The peace of a stable economy never lasted long in the apocalypse. The system hated comfort.
Sebastian was standing in the Arcane Observatory of the Sanctuary, a massive glass domed room at the very top of the Citadel. The room was filled with floating holographic projections of the North American server map, tracking the movement of Beast Tides and Warlord factions.
Valerie burst through the heavy mahogany doors, her oak staff clattering against the polished marble floor. She didn't look like the composed, ruthless logistics director she had become over the last week. She looked genuinely terrified.
"Sebastian, we have a catastrophic problem." Valerie breathed, her chest heaving as she rushed over to the central console.
"Take a breath, Princess." Sebastian said calmly, not taking his eyes off a glowing red blip on the map near old Chicago. "Did Galleon blow up the forge again? I told him to stop trying to weaponize the latrines."
