The Captain stood firmly, his eyes locking onto Elmore with a stern expression. “I officially challenge you to a duel,” he declared, his voice steady, carrying the weight of authority.
Elmore straightened his posture, taking a breath. “I accept.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Elmore felt a shift in the air. It wasn’t something he could see, but he knew instinctively what it meant—this was the start. The system had acknowledged the challenge, and there was no turning back now.
For a brief moment, they simply stared at each other, sizing one another up. The air was tense, the quiet before the storm. Elmore could feel his pulse quicken, but his mind remained sharp. He knew this wasn’t just about brute strength; it was about strategy, endurance, and survival.
Suddenly, the Captain made the first move, raising his rifle with a fluid motion and squeezing the trigger. The sharp crack of gunfire echoed through the valley. Elmore reacted quickly, his body moving instinctively to dodge, but he wasn’t fast enough to fully escape the bullet’s trajectory. The round struck him in the side, but his leather armor and high resistance absorbed most of the impact. The bullet didn’t penetrate, though it left a deep bruise under the material. He gritted his teeth, pushing the pain aside as he darted to the side, circling the Captain in an attempt to flank him.
Elmore, now on the move, pulled his shotgun from his side, quickly leveling it at the Captain. Without hesitation, he fired a slug directly at him. The Captain flinched as the shot connected, the force causing him to stagger back slightly, but it wasn’t enough to cause significant damage. It had done more to him than the bullet had to Elmore, but they were still far from a decisive blow.
Closing the distance between them, the Captain quickly realized that his rifle wouldn’t be useful in close quarters. With a swift motion, he slung it over his back and unsheathed his combat knife. As soon as the blade was drawn, it burst into flames, the fiery edge dancing in the air. The heat radiated from the weapon, a clear sign of the Captain’s Aither-enhanced abilities.
Elmore, not wasting a second, reloaded his single-shot shotgun with practiced ease and slung it over his shoulder before drawing his own weapon—a sturdy axe, its blade gleaming under the sun. Without a word, they both lunged forward, closing the gap between them.
What followed was a brutal, chaotic exchange of blows. The clash of metal against metal rang out as Elmore swung his axe with precision, meeting the Captain’s flaming knife in a flurry of strikes. Sparks flew each time the weapons collided, and both men fought with raw intensity. The Captain moved with swift, precise strikes, trying to take advantage of his weapon’s smaller, faster blade, but Elmore countered with raw power and calculated swings, using the weight of his axe to his advantage.
Elmore took a few cuts in the exchange, the knife slicing across his arms and torso, but strangely, none of his wounds bled. The burns left a dark scorch around the cuts, but his vitality kept him standing strong. At one point, Elmore saw an opening and delivered a solid hook with the head of his axe, landing it squarely on the Captain’s shoulder, forcing him back a few steps. The Captain grimaced but didn’t falter, quickly closing the distance again.
Then, with a sudden flick of his free hand, the Captain unleashed another Aither-enhanced ability. A small spark of electricity shot from his palm, crackling through the air and striking Elmore in the chest. The shock was brief but intense, momentarily stunning Elmore. His muscles locked up, and for a split second, he couldn’t move.
That was all the time the Captain needed.
He stepped forward swiftly, his blazing knife finding its mark. The blade plunged into Elmore’s side, the heat from the fire searing his flesh. Elmore gasped, feeling the pain radiate through his body. The wound was deep, and the scent of burnt flesh filled the air as the Captain twisted the knife before pulling it free.
But Elmore didn’t give in. Powering through the pain, he forced himself to move, his grip tightening around his axe. With a surge of strength, he swung upward, catching the Captain under the arm. The force of the blow sent him stumbling backward.
Now, the fight turned more primal. It was no longer about precision or strategy—it was about raw endurance. Both men were battered, their bodies bruised and bloodied, but neither willing to back down. They exchanged brutal, open-handed strikes, each hit landing with a sickening thud. Elmore used the broad side of his axe to land heavy, hooking attacks, slamming into the Captain’s ribs and arms. The Captain, in return, delivered sharp and fast elbow strikes, his knife flashing dangerously as he sought any opening he could find.
Every time Elmore landed a hit, he felt his strength growing, the pain of his injuries fueling his resolve. He gritted his teeth, the critical stab wound in his side throbbing, but he refused to let it slow him down. His body ached, his muscles screamed for relief, but his mind remained sharp, focused on the fight.
