Roy stood at the top of the Nightshatter's loading ramp, shading his eyes against the midday glare. Three walls encircled Otherrealm now, each towering line of stone-and-steel completed well ahead of schedule—turns out it helps to have half a dozen infinite-supply cheat items plus an entire city of freed slaves hungry to prove themselves. Beyond those finished perimeters, the distant clang of construction on the fourth wall rang out, echoing over the sprawling sectors.
A brisk sea breeze teased Roy's cloak as he surveyed the place. Sector 1 featured that hulking metal mansion the triplets called home. The rest of the houses around it had the same "modern meets dwarven bling" vibe: sleek lines, maybe a few runic crystals for porch lights, and dwarven ornaments hammered into the door frames.
Farther in, the administrative buildings bristled with security—strict pass-only zones—and Roy tried not to think too hard about why the triplets insisted on calling themselves the "Lord's Trinity." They could have that fancy nonsense; he'd keep "Captain."
Sector 2 was pure modern mania: roads with real pavement, actual streetlights, and entire micro-districts dedicated to teaching local folks how to handle Earth-ish conveniences without blowing themselves up. Roy still got a kick out of seeing a random half-lizard merchant flip a light switch for the first time and almost faint. A row of "convenience stands" lined one side, manned by ex-slaves looking to make quick cash.
The city's currency of choice was Aluminum-Bronze washers, Takara's brainchild that could be converted to standard Gold-Silver-Bronze currency them before leaving the city.
And beyond the second perimeter, in Sector 3, brand-new buildings sprang up every day—temporary shelters for incoming freed folks, some planned mega-structures had their foundations poured, and that fancy mage school, NeverEver, for the magically inclined.
It still blew Roy's mind how much had gotten done in so little time. Not that he was complaining. Only so many ways a warship could serve as a forklift, after all.
He wandered into the marketplace in Sector 3, weaving through the crowds of elves, dwarves, humans, and everyone else that found themselves in Otherrealm. People hawked random trinkets: potions, second-hand clothes, even herbal tonics sold next to crates of fresh fruit. Freed slaves bustled around, proud to be starting new businesses instead of rotting in chains. Roy nodded to a few, exchanging polite greetings.
Then he spotted him.
Keeper. Strolling between stalls like he owned the place, his usual smug posture on full display. Next to him, Zehrina struggled under a comically huge pile of supplies—barrels, sacks, and what looked like half an upside-down table. She wobbled with each step, clearly not physically superhuman strong like Eryndra.
Roy's pulse jolted, recalling every bruised rib and black eye Keeper had handed him back in middle school. Before he realized it, Roy angled his shoulder and bumped into Keeper, just enough to make him stumble.
Keeper scowled, turning with that same sadistic little curl to his lip. "Watch where you're— Oh, well if it isn't Captain Roy Gunn, or whatever you're calling yourself now."
Zehrina tried to peek around her precarious cargo tower, but she nearly toppled. Roy's jaw tightened, noticing again how she just… obeyed Keeper without a peep.
He forced a cold smile. "Surprised you have the guts to show that face in my market, Keeper."
That triggered a dark chuckle. "Your market?" Keeper's eyes flashed with something nasty as he raised his arm for the old, familiar shove—one Roy had tasted far too often.
Roy braced, but a blur of princely grace slid between them: Lutrian. He pivoted neatly, making Keeper's shove bounce harmlessly off his back.
Lutrian turned calmly. "Pardon me. Roy, they said something about a busted pipeline near the new houses, right? Let's go check." He gave Roy's sleeve a tug, his tone far too polite to be an accident.
Roy was still half dazed. "I'm—really not a plumber, but—hey." Lutrian dragged him into the crowd anyway, away from a confused Keeper and a teetering Zehrina.
Once they were clear, Roy let out a trembling breath. "Thanks," he muttered. "Another second, and I might've lost it. Or gotten my face punched in again."
Lutrian managed a mild shrug. "No sense letting him spark a public brawl. We've got enough chaos in this city without a personal feud overshadowing everything."
Roy couldn't help but shoot him a grateful, if grudging, nod. Logical. Annoying, but logical.
By late afternoon, Roy found himself back near the Nightshatter's boarding ramp, only to spot Keeper again—like some roach refusing to leave. Or maybe some god was bringing them together. Roy put his hands together and sent a cursed prayer to that unknown god. Zehrina was piling crates in neat stacks at her feet, chest heaving from the labor. Keeper leaned against a post, looking bored.
Roy straightened, swallowing the anger boiling in his gut. "Look," he began, voice surprisingly even. "I want Zehrina freed. Name your price—gold, farmland, tech. I don't care. I'll pay."
Keeper snorted. "You must think you're some big damn hero. Let's be clear: She's mine. Hauls my junk, blasts any monster that gets in my way. End of story."
Roy's stomach twisted. He tried Lutrian's brand of calm again. "So you're still that same piece of shit, I see."
Something dangerous lit Keeper's eyes. "You might have your fancy warship, but I know who you really are, Roy. The trembling, whimpering loser who cried in the locker room whenever I wanted to amuse myself. Don't pretend."
A flash of old terror nearly knocked Roy off balance, but he forced his shoulders to stay stiff. "We're done," he managed, voice tight. "Get out of my sight."
