The sun beat down on the camp as I surveyed the progress we'd made. The shelters stood sturdy, their thick walls casting long shadows over the rocky ground. Clean water flowed from the purification units, filling makeshift cisterns. A steady rhythm of life had started to take root, but I knew it wasn't enough. Survival wasn't the end goal. We needed something more – order, discipline, and strength. Without those, this place would crumble the moment I left or fell.

I stood on a rocky outcrop overlooking the camp. The former mutants went about their tasks, hauling supplies, tending to the small vegetation patches I had cultivated with [Flesh Shaping]. Their movements were slow, uncoordinated. A few bickered near the water source, their voices sharp. Others lounged by the shelters, idling as if they had nothing better to do.

My jaw tightened. This wasn't how a settlement thrived. They needed purpose. They needed to be united.

I stepped down from the rock, the sound of my boots crunching against the ground drawing their attention. One by one, their heads turned. Conversations stopped. Eyes followed me as I walked toward the center of the camp. I stopped near the largest shelter, [Ruyi Jingu Bang] tapping lightly against the ground.

"Gather," I said, my voice carrying over the quiet.

They hesitated, exchanging glances, but soon they moved. Slowly at first, then in clusters, until the entire camp stood before me. Their faces were expectant, some confused, others wary. The old mutant – now fully healed, his posture straighter, his gaze sharper – stepped closer, his arms crossed.

"This isn't enough," I said, sweeping my gaze over the group. "Shelter, food, water – these will keep you alive, but they won't protect you. You've lived your lives hiding, scavenging, running from anything stronger than you. That ends today."

The crowd shifted. Murmurs rippled through them. I raised a hand, silencing them.

"If this place is going to survive, you need to be more than survivors. You need to be disciplined. You need to be ready to fight. To defend this home. To defend each other."

I let the words sink in, watching their faces. Some nodded, their postures straightening. Others frowned, their arms crossed defensively. The younger ones looked uncertain, their eyes darting between me and the rest.

"I'm going to train you," I said. "You'll learn how to fight, how to follow orders, how to move as one. You'll be disciplined, like the soldiers of the Imperium."

The murmurs grew louder. One of the men – his broad shoulders and firm stance marking him as a natural leader – stepped forward. "Why? We have you. You fight. You protect us."

I stepped closer to him, my eyes locking onto his. He didn't flinch, but his shoulders tightened.

"I won't always be here," I said, my voice low but firm. "And even if I am, one man isn't enough. You need to be able to protect yourselves. To stand together. Or everything we've built will fall."

He didn't reply, but his jaw clenched. He nodded, stepping back into the group. That was enough for now.

The training began the next morning. I started simple: marching. I lined them up in uneven rows and showed them how to stand, how to hold themselves. Most of them slouched, their postures lax from years of scavenging and crouching in shadows. I walked down the line, tapping shoulders, adjusting stances.

"Straighten your back," I said to one man, his thin frame trembling as he tried to comply.

"Chest out. Shoulders back. Like this." I demonstrated, my posture firm, my movements precise.

He mimicked me, his arms stiff, his legs shaking slightly. I nodded and moved on.

The old mutant – now my de facto second-in-command – helped enforce the drills. His booming voice barked at anyone who slacked, his clawed hand pointing out mistakes. The others listened to him, their respect for him clear. He was rough, but effective.

By midday, they were moving in formation, their steps clumsy but coordinated. Sweat glistened on their brows, and their breathing was labored, but they pushed on. I watched them closely, correcting mistakes, offering brief words of encouragement when needed. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.

As the days passed, I expanded their training. I taught them basic combat techniques, using crude spears and scavenged blades. I showed them how to hold their weapons, how to strike, how to defend. We practiced in pairs, the sounds of wood and metal clashing echoing through the camp. I wasn't about to create weapons for them to wield, before they could even master the most basic of martial arts. And I certainly was not going to give them Lasguns as they were.

"Again," I barked as one pair faltered, their movements sloppy. "Hold your stance. Keep your balance."

The smaller of the two nodded, adjusting his grip on the spear. He lunged forward, his movements sharper this time. His partner blocked the strike, their weapons locking together. I stepped between them, separating the spears with a quick motion.

"Better," I said, meeting their eyes. "But not good enough. Keep practicing."

