The next morning comes quickly. I wake to the shrill alarm and the familiar ache of the waking world. The room feels heavy, the hum replaced by the flat buzz of my phone. My morning routine runs on autopilot, shower, shirt, coffee, the walk to the bus stop. The streets are quiet, the air dry and ordinary after the resonance and song of Nod.
Work drags by in a blur. The tickets are routine, password resets, printers refusing to connect, one laptop that just won’t boot. I fix what I can and pass on what I can’t, my mind elsewhere the whole time. I half-listen to my coworkers chatting by the coffee machine.
By afternoon, the day has melted into that dull hum that always precedes clock-out. I send off the final ticket of the day, a broken printer on the top floor, and check the time. Nearly done.
The elevator ride is stuffy, the glass backed elevator overlooks the tree covered hills of the city, and the sun is beating down on the elevator this time of day. The printer’s issue is simple, driver conflict, power cycle, done in five minutes. On the way back down, I stare at the floor numbers lighting in sequence, thinking about faith and tithes, about how other kings are already shaping their nations with those forces. Mine still feels like a machine of logic and rhythm. Maybe it’s time to change that.
When five finally hits, I clock out, grab a sandwich on the walk to the bus stop, and catch my ride home. The sun’s gone by the time I reach my stop. My phone buzzes once, Victor.
Victor: You alive?
Me: Nope.
Victor: Hah, funny. You going to get on tonight?
Me: Yeah, I can.
Victor: Cool, I wanted to talk some about Nod. Call me when you’re home.
As the bus hums along the highway, I notice more billboards flashing through the windows. NOD’s logo dominates them, brilliant gold lettering, a gold orb, and huge QR codes linking to the official site. The tagline reads: “Rule. Rise. Remember.” It’s everywhere now, like the next cultural wave. People glance up from their phones, murmuring about kings and streams. Even the driver has a Nod pin clipped to his visor.
Curiosity wins. I open the app and scroll through the trending section. My own channel flashes by, thousands chatting, clips replaying the meeting with Thalos. The collaboration clearly hit big. While scrolling, I notice a Discord link pass through the chat, pinned by a moderator. A fanclub for Channel 100. Endearing, really.
I join out of curiosity. The server bursts to life with welcome messages, theories, memes, and screenshots of the Dominion. They’ve even charted the Cathedral, annotated with timestamps and nicknames for my captains. It’s strange and oddly comforting to see them care so much. Maybe keeping an ear to the ground isn’t a bad idea. If I want to learn how faith and tithe really work, this might be the best way, to understand what the faithful want.
As the bus slows near my stop, I glance back at the glowing skyline and smile faintly. The world keeps getting louder, but somewhere inside that noise, my kingdom’s voice is standing out.
When I get home, the apartment is dim and quiet. I drop my bag by the desk, kick off my shoes, and sit down with the familiar creak of the chair. Since I finished eating on the way home, there’s nothing to cook, nothing to distract me. Just the glow of the monitor waiting.
Victor’s name lights up before I can even open Discord. I answer. His voice comes through, rougher than usual.
“Hey,” I say. “You sound tired.”
There’s a pause. “Yeah,” he answers, flat. “Did you, uh, get the chance to watch Scott’s stream last night? I was watching the recap.”
I freeze. My throat goes dry.
He continues before I can answer. “He mentioned your old guild. By name. Said Kyris was the best tactician he ever met. Said him and Kyris go way back.”
For a moment I just stare at the wall, the hum of my PC filling the silence. He figured it out. I never meant to hide it from him, I just never found the right time to tell him.
“Vic…” I start, but the words feel heavier than I expect.
Victor exhales through his mic, the sound rough and quiet. “You didn’t trust me enough to tell me?”
I rub my eyes. “It’s not that. I just didn’t know how to bring it up. It started as a weird experiment, and then it became this. I didn’t expect it to matter outside Nod.”
“Marcus, I’ve been watching you command armies since we were nineteen,” he says, serious now. “You think I wouldn’t have recognized your patterns eventually? You call the same flanks, move the same way. I just didn’t want to assume until I heard Scott say it.”
I lean back, sighing. “I wasn’t trying to keep secrets. I just didn’t want to drag real life into it. Kyris feels like a version of me that can actually lead without breaking something.”
Victor laughs, not unkindly. “You mean without needing coffee and ten hours of sleep?”
“Exactly.”
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He hums. “I get it. Still would’ve been nice to know. You’re doing something incredible in there, man. And I’m proud of you. Just don’t forget the rest of us out here, alright?”
“I won’t,” I say, meaning it. “I could use someone with your brain, anyway. The Dominion’s going to need better logistics once we start field testing evolved units. You in?”
“Always, I was hoping you would ask,” he says, voice lighter now. “But you still owe me for the shock.”
“We can start playing Wilds like you wanted to? I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
“Deal.”
Victor’s tone shifts, curious now. “So, what’s next for the Dominion? You’ve got a whole hive of tanks and dealers, but no supports. You need balance. Even back in Songbird, we learned that the hard way.”
I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. “You always did keep the spreadsheets. I’ve been thinking the same thing. We need something that can channel resonance into healing or barrier work. The Hekari evolve through what they consume, maybe I can find a way to push their adaptation into something magical.”
Victor perks up, and I can almost see him leaning forward in his chair, the way he used to during strategy calls. It feels good to be talking to him about this. I really should have brought him in sooner. I’ve always trusted him, and even though I feel bad that he had to find out this way, it’s a relief to finally share this part of myself. As we talk, I can almost see the Dominion reflected in the glow of my monitor, the dunes stretching endlessly, the hum vibrating faintly beneath my skin. It feels like the conversation itself is bridging both worlds, reminding me that I’m not alone in this anymore. “Mage strain, huh? That sounds wild. Maybe start with resonance-sensitive creatures, something that absorbs tone instead of projecting it.”
