Origin Witch - Sovereign of Sector 666
Three thousand four hundred units of iron ore sat stacked in the ground-floor vault like rusty cordwood. Corinne drifted through the newly expanded sixty-square-meter storage room on her ground floor, her Zephyr Float holding her two inches above the clean, pine-scented floorboards. Her spectacles sat straight on her nose, the blue-tinted lenses highlighting row after row of heavy oak shelves packed with materials.
Obsidian Blocks: 42. Copper Slabs: 5,200. Grade-E Monster Cores: 164.
The hundred industrial iron cauldrons she’d run during the Ether Tide had been cleaned, dried, and stacked four-high along the back wall, their dark blue rims gleaming under the amber light of two new magic lanterns. The bamboo plumbing lines she’d rigged from her hundred-liter Anseic water tank were wiped down, the wooden spigots shut tight. The workshop didn’t smell like boiled grass or sulfur smoke anymore. It smelled like fresh pine, clean spring water, and cold iron.
Ping. A system transfer node chimed beside the Magic Desk. A heavy wooden tray materialized on the small screen, carrying a large double-handled stone bowl covered by a wooden lid. Beside the bowl lay a small note written on yellow paper in neat, looping cursive:
To Boss Corinne: Celebratory breakfast! Roasted wild pork cutlets with crushed garlic, sweet tuber mash, and a cold mug of wild-berry tea! Garrett Thorne brought two hundred pounds of boar meat over from the southern ridge after they cleared Sun-Tae’s fortress. Enjoy! (Piper Bell)
Corinne’s stomach let out a loud, hollow growl that made Steelwool hop off her shoulder and land directly beside the stone bowl, its beak clicking in rapid snip-snap motions.
“Back off, steel-ball,” Corinne grumbled, setting the bird on a lower shelf before lifting the wooden lid.
The steam rising from the bowl was thick, hot, and smelled divine, crisp fried pork fat, pungent garlic, and sweet roasted root vegetables. She picked up her wooden chopsticks, scooped a thick piece of pork cutlet into her mouth, and chewed slowly. The meat was tender, rich with rendered fat, the garlic cutting through the heavy salt with a sharp, savory kick that made her shoulders relax for the first time in three days.
Through her spectacles, the blue text box hovered over the food:
[Roast Pork & Tuber Mash (Grade-E+)] [Effect: Restores 30 Health Points instantly. Increases Strength and Physique attributes by +2 for 2 hours.] [Note: Exceptional culinary craftsmanship. The cook effectively locked the monster fat’s ether charge into the meat fibers.]
“Physique +2,” she muttered, taking another large bite. “Girl’s getting dangerous with a frying pan.”
She tossed a strip of cooked pork to Steelwool, watching the owl chick swallow the meat whole before wiping its beak on her tunic sleeve.
Jasper’s profile icon flashed blue on her Magic Desk screen. She tapped the interface, letting the text project into her glasses while she finished her breakfast.
[Jasper Finch]: Good morning, Sovereign.
[Corinne]: Stop calling me that, Finch. It sounds like a cheap brand of gin.
She said it flat, almost without thinking, the words landing like she was swatting at a fly. But inside her chest the word did not leave. Sovereign. It settled in her ribs the way a stone settles in the gut after you swallow it whole, heavy and unarguable, and for one quiet breath it felt exactly right. She did not correct him a second time. She let the silence hold the title in place while she chewed, and went back to her pork as if nothing had happened.
[Jasper Finch]: The title fits. The southern ridge siege ended two hours ago. Sun-Tae’s oak gates were burned through with your Flame Potions in less than forty seconds. Garrett Thorne’s war-band and Marnell’s southern squad cleared the inner courtyard before sunrise.
[Corinne]: What happened to Sun-Tae?
[Jasper Finch]: He tried to hide inside his central Ward Engine vault with forty pounds of gold coins and five monster cores. Garrett kicked the stone door off its hinges, dragged him out into the courtyard, and let the two hundred survivors from the ridge decide his fate. Corinne read the long silence that followed as its own kind of verdict — the scammer who sold their wood for his own gate had finally been priced in.
