Faint hissing and bubbling noises. Chemical smells that never faded.
In one direction, stretching endlessly, was a sea of chemicals with twisting shades of orange and green. Dotting it were metal sheets, pipes, and containers marked after being scavenged.
And in the other?
A smog-covered city, separated into districts by rivers of toxins and piled wastage. Barely visible through the haze was a towering citadel with blinking lights, carved and built out of a mountainside. The mountain range stretched endlessly into the distance, with peaks that couldn't be seen from the Chemical Sea or the elevated city.
The sun rose from behind the mountains. It illuminated the vapors rising from the sea in the far distance, gradually creeping toward the city until it finally crested the peaks. A third of the day was lost before the city ever saw the sun.
For some, however, they never saw the light at all.
In the darkest depths of the city, made of metal and dim lights, wails echoed. Prison bars lined the walls. Tanks filled with substances bubbled with sickly hues of red, green, and blue. Scientists and doctors briskly walked between stations, and some returned with babies, who were lined up across a table.
A masked man walked down the row, feeding each one an unknown substance with a small spoon. Most babies glowed a strong shade of blue. The ones that didn't- a shadowed man placed them onto a cold, metallic cart.
High-pitched squealing echoed as the cart was driven away. Some men and women passed by, grabbing a few babies and signing documents. Later, a few more.
And more, and more, until there were only three left.
A gruff man arrived to pick them up and signed off on some documents. In return, a different shadowed man wearing a longer tunic handed him a large metallic card and three smaller ones.
"Ration cards. Fifteen years. Low class. Swap these small cards out every six months for the next five years. Once every year after that until they are fifteen."
"And if they don't survive?" the gruff man asked.
"Your ration card will be revoked. At least two must survive."
"My business is dangerous. The mortality rate is high."
"This has been assessed. It is why you may still receive extra ration cards and coins should you scavenge any high-value relics or materials from the Chemical Sea."
"With what time?" he snorted, gesturing at the babies. "I won't have time to scavenge taking care of these things."
The shadowed man pointed at his ration card before signing off a few things on his clipboard.
"I should note, Mr. Fenrik, should these three have another 'tragic accident,' future rations and profits will permanently be reduced by half."
Growling, Fenrik grabbed the man by the scruff. Lights glowed around them from those watching, but his snarling gaze remained fixed on this man, who remained unfazed. After a brief moment, Fenrik exhaled sharply and let go.
Without speaking, Fenrik loaded the three babies into a sheet metal basket.
"Feel honored, Fenrik. You have children to pass your skills onto. You may become the legendary tutor of students who discover ancient relics!"
Fenrik snorted and didn't look back as the metal sheet basket, with metal handles, squealed and swung haphazardly at his side.
Connected by a metal pier, Fenrik returned to his home- a grungy-looking building also made of metal, with a large intake and exhaust fan turning slowly. A small metallic boat was tied off beside it. It didn't matter what object he touched- everything complained when forced to move.
His door squealed, the floor groaned, and the fan noisily rotated. A thin foam acted as a filter between the interior and the fan, but the air smelled only mildly cleaner, and the filter needed to be replaced soon.
The metal basket clunked onto the metal table, and the babies jerked. Their crying had been non-stop, and Fenrik sighed. He lay on the bed, trying to ignore their incessant noise.
"Damn it," Fenrik cursed.
He ground his teeth as, one by one, he fed them a liquid from a bottle supplied by the city. They screamed the entire time, and veins began to visibly show in his neck and forehead as he noisily dropped the spoon onto the metallic table.
"AGH! I only need to keep two alive!" Fenrik growled.
Grabbing one of the babies at random, he slammed open his door and stepped over to the pier's edge while holding it.
It hovered in the air above the bubbling toxins, screaming and writhing in his grasp. Fenrik stood frozen, holding it, breathing heavily through his nose as his glare alternated between the baby and the Chemical Sea.
Fenrik closed his eyes, his grip loosening, before slowly retracting his arms.
"Lucky little bastard."
The baby continued to scream as Fenrik exhaled with continued frustration. He stared at it for several minutes before heading back inside- never noticing the brief glow of a bright blue hue that quickly faded.
The one he almost killed, Fenrik named Noland.
And as time passed, the other babies received their names. He tried to go out scavenging with them once, when a large bubble expanded and popped near his boat. It sprayed the basket, and some of the toxic chemicals splashed inside.
One of the babies shook violently, its finger crackling as the chemical turned it bubbly and inflamed. Fenrik was forced to cut it off and, after sealing the wound with a small magical flame from his fingertip, returned home.
With a dark and guilty expression, Fenrik stared at the baby still crying and shaking in his arms. A habit born out of frustration and stress, he ground his teeth again before looking out at the Chemical Sea.
A small, red jade floated across the filmy surface, attracting Fenrik's attention. Setting the baby down, a weak magical wind pulled the tiny gem closer, and with a glove, he plucked it from the chemical waters.
He cleaned it and locked it between threads as a necklace. Jade, the name of the little lady who lost her finger, and with a red jade now belonging to her.
The last child? Fenrik named him Lucky.
It would be several years before Fenrik returned to the Chemical Sea searching for relics. But with three children, his expeditions never reached as far as they once did. His solo adventures had come to an end.