As soon as we reached the Castle—or rather, the small citadel's entrance—I devised a plan of action. We would split into groups of a hundred and explore the different areas of the Castle and its outskirts.
The reason I argued that this place resembled a citadel more than a traditional Castle was because of its modern features, as well as the many habitable areas both within and beyond the central district.
Coming here had been a huge gamble, frankly. Not many believed in my theory about important structures being expanded, but now everyone was grateful to have trusted me.
Over two long hours, we mostly managed to survey the whole Castle. My group had visited the fewest locations, as we were focused on finding where to establish our quartier général at the center. Ultimately, we chose the Main Hall, located directly to the left of the Throne Hall.
The Main Hall was a vast, rectangular structure composed of marble and dark stone, housing an excessively large royal dining table at its epicenter. The walls were lined with unlit candles, perfectly spaced two meters apart. The ceiling was absurdly high, and from it hung a regal chandelier made of what I could only assume was sapphire—along with many other precious stones.
A hundred people could comfortably sit at the table, while perhaps three hundred more could squeeze in if they remained still and stood.
As more of my members arrived at the Castle after retrieving what they needed from their homes, I decided to accelerate the pace.
I knew it would have been pointless to head outside and regroup everyone for a speech, so instead, I asked only the high-ranking members to remain in the Main Hall so we could proceed to the next step of the operation.
Jammes, Arthur, Kal, Clark, and Benjamin were obviously among them. But during our six-hour hike, I made sure to keep a part of my focus on my group, watching closely to see if anyone else seemed trustworthy and capable enough to be temporarily granted a high rank.
The result: exactly twenty people now stood before me—four more than the original number of high ranks.
"Alright, short reunion, guys—let's keep it brief," I began, my eyes scanning my companions, who gave me their full attention. "Until the rest of our members arrive, we'll brainstorm which jobs to create and incorporate first. These will then be mentioned during a speech I'll give later. Second, I'll work on establishing a hierarchy with Kal, Clark, and Jammes here."
They all nodded in agreement. Kal stepped forward and moved to my side after I gave him a knowing glance.
"Before we consider which jobs are most essential for our fresh citadel to prosper," he began, "I believe it's of paramount importance that we establish a dynamic and complex hierarchy within Aiden's faction."
He looked at me for a moment, then slightly raised his head. I closed my eyes and lowered mine in response.
That was his signal to continue.
"Aiden and I discussed forming a council earlier—a council composed of only ten people: those most qualified among us. It would stand as the highest authority within the faction, just beneath Aiden and his sub-leader."
Some nodded silently, clearly in favor of the idea, but Damien and a few others had questions.
"What exactly is the 'sub-leader' position, Kal?" Damien asked, his fierce gaze drilling into him, as if trying to extract the answer from his very core.
"It's essentially the second-in-command," Kal replied. "This person answers only to the leader and will serve a pivotal role in Aiden's absence, representing him fully during any period he's away."
With that, Kal walked past me and sat in a nearby chair. "Come, take a seat, everyone."
"Alright. Then I agree this role is useful," Damien finally said, following the others.
When everyone was seated, I continued. "To echo Kal's words, the council members will be responsible for assigning most jobs and ranks to those tasked with various duties or posts. They'll hold the reins and make the key decisions—they're essentially an amalgamation of every high-ranking role."
And so, the reunion went on for over an hour as we shifted from one major topic to another. While job and rank creation were undoubtedly important, there were still many other subjects to address—some of which we had to postpone, as the last of our dispatched members were expected to return within the hour.
Once the meeting ended, I sent a message in the faction's chatbox, which everyone had automatically joined after the leader selection. In it, I asked everyone to gather in the exterior court, the only space large enough to accommodate all of us. It faced the Throne Hall and offered a clear view from the marble tribune where I now stood, overlooking an apprehensive crowd.
That's when the fear I hadn't felt since this morning finally settled in.
Here I was again, about to address an entire school's worth of people—just as if it were another Monday morning. But it wasn't. Night had fallen, and everyone was exhausted—I most of all. We had walked nearly thirty kilometers, explored the grounds we now hoped to call home, and held a strategic meeting—all before I stood here to give another speech.
"All right, quiet down, everyone! I know it's been a tough day, so I'll keep this short," I called out, keeping my voice steady despite the weariness. "My high-ranking members and I have decided to form a council."
With that, I began summarizing what had been discussed earlier in the Main Hall. I kept it concise—five minutes, no more. There was no time for full details. What mattered most now was ensuring everyone had a place to sleep.
