In the span of three short years, the world had become almost unrecognizable. What began as a slow and uncertain transformation due to the widespread emergence of the Aither Nexus had escalated into a new era of civilization, where magic and political power were inextricably linked. The United States government, now officially recognized by the Aither System, had successfully merged with both Canada and Mexico, transforming North America into a sprawling empire. The existence of 100 thrones across the continent, each led by individuals of immense power and influence, redefined governance in this new age. The map of the world had been rewritten, and the very fabric of society was reshaped.
Elmore, chief of his mountain valley in Appalachia, ruled from one of the most unique thrones. Unlike the majority of the thrones, which fell under the overarching laws and taxes of the United States government, Elmore's domain remained entirely independent. His small but fiercely loyal territory was a true sanctuary, free from the complex bureaucracy and economic control that now governed most of North America. While other thrones acted as vassals, subsidiaries, or semi-autonomous city-states within the empire, Elmore’s throne stood apart. This freedom gave him and his people an almost mythic reputation in the region. His rule, marked by both wisdom and the inexplicable strength granted by his [Aither Memory] and [Progenitor] skills, ensured that his valley was seen as a bastion of both mystery and strength.
Meanwhile, the administration that had seized the reins of this new Aither-powered world was well aware of the importance of the thrones, knowing that their allegiance was vital to maintaining the American Empire. Their approach was both pragmatic and innovative. The government had evolved to integrate the Aither Nexus system into every aspect of governance, using the skills and abilities of its citizens to enhance productivity, defense, and diplomacy. Federal programs were created to support Nexus users, offering training camps and education initiatives that allowed people to understand their newfound abilities. The government also invested heavily in infrastructure and technology that utilized the raw potential of Aither. As a result, the country thrived like never before—unemployment plummeted, and crime fell drastically as communities were fortified by those with new abilities. Poverty, although not eradicated, was mitigated by the integration of Aither-fueled innovation into agriculture, energy, and medicine.
One of the most profound shifts was the stabilization of international conflicts. Outside of the chaos that gripped Africa, most wars around the world ceased as the immense power of the Aither Nexus was realized by the major global powers. After all, with the potential to reshape reality itself, direct warfare seemed almost redundant. Instead, the focus shifted to governance, with nations aligning under new structures that mirrored the American throne system. In Europe, traditional monarchies found renewed purpose. England reestablished its monarchy as a throne allied to the United States’ influence, its royal family now acting as a Nexus-wielding entity capable of exerting considerable control over the British Isles. France and Germany, too, adopted throne systems, though they operated more as decentralized city-states, each with their own rules and allegiances.
Asia underwent a similar transformation. Russia, now expanding its reach across vast tracts of former Soviet territory, had managed to reclaim portions of Eastern Europe and Central Asia. Its throne was one of the largest, rivaling even that of America. Russia's ruler, a figure shrouded in mystique, wielded immense Aither abilities that reportedly allowed them to control the very weather itself—a power that rendered the frigid Siberian landscape both a fortress and a breeding ground for powerful warriors. China, not to be outdone, had expanded its reach far into Southeast Asia, absorbing much of what was once Vietnam, Laos, and Myanmar. It boasted dozens of thrones, with its capital in Beijing transformed into a Nexus-powered metropolis. Rumors circulated that China's most elite Nexus users had discovered ways to use machinery to interact with Aither, merging magic and technology in ways not yet seen elsewhere.
In contrast, Africa had descended into a dangerous crucible of warlords, thrones, and constant bloodshed. The majority of the continent was now divided into small, ever-changing territories ruled by the most powerful Nexus users. These warlords, hardened by continuous conflict and death, produced some of the highest-level individuals in the world. The sheer brutality of the ongoing wars on the continent allowed for rapid growth in power among the Nexus users, making Africa a place both feared and respected by the rest of the world. Nations outside of Africa viewed the continent with a mixture of apprehension and fascination, knowing that those who survived the trials there emerged as formidable forces capable of reshaping entire regions if they ever left.
While the rest of the world grew and adapted, strange things were afoot in other regions. Both the North and South Poles had become complete enigmas. Explorations sent to these frozen wastelands reported anomalies in the Aither Nexus there—disturbances that disrupted communications and even the perception of time. Some expeditions never returned, and the few that did spoke in riddles, their minds seemingly affected by something beyond human understanding.
Even more unsettling was the silence from Australia and the islands of Indonesia. Once thriving regions, they had gone completely dark. No communications, no travelers, nothing. Rumors whispered of a cataclysmic event or an isolationist policy enforced by powerful Nexus users, but no one knew for certain. The rest of the world was left to speculate, with some daring to believe that the lands might have succumbed to forces far beyond even the reach of the Aither Nexus.
