The next morning came with a faint hum—artificial sunbeams pouring in through the translucent dome panels in the city of aurora.
Everett found Gloria and Guruji waiting in the canteen of their temporary residence, sipping something that smelled suspiciously like cosmic coffee brewed by a homesick mechanic.
"So…" Everett leaned in. "Where exactly are we right now?"
Gloria didn't even look up. "Sector C, Zone 7 of the Milky Way."
Everett blinked. "Sector what now?"
She set her cup down with a soft clink. "The Milky Way is now divided into 26 Sectors—A to Z. Each sector is split into 100 Zones. We're currently in Zone 7, right at the heart of Sector C."
"Why does that sound like a game map with paid expansions?"
Guruji smiled. "Every Zone is ruled by a Zonal Lord, typically a Tier-3 Mystery Sovereign. Each Sector is governed by a Sector Lord—a Mystery World powerhouse capable of rewriting planetary fate. But don't let the names fool you. Even a single Zonal Lord commands billions of planets, and thousands of them are habitable."
Everett exhaled. "So they're like... cosmic emperors?"
"No," Gloria said. "They're worse. Because they don't need thrones. Only power."
The room went quiet.
Everett's voice lowered. "What about Earth? And… Nalanda?"
Gloria's expression turned still. Even Guruji looked to the floor for a moment before speaking.
"About 700 years ago," Gloria said slowly, "Earth… changed."
"During the Expansion Wars," Guruji added, "a Foreign One appeared. A being—one of the Alien Races, but unlike any ever documented. A Mystery World Strong Man who broke laws just by existing. He entered our system and shattered Earth's spiritual core. The planet cracked… and was lost."
Gloria's eyes narrowed as if remembering something she wished she could forget. "That day, even the sun dimmed."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Then, after all of that, Everett whispered:
"Do we have no homes now? Are we… truly wanderers in a sense?"
Guruji looked at him with calm eyes, gentle and deep.
"Home is not earth, or soil, or sky," he said. "Home is where people are. You and I are here. Gloria is here. Thus, your home remains."
Gloria smiled at him—soft, a little sad, but warm.
Everett swallowed. The ache didn't vanish. But it was quieter.
In his mind, a thought formed. Not just a wish. A vow.
Iwill build a new Earth.
A new home.
One that cannot be destroyed.
The conversation resumed, steadier now.
"But what do we do now?" Everett asked. "Do we… do missions? Like Nalanda days? Form another team?"
"Not teams," Gloria said, her voice rekindling. "Guilds. This is the galaxy's new order."
"Guilds?" Everett frowned. "Like games?"
Gloria nodded. "Yes. But real. Private organizations, formed by humans, sometimes aliens. Guilds accept missions from all corners—governments, individuals, even the Federation. They're economic powerhouses and military assets."
Guruji chuckled. "Freelancers with a tax bracket."
Gloria continued, "The Federation takes a 1–2% cut from every mission. It sounds small, but with thousands of guilds running millions of missions, it adds up. In times of war, guilds are summoned—like private armies with their own code."
Everett's eyes lit up. "Then let's do it. Let's make a guild."
"Hold on," Gloria said, amused. "There are conditions."
🧾 Guild Formation Requirements
She held up three fingers.
"One: Minimum of three members. That's us.
Two: At least one Tier-2 Mystery Master. Check again.
Three: A Recommendation Letter from a Mystery Sovereign. That's the hardest part."
Everett groaned. "We were so close…"
Gloria nodded. "Mystery Sovereigns don't hand out favors. They control Zones, command laws, and reshape destiny. Getting one to even speak to you is a miracle."
Then Guruji smiled.
"I have one."
They turned to him.
"You what?"
Guruji, still smiling, reached into his robe and pulled out a scroll that shimmered with starlight.
"One night, during meditation—or sleep; the line blurs—I received this." His voice softened. "A letter sealed with glyphs older than time. From someone whose name I dare not say. Only one word was written: 'Acceptance.'"
He handed it to Gloria.
Her eyes widened. "This is… real. It's a Recommendation Scroll signed by a Tier-3 Sovereign. And not just any—this carries the Flame of Recognition."
Everett shook his head. "Who are you?"
Guruji shrugged. "Just a man with peculiar sleep habits."
As they looked at the glowing scroll, the future opened before them—not as a map, but as a story they had yet to write.
A name? They hadn't chosen one yet.
But a dream?
It burned in Everett's chest:
To build a new world.
A new Earth.
One not inherited, but forged.