The Main Hall was grander than anything Essim had expected from a system-generated building.
Five floors of stone and dark timber, each one more impressive than the last. The ground floor featured a cavernous reception hall with arched ceilings and long hardwood tables arranged for meetings, flanked by iron candelabras that lit themselves when Essim crossed the threshold. The second through fourth floors contained living quarters and operational rooms—offices, a war room, storage vaults, a modest library stocked with system-generated manuals. But it was the fifth floor that took his breath.
A private suite. Tall windows overlooking the entire island. A massive desk of polished black wood, and behind it, a chair so absurdly comfortable that Essim sank into it and considered never standing again.
"Now this," he said, leaning back, "is what power feels like."
"You look like a child playing CEO," Aisha said from the doorway.
"A child with an army of werewolves and a duplication talent, thank you very much."
She crossed the room and dropped into the chair across from him. Her expression shifted—playful to purposeful—and Essim recognised the look. Aisha had been thinking.
"Brother," she said, "we need to talk about what comes next."
He nodded. The truth was, he'd been circling the same thought. Their island was strong. Their personal power was extraordinary. But power without structure was just chaos with good stats.
"We need an alliance," Essim said.
"Not just any alliance," Aisha replied. "Everyone's forming alliances—national ones, military ones. Raden Tui has his European Alliance. Schultz is running the Central European Federation like a government in exile. If we just copy them, we'll be one of a hundred factions fighting over territory."
"So what do you suggest?"
Aisha leaned forward. "Trade. We don't compete for land—we build the marketplace that everyone else needs. High-quality goods at below-market prices for members. Above-market purchase rates for suppliers. We become the economic backbone of the Ascendant Realm."
Essim stared at her. Seventeen years old, and she'd just outlined a business model that would've impressed his old agency's strategy team.
"The World Market Alliance," he said, testing the name.
"Exactly."
"One problem," Essim said, frowning. "Where do we find people? I haven't met a single human face since we arrived."
Aisha's expression turned smug—the specific flavour of smug that meant she'd already solved the problem.
"You've forgotten," she said, rising from her chair and spinning theatrically in the centre of the room, "that your amazing sister has been doing business since hour one."
She explained. While Essim had been fighting monsters and forging weapons, Aisha had been building a network through the market's private messaging system. Her water trades in the first hours had established credibility with dozens of buyers. She'd cultivated those relationships into a private group of twenty-four trusted contacts—people who'd proven themselves honest in trade and capable in survival.
"Almost everything good I've found that isn't listed on the public market came from them," she said. "They trust me. And through me, they'll trust you."
She sent him a group invitation.
[You have been invited to the group "Princess Aisha" by (Cute Cat)]
Essim looked at the name. Looked at Aisha. Said nothing. Joined the group.
The chat was already buzzing.
Efan: Hello Brother Essim, welcome to Princess Aisha's community!
Hana: Hi Brother Essim! Which city are you from?
Dion: Sister Aisha, check this out! I found something new! (Small Teleportation Blueprint)
Cute Cat: Everyone, meet my brother Essim.
Takulani: So this is Aisha's brother? Welcome!
Essim scanned the conversation, absorbing names, tones, dynamics. These people were active, engaged, and—critically—they weren't sycophants. They talked to Aisha as an equal, which meant they'd earned their place.
One item caught his attention: Dion's Small Teleportation Blueprint. A portal system with a twenty-five-kilometre range. The materials were expensive—luminous stones, a hundred thousand Energy Crystals, whale blood—but Essim had the resources.
He bought enough materials for ten portals without blinking. If the World Market Alliance was going to connect the region, it needed infrastructure.
"Brother," Aisha said, reading his expression, "when should we gather everyone?"
"Three days." He'd calculated the distances. Region #1825 spanned roughly four hundred and eighty thousand square kilometres. At one metre per second and factoring in the positions members had reported relative to the sun, most could reach the island within seventy-two hours. "That gives everyone time to arrive and for us to finish construction."
Five members of the group had already joined other alliances and politely declined. Essim accepted it without resentment. Forced loyalty was no loyalty at all.
That left nineteen potential founding members.
As the details settled, a sound broke the silence—a loud, indignant growl from Aisha's stomach.
"…I'm hungry," she admitted.
• • •
They built a campfire on the stone square outside the Main Hall. Night had fallen—roughly eight in the evening by Earth time—and the sky above the Ascendant Realm was extraordinary. Not the familiar constellations of home, but something stranger: three moons of different sizes arranged in a shallow arc, their light casting triple shadows across the island.
Aisha butchered a deer from their supplies with surprising competence and seasoned the meat before setting it over the flames. The firelight made the stone buildings glow amber.
For a while, they ate in comfortable silence. Then Aisha spoke, her voice softer than before.
"Brother… do you think our family is okay? Aunt Maren? Uncle Lukas? And is Aunt Lena out of the hospital yet?"
Essim set down his skewer. The question wasn't unexpected—he'd been waiting for it—but it still tightened something in his chest.
"I don't know," he said honestly. "But Aisha—remember what it was like. Aunt Maren barely spoke to you. Uncle Lukas acted like we were obligations, not family. They weren't cruel, but they weren't kind either. Don't waste your heart on people who never valued yours."
The words came out harder than he intended. He softened. "If they're alive and we find them, I'll help them. But I won't let you carry guilt for people who didn't carry it for you."
Aisha was quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded and handed him another skewer.
"Eat," she said. "You get philosophical when you're hungry."
He took the meat. It was, against all odds, delicious.
They sat together by the fire as the three moons tracked silently across the sky, and the quiet night wrapped itself around the island like a promise.