"—Of course, you're all tired. That's why job and rank distribution will happen tomorrow at noon. For now, your priority is to find a place to sleep. Your group leaders will help ensure there are no disputes and that everyone selects their accommodations in an orderly manner."
Prying my gaze away from the front row, I swept my eyes across the sea of former students, inhaled deeply, and continued.
"Unfortunately, there aren't enough houses for everyone. Some of you will end up in small camps with poorer conditions. While that might seem unfair, I've chosen to turn it into a challenge. Use this as motivation to get stronger—to prove that you're more deserving than those who live comfortably at the center. Fierce competition will determine not just ranks and status, but also living conditions and privileges."
At first, my words drew tension—perhaps even resentment—but by the end, I could see it: their spirits were rising.
Yes, it was unfair that some had to sleep in shabby shelters while others enjoyed the luxuries of the central district. But this imbalance would serve a purpose. It would drive ambition, foster early competition, and reward those who rose to meet the challenge.
With my speech complete, it was finally time to rest.
The good news was that each house could accommodate up to eight people, while each camp could hold up to twenty. Both were considered zones that could be 'purchased' via the system, granting ownership and the ability to register co-residents. This meant no one could barge into a home already claimed—order would be maintained.
As for my high-ranking colleagues and me, we had already secured our residences in the central district. My own home was right beside the Throne Hall. It wasn't lavish, but it was enough. Simplicity suited me just fine.
Tomorrow will be another difficult day. But in these early stages, we had to be expeditious—to stay ahead of the other factions.
Bidding goodbye and wishing goodnight to my colleagues and friends, I settled into my bed, which exuded modernity despite its archaic medieval style. Although old-fashioned, it looked grand and was more comfortable than my bed at my former home.
Undressing, I simply threw my clothes on the ground, then jumped into my bed. It was warm and reassuring, and this feeling of peace and rest was intoxicating. As I closed my eyes and drifted into sleep, I worried I might never open them again.
...
Barely five hours later, the alarm I had set through the system window's many functions jolted me awake.
Jammes and Blake—another council member—had suggested we meet earlier than planned to prepare my speech and finalize the next steps. At this point, everyone had found accommodations, so establishing a functioning hierarchy with proper jobs and ranks was the next logical step.
As for our 'neighboring faction' that was supposedly attacked in what looked like a terrorist strike, we still had no idea when their so-called members would join me—if they did—or where they were.
But that would be a problem for another day.
I sat at the dark-wooden royal table in the Main Hall, resting my elbows on its cold black-steel edge. My eyes moved away from Kal, whose suggestion had stunned the room, and landed on Blake and Clark instead. From Clark's brows, which were knit in a serious expression, and his side eye glance directed at Blake, I could tell he was considering it.
''Perhaps a small revision to this blunt plan would make it more appealing,'' I said, cutting through Kal and Jeeny's escalating argument. My voice was firm—assertive, but not aggressive.
Jeeny and Blake wore the most curious expressions, while Kal faked hostility by tilting his head and death-staring at me.
''Please, could you elaborate?'' Blake asked, beating Jeeny to it, and so I explained, ''Kal's idea, at its core, isn't wrong. We do need to enforce work. However, the way Kal presented it is wrong. Our faction won't progress if people daze around, but we can't simply hold them at sword-point and threaten them with death. No. Instead, I suggest guaranteeing rewards and granting better ranks to those who contribute more.''
Jeeny, quick on the uptake, immediately raised an important counterpoint, ''But leader Aiden, as history has shown us repeatedly, won't there still be resistance? People who abuse the system or outright refuse to comply? This plan feels too idealistic to me. What about revolts or protests?
I smiled, taking her unwanted challenge head-on before anyone else could agree to her words, ''Point—Jeeny. A most fair and clever remark, I admit. And that is why I prepared a complementary solution after hearing Kal's proposal.''
As she leaned back in her chair, I ensured I had everyone's attention before continuing.
''Along with my previous suggestion, I'd also like to create an extensive rank list—so vast that reaching the top rank would feel nearly impossible.''
Easing myself back into my chair, I took a flippant tone and continued, ''Human greed, after all, is a weakness exploited by leaders throughout history. We'll use that to our advantage. The most ambitious among us will obsess over climbing higher and higher, craving to overtake their peers. With better rewards and perks at each stage, this system will naturally push people to strive harder. Won't this paint a very advantageous system for them?"
I leaned forward, letting it settle in.
''And as for those unwilling to contribute, the rebels... Jeeny, I'm afraid we will have to be a tad bit harsher. Punishing them will prove an efficient method to discourage those unwilling to cope with our system.''
I let my words sink in, then shifted my tone—colder now, deeper and grounded in realism.
