Around two o'clock that afternoon, the stillness of Luciel's workshop was broken by a deep rumbling sound echoing through his mind.

"Ooooo~~"

The familiar mental vibration came from the Rock Tortoise — a report that a large stretch of forest ahead had withered to ash.

Luciel sighed, half amusement, half weariness. "Seems I can't be idle for even a moment," he muttered, setting down the half-finished military uniform on his worktable.

The first prototype was nearly complete — a sleek white uniform with a sharp collar, tailored for functionality rather than show. But the details still needed refining: buttons, straps, insignia placement. Each missing piece gnawed at his sense of order.

He brushed his hand over the smooth spider-silk fabric and smiled faintly. "Only the color's wrong," he murmured, nostalgia softening his tone.

He could almost smell the old barracks again — sweat, dust, oil. Memories of his time as a soldier rose unbidden. I regretted being a soldier for two years… and regretted not being one for the rest of my life. The old saying echoed in his head like a private joke, carrying that bittersweet pride veterans never quite lose.

"Master Luciel."

Alina stepped in, holding a stack of tanned hide papers in her arms. "These are the measurements for the city defense uniforms."

"Just put them there," Luciel said, gesturing absently to a corner of the table.

Standardization — that was the key. Sizes, materials, seam lengths — everything needed to follow a pattern. Not tailor-made for individuals, but designed for production. For an army.

In a city that barely knew the word uniform a few months ago, Luciel was now the architect of every standard Black Tortoise City would ever follow.

Alina set the hides down and glanced curiously at the prototype. "It looks… really good," she admitted.

Luciel smiled. "We'll make it better once we have proper dyes." He straightened and clapped his hands. "Alright. Time to hunt. We'll gather more wood while we're at it."

At that, the giant Red Ghost Spider — who had been sulking in the corner, half-spinning webs out of boredom — perked up immediately. With an excited squeak, it scuttled out of the studio, its crimson legs tapping rapidly on the stone floor.

Alina stared after it, her expression caught between awe and horror. The spider vanished so quickly it was like the room itself had exhaled.

And suddenly, she understood. If I were trapped indoors weaving all day, I'd have run for my life too.

Her lips twitched. If she had been that spider, the workshop would probably be rubble by now.

"What are you spacing out for?" came Elara's voice, dry and amused. The dark-haired huntress approached with her longbow slung across her back, an eyebrow raised.

"Ah—nothing," Alina said quickly, scratching her cheek and realizing she was still wearing her helmet. No way she'd admit she'd been sympathizing with a giant arachnid. Elara would never let her live it down.

"Then move it," Elara said, already heading out the door. "Luciel's not going to wait forever."

"Wait for me!" Alina yelped, scrambling after her.

Luciel was already halfway down the wide main street, the two women following invisibly behind. The afternoon sun threw long golden stripes across the cobbled ground.

The air smelled of dust and iron — the scent of a growing city.

At the outer edge, the unfinished gates of the Wengcheng fortress loomed ahead.

Black Tortoise was still short on wood; the shortage had reached absurd levels. Many homes didn't even have doors yet. The city's three fortress gates were the worst of it — vital, massive, and still incomplete.

Luciel frowned up at the half-built frame of the gate. "If the main gate's made of wood, it'll feel too weak," he muttered. "A single strong attack and it's splinters."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Stone would work, but…" He glanced toward the towering shell of the Rock Tortoise beneath the city. "Most people wouldn't have the strength to open it."

Sure, the tortoise could open it for them — but that required Luciel's telepathic command. He wasn't about to spend his days as the city's doorman.

And worse, no one else could communicate with the creature. It obeyed only him, and when it slept, it slept deeply — immovable, unreachable.

He chuckled. "Can't exactly wait for it to wake up before we open the gate."

The image made him grin — an entire trade caravan standing outside, tapping their feet while the city lord tried to rouse a mountain-sized turtle.

Still, the thought lingered: the Rock Tortoise, slumbering beneath them, capable of reshaping landscapes at his command.

Luciel's expression turned contemplative. "A nuclear weapon," he whispered. "That's what you are."

Silent, patient, devastating when stirred. One move, and the world would tremble.

A shiver ran down his spine. He wasn't sure if it was awe or fear.

Then, like a spark, an idea struck him. "Wait… what if I used a wheel system to open a stone gate?" He muttered to himself, pacing. "A water-powered pulley… ropes from spider silk instead of iron chains…"

He could see it — the gears turning, the gate lifting smoothly, powered by the river below. It could even be automated, in theory.

Luciel's fingers twitched with the urge to sketch, to draft, to build. But he forced himself to stop. "No," he sighed. "Not now. I'll lose another two days if I start designing again."

