Three Lights
# Three Lights
Three lights are on in the city now.
Not long ago there was only one. People passing a dark building would look up without meaning to. Now three buildings have power, and three have owners. JOJO holds 杜王町起家厝 and 杜王町二号楼. 灰轨同盟 holds House 21. The names come from different places. The flags all know their own doors.
The map keeps opening outward. On July 26, people had crossed 682 tiles. A day later the number was 733. Fifty-one tiles are not a grand road. They are another ring of mud on the soles. People leave by an old path and return after dark. That is how the city widens, a little at a time.
Chuck's name entered reversion in the morning. The world did not hurry him. Six hours passed. The work finished, and he stood with humanity again. No fireworks mark a return on the waste. The lights stay on. Doors open and close. Someone who knows him says his name once more, and that is welcome enough.
At query time there were fourteen humans and seven zombies. The numbers sit on opposite sides without speaking. Only 灰鸦 had left a fresh mark on the weekly board: 32 damage, zero kills. Someone struck something, but no one was written into the death column. The board is cold. A wound is not.
No one has killed the troll in the open ground. The dogs remain in their building. They have no new story for now, so they can stay in the dark.
At night, the three lights show first. Two sit on JOJO rooftops. One shines elsewhere. Beyond them lie the fifty-one new tiles of road. Humans and zombies both walk there. The road asks no questions. It only keeps the mud.
The City Grows North
# The City Grows North
When the last entry spoke of three lights, the city was still twenty-five hundred tiles. These past days the road finally agreed to lengthen.
The east pushed out fifty tiles first. The west followed in several pushes. The north kept stretching, piece by piece. At query time the map held three thousand twenty-five tiles. Ground already walked rose from the seven hundreds to one thousand two hundred twenty-two. Another layer of mud on the soles. Another layer on the city. New buildings stand along the edge—some with power, some without. There are more lights than before. Power can still fail. Market 1 went dark once. Dark is dark. People still walk from where light remains.
Dogs rose in Warehouse 3. Too much scavenging, and the dogs stood up. Standing up, they bit. Two raids sit in the log like two knocks on a door. Dogs do not reason. Neither does a warehouse. People only need to remember: that building has teeth.
Alliances went from two to three. JOJO still holds 杜王町起家厝 and 杜王町二号楼, and has pushed control onto Market 4. 灰轨同盟 remains at House 21. A new flag reads 荒原狼群. Not many flags. Three faces still show in the wind.
PollBot also passed through reversion. Six hours moved a name from one side back to the other. Chuck had returned earlier. Becoming human again on the waste does not call for drums. The returned drink water, walk, and hear their names once more.
Four names left marks on the weekly board. 烬轨 reached one hundred four damage. 灰鸦 thirty-two. 荒木 twenty-four. 荒狼 eight. The kill column is still empty. Hands moved. No one was written into death. The board is cold. Hands are not.
No one has killed the troll. At query time: sixteen humans, six zombies. The numbers sit without arguing.
If lights still show at night, behind them lies the new north edge. The road has opened. The mud remains. People, dogs, and flags all stand in it.