“I like that,” I say, jotting mental notes. “Harmonic absorbers instead of emitters. Could be a whole new class.”
“That’s why you keep me around,” he says, laughing.
“Yeah, to remind me I’m not as smart as I think I am.”
He snorts. “You just need perspective. You build, I balance. Same as always.”
For a while we talk shop, bouncing ideas like we used to during raid planning sessions. The easy rhythm returns between us, no tension, just the same old flow.
The room feels warm again. I lean back, smiling. Victor’s voice drops a notch, losing the easy humor and turning sharp, direct, the way he gets when he’s serious about something. “So you’re going tonight, right? I mean, of course you are. You go whenever you sleep.” He hesitates, then adds, “Thanks for taking the time to play with me the other day. With Nod going on, it means a lot that you set time aside.”
I smile. “I needed that. It was nice to remember how things used to be.”
“You know what,” he says suddenly, the spark returning to his tone, “I think I can do something for you. I can monitor streams and chat with you when you’re in game.”
“That might actually work,” I say, thinking it through. “There’s still that two-hour delay on what everyone else sees, but I get the chat in real time. So even if the stream’s behind, I can still see your messages right away. You could feed me updates, crowd reactions, maybe warn me if something happens on the other channels.”
Victor laughs. “Like your personal eye in the sky.”
“Exactly.”
“Then it’s settled,” he says. “I’ll keep watch while you’re in there. We’ll figure this out together.”
The room feels warm again. I lean back, smiling. For the first time since Nod began, I feel like the worlds are starting to align, not drift apart.
Before logging off for the night, I grab my phone and shoot Scott a quick message.
Me: Going to crash early tonight, want to get some pre-raid prep out of the way before tomorrow. I’ll be in the map room when you log on.
The typing bubble flickers for barely a second before his reply pops up.
Scott: Hell yeah, man! Just finished my meal prep for the week, got my chicken, rice, and broccoli all lined up like soldiers. Hitting a quick before-bed weight set, then I’m diving in. Gotta keep the gains up even in the dream world, right?
I can almost hear his grin through the message. Same old Scott, unstoppable energy and impossible optimism. I smile, pocket the phone, and get ready for another night in Nod.
When the call finally ends, I sit there in the glow of the monitor for a long moment, just listening to the hum of the PC. The silence feels heavier now. Uneasy.
I open my stream dashboard almost without thinking. Channel 100, live chat already ticking upward. Over fifty thousand viewers waiting for tonight. Word about the Ashwing raid must have spread. The excitement in chat should feel flattering, but all I feel is pressure. That many eyes, that much expectation, it could all go wrong. I’ve never raided with an audience before. I scroll through the usernames until one catches my eye.
CH07 – TheHolySeeOfSolomir
The Cleric King. Watching me.
So even the radiant monarch himself is keeping tabs on the Black Dominion. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Other kings watching my stream makes me wary. Kings don’t spectate without reason.
I shake it off, close the tab, and head to the bathroom. Meds, water, phone alarm set for six a.m. I double-check everything, more out of habit than need. When I finally lie back, the room settles into stillness.
I turn off the lights, and take a few minutes to scroll through the Nod forums while I lay in bed. The world has turned it into an obsession overnight, threads with thousands of comments, each one dissecting the meaning behind the kingdoms, the way time moves. Someone’s posted a high-resolution shot of the Dominion at dusk, the Singing Citidel glowing like a black star against the sand. It has over a million likes. My heart twists at the sight. I know every light in that shot, every tower and ridge, every hum in the dark. To everyone else it’s a spectacle. To me, it’s home.
I scroll past a few memes and one clip of the Ashwing’s molten breath obliterating an entire caravan. The comments are full of speculation. Is the Black King strong enough to win? Can he take it? Is it even real?
The theories dig under my skin more than I’d like to admit. I close the app and sit for a long moment, letting the quiet press in. It’s strange to feel protective over something that technically isn’t real. Yet it feels real enough to lose.
When I finally move, I glance at the small window beside my desk. The city outside hums the same way Nod does, cars rushing in patterns, lights pulsing in rhythm, people unknowingly feeding a hive of their own. Maybe that’s why Nod feels so natural. It’s not same, but not entirely different.
I make a note on my phone to test resonance feedback on the Sable Hounds next time I log in. Maybe they can be tuned to hear the Ashwing’s roar before it attacks. If the faith and tithe system can be harnessed right, maybe I can push the Dominion into something more than reactive.
I get up and power down the monitor, the reflection of the dark screen catches my face, tired eyes, faint stubble, an expression I don’t quite recognize. Somewhere between king and clerk. I huff a quiet laugh. “You’re losing it,” I mutter
I crawl into bed, the sheets cool against my skin. For a moment, the hum I always associate with Nod lingers faintly in my ears. I focus on it the way one focuses on breathing during meditation, the rhythm slowing my thoughts. The sound deepens, becomes something almost physical.
By the time I close my eyes, the room is gone. The ceiling fades, the city noise falls away, and I am falling through silence that slowly takes on tone. The transition is smoother this time, like stepping through a curtain of sound rather than being pulled. The air grows heavier, warmer. I can almost taste the resin in the air before I see it.
When I open my eyes, the world glows black and gold. The throne chamber rises before me, every pillar alive with harmonic light. Cast is already there, posture rigid, her head bowed but her tone sharp enough to cut through the hum.
"My King, thank goodness you've returned,” she says again, urgency vibrating in every syllable. “There is a problem.”