Keeper shrugged, turning away with a dismissive wave. "Soon as I finish up my trades here, I'd love nothing more. Zehrina, move it."
She scooped up the remaining bags, stumbling a bit. Roy's fists clenched, everything in him screaming to deck Keeper.
That night, Roy paced the Nightshatter's bridge. He usually slept in a makeshift bunk behind the main console, but insomnia hammered him. Eryndra showed up in a loose robe, hair tousled, looking half-asleep yet still radiating that predator aura.
She eyed him. "If you're planning to punch holes in the floor all night, at least let me join. I have aggression to spare after that Keeper clown earlier."
Roy let out a grim laugh. "He's the worst. I wanted to… you don't even know how many times that bastard made my life a living hell."
Eryndra's gaze hardened. "I could solve it in twenty seconds." She punctuated her point by miming a neck snap. "But I'm guessing that's off the table."
"Unfortunately," Roy sighed.
Across the room, Takara dozed in a chair, arms folded over her runic gauntlets. Lutrian lay curled on the floor, looking more comfortable than a prince had any right to be on cold metal plating. Roy envied their ability to shut off the day's nightmares so easily.
He eventually slumped into his captain's chair, mind still tangled in thoughts of Keeper's smug face and that caged fury he couldn't quite unleash. A few hours later, the ship's comm crackled to life in that steady, oh-so-calm voice Roy had come to rely on:
"Captain, we have incoming vessels attempting to close in on Otherrealm's harbor. Identifying them as a small pirate flotilla. Orders?"
Roy perked up, groaning at the late-night interruption, but it was part of the job. He tapped the intercom. "Serenity, prep the standard nighttime engagement protocols. Loudspeakers first—warn them off. If they don't respond, you know the drill."
"Acknowledged, Captain."
He glanced around the dimly lit bridge. Lutrian, who'd been half-napping against a bulkhead, rubbed his eyes and pushed off the wall with a sigh. Takara, emerging from a corner seat with her gauntlets still clamped on, joined them at the console.
Roy gestured for them to grab a couple of chairs in a compartment behind him. "Might as well watch the show," he muttered, pressing a button to raise the large monitor from the center console next to Serenity. With a couple more button presses it displayed the Nightshatter's external cams.
True to form, the ragtag group of pirate vessels refused to stand down. The feed showed tracer rounds streaking through the darkness, bright arcs cutting across moonlit waters. Small fireballs illuminated the black horizon, marking the pirates' painfully outmatched attempts to strike at the Nightshatter's steel hull.
Lincoln sidled up behind Roy with a neat little tray. "Your sandwich, Captain," he said in that prim mechanical tone.
Roy snatched the sandwich, offering a quick "Thanks," then pointed at the monitor. "Serenity, give 'em a more serious warning shot with the secondary guns."
Dozens of small bursts lit the screen, each shot screaming across the sky before splashing in a neat perimeter around the pirate ships. The raiders hesitated for all of two seconds then started recharging fire spells. Roy let out a tired laugh. "They're either brave or suicidal."
Takara stifled a yawn, leaning forward. "This is weirdly relaxing… like a fireworks show."
Lutrian only half-smiled, arms folded. "You have fireworks in your world?"
"Shut up, pretty boy," Takara said.
Serenity fired two shots with the main battery, and within moments, two of the pirate ships vanished in an explosion of flames and debris. Another tried veering off, but an aerial drone shot from high above dropped a cluster of precise munitions onto its deck. The feed cut to static for a second, then settled on a drifting wreck.
Roy took a calm bite of his sandwich and spotted a group of guys rowing ashore with small boats. "Serenity, you see the landing party, right?"
"Of course, scanners show a small group managed to deploy on the eastern shore, about a quarter mile from the city walls," Serenity responded immediately.
"Teddy, Lincoln—send a patrol of Presidroids to intercept."
"Already done, Captain," Lincoln said, giving a short bow.
A separate cam feed popped open, revealing about a dozen scruffy pirates slogging onto the dark beach with mismatched weapons. They didn't make it more than thirty feet before a squad of Presidroids silently flanking from both sides lit them up with an efficient volley. The pirates dropped fast, either surrendering outright or, in a few unlucky cases, dropping to their knees with a last gurgle.
"Well," Lutrian said dryly, "that was anticlimactic."
Takara snorted. "Not for them, it wasn't."
A second later, Eryndra stormed onto the bridge, hair tousled, robe flung over her shoulders. "Nobody woke me up for a pirate attack?!" she demanded, eyes flaring. "What if you needed backup?!"
Roy just gestured at the monitors, shrugging. "We had it under control. Figured you'd want the rest."
She scowled, glancing between the last faint tracer streaks vanishing over the water and the smoldering pirate wrecks. "You guys just sat here watching like it was entertainment?"
"Hey, next time we'll shake you awake," Roy muttered around a mouthful of sandwich. "If anything bigger than a handful of brain-dead raiders shows up."
Eryndra's glare softened, though she still looked mildly annoyed. "Fine. But I still want a piece of the next fight."
Roy flicked off the external feed as Serenity announced the pirates fully neutralized. "All right, everyone back to bed before something else tries to blow up." He slouched in his chair again, mind no calmer about Keeper, but at least with one less threat to worry about tonight.