Unchosen Champion

Back in Ghost Reef, the entire settlement stood at full alert. The phantom soldiers that stayed behind had received some partial information when the fishing boats were retrieved by the pirates, but they were left not knowing whether or not they would end up with a fight on their hands.

The truth was that even though they had been reinforced with significant numbers, the vast majority of the population had no levels. If it came to a fight with a proper army, they were in for a challenge with so few adequately leveled defenders, but their experience in the siege left them resolute. They anticipated how the few hundred level 75 phantoms would face off with potentially thousands of challengers and didn’t shy away, but there was a palpable wave of relief as the Tempest Fleet returned, sending them messages for what to expect. Instead of a fight, they had refugees.

As the ships sailed toward the reefs, the marshaling in the fort shifted posture, from digging in for a serious fight, to offering hospitality to guests. The transition was fast, and the bells rang enthusiastically as the residents left a skeleton crew with the cannons so the rest could join the welcoming committee for the newcomers outside of the fort’s walls.

“They’re getting ready to receive guests outside of the fort.” Camila interpreted the tolling responses from the fort’s walls, for Coop’s benefit. He was trying to figure out the codes himself, but it all sounded like noise with multiple messages being communicated simultaneously.

Marcus had been preparing for exactly the kind of situation they now faced, one where Ghost Reef would have an enormous influx of people. In fact, he had been hoping for an opportunity to recruit ever since he took the advisor role and realized how sparse the settlement actually was. Coop had warned them that they didn’t have room to take on freeloaders, but the actual number of residents managing to hang onto a civilization shard was a shock. He had been pushing Coop to proactively recruit ever since the siege ended. To satisfy his yearning to grow the population, he had developed a system with Shane for onboarding citizens and they trained others to conduct the procedures that they collectively came up with. Ghost Reef had already been primed to grow.

There was an interview and application process in place, with a crew of 50 residents and phantoms trained to guide newcomers through their options: whether they simply needed aid, shelter, or if they were looking to relocate permanently. Obviously, anyone that intended to stay would be more thoroughly vetted before having access to all of the benefits of the settlement, but the intention was to provide safety for those who came, and enticement for those who were unsure if they would like to settle in.

On the ships, the refugees were awed by the spectacle of entering Ghost Reef’s territory at night, with the subtle wisps of spectral mana flowing through the sky, leaving streaks of turquoise down to the surface of the sea, continuing underwater along the emerging shoals. No one expected to witness auroras around the tropical island, so when they did, it was a surprise delight. After living in the dirt around the airport in Empress City, the contrast was substantial.

Despite being a massive crowd, the people they had pulled off the cruise ship were unusually subdued, at least for what Coop would expect from such large numbers of people gathered in one place. The trauma of the apocalypse quelled their ability to feel genuine excitement. Their experience told them it was dangerous to be too optimistic, but that didn’t stop whispers and mutterings of the overblown Nomad and his fictional Conch Republic settlement.

“Mostly fictional.” Coop mumbled to himself to Camila’s amusement as they overheard the conversations. The rebels had actually pegged Ghost Reef’s location with surprising accuracy, but he blamed the leaderboards for putting it out there as an option. It was his own fault not changing the name, making it even easier for locals to triangulate their location, but ultimately, he wanted people to come. The settlement was fulfilling its purpose in that sense.

As the fleet reached the port, the Empress City refugees slowly made their way off the boats and onto the island, being directed by phantoms to take seats at the picnic tables that remained from the beach bash. The posts with gossamer fabric were still up, with fairy lights glowing invitingly between them. Some of the bonfires had been reignited as if to welcome the newcomers with flickering lights.

“What is this?” They asked each other. “Did they know we were coming?” He heard them try to explain the fact that there was already more than enough space laid out for them.

“Just a coincidence.” Coop answered the ones that were walking past him on the docks, but they barely acknowledged his attempt to minimize the preparations.