Two stories tall. Keep space wide enough for wagons to pass."

He gestured again, and the land obeyed. A new wall rose beside the first, enclosing a rectangular courtyard that would become the commercial ward — the heart of trade for all who came to Black Tortoise.

Mirean and Agni watched from the ledge, dumbfounded. "He's planning an entire city," Mirean whispered. "In real time."

Elara folded her arms, her eyes tracking the moving stone. "It's more than planning," she said quietly. "He's creating."

Luciel's focus never wavered. He carved long streets into the rock's surface, flanked by sturdy, three-story dwellings. "Each family takes the ground floor," he muttered. "We build up, not out. Efficiency before grandeur."

Behind the residential blocks, he left vast tracts of land bare — the future farmlands and orchards. "These will feed the city," he said softly. "The rest will grow from their roots."

Other spaces were cleared, each with purpose. Some would hold workshops. Others would become training grounds — places for soldiers, mages, and beast tamers to hone their craft.

Hours passed like moments.

By the time Luciel stopped, sweat clung to his temples, and the air still shimmered with the afterglow of power. The city was unrecognizable — a living masterpiece of stone and will.

He turned his eyes toward the high ground — the place that had once been little more than a flat plateau. Now it loomed just below the new city walls, its four-meter rise swallowed by the expansion.

Luciel frowned. "Too low," he muttered.

He reached out again, and the high ground began to rise.

Stone groaned, lifting upward until it stood sixteen meters above the streets below. He shaped it into terraces — three layers that spiraled upward like steps toward the heavens.

"The lower tier will be the administrative hall," he said. "Offices, records, command posts. The middle will hold the council chambers. And the top…" He smiled faintly. "The top will be the palace."

Mino's eyes widened as she looked up at the gleaming structure taking form. "He's… he's building a palace?"

"Seems so," Alec said, unable to look away.

Luciel didn't hear them. His mind was already racing ahead — irrigation channels for the farmlands, ventilation for the workshops, the placement of lights along the new streets. Each detail unfolded in his mind like a map drawn in gold.

Finally, when the last stone settled and the tremors ceased, the city was still again.

Black Tortoise City — reborn.

The crowd below stood in awed silence, staring at what had once been a scattered collection of homes and walls, now transformed into a shining fortress of stone and purpose.

Luciel lowered his hands slowly. His breathing was steady, though fatigue pressed at the edges of his mind. He allowed himself one deep breath of satisfaction.

This, he thought, is only the beginning.

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