The argument with Quintus had left a lingering chill over Bastion. The Kyorian gifts, though distributed and repurposed, were a constant, tangible reminder of the seductive power we had rejected. The settlement was abuzz with a nervous energy, the residents now acutely aware that their little island of freedom was no longer a secret. We had been noticed. And that was a terrifying prospect.

My decision to scout Nexus Delta-7 was a cold, calculated necessity. That night, after my conversation with Lucas, I made the familiar journey to Waystone Gamma, the closest relay point to the settlement. I settled into the hidden, subterranean chamber, the hum of Leoric's crystal a comforting presence in the absolute darkness. I closed my eyes and reached out across the network, my thoughts a clear, concise transmission to the Sanctum.

"All hands. I need a strategic briefing. Target: Nexus Delta-7." I broadcasted everything I knew: Quintus' visit, the nature of his offer, Lucas' rejection, and my intent to perform a deep reconnaissance mission. The response was immediate, a cascade of thought from my companions.

Rexxar, as always, was first. "A KYORIAN STRONGHOLD? EXCELLENT! MASTER, YOU SHOULD HAVE ALLOWED ME TO GREET THEIR MESSENGER! A SINGLE, WELL-PLACED BATTLE-ROAR WOULD HAVE EXPRESSED OUR SENTIMENTS MORE CLEARLY THAN ANY WORDS!"

Leoric was more analytical, his thoughts a rapid-fire sequence of concerns. "Nexus Delta-7... Master, their technological level will be tiers above anything in Bastion. Energy shielding, psionic surveillance, genetic scanners... a direct infiltration would be exceedingly dangerous. Their sensor grids could potentially detect even the minute energy fluctuations of a [Shadow-Weave Stride] if you get too close to sensitive installations."

Jeeves, however, cut through the noise with the cold, sharp edge of pure strategy. "Master, Leoric is correct. A direct, physical infiltration carries an unacceptably high risk of detection. However, Emissary Quintus' own words have provided us with the perfect vector for entry. They are expecting new arrivals. They are actively encouraging immigration from the independent settlements. Their gates will be open."

Open, but not unguarded, I countered, thinking of Leoric's warnings. They will have scanners. My [Prime Axiom's Nullifying Veil] should hold, but it has never been tested against a dedicated, high-tier Imperial sensor grid.

"Precisely," Jeeves replied. "Which is why a physical infiltration should not be your primary method. This is a mission perfectly suited for [Glimpse of a Path]. You can travel to the outskirts of the Nexus, find a secure, hidden location, and then use the Glimpse to conduct a full, three-hour exploration of the city's interior, like before. You can walk their streets, listen to their people, assess their defenses, and test the efficacy of your Veil against their passive security systems, all with zero physical risk. If their sensors detect the 'Glimpse-version' of you, the vision will simply inform you of that fact, and you can pull back, having lost nothing but a cooldown."

It was the obvious, perfect plan. The same methodology I had used earlier but on a much grander scale. It was cautious, intelligent, and maximized my unique advantages.

Agreed, I sent. I'll use the Glimpse as my primary tool. But I needed to test a new usable persona for the simulation. Who am I supposed to be if I decide to enter the city?

Jeeves' response was immediate. "You could be Chris. Not 'Jack the Healer,' but an entirely new persona. A lone, unaffiliated warrior, Tier 2, drawn by the promise of Kyorian stability after hearing of their offer from a passing traveler. You possess no rare skills. You are competent but unremarkable. Your goal is simply to join a guild and find security. This persona is common, unassuming, and will not draw undue attention. It will allow you to navigate their recruitment processes and gather intelligence on their internal guild structures from the ground up."

It was perfect. It had a backstory, a motivation, and a power level that would slide right under their radar. With the plan solidified, I made the journey. It took four days of hard, fast travel, quickly overtaking the trail of Quintus' caravan from a safe distance, the Ghost Road's relay points serving as my silent guideposts.

On the fourth day, I saw it. Nexus Delta-7 seemed much more awe-inspiring this time. It was not built in a valley; it was the valley. It was a sprawling, fortified city carved into the heart of a massive crater, surrounded by sheer, hundred-meter-high cliffs that had been reinforced with gleaming, dark grey metal. Anti-air weapon emplacements dotted the crater rim like steel thorns, and sleek, predatory-looking patrol craft zipped through the air with silent, menacing grace. The entrance was a colossal gatehouse set into the crater wall, a testament to Imperial might, its gates large enough to admit a titan.

I found my hiding spot a few kilometers from the main gate, a small, deep cave system shielded from aerial surveillance by a thick, rocky overhang. I spent a few hours observing the flow of traffic, confirming Jeeves' assessment. Small groups of survivors, just like Chris' had been, were trickling towards the gate, drawn by the promise of the gilded cage. The Kyorians were processing them efficiently, scanning them with handheld devices before waving them inside. Their security was professional, but it was geared for mass immigration, not for detecting a single, perfectly veiled anomaly like me.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The time was right. I settled into the deepest part of the cave, shielded by tons of rock, and focused my will. The world dissolved into the familiar, timeless void as I activated [Glimpse of a Path], my consciousness hurtling forward into a three-hour slice of a possible future.