All the while, scientists around the world were racing to understand the nature of Aither itself. The term "Aither" had been coined officially, referring to the unknown substance that powered the Nexus system. Theories about its origins ranged from the divine to the extraterrestrial, and some believed that it was the Earth's natural evolution, a kind of consciousness that humanity and all life on Earth had finally tapped into. Others posited that machinery might be able to fully unlock Aither’s potential, leading to the development of technology that could interact with it in unprecedented ways. Research labs across the world were buzzing with experimentation—some with promising results, others with catastrophic consequences.
Despite the chaos and uncertainty, one thing was clear: the world was no longer what it once was. The pro-Nexus candidate, who had taken the presidency and steered the United States through its most radical transformation in history, won his second term in a landslide. Under his leadership, the Aither Nexus had become a cornerstone of governance, diplomacy, and daily life. The wars outside of Africa had largely ceased, and the world found itself in a fragile balance of power, each throne playing its part in the global chessboard.
But as the world grew and adapted to its new magical reality, questions remained—questions that no one could yet answer. What was the true nature of Aither? What had really happened to Australia and Indonesia? And what lay in the untouched, frozen expanses of the Poles, where even the Aither Nexus seemed to falter?
In these uncertain times, one thing was certain: the world was only at the beginning of its transformation.
Over the course of the last three years, Edward had grown into a fine young boy, now seven years old and already showing signs of the man he would become. Elmore marveled at how quickly his son had taken to the world around him. Edward's inherent curiosity led him to explore the lands of their chiefdom, learning from the people, the environment, and, most importantly, from his parents. His energy was infectious, and while his Aither Nexus had not yet fully formed, there were moments when sparks of potential could be seen in him—small manifestations of what would one day become Edward’s unique power.
Elmore often found his son out with the hunters, eager to learn how they tracked and brought down game for the chiefdom, or at the forges, watching the blacksmiths mold iron into tools and weapons. He spent time with his grandfather, learning the inner workings of the machinery that kept the chiefdom running smoothly. The boy was well-loved by the people, always with a kind word and a youthful exuberance that lightened the hearts of everyone in the valley.
Meanwhile, the infrastructure of Elmore’s chiefdom had grown remarkably. The safe, lit roads sprawling across the land were a testament to their progress. These roads allowed for the quick movement of goods, services, and people between new and old homes under Elmore’s rule, connecting once isolated people into a unified community. The roads were lined with stone lampposts that glowed faintly with Aither light, a gift from a Nexus user who had developed a skill related to illumination. The soft glow provided protection during the nights when the Aither-mutated beasts became more daring in their attacks, though even now, the threat of such creatures loomed.
Elmore had worked hard to ensure the construction of new homes, schools, churches, forges, and mines. The town’s forges rang day and night as blacksmiths crafted weapons, tools, and more, their fires fueled by the abundant coal reserves of the valley. Coal remained the chiefdom’s primary resource, feeding the local economy, but excitement grew over the recent discovery of an iron vein and, more importantly, an unidentified, impossibly hard metal deep within the earth. The miners, despite their best efforts, could not extract the mysterious ore. Even the repaired machinery could not dent it, sparking curiosity and whispers of untapped potential that might one day change their future.
Food production had reached an equilibrium, allowing the people to live without fear of hunger. Hunting parties brought in game from the surrounding woods, and farms, both small and large, yielded bountiful crops of corn, potatoes, and vegetables. The surplus allowed for trade with other regions, and a steady flow of goods now moved between Elmore’s domain and the state capital of West Virginia. Trade agreements with neighboring thrones, while slow to begin, had blossomed into a robust network of commerce that benefitted all involved.
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The Hall of Beginnings stood tall on the border of Elmore’s personal lands, a massive structure made of stone and timber, where the people gathered for celebrations, meetings, and matters of state. Its presence symbolized both the strength and unity of the chiefdom. Elmore’s own home had been repaired with the help of skilled workers, returning it to its former glory after years of wear. His father, the head mechanic of the valley, had taken to restoring all the old vehicles and machinery they had salvaged. With only two other mechanics to assist him, Elmore’s father had done a remarkable job fixing up several dozers, excavators, and dump trucks. The heavy machinery, once rusted relics of a bygone era, now roared to life again, ready to be used in mining, construction, and defense. Elmore’s personal truck, lovingly called The Beast, had been repaired as well—though not without his father giving him a stern lecture about how badly he had damaged it during his confrontation with the SwineLord.
