The display pulsed, icons swirling into place like falling puzzle pieces.
Task: STABILIZE THE FOUNDATIONS
Objective 1: Secure permanent shelter for 80% of population
Objective 2: Establish reliable food production (minimum threshold: 200 units/day)
Reward: Blueprint – Solar Grid Tier I
Below that, new panels emerged—more data than Toren could fully process at once. He caught glances: structural integrity ratings, material counts, terrain yield potential, water table readings. Each one flicked from red to amber to green as the system calculated in real time.
He swallowed hard.
It wasn't just a quest.
It was a damn city management system.
"Category unlocked: Structures – Primitive.""Blueprints available upon reward delivery.""Skill modules currently locked. Upgrade conditions: level progression."
"Wait… blueprints?" he murmured, tilting his head. "You're not just giving me instructions?"
"Correct. Rewards must be earned. You may inspect partial blueprint preview."
With a flicker, a schematic unfurled—an elegant grid of hexagonal panels connected to long spindly supports. The caption read:SOLAR GRID (T1): Output 30U/day. Area coverage: 40m². Efficiency modifier: +15% during daylight cycles.
Toren's breath caught in his throat.
This wasn't primitive. This wasn't village stuff. This was tech tech. Real, clean, space-age power.
His mind raced. The settlement was using jury-rigged thermal drums and scavenged fuel cells. At best, they had enough power to keep five lights and one radio working—intermittently. If he could install one of these grids…
He could change everything.
He leaned closer to the panel, voice cautious.
"How do I finish the task?"
"System monitoring engaged. Objectives met when conditions persist for no fewer than 72 continuous hours."
So—no short-cuts. No faking it for a day.
Toren rubbed his palms against his pants, still staring at the map.
"Okay. Okay. I need housing. Food. Trust."
"Correction: shelter and production. Trust is a variable you must acquire independently."
He exhaled, half-laughing. "Thanks, Kora."
"Naming AI interface as: 'Kora.' Confirm?"
He blinked. "Wait, what?"
"Name accepted. Kora will respond to all direct address."
"…Seriously?"
"Seriously."
For the first time in ten years, Toren felt like someone had handed him a tool with sharp edges—and the permission to use it.
No one knew he was here. Not yet. But the system was online. The challenge was real.
Time to get to work.