The Glimpse slammed me into reality. I was 'Chris,' walking on the wide, paved road leading to the city's main gate. I had swapped my simple leather for a mismatched but functional set of scavenged beast-hide armor, a crude sword at my hip. I looked the part of a hundred other desperate arrivals.

The sheer scale of the gatehouse up close was now dizzying. Kyorian soldiers in the same crimson-and-black armor as Quintus stood guard, their faces impassive behind their emotionless helmets. Their rifles were sleek, advanced weapons that made the crossbows of Bastion look like children's toys. As I stepped under the shadow of the gate, I felt it: a subtle, tingling shimmer in the air. A passive scanning field. I held my breath, but my [Prime Axiom's Nullifying Veil] held firm. The guards barely gave me a second glance. A scanner in a guard's hand beeped once, a simple, low-level energy reading that confirmed I was a Tier 2 biological entity, a little impressive but nothing more. They waved me through. I was in.

The city... 'city' wasn't the right word. It was a sterile, perfectly engineered monument to order and control. The streets were now wide, clean, and paved with a smooth, grey material that seemed to absorb all sound. The buildings were tall, elegant structures of dark metal and shimmering plasteel, rising in sharp, clean lines towards the sky, which was crisscrossed by the silent transit-tubes of a public transportation system. There was no mud, no mess, no chaotic, vibrant life like in Bastion or the construction site I had previously visited. It was breathtakingly beautiful, astonishingly advanced, and deeply, soul-crushingly sterile.

The air itself felt different. Through my [True Sight], I could see a faint, golden web of energy woven through the entire city, a 'network of compliance' as Jeeves had called such things. It projected a subtle, continuous wave of calming psionic energy, designed to soothe anxieties, dampen extreme emotions, and encourage a general sense of contentment and obedience. It was a psychic anesthetic, ensuring the populace remained docile and productive. The very atmosphere was a tool of control.

What struck me most was the sound. The city was full of people — hundreds of thousands of them, from a hundred different species. Dweorg, S'skarr, Lorian, and dozens of others I didn't recognize mingled on the wide boulevards. And yet, the sound was... muted. I could hear their languages, the guttural rumbling of one species, the musical chirping of another, the familiar cadence of human speech, yet my mind understood it all perfectly. I realized with a jolt that the city's compliance field must contain a passive, low-level telepathic translator, smoothing over communication barriers, another brilliant method of fostering integration and eroding cultural identity.

The atmosphere was a strange mix of welcome and predation. Public fountains dispensed clean, purified water. Food vendors, sanctioned and run by the Artificer's Cog guild, sold cheap, nutritious food bars. On the surface, it was a paradise for a survivor. But beneath it, a relentless current of competition flowed. The guilds were everywhere. Their banners — the mailed fist of the Ironheart Vanguard, the gear-and-cog of the Artificers, the shadowed eye of the Weavers and various others — hung from opulent guildhalls. Their recruiters prowled the streets, their eyes sharp, assessing every new arrival, looking for talent, for muscle, for exploitable weakness.

"New in town, friend?" a man in a crisp Ironheart Vanguard tunic asked, falling into step beside me. His smile was wide and friendly, but his eyes were calculating. "Looking for purpose? The Vanguard offers the best signing bonus in the sector. Food, a real bunk, and the finest steel. All you need is a strong sword arm and unwavering loyalty."

"Just looking around," I, as Chris, grunted noncommittally and moved on.

The city was a perfectly designed machine for absorbing and utilizing talent. I saw a group of Dweorg being led into the Artificer's guildhall, their eyes wide with awe at the promise of advanced forges. I saw a lithe S'skarr being quietly approached by a cloaked figure bearing the Weaver's sigil, an offer being whispered in its ear. The Empire didn't just rule; it consumed. It found the best and brightest of every conquered race and put them to work for its own glorification, leaving the rest to serve as laborers or grunts.

My goal here in the Glimpse was to understand this system from the inside. I walked past the grand, imposing Vanguard hall, past the humming Artificer's workshop, and set my sights on a smaller, less conspicuous building. It was the headquarters of a lesser guild, one I'd heard mentioned in passing back in Bastion: the 'Crimson Blades,' a mercenary company known for taking on high-risk, high-reward contracts outside the city walls. They were scrappier, more independent, and likely less suffused with overt Imperial dogma. A perfect place for an unremarkable warrior like 'Chris' to start, and a perfect vantage point to gather information on the city's underbelly.

As I approached the building's heavy, iron-studded door, my heart hammered with the thrill of the infiltration. This Glimpse was working flawlessly. The Veil was holding. My persona was solid. I was about to step into the lion's den, armed with nothing but a cover story and the foreknowledge that none of this was real. But the information I could glean here would be. It would be the weapon that allowed Bastion, my Bastion, to fight back. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, ready to see what secrets the gilded cage was willing to offer.

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