Elmore had spent much of his time training, honing his skills with both his axe and his shotgun. He had learned to channel the Aither in his weapons, infusing them with a power that amplified their destructive capabilities. His axe could hum with latent energy, and his shotgun kicked harder than ever, sending ripples through the air with each blast. However, he had discovered that his weapons could only maintain their Aither charge after killing enough creatures, allowing them to passively draw in energy from the environment. It was a necessary reality in this world—power was gained through death, through struggle, and through the constant challenge of survival.
Ash had become invaluable in her role as diplomat and spokesperson for the chiefdom. Her [Silver Tongue] skill had allowed her to forge key alliances with other thrones and neighboring settlements. She managed the political intricacies that came with dealing with the federal government’s ever-changing agreements with the thrones, allowing Elmore to focus on the internal growth of their people. As a result of her tireless efforts, trade had flourished, and the chiefdom enjoyed a level of prosperity that few others in the region could match. Ash had recently leveled up to Level 2, though she had brushed off Elmore’s inquiries into how she had allocated her stat points, saying only that she placed them "where they were needed."
The people under Elmore’s rule now numbered around 2,000. It was a tight-knit community, bound together by their loyalty to him and the mutual respect that had grown over the years. No taxes had been imposed on his people, save for a small import tax that Elmore used to fund improvements to the valley. He had chosen to keep things simple—why tax the people when they were already so dedicated to their work and prosperity? Instead, Elmore focused on maintaining a sense of fairness and cooperation, ensuring that the laws and regulations already in place were enforced, though none tied to Aither had been added since he had not leveled up yet.
As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the valley, Elmore made his way to the Hall of Beginnings. The entire town had gathered there for a cookout, a celebration of all they had accomplished over the years. The air was thick with the scent of grilled meats, roasting vegetables, and freshly baked bread. Laughter and conversation filled the air as people came together, not just as subjects of a chiefdom but as a true community.
Elmore stepped into the bustling crowd, offering warm hellos and handshakes as he moved through his people. Brett, his chief of military, walked beside him, a quiet but solid presence. Brett, like Elmore, was close to leveling up, his eyes always watchful for any threats to the peace they had built. On Elmore’s other side was Ash, radiant as always, her presence drawing smiles and admiration from those they passed. She had become a beloved figure in the valley, respected not only for her diplomatic skill but for her genuine care for the people.
As they reached the front of the Hall of Beginnings, Elmore ascended the steps to his throne, a large, imposing chair carved from local stone and adorned with the symbols of his lineage. He took his place with Ash on his right and Brett on his left, surveying the crowd before him.
For a moment, Elmore simply looked out over his people—his family. The cookout continued around him, a tangible reminder of how far they had come. The fires crackled, children played at the edges of the gathering, and the sounds of music and merriment filled the evening air.
He leaned back in his throne, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. This was the world they had built together, and though challenges remained, it was one filled with hope, progress, and strength. And soon, perhaps very soon, there would be new challenges—and new triumphs—to come.
The meeting was set to begin, but for now, the night belonged to celebration.
The meeting began in the usual way. People from all over the chiefdom gathered in the Hall of Beginnings, sitting on sturdy wooden benches or standing near the back, engaging in quiet conversations as they waited for the formalities to begin. Elmore sat on his throne, watching them with a mixture of pride and amusement. Despite all the threats they faced—mutated beasts, bandits, and the looming uncertainty of the outside world—his people were thriving, debating over the most ordinary of matters.
It was these small concerns that occupied much of their discussions now. A group of landowners had been arguing over property boundaries for the last half hour, one farmer claiming that a fence had been moved without his knowledge, encroaching on his grazing land. Another argued about the rights to a small creek that ran through both properties. Elmore had heard this type of dispute before, and he knew the solution lay in simple negotiation, but the stubbornness of mountain folk meant these issues were never truly simple.
As they talked, he leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly tapping the stone armrest, thinking about how land rights had become such a focal point now. When he first became chief, the land seemed boundless, with more than enough to go around. But the chiefdom had grown rapidly, and now, there wasn’t an acre left unclaimed within their borders.
“Chief Elmore,” one of the farmers called out, his voice carrying across the hall, “what are we supposed to do now that there’s no more land left to settle? We’ve reached the edge of the chiefdom, but our families are growing, and we need more space.”
Elmore straightened, his eyes sweeping over the crowd. He knew this was coming. As the chiefdom prospered, so did the demands for expansion. But he had already made an agreement with the federal government—his lands would not expand beyond their current borders.
“You all know the agreement we’ve made with the government,” Elmore said, his voice steady. “Our borders are set, and they will remain so. We’re not expanding, not now and not in the future. This land is what we have, and we have to make it work for everyone. I recommend maybe making additions to existing structures and no longer focusing on the modern tradition of single family homes.”