''I know some of you are pondering over freedom and morality—and I would understand. But your ways of thinking are wrong, clouded with kindness, honesty, and ignorance, when functionality, realism, and leadership are what truly prevail in our situation. We're not playing a virtual co-op game with mild strategy mechanics. We are building a functioning society. A government. An economy. All to protect, house, and feed our people. Wishing that everyone happily agrees to our plans is naivety at best, and disillusionment at worst. Those who refuse to cooperate are hereby endangering the well-functionality of the faction, and should be punished to set an example.''
I let my words hang in the air like a magnetic field pulling down everyone back to earth, to reality.
Kal's unserious face vanished, replaced with a grim, somber frown. Jeeny's eyes flicked upward, then dropped as she nodded, silenced by the weight of my logic. Jammes, Clark, and the others looked equally sobered.
Clark was the first to break the growing silence, ''Heavy words, but so is the weight of truth. It seems I was foolish to believe myself prepared enough. Your words were a waking call, Aiden. I support Kal's initial idea and vote to implement Aiden's full system. What say the rest of the council—and our high-ranking members?"
''Wake-up call indeed," Jeeny echoed. "I apologize for my short-sightedness. I agree with the plan."
"So do I. Count my vote," Blake scoffed loudly, his voice almost resonating through the entire building.
"You have my vote, too. I'm glad not to have made a fool of myself by intervening earlier. I believe this was a lesson all of us desperately needed," Jammes added.
Soon, everyone agreed to the system I had in mind, along with the plan to set up multiple stand holders, each assigned to a specific job that would be announced in the soon-to-be-spoken speech. Over thirty people were chosen as stallholders, including a dozen of my high-ranking officials, after careful consideration.
An hour later, we wrapped up most subjects and concluded the meeting. The road to the main outside arena—the same one where I'd held my speech yesterday—was almost empty, if you ignored our dozens of stallholders.
The stalls themselves, though, were nothing grandiose, as we lacked such complex furniture. On the other hand, we were very glad to have found many places to wash ourselves in some old bathing areas, and even a huge storage building that contained months' worth of food for all of us. The storage also held many basic materials that would probably prove useful someday.
I hoped.
After arriving, we explained our plan to the stallholders once more, and I prepared to make my speech until the rest of our members woke up and joined the area.
...
At 9 a.m., I stood tall and looked regal, carefully dressed in some ancient, noble attire. I wore a black tunic, embroidered with small, golden ornaments in leaf shapes, which heightened my handsome looks. On top of my right shoulder, I adorned a night-sky dark cape. My pants were a plain, cloudy black, without any trims or motifs.
Looking through the crowd, I cursed internally at Clark, Jeeny, and Kal, who had forcefully demanded that I wear this outfit. While the sea of students below the balcony where I stood wore normal, modern outfits, I looked so goddamn out of place.
Taking a deep breath, I stared at the horizon and began my speech once the howling wind was the only sound remaining.
"Good morning, everyone. I hope you have rested well. Today marks our first official day within the grand ramparts of our fortress. As today is so important, I wanted to start this speech with the most imperative subject: our faction's name."
Setting my voice firm, I continued, "We have discussed and pondered over many names—Hopesworn, Dawnwardens, Aegis of Hope, and Hopebringers being our most appreciated proposals. But none really matched the feeling I was searching for. So I thought, long and deeply. Then, the predicament of our situation came to mind. We have to face absolute chaos in this new world, where uncertainty and the unknown reign supreme. Despairing is not an option, but hope is. A deity has offered us ways to not fall into despair, so we shall do what we do best: survive, unite, adapt, and grow."
Taking a short breath, I raised my voice higher, letting a bright smile erupt on my lips, "As such, what better words to describe our situation, our faction's mentality and philosophy, than Heaven and Pandemonium? The chaotic vortex that forced our lives into this endeavor being the dark Pandemonium, while the methods to grow and survive that were provided by the deity—a heavenly gift! What better way, my friends, but to call our faction Heavenly Pandemonium!"
"Whaaaaaa—"
A cacophony of applause, blended with pure yells of joy, acceptance, and praise, exploded.
I had succeeded in stirring up everyone's appreciation for the controversial name. A bit edgy, sure, but I preferred it for its meaning over the all-too-cliché names that my colleagues had proposed.
When all sound died down, I began to explain how jobs and ranks would function, as we had previously discussed during the meeting.
Reactions were surprisingly good, for the most part. The sour reminder that anyone who refused to cooperate would be severely punished had shut down the mouths of more than one loafer.
