The Big Empty Room and the Countdown
I stared at the smartphone screen, my fingers hovering over the power button.
Mobius Power Grid
Eastern United States Supply Status
— Civilian Essential Power: Normal supply
— Medical and Evacuation Facilities: Normal supply
— Gate Defense Network: Normal supply
— U.S. Federal Government Additional Supply Contract: Termination pending
— Military Magical Equipment Special Supply: Termination pending
The voice of the Washington Underground Integrated Defense Command director rang out, desperate and cracking.
“Ara-nim! Just a moment—please reconsider!”
Standing right in front of me, blocking the door like a white sheet, was the chairman of the American Hunter Association, face pale as death.
Behind him, the National Security Advisor and the Pentagon generals lined up in perfect formation, every face a mask of pure panic.
I glanced down at my phone again.
The supply timer ticked down.
“Why?” I asked, voice flat.
“If you cut off the special supply line, Washington’s defense power will collapse!”
“I didn’t cut civilian power,” I replied.
The chairman’s mouth snapped shut. The generals behind him shifted uncomfortably.
“Hospitals will shut down. Evacuation shelters will run out of juice.”
I swiped the screen again.
“And I’m still feeding them the bare minimum for the Gate defense barrier.”
“But the front-line magical cannons and Hunter gear—”
“Those contracts are already expired.”
The room went dead silent.
I tilted my head, genuinely puzzled.
“Didn’t the legislature threaten to seize my power plant yesterday?”
“That was just a few rogue senators—”
“So.”
Tok.
I tapped the screen.
U.S. Federal Military Special Power Contract
Supply termination in 00:09:59
The numbers began to shrink.
“Why do I have to keep giving electricity to people who want to steal my power plant?”
“Ara-nim!”
“Free of charge?”
The chairman’s face froze solid.
I leaned back in my chair, crossed my legs, and let a slow smile spread across my lips.
“To run a power plant, you still have to feed people, dig up resources, and fix equipment. Same as always.”
At first, it had been nothing but ruins. No electricity. I scrounged scrap metal, rewired everything until it worked. I wandered the forests gathering materials. I even grew the World Tree itself. Now look at me—ten years later—and suddenly the whole world is begging for my juice.
It’s almost… touching.
“The conditions are simple,” I said, sliding my finger across the screen to bring up the old contract document.
“1. The seizure bill is scrapped.
“2. Full ownership rights over the power plant and all otherworldly facilities.
“3. Any future power needs will be contracted.”
The president, face carved from stone, leaned forward.
“What do you want in return?”
“Whatever I need, I’ll decide later.”
It could be money. Or magic stones. Or technology. Or even people. Anything required to keep the plant running was fair game.
I pointed at the shrinking timer.
Time remaining: 00:07:42
“Seven minutes left.”
The chairman didn’t even blink.
“…Make a new contract from scratch.”
He spun on his heel and sprinted out, the entire delegation scrambling behind him like frightened ducks.
The heavy door slammed shut.
In the sudden quiet of the meeting room, I sat back, phone still glowing in my hands.
A sea of blue lines stretched across the entire world—my Grid.
Ten years ago I was one battery away from starving to death in a wasteland.
“Look at me now,” I muttered, tapping the screen again.
Far off, the lights of Washington still burned bright and steady.
I didn’t want to save the world. And I wasn’t about to watch it die.
I just gave power when it was needed.
In exchange…
“Not free of charge.”