There was a murmur of acceptance, though some looked discontent. They all understood, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. The people were pragmatic though, and they shifted quickly to another idea.
One man, a mason by trade, stood up. “If we can’t expand, Chief, what about building a wall around our borders? We’ve all seen the damage those Aither-mutated beasts can do. If we put up a solid barrier, we could reduce the number of attacks, keep our livestock safe.”
The room buzzed with agreement, and others chimed in.
“I can draw up plans,” said another, a carpenter. “We’ve got the manpower and the resources. It wouldn’t be easy, but it’s doable.”
Elmore nodded slowly, considering the idea. A wall. The notion seemed both ancient and modern at once—fortifying their chiefdom like a medieval castle. The thought of building defenses against the beasts had been on his mind for some time, but he hadn't expected the people to propose it themselves. His gaze flicked toward Ash, who gave him a subtle nod of approval.
“I agree,” Elmore said, his voice firm. “A wall could make a real difference. We’ll need to organize crews, figure out how to lay the foundation, and decide how to manage the borders during construction. But I think it’s a good step.”
The room filled with nods and murmurs of approval. Already, people were turning to their neighbors, discussing plans, materials, and logistics. There was even talk of setting up ballistae or other siege defenses, a medieval touch that seemed almost absurd in their modern age but was strangely fitting in the current world of beasts and Nexus users.
Elmore leaned back in his chair, listening to the chatter. His people were resilient, adaptable. The idea of ballistae made him chuckle inwardly. *Ballistae against Aither beasts?* he thought. *What next? Catapults?* But he knew better than to dismiss it outright. With the right application of Aither, even ancient technology could become a powerful tool.
His thoughts were interrupted when a group of miners approached. Their leader, a burly man named Fergus, cleared his throat and addressed Elmore. “Chief, we need to talk about that ore we found. We’ve been at it for weeks, but we can’t make a dent in the stuff. Our tools break against it. Never seen anything like it.”
Elmore nodded, gesturing for them to come closer. He had heard about the discovery of the strange metal but hadn’t had a chance to address it directly.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Elmore said. “You see, I’ve learned how to channel the Aither in my weapons—my axe and my shotgun. It took time, but once I started killing enough creatures with them, they began to draw in Aither on their own. Maybe it’s the same with your tools. If you can figure out a way to channel Aither into them, they might be able to break that ore. I get the impression that higher intelligence lets you do this more easily so if any of you eventually level up maybe think about allocating a few points towards that.”
Fergus frowned, considering the idea. “Channel the Aither in our tools, huh? I’m not sure how we’d go about it, but it’s worth a shot. You think we can learn to do that?”
“I don’t see why not,” Elmore replied. “Aither can be manipulated in ways we’re still learning. If it works with weapons, there’s no reason it shouldn’t work with mining tools. Give it a try, and let me know what you find.”
The miners exchanged glances, clearly intrigued by the suggestion. They left the conversation buzzing with new ideas, eager to test this new approach.
Just as Elmore settled back into his thoughts, the doors to the Hall of Beginnings burst open. A man stumbled inside, covered in blood, his clothes torn and his face pale with fear. The room fell silent as he ran toward the throne, collapsing at Elmore’s feet.
“Chief!” he gasped, his voice shaking. “They… they attacked us. A neighboring throne. The lord of boon sent his men—killed everyone in the caravan. I barely escaped. They… they’ve declared war on us, Chief. They’re coming. They’ll be here in a week.”
A shocked murmur rippled through the crowd. Elmore’s mind raced, his thoughts a storm of anger and calculation. *War?* He hadn’t anticipated this. Boon was one of the more isolated but confrontational thrones that they have not successfully made official trades with.
The man knelt before him, trembling. “They sent me as the messenger. The others… they’re all dead. they said they would give us a week.”
Elmore’s grip tightened on the armrest of his throne, his knuckles white with fury. The room was tense, waiting for his response. His people looked to him for guidance, for strength.
Without a word, Elmore reached for his axe, gripping the haft tightly. He stood, the sound of the weapon’s butt slamming against the stone armrest echoing through the hall. The room fell deathly silent, all eyes on him.
Elmore’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “War, then.”
He looked out over the faces of his people, his heart pounding with the weight of the moment. There was no fear in his eyes, only a cold, resolute determination.
“They’ve made a mistake coming for us,” Elmore said, his voice low but filled with power. “We’ll meet them head-on. And they’ll learn what it means to challenge the people of this valley.”
The hall erupted into a flurry of activity as Elmore's words settled into the hearts of his people. War was coming, but they were going to prepare as fast as they can.