"—Now, you will have to stand in line in front of the stall with the job that interests you. We know that not all of you want to become martial artists; hence, we won't force it on you. However, I am certain that a vast majority will still choose this role, which is why we have five stands just for this job. Once more, I remind you that if you want, you can be both a martial artist and work another job too."
Pausing, I straightened my posture before continuing, "Note that the 'Martial Artist' role isn't a specifically important rank. It simply means that you are part of this branch. It provides no perk, and you will have to train alone and in mass training sessions with instructors in the future. It's after you've selected a specific path—guard, trainer, scout, etc.—and once you climb the ranks, that you'll get special permissions and power."
I had held my long speech for over twenty minutes now, and as I was about to finish, I noticed a strange distinction in confidence between certain people, as if I could see beyond just their mere expressions.
Weird, but interesting, I noted.
"This concludes my speech, but behold. This is just the start of our adventure, and many more speeches will happen in the weeks to come. Forthwith, fellow clan members, you will have three days to think about what job you'd like to do. Once your choice is made, come to the corresponding stalls. If the one in charge of the stall isn't present, you shall send them a message. Of course, if you find yourself dissatisfied with your profession, you will be able to switch. Fear not—we have prepared for such issues. Now, you are liberated from my presence. Go and prepare, my friends."
A more peaceful, yet still vibrant, wave of applause rang out again, and soon everyone began to disperse.
I exhaled slowly, feeling a quiet pride settle in my chest as I watched hundreds already forming lines in front of the various stalls. The system was in motion.
Some stalls had predictable signs—'Carpenter,' 'Scavenger,' 'Landscaper,' and 'Blacksmith'—jobs that would get us through the basics. Others, like 'Roofer' or 'Painter,' attracted smaller crowds, but they were no less important. Foundations had to be built, but the world would need color, too.
What drew my eye most, though, were the newer, more complex roles, which peculiarly attracted many. I glanced toward the stall marked 'Alchemist,' where a few curious minds had already gathered. These were our future researchers—our herb-hunters, material testers, experimenters of the unknown.
Nearby, the Engineers' stall had convinced only a dozen or so people for now. They'd be tasked with deciphering magic theory, and if we were lucky, reinventing tech from the ground up. Only highly intelligent students in science and mathematics would be accepted.
The Factory Manager stall was more chaotic, surrounded by those who didn't mind heavy logistics or tight schedules. It would branch out into social management and goods tracking—roles not flashy, but necessary to keep the machine running. This stall had the longest line.
We also had a 'Helper' stall, to the outermost of the area, left to the gate to access the inner court and the royal hall, and the main hall. Helpers would help assign new members their rank and job, give them a place to live, help them cope with the faction's functioning and rules, basically everything important.
Still, most jobs would require testing. Group leaders—already proven mature and efficient—would monitor members within their assigned job category. Anyone who failed, disrupted, or deliberately sabotaged the process would be dealt with by them and the higher-ups.
Of course, some other, much more interesting stalls would require even my attention.
From the Diplomats, handling political strife. To the Guards, who would protect important structures. And the Council members, composed of only the most far-sighted, mature, intellectual, and knowledgeable individuals. Each of these roles would need careful testing and great qualifications.
We couldn't let illiterate people handle political matters, or let disabled individuals do manual work.
"That was fantastic, Aiden! You nailed everything down to the last bit!" Kal exclaimed, his bright face shining through the dark corridor of the main hall I had returned to after leaving my performance balcony.
Needless to say, the others behind him had all sorts of praises to voice.
"I know, I know. I'm incredible, aren't I? Look, I'll even throw you a bone if you demand me to, Kal," I joked plainly, not meeting Kal's eyes.
"Oh, please do, Master Aiden. My mouth is itching to—"
I cut him off, laughing, afraid of him trailing off into dangerous territory in front of so many people.
We then spent a final hour in a second post-speech meeting to discuss other important topics.
"By the way, I would like to change the strength requirements for martial artists' ranks before this reunion ends," I announced.
Kal, who had been in charge of writing them, gave me a wary look.
"Aiden, it's the third time in two days that you've disagreed with my suggestions and work. We've been friends for five years—have I done something wrong to you or—" Interrupting him with a wave of my hand, I candidly explained my case. "Nothing of the sort, old friend. I've simply come to a realization. Many have chosen to become martial artists, and it's clear that strength is bound to grow rapidly after the first Well of Ascension ceremony. God told us that more contributions would grant a greater combat power increase. So, logic says that our current requirements are way too low."
Stopping, I stretched out my hand and demanded that Blake pass me Kal's handiwork.
Standing, I held the poorly made banner with combat power values for each rank written on it.