Both men were on the edge of exhaustion, their movements slowing as the fight dragged on. Elmore could see the fire in the Captain’s eyes dimming, his breath coming in heavy gasps. With one final, powerful swing of his axe, Elmore knocked the flaming knife from the Captain’s hand, sending it skittering across the ground. The Captain staggered, disarmed and vulnerable.
Seeing his chance, Elmore stepped forward, raising his axe for the final blow.
“Yield!” the Captain shouted, his voice strained, his body collapsing to one knee.
Elmore hesitated for a brief moment, then lowered his axe. The fight was over.
He had won.
Breathing heavily, Elmore stood over the Captain, offering him a hand. “That was a good fight,” he said, his voice rough but respectful.
The Captain looked up at him, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and acceptance. He reached up, taking Elmore’s hand, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.
Captain Armstrong extended his hand, shaking Elmore’s firmly. “That was a good fight,” he said, his voice gruff but respectful. “I wish you well in whatever comes next.” There was no hostility in his tone, only acceptance of the outcome.
Elmore nodded, giving him a brief smile. “Likewise.” He released the Captain’s hand, watching him walk back toward the blockade with a sense of quiet victory. As the Captain disappeared into the line of soldiers, Elmore called out, “Send your representative! I want to talk.”
Without waiting for a response, Elmore turned and made his way back to the throne. As he sat down, a strange warmth filled him. His body was still bruised and battered, but he could already feel his wounds closing up, the bleeding stopping as if his body was accelerating the healing process. He thought back to the fight—Captain Armstrong had been skilled, but clearly low-level. The man’s abilities were more honed through combat experience than raw Aither strength.
After a few minutes, Brett appeared, leading the blonde representative toward him. Elmore steeled himself, putting the mask of control back on, his demeanor shifting to one of authority. He couldn’t let her see any weakness, even though he was still feeling the strain of the duel.
The representative, visibly annoyed, wasted no time. “There will be consequences,” she said sharply, folding her arms. “You may have won today, and perhaps we’ll never take your land by force, but that doesn’t mean we have to let you leave it.”
Elmore brushed her words aside, acting as though her threats were meaningless. “I can leave whenever I choose,” he said with a dismissive wave, “and none of you can stop me.” Both of them knew that wasn’t entirely true, but she wasn’t certain enough to call his bluff.
The tension in the air thickened, but Elmore decided to take the initiative. “Let’s talk about a middle ground,” he proposed smoothly, watching her reaction closely.
Her demeanor shifted, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
Elmore leaned forward slightly. “I’m willing to become an independent vassal,” he began. “As long as I can do whatever I please on my land, I won’t expand it beyond its current borders. I create the laws within it, and I’ll recognize the country’s laws outside of it. If America falls, I retain my autonomy.”
The woman didn’t even try to hide the wireless communication device in her ear as she relayed the offer back to her superiors. After a few moments, she turned back to Elmore. “They’re interested. Could we have that in writing?”
Elmore quickly drafted a detailed agreement, outlining his terms. He handed it to her, adding, “Once America has chosen its president, my throne will become an independent vassal to the new government.”
The representative seemed confused for a moment. “What do you mean, a throne?”
“To create a country under the system,” Elmore explained, “you need a throne—a seat of power. That’s how it works.”
She raised an eyebrow. “How do we get one?”
“You’ll have to find and defeat a boss,” Elmore replied matter-of-factly. “And the fewer people involved, the more powerful the reward will be. Eventually, you may get the option for a seat of power.”
The woman absorbed this information thoughtfully. “Understood. Thank you for the explanation,” she said. “The election is the day after tomorrow. You’re welcome to come vote in town.”
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With that, she turned and left, returning to the blockade.
Elmore sighed and headed back into the house. He was met by Ash, who immediately grabbed some bandages, her expression a mixture of concern and frustration.
“You just can’t stop yourself from getting hurt, can you?” she muttered, hitting him lightly on the head with a rolled-up newspaper. “You’re being dumb.”
Elmore chuckled, wincing slightly as she tended to his wounds. “Yeah, maybe. But at least I’m trying.” He smiled at her, appreciating the warmth of their banter even in these tense times.