They nodded, their faces determined.

While the training continued, I turned my attention to the camp itself. The shelters were a good start, but they weren't enough. We needed infrastructure – defenses, sanitation, systems that would allow the camp to grow and thrive without me having to constantly watch over every single tiny detail. I'd also need to teach them how to maintain all of this, but... that was going to be an entirely different challenge, seeing as I had no idea how to do that.

I activated [Fabrication], pulling up the blueprint for a wall. It was tall and sturdy, designed to withstand both the elements and potential attackers; and it was made of something that was close to Ferrockrete, but sturdier . With a thought, I began pulling from my [Raw Material] reserves. Dust and sand swirled around me, coalescing into form as the wall began to rise.

The mutants stopped their training to watch, their faces a mixture of awe and disbelief. The wall grew steadily, encircling the camp, its surface smooth and unyielding. When it was complete, I added watchtowers at each corner, their heights giving a clear view of the surrounding desert. I installed massive stubbers there as well, chain guns from the STC. To man them, however, I created simple flesh bodies with even simpler souls; and installed in them was a single directive: protect my people.

Next, I built a sewage system. It was small but efficient, designed to recycle waste into usable biomass. The process was simple: waste was broken down and repurposed, creating fertilizer for the vegetation patches and additional biomass for my reserves. It was a strange system to explain to the mutants, but they seemed to understand once I demonstrated its benefits.

The camp began to take shape. The walls provided safety, the sewage system ensured cleanliness, and the training instilled a sense of purpose. The mutants moved with more confidence now, their bodies straighter, their steps firmer. They were no longer just survivors. They were becoming a community. And soon enough, they would become a civilization... under my leadership.

Soon enough, the little camp was becoming something akin to a village.

The very thought of it honestly boggled my mind more than it should. Not once, in the entirety of my existence, had been a leader – the Kharsons were excluded as they were a part of me, despite being separate entities, who were capable of acting on their own accord. These people... these former mutants... they chose me to be their leader with no real input from me. In fact, I didn't even want to lead them, but I was going to, because they had no one else.

Nights were generally peaceful. With the gun emplacements and the artificial beings that manned them, I didn't really have to do much, unless a particularly large monster showed up, during which I'd personally step in to deal with it, but those were incredibly rare – though I admittedly welcomed them due to the Biomass I was able to absorb from them.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, I stood atop the wall, watching the desert beyond. The camp below buzzed with quiet activity – figures moving between shelters, the sound of laughter and conversation drifting up. The old mutant joined me, his clawed hand resting on the edge of the wall.

"You've done much for us," he said, his voice low. "We are... grateful."

I nodded, my gaze fixed on the horizon. The God-Emperor was out there, somewhere, hidden among the remnants of mankind. I had to find him, but that was also impossible; the God-Emperor would remain invisible to me, until he wished to be found. In the meantime, I decided, I'd lay the foundations of his Imperium, the Imperium of Mankind. And when his crusade finally began, I'd meet and greet him with open arms.

"This is just the beginning," I said. "There's still so much more to do."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful, but hopeful. "We'll be ready."

For the first time since arriving here, I felt a flicker of something steady and real. Progress. Purpose. A foundation to build on.

The following morning, I stood by the watchtower, scanning the horizon. The desert stretched endlessly, golden dunes rippling under the sharp morning sun. The air was still, save for the faint whistle of the wind. Below, the camp stirred to life. Mutants – no, people – moved with purpose. Some fetched water from the purification unit, others practiced formations in the open space near the wall.

Then I saw it: a thin plume of dust in the distance. My grip tightened on the edge of the watchtower as I leaned forward. Shapes emerged slowly from the haze, dark figures against the shimmering sand.

A caravan.

I called down to the camp, my voice cutting through the air. "We have visitors."

The old mutant, now my second-in-command, barked orders. The others sprang into action. Spears were drawn, and a small group took position near the gate. They weren't ready for combat yet – not fully – but they moved like they were. A stark improvement from the scattered chaos they once were.

I descended the watchtower and approached the gate as the caravan drew closer. A line of wagons, pulled by mutated beasts with elongated necks and thick, scaled hides, rolled steadily toward us. Each wagon was piled high with goods—crates, barrels, and bundles wrapped in faded cloth. Figures in ragged robes walked alongside them, their faces hidden beneath wide-brimmed hats or hoods.

