Chapter 74: The Foundations of a City

  Marcus stretched, rolling his shoulders as he took his first real steps outside since waking up. The morning sun bathed the Stronghold in warm light, casting long shadows against the stone walls and newly reinforced structures. The air smelled of earth, sweat, and progress—the scent of a place not just surviving, but growing.

  Beside him, Vira and Grek walked in stride. Vira, arms crossed but noticeably more relaxed, pointed out subtle but significant changes. Grek, ever the opportunist, was already taking mental stock of the developments.

  "Three weeks, huh?" Marcus muttered, glancing around. "Looks like you guys were busy."

  Vira smirked. "Busy is an understatement."

  They passed what had once been a makeshift wooden barricade, now replaced with sturdy stone walls, built with a mix of orc labor and magically-assisted construction. Throughout the Stronghold—no, the city—people of all races worked together: orcs, goblins, beastfolk, even elves, hauling materials, setting foundations, reinforcing defenses.

  Marcus took it all in. "So, when did the Stronghold start turning into a damn city?"

  Vira gave a small shrug, eyes scanning the bustling streets. "Honestly? Ever since you claimed the Dungeon for us. Miran always wanted to make this place more than just a war camp, but he didn't expect things to move this fast."

  She turned to face Marcus. "When you didn’t wake up, Miran wanted your input. But he didn’t wait around for long. He understood what you went through, and you needed to recover. We started with just repairs, but then he started thinking long-term. He said, ‘If we just rebuild, we’ll always be at risk of someone trying to knock us down again. So, with the gifts that Marcus has bestowed upon us—instead, we build something greater.’”

  Marcus let out a low whistle. “Miran’s not messing around.”

  Grek chuckled, his sharp goblin eyes gleaming. “And speaking of building something greater—Greks’ arrival? Not a coincidence."

  Marcus turned to him, brow raised.

  Grek grinned, puffing his chest out. "I was invited. By none other than Miran himself. He’s planning to make Grek the official Trade Representative of the Strongho—I mean, soon-to-be city."

  Marcus blinked. “Wait. You? The official trade rep?”

  Grek placed a hand on his chest with a sense of pride. "Who else? Grek has connections, Grek knows how to negotiate, and let’s be honest—nobody haggles better than a goblin. Grek is more than happy with this potential arrangement. Never really had a place to call home or... at least a headquarters."

  Vira smirked. “For once, he’s not wrong.”

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  Marcus rubbed his jaw. A trade hub? That was big. "So, what’s the plan? What’s the first thing you’re bringing in?"

  "Supplies, for now. Weapons, refined metals, enchanted tools, grains, even a few alchemical goods. But in the long run?" Grek’s grin widened. "Luxury. Spices, exotic textiles, rare mana crystals. Grek will turn this place into a city people want to visit, not just one they need."

  Marcus shook his head, laughing. "You really don’t waste time, do you?"

  "Time is money," Grek said sagely.

  As they walked further, Marcus’ thoughts drifted. The Stronghold was rising from the ashes. But what of its greatest enemy?

  He turned to Vira. "What about Vulgaris? After the war, did he just… leave?"

  Vira’s playful demeanor dimmed slightly. “At first, I was furious that you let him go,” she admitted. “He destroyed our home, tried to wipe us out… and you let him walk.”

  Marcus sighed, rubbing his neck. "I know."

  She exhaled through her nose. “But... I get it now." Her gaze turned toward the growing city. "You weren’t just thinking about revenge. You wanted him to see us rise despite him."

  Marcus nodded. “Killing him would’ve been easy. But making him watch as everything he tried to crush thrives? That’s real punishment.”

  Vira scoffed. “You’re lucky that makes sense. Otherwise, I’d have punched you.”

  Grek smirked. “Could still punch him, y’know. Just for good measure.”

  Marcus chuckled. “I’ll pass.”

  As they neared the central keep, two figures approached from the main road.

  Thalron, ever composed, gave a small nod of greeting. His well-forged armor gleamed under the sunlight, weapons secured but always within reach. Beside him, Fillia—the Headmaster of Xenor’s Adventurers’ Guild and Thalron’s mother—surveyed the area with a sharp eye.

  "Marcus," Thalron greeted, eyes flicking over him with subtle glee and relief. "Good to see you among the living."

  Marcus clasped hands with him firmly. "Needed a rest after carrying you and the other soldiers on my back in that last skirmish," he said with a smirk.

  Thalron shot back smoothly, "Yeah yeah... I thought you could use the workout."

  Marcus chuckled but then tilted his head. "What about Arixa and Vealeth? Haven’t seen them yet."

  Thalron exhaled, adjusting the strap of his sword. “Arixa left. Said she had personal business to take care of. Didn’t say much else.”

  Marcus frowned slightly. “Personal business?”

  Thalron nodded. “That’s all she said. And Vealeth?” He shook his head. “That guy’s as mysterious as ever. Just said, ‘I’ll be around’ and left it at that.”

  Marcus let out a short laugh. “Sounds about right.”

  Fillia, meanwhile, had her eyes on the Stronghold—no, the city.

  "This place…" she murmured, almost to herself. "This isn’t a fortress anymore. It’s becoming a—city.”

  Vira folded her arms. “That was the idea.”

  Thalron nodded. “Which is why we’re here. Miran invited us for a formal meeting. One of the topics? Establishing an official Adventurers’ Guild branch here.”

  Marcus raised an eyebrow. “A guild branch?”

  Fillia nodded. "The city is growing. Fast. If it's going to be a major trade hub, it needs an Adventurers’ Guild presence—mercenaries, quests, contracts. It all comes with expansion.”

  Thalron smirked slightly. “Bigger than you think. If this city succeeds, it changes the entire region.”

  Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Also, orcs have a thing called 'first lunch.' Apparently, it’s their biggest meal of the day, even bigger than dinner. I’m definitely trying it."

  Marcus raised an eyebrow, amused. "You planning to eat like an orc now?"

  Thalron smirked. "You kidding? This is research. Gotta understand the culture, right?"

  Marcus chuckled. “Can’t argue with that.”

  Grek, still grinning, nudged Marcus with an elbow. “Speaking of meetings… should we tell Miran and the others you’re awake?”

  Marcus exhaled, shaking his head with a small smirk. "Probably should, huh?"

  As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Marcus walked with his friends toward the Stronghold’s central keep.

  No, not a Stronghold anymore.

  A city.

  Miran’s planning conference was about to begin.

  And Marcus Elder was back in the game.