"If someone's strength increases by ten before the ceremony, and thus doubles after the ceremony for his efforts, won't a mere 35 combat power be way too easily achievable for a mid-rank martial artist's status?" I explained, pointing out Kal's requirements. "These are all but theories for now, but someone going from 25 to 35 in combat power in three months of training won't just gain a few units after the ceremony. I'd say this person is more likely to surpass 50. You see where I'm coming from?"
Jeeny and Kal responded first, while Clark seemed to think deeply, as I handed the banner back to Blake.
"So that's why you kept mumbling about having those high numbers! Now it makes sense!" Kal blurted out, slamming his hands violently on the table, startling Jeeny, who sat across from him.
"It seems logical. I see no reason not to adopt this change right away," Jeeny stated after clearing her throat.
Shaking his head, Kal laughed. "You know, Aiden, things would have been much faster if you had simply explained this to—"
Glaring at him, I responded hoarsely, "Lock this man up! How dare you utter such nonsense when you kept ignoring my words yesterday!"
Clark, Arthur, and Blake all moved first to intercept him.
Our small play continued for just a few minutes, and we fell into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
It seemed that every one of us had felt the burden of our work and responsibilities. This little funny moment was needed to ease the atmosphere.
"Well, this wraps our second—or third—meeting. I can't even remember which one it is, but who cares anyway!" Kal declared, promptly concluding our assembly.
"We'll go and supervise the stalls, then. Kal and Aiden are relieved from any duty now. While I'm sure everyone agrees that Aiden deserves rest and freedom, I'd say Kal should come with us to work some more," Clark asserted, grabbing Kal—who was heading my way—by the shoulder.
Kal made the same sad and cute face as Puss in Boots often did, as if that would convince someone like Clark.
"No privileges, Kal," Clark simply added with a grin.
"Traitor. Hmmpf," Kal snorted as he finally gave up.
"Don't feel too bad, though—I'll be training in the meantime since I'm free," I affirmed, which got some mixed reactions.
"Are you sure, leader Aiden?'' Jeeny inquired, true worry palpable in her voice.
"Haven't you done more than enough for a month's worth of work already? I think you need some rest, Aiden. If only you could see your eyes," Arthur added, his usual cheeky voice replaced by a baritone.
"Yes, I am sure, Jeeny. And it's precisely because I can't feel my eyes that I wish to wake myself up. I can't just laze around and ignore physical training because I'm a faction leader," I answered sincerely, my eyes fixed on the rightmost hallway.
"You shouldn't push yourself so hard, Leader Aiden. It matters not if you are on the weaker side in this faction; you have other duties. Secondly, if anyone dares to criticize you, I'll make them beg for death," said Xavier, a bulky, bear-of-a-man. He was the strongest in our faction, with a combat power of 54.
"I appreciate the loyalty—and the promises to kill, really—but you aren't in my shoes, Xavier. As a leader, it's clear that most will forgo physical training and rely on their members to build up their faction's strength. But I do not wish to be like them. My faction, my system. I want to be the pillar of this faction—not just as a political and public figure, but as the strongest man within it." I replied, my tone cold and sharp, my eyes a blazing inferno of determination.
Xavier, a man perhaps strong enough to have been a professional fighter in our former world, flinched at my words. Carefully considering his reply, he finally spoke: "I'm sorry, Leader Aiden. I had no idea this had bothered you so much. Of course, I—and this entire council—will support you in your project." He gave me a sharp nod of acknowledgment and respect.
The others responded in kind, and after a few more words were exchanged, I left the main hall, heading toward another building we had discovered yesterday.
Only—they hadn't seen what I had.
...
I arrived at my training ground: a grand, rectangular-shaped structure fifty meters long and twenty meters wide. The roof was so high you'd need more than one ladder to reach it.
Entering through the front door, I was immediately hit by the odor of steel and iron. The entire place was reinforced from within, its walls made up of dense plates of metal. Examining them, I doubted even a cannonball or a tank shell could pierce through.
But, reminding myself of what I came here for, I refocused and made my way to the far-right corner.
There, under a gray sheet resting atop what I knew to be a training dummy—hidden in the dark, unnoticed corner—was something far more important. Pulling the sheet away, I pressed the red button I had discovered yesterday, nestled on its bottom left cheek.
A golden light shimmered to life, and the dummy transformed—magically—into a form made of otherworldly material. Not as hard as wood, but soft and tender like human skin. Its joints and limbs weren't static but shaped like real organs: arms, legs, a torso—everything like a human body, yet completely black and gray.
"Level-1 Training Dummy has been activated. Please select your method of training."
Yes, that was it! The first supernatural add-on that I can use to my advantage to grow stronger faster than anyone else!