At the head of the caravan was a familiar figure.

Master Mirror.

He sat atop a wagon, his posture relaxed, reins in one hand, the other resting on his knee. His bald head gleamed under the sun, and a knowing smile curved his lips. As the caravan halted just outside the gate, he hopped down with an ease that didn't match his apparent age.

"Guardian," he said, spreading his arms wide as he approached. I did not miss the fact that he addressed me by the same title created by the former mutants. "How fortuitous to see you again."

I narrowed my eyes. His voice was smooth, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. The last time I'd seen him, he'd vanished without a trace. Now here he was, strolling into my camp like he belonged.

"What do you want, Master Mirror?" I asked, keeping my tone steady.

He chuckled, his smile deepening. "Straight to business. I like that."

He gestured to the wagons behind him. "Trade, my dear Guardian. I come bearing goods, knowledge, and, perhaps, a gift."

My gaze flicked to the caravan. The robed figures stayed by the wagons, their hands resting near their weapons – primitive rifles and blades. I could feel their eyes on me, watching closely.

"What kind of trade?" I asked.

"Anything you need," he said, spreading his hands. "Food, tools, materials. Information."

His smile sharpened. "I hear you've built something remarkable here. It would be a shame to isolate yourself from the rest of the world."

I stepped closer, towering over him. He didn't flinch. "What do you know about this world?"

Master Mirror tilted his head, his eyes glinting. "Enough to know you're not from it – not this time, at least. But I suspect you'll want to know where you stand."

He reached into his robes and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment. "A map of the region. Marked with settlements, ruins, and places of interest. Including yours."

He held it out. I didn't move to take it right away, my eyes narrowing at the implication. "How do you already know where we are?"

His smile widened.

"I have my ways. Knowledge is my trade, after all." He paused, tilting the map slightly. "But knowledge comes at a price."

"What price?"

"Nothing unreasonable," he said, his tone casual. "You've built something extraordinary here. A foundation, a community. You'll need allies, connections, supplies. And weapons." His gaze flicked to [Ruyi Jingu Bang] at my side. "I suspect you have a means to create such things."

My lips thinned. He knew more than he let on, but I had little choice. The map alone could save me weeks of exploration. I nodded. "Come inside. We'll talk."

The caravan entered cautiously. My people watched them closely, their grips tightening on their spears. I waved them down, signaling for calm, and led Master Mirror to the central shelter. Inside, I unrolled the map on a makeshift table, my eyes scanning its contents.

It was detailed – far more than I expected. Marked settlements dotted the map, some close, others far. The names were unfamiliar, but the symbols told a story: trade hubs, ruins, fortresses, and unmarked hazards. My settlement sat near the edge, its position clear.

"This will do," I said, straightening.

Master Mirror grinned. "I thought you'd find it useful."

In return, I offered him something he clearly didn't expect. I pulled a crate from my [Inventory] and placed it on the table. With a thought, I opened it, revealing rows of lasguns.

His eyes widened faintly, though his smile did not falter.

"Lasguns," he murmured, running a finger along one. "Functional. Clean."

"These models technically haven't even been invented yet." He looked up at me. "You've outdone yourself."

"Enough for your caravan," I said. "In exchange for the map and whatever supplies you're carrying."

He recovered quickly, his grin returning. "A generous offer. We have food, textiles, some rare metals. And information, of course."

"Done," I said, holding out a hand.

He clasped it firmly, his grip surprisingly strong. "A pleasure, Guardian."

As the caravan unloaded its goods, my people gathered around, their eyes wide with curiosity. The concept of trade was foreign to them, but they watched intently as crates were exchanged, and goods were distributed.

Master Mirror lingered as his caravan prepared to leave. He stood near the gate, watching me with that same enigmatic smile.

"You've started something remarkable here," he said. "But the world beyond these walls is vast. Dangerous. Keep that in mind."

I nodded, my expression unreadable. "I always do."

With that, he climbed back onto his wagon, the caravan rolling out into the desert. I stood by the gate, watching until the last wagon disappeared over the dunes.


AN: Chapter 78 is out on (Pat)reon!