[Jasper Finch]: His two hundred thousand units of stolen wood and stone have been requisitioned by the Canopy Syndicate.
Corinne swallowed her last mouthful of tuber mash, drinking a deep gulp of cold, sweet wild-berry tea to clear her throat.
[Corinne]: What’s the sector market status?
[Jasper Finch]: Stabilized. The regional board has cleared out the dead accounts. We have 3,108 active survivors remaining in Sector 666.
[Jasper Finch]: And every single one of those 3,108 people is currently operating on the new economic standard.
[Corinne]: The vial currency?
[Jasper Finch]: Yes. Nobody trades in wood or stone units anymore. The independent gatherers, the trade hubs, and the war-bands are pricing everything in Red Vials and Blue Vials.
[Jasper Finch]: Current exchange rates across Sector 666:
– 1x Red Vial (Grade-E Health Potion) = 100 Wood Units / 50 lbs Iron Ore
– 1x Blue Vial (Grade-E Mana Potion) = 60 Wood Units / 30 lbs Iron Ore
– 1x Yellow Vial (Flame / Slowness Potion) = 150 Wood Units / 2 Grade-E Cores
Jasper sent over a detailed market analysis document through the trade square.
[Jasper Finch]: You own seventy percent of the liquid magic reserves in this sector, Corinne. Your Spire is the sole mint. I am the distribution manager. Garrett Thorne is the standing army. Piper Bell is the supply chef.
[Jasper Finch]: As long as we hold the potion formulas, no gang, mobster, or fake saint can ever challenge our grip on Sector 666 again.
Corinne set her empty stone bowl on the desk. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t post a victory message on the regional channel. She didn’t even smile. She simply reached into her spatial bag, pulled out the dark red, leather-bound book she had selected as her Tier-3 upgrade reward, Basic Mana Circuitry & Array Geometry, and laid it flat on the wooden table.
[Corinne]: We need to prepare for Tier-4.
[Jasper Finch]: Tier-4?! We just finished Tier-3 yesterday!
[Corinne]: The Ether Tide was Phase 1, Finch. The system voice said Monthly Ether Tide. That means in twenty-six days, another storm is coming. And the next one won’t be Grade-E.
[Jasper Finch]: What do you need for Tier-4?
[Corinne]: 100,000 Wood Units, 10,000 Stone Units, 100 Obsidian Blocks, 10 D-Rank Fire Element Essences, and 10 Grade-D Monster Cores.
[Jasper Finch]: Grade-D Cores?! Those only drop from Grade-D boss monsters in the deep uncharted swamps!
[Corinne]: Then tell Garrett Thorne to start sharpening his wind-blades. Because if he wants 50-HP potions for his next run, he’s going to need to bring me a dragon’s spine.
Jasper was silent for five seconds on the thread.
[Jasper Finch]: I’ll organize the expedition teams immediately, Miss Mercer. A pleasure doing business with the Bank.
Corinne closed the messaging window. She floated up her heartwood stairs, past her second-floor laboratory, all the way up to her third-floor high observation terrace. She slid the heavy glass doors open and drifted out onto the wide timber balcony forty yards above the forest floor.
The morning sun was breaking through the high, silver clouds, casting long beams of brilliant gold light across the endless ocean of green treetops. The air was fresh, cool, and crisp, washed clean of the purple storm haze. Beside her, Steelwool hopped onto the wooden railing, its steel-gray feathers catching the morning light, its head held high as it let out a clear, triumphant keek-keek into the open sky.
Corinne reached out, her hand resting flat against the rough, polished wood of her high tower, feeling the steady, deep vibration of the giant oak beneath her fingers. She looked down at her bare, paralyzed legs hanging beneath her dark gray tunic, motionless as ever. Then she looked up at the vast, infinite blue sky stretching away toward the central mountains of Kaelum, her black frames glinting under the golden sun.
She wasn’t dead in a Sector 9 drainage ditch. She wasn’t a broken girl in a hospital gown. She was Corinne Mercer. The owner of the Spire. The Sovereign of Sector 666. And her fires were just getting started.
— Origin Witch —