Later that evening, with his wounds mostly bandaged, Elmore sat with Ash and Edward, enjoying a quiet dinner. Despite the looming threats, the family ended the night with a sense of closeness, their nervousness tempered by the comfort of being together.
Elmore, Ash, Brett, and little Edward all crammed into their silver car, making the short drive uptown to cast their votes. The day was overcast but comfortable, with a light breeze blowing through the open windows. The road ahead was familiar, though the air held a certain tension—this election had the town stirred up, and Elmore could feel it as they approached.
In the backseat, Edward babbled, occasionally smacking his hands against the car door, while Brett, ever-watchful, kept an eye on the passing treeline, ensuring their journey was safe. Ash sat in the passenger seat, cracking jokes about the state of the election and teasing Elmore about how he’d become such a local figurehead. “I swear, if one more person calls you ‘Chief,’ you’re going to need to start charging for advice,” she quipped, shooting him a playful smile.
Elmore chuckled, but his mind was on other things. He hadn’t expected his role to grow this quickly, and every passing day seemed to bring new challenges. Today was no exception.
They finally reached town, parking in the gravel lot near the main street. The town square was packed, with people milling about, standing in long lines to vote. The normally quiet streets buzzed with conversation and anticipation. It looked like everyone had shown up for this election—farmers, tradesmen, shop owners, even families from the more remote parts of the area had come down to make their voices heard.
As they stepped out of the car, a few people immediately recognized Elmore. Smiles and waves greeted him as they made their way to the line. Conversations sprang up almost instantly, and soon Elmore found himself surrounded by friendly faces, all eager to talk.
“How’s the valley doing, Elmore?” someone asked.
“Good,” he replied, nodding at the familiar faces. “Houses are filling up, and things are steady. Just keeping things moving.”
The topic quickly shifted to the abandoned homes in the valley. “Is it true you’re running things down there now?” an older man asked, tipping his hat.
Elmore smiled. “Yeah, it’s true. There are a few abandoned houses left, and anyone’s welcome to move in if there’s space. Once they’re full, we’ll talk about building more homes. Just come by the next meeting if you’re serious.”
That comment sparked a wave of interest. The group around him grew larger as word spread. People from uptown and even the outskirts of the town started to gather, all asking about the valley, curious about how they might be able to move in. One woman spoke up, concern evident in her voice. “It’s safe, right? I heard about those wild animals in the woods. You’ve got protections, don’t you?”
Elmore nodded confidently. “It’s safe. Within a mile of my home, there’s magical enforcement of the laws. That means no animals, no harm coming to the people who live there. You’re protected.”
Hushed murmurs rippled through the crowd as Elmore spoke. More and more people seemed interested in moving to his valley, and soon the conversation shifted to the next meeting. “When’s the next gathering?” someone asked.
“Tomorrow,” Elmore responded. “We can talk about who’s moving where, and I’ll make sure everyone’s got a place. It’s all about building the community, right?”
The conversation continued, touching on various topics—from farming techniques to the upcoming winter preparations and local disputes that needed sorting out. People asked Elmore for advice on all sorts of matters. As they talked, the crowd became a blend of laughter, serious discussion, and the casual comfort that came with familiarity. Elmore enjoyed these moments, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing.
As the line moved forward, there was a sudden commotion near the front, where the voting booths stood. A loud voice cut through the noise, panic and anger clear in their tone. “Fraud! Someone’s messing with the voting rolls!”
The crowd went still for a moment, and then chaos erupted. Shouting, confusion, and frustration surged through the gathered townspeople as the word spread like wildfire. People started pushing forward, trying to get a look at what was happening, and before Elmore could react, he was nudged toward the front of the line, his stature and presence making him the natural figure to address the situation.
“Elmore! You should look into this!” one man shouted from the back.
“Elmore, what do we do?” a woman cried out, concern in her eyes.
The crowd’s attention turned squarely to him. All at once, the lighthearted conversations faded into the background, and all eyes were on him, expecting him to take charge. For a brief moment, Elmore felt the weight of their expectations. He hadn’t asked for this responsibility, but here it was, thrust upon him.