He pushed the thought aside — reluctantly.

As they entered Wengcheng proper, the commercial street stretched out before them: lines of sturdy stone houses, sunlight glinting off unfinished facades.

"Luciel!"

A familiar voice called out. Agni Moon — red hair tied in a messy braid, a stack of blueprints clutched to her chest — came hurrying out of a nearby shop. Her cheeks were smudged with charcoal dust.

"Why are you here?" she asked, blinking in surprise.

"Heading out to hunt," Luciel said. "And to gather wood. What about you?"

Agni lifted the drawings helplessly. "Trying to follow your blueprints. They're impossible! Half of these notes might as well be spells."

Luciel laughed. "You're not wrong."

She pouted, tapping the hide with a finger. "Can you at least make me a sample? A model, or something? I can't picture half these symbols."

He hesitated. "I can, but… once I finish my current work."

Her eyes brightened. "You promise?"

"Promise," he said, smiling faintly.

She exhaled, visibly relieved. "Good. I've been in these shops all day. I figured out maybe two layouts. Ten more to go."

Her voice wavered slightly — fatigue buried beneath her stubborn determination.

Luciel softened. "Don't push yourself too hard," he said gently. "It's fine to make mistakes. You're learning."

But Agni shook her head firmly. "No. I can't be wrong."

She looked up at him, her red eyes fierce with conviction. "I can do this."

"I believe you," Luciel said quietly, without hesitation.

Before he knew it, his hand had risen — a simple, instinctive gesture — and he ruffled her hair.

Agni froze.

Her face flushed crimson to match her hair. "I—I'm busy!" she stammered, clutching the drawings and bolting back toward the shops.

Luciel blinked after her, then sighed, shaking his head with a helpless smile. "She's got spirit, I'll give her that."

When he turned back, both Elara and Alina were watching him with raised brows and faint smirks.

"…What?" Luciel asked.

"Nothing," Elara said innocently. "Just observing the City Lord's… management style."

Alina bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

Luciel groaned. "Let's go before this turns into gossip."

They crossed the broad inner road to the opposite side — toward The Wall, the third and highest gate fortress.

The structure towered over the cliffside — three stories of dark stone and iron scaffolding. The air around it was sharp and thin, tinged with mist from the mountain winds.

"This one's huge," Alina breathed, craning her neck.

Luciel nodded. "It's meant to be."

The first floor was a guard post, the second a barracks, the third an office and command level. From here, you could see the world.

"City Lord!"

Alec and a handful of soldiers greeted him at the gate, standing at attention.

"Bring the weapons and gear," Luciel ordered. "We're heading out to hunt."

"Yes, sir!" Alec's face lit up with excitement.

Luciel glanced toward the inner yard. "Call the other team too. We'll need people to collect and cut the wood."

The city defense had recently been divided into three squads, rotating shifts of eight hours each — barely enough to cover all duties. Someday, when there were more recruits, he'd expand to four shifts, maybe even six.

For now, it was all hands on deck.

By the time the teams assembled, Luciel had climbed the stone platform above The Wall's gate.

Five hundred meters above the ground, the world stretched out in endless gray — mountains fading into mist, scorched plains spreading beneath a heavy sky.

He stood there for a long moment, wind tugging at his coat.

Up here, the air was clearer. The weight in his chest — all the tension of leadership, of creation — seemed to lift.

A man who holds command must hold it fully, he thought. A man without vision isn't worth following.

He turned toward the massive Z-shaped stairway carved into the tortoise's shell — a monumental descent of stone and will. Three meters wide, guarded by half-meter railings, it wound like a vein down the creature's curved flank.

From here, there were only three ways to reach Black Tortoise City.

The reckless could climb the sheer cliffs — risking tricolor lizards and red ghost spiders.

The bold could fly — though few ever tried.

And the patient could take the stairs — past the three fortress gates, each a test in its own right.

In the future, every merchant, traveler, or envoy who sought entrance would have to pass through those gates. Three trials before you earn the city's trust.

Luciel smiled faintly. The thought pleased him.

"City Lord!" Zan Yan's voice called from below, his team assembled and ready.

Luciel turned, cloak fluttering. "Good. Let's move out — and on the way, I'll show you where your posts will be."

"Yes, sir!"

Their voices rose together, echoing against the shell walls and stone.

Luciel led the way down the great staircase, the world spread wide before him — a man, a city, and a sleeping titan beneath his feet.

And somewhere deep inside that stone colossus, the Rock Tortoise stirred faintly — as if hearing the footsteps of its master.

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