Taking a deep breath, he straightened up, his mind racing as he assessed the situation. He couldn’t let the situation spiral out of control. With the town looking to him for leadership, he knew he had to maintain calm and resolve. He was the Chief now, and it was time to act like one.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Elmore announced firmly, his voice carrying above the noise. “But first, let’s calm down. No one’s getting hurt over this.”
The crowd quieted slightly, some still murmuring in frustration, but most waiting to see what Elmore would do next. As he moved forward, closer to the voting booths, the tension was palpable.
As Elmore approached the voting booths, he was immediately greeted by a tense and unsettling scene. A man with a bloody nose was sprawled on the ground, surrounded by scattered voting rolls. Another man, standing over him with blood smeared on one of his hands, had two armed guards pointing rifles at him. The government officials on site, clearly recognizing Elmore from the duel the day before, hesitated as he strode up to them, his face hard with intent.
Elmore’s voice cut through the tension, commanding attention. “What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. The officials hesitated, unsure how to proceed. The man on the ground, still wiping blood from his nose, snarled up at Elmore. “Freaks like you with your crazy abilities don’t deserve the rights to have them!”
Elmore remained calm, but his gaze was sharp as he turned to the man standing with blood on his hand and back. “Did you do this independently?” he asked coldly.
The man straightened and nodded, his face tight with frustration. “Yes, most of the guards are freaks themselves, they wouldn’t help me.”
Elmore’s eyes flashed, but his voice remained composed. “Well then,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I’m not on my land right now, so I’m not the one in charge. But if somehow you made your way onto my land, I am witness to what you’ve done, and I could legally punish you as I see fit.”
The crowd murmured uneasily, clearly understanding the implications. Elmore gave one final glance at the scene before him. “I’m placing my vote and going home.”
The message was clear, and the guards didn’t move to stop anything that followed. As Elmore calmly wrote his name on the voting rolls, the man responsible for the chaos was hogtied by those around him. The armed guards looked on but did not interfere. It was as if the natural order had already shifted in Elmore’s favor.
He finished casting his vote, and without another word, walked back to his car with Ash, Brett, and Edward. They left the scene, the tension behind them fading as the car pulled away. About an hour later, as expected, the same man was brought to Elmore’s land, still hogtied.
Inside the house, Elmore discussed the situation with Ash over dinner. She had her reservations but ultimately agreed with his decision. After some deliberation, Elmore sentenced the man to six months of hard labor. “When he leaves,” Elmore declared, “he will have his thumbs removed.” The punishment was severe but designed to send a clear message: actions have consequences, especially on his land.
The next morning, a large crowd had gathered outside Elmore’s property. They cheered, their anger from the day before having grown into that collective mob mentality that comes with public outrage. The man, still bound, was dragged before them and officially sentenced. Elmore’s voice was resolute as he spoke to the crowd and the man.
“For the next six months, this man will be forbidden from leaving my land. He will do hard labor for anyone who asks, and he may not refuse. He will be fed two square meals a day, but he will own nothing and have nothing.” The crowd roared in approval as the man was dragged away, his future sealed.
The message had been sent, loud and clear. Elmore’s authority was now undeniable.
As Elmore wrapped up the man's sentencing, the atmosphere gradually shifted from tense to productive. With the immediate issue resolved, the townspeople gathered around his home, where Elmore projected a map from his computer onto the side of the house. Using an aerial view of the area from Gaagle Earth, he began to lay out a plan for the future.
“We’ve got space for about 800 people,” he said, tracing the outline of his property with a laser pointer. “That’s if we repair all the abandoned homes and use the infrastructure already in place within a mile of here.”
The crowd nodded, murmuring among themselves. It was an old coal mining town, and the decline over the last fifty years had seen more than 70% of the homes burned down by arsonists. Still, it was a start, and the community was willing to put in the work to rebuild.
Elmore continued, his voice carrying across the group, “There’s plenty of land available from those burned plots, but it’s going to take work. We need rock, pipe, fittings—everything we can scavenge to build more homes. Those of you with abilities, you’re crucial here.”
People began organizing themselves into groups, identifying who had the skills needed for construction, plumbing, and other vital tasks. Others discussed who could provide resources, and a plan started forming. As the map illuminated the side of Elmore’s house, the project to revitalize the valley took shape. The buzz of excitement was palpable as people realized they were creating something new, something sustainable.
“There’s no official currency within my land for now,” Elmore declared. “No taxes. Everything’s on a trade and community basis while we grow. Everyone helps everyone.”
This spurred even more collaboration, and groups began discussing who had what and who needed what. The valley was truly beginning to unite as a community. Elmore, directing the effort, watched as the conversation unfolded. In moments like these, the world seemed to blur, and time passed quickly as progress moved forward.
---
A year later, Elmore found himself seated on his throne, now dressed casually rather than in battle gear. His wounds had long since healed, and the valley around him had transformed. What had started with a population of just a few hundred had grown to over 1,500. He had gained the ability to level up his chiefdom when the population hit 1,000, but for the last three months, he had held off, watching and waiting to see how the town evolved.
The valley was now fully self-sustaining. The water treatment plant within the radius provided clean water, and the community had become detached from the state’s water and electric grid, thanks to the ingenuity of the people and the use of unique abilities. They had even built water wheels along the stream that ran through the valley, using them to power small-scale industry like grain mills for flour. It wasn’t high-tech, but it was efficient, and it worked.
New homes were being built every day. The town had settled into a system where money wasn’t necessary, and instead, people requested what they needed at the town meetings, and it was provided. Everyone knew this setup wouldn’t last forever, though. People were still trying to collect money from outside the valley, knowing that when the time came, they would need it.
“Ash,” Elmore called out to his secretary/wife, who was now an integral part of managing the town, “What’s the latest news.”
As Elmore sat on his throne, Ash stood beside him, scrolling through her tablet to give a detailed update on the town's progress. She smiled, starting with some good news.
"The smokehouses we built last season have been meeting production standards," she said. "We’ve got enough jerky stored to get us through the winter. We're in a much better position than last year. No one should starve this time, though we might need you to step up your hunting a little more."
Elmore nodded thoughtfully, relieved to hear things were going well on the food front.
"And," Ash continued, "the fruit trees are officially planted. The orchards are strong, and we're past the phase where we had to worry about any of the newly planted trees dying off. We found three local apple trees and five pawpaw trees that we successfully transplanted to your orchard behind the throne. The people with plant-based abilities confirmed they’re healthy and will keep growing.”
She flipped to another page on her tablet. “The farms are producing a good amount of vegetables and smaller fruits, enough that we’re starting to look at preserving some for the winter. The women in town have taken on a new project to create clay pots so we can store fruits and vegetables in vinegar. One woman is leading it, and she’s got a group of younger women helping her. They’ve been experimenting with the designs.”
Elmore listened intently as she outlined the progress in their food storage efforts. Having plenty of food for winter would be critical, and it sounded like they were preparing in every way possible.
“Also,” Ash added with a grin, “one of the younger men in town has decided to try his hand at brewing alcohol. His first batch should be ready in about a month, and he’s planning to share it at the next meeting. Should be interesting.”
Elmore chuckled at that, appreciating the sense of community and ingenuity that had taken hold over the past year.
"We’ve had ten babies born this year," Ash continued, her tone more serious. "The population is growing steadily, and with the help of those with magical healing abilities, we’ve had zero deaths. Mortality rates have been reduced to nothing."
This was something Elmore was particularly proud of. The town's growth and survival depended on the well-being of its people, and with healing magic, they were starting to defy the usual hardships of frontier life.
Shifting to another topic, Ash said, “The water wheel has been a great success. It's now powering both the grain mill and a small wood mill. We’re working on building a larger one to handle bigger logs, but it’s going to take some time. Still, it’s a solid start.”
She paused to take a breath, then moved into future plans. “The goal now is to get things back to modern standards as much as we can. We’ve only had to raid a few abandoned stores for supplies so far, but there are plenty more out there if we need them. As for long-term goals, we’re aiming to have everything up to where you envision it within the next five years. At this rate, we’re on track."
Elmore glanced at the people mingling outside, the sense of community and progress clear in their interactions. The town was thriving, and as he listened to Ash lay out all that had been achieved, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.
"And once everyone who wants to move in has settled," Ash concluded, "we can shift focus fully to industry and more complex infrastructure projects. But for now, we're in a good place."
Elmore sat back in his chair, taking it all in. The valley had come a long way, and with the continued effort of its people, it was only going to get better. Ash’s report had confirmed what he already knew—they were building something here. Something worth protecting.