Kael sat on the stool, turning the credchip over in his hand. The bar smelled of burnt synth-ale — an alcohol he found strangely tasted like ginger ale — and fried food. He was starting to get used to it.
Lura leaned over the counter, her copper hair brushing her shoulders. One of her tentacles draped lazily over the edge, then gently patted the top of Kael's head.
"See?" she said with a teasing smile. "You don't need a fancy place to feel safe. You've got me, and a bed here, if you want it."
Kael blinked at the touch, stiff at first, then let out a quiet laugh. "You… pat people on the head?"
He hadn't really felt warmth from his family on Earth, so it felt strange at first.
"Only the interesting ones," she replied, tilting her head. "And maybe the ones who can handle it."
Kael felt the weight of the gesture — strange, alien, but comforting. He looked around the dim bar. The hum of machinery, the faint neon glow, the scattered patrons all seemed… quieter somehow, less threatening than Zone 12 outside.
"So," Lura continued, letting the tentacle curl slightly around the counter, "stay here, help me out when you can, and you don't pay a thing. Or go rent a box somewhere, try to survive alone. Your choice."
Kael pocketed the credchip, feeling a faint warmth pulse through his fingers. "I think… I'll stay," he said softly.
He really didn't want it any other way. Finally, he had someone in his life who didn't want him to leave — someone who willingly wanted to take care of him. No way in hell was he living alone, especially when the money he earned wouldn't even cover expenses in this world.
Lura's tentacle gave a small, approving squeeze on the top of his head. "Good. Don't mess it up. And don't get used to the easy life — I'll make sure you earn your keep, one way or another."
Kael allowed himself a small smile. For the first time since waking in this strange world, he felt like he might actually have a place — and maybe even someone watching out for him.
The next days went like a blur, he was finally getting used to this world, kind of loved helping Lura at the bar and though what he earned scavenging wasn't as big as his first one, he appreciated it.
But it seemed not everything was going smoothly as Kael was cleaning the countertop. The door banged open. Scavengers shuffled in like half-dead shadows — faces pale, eyes hollow, clothing torn and scorched. Some limped, others slumped against friends for support. The stench of smoke and sweat mingled with the bar's usual aroma.
Lura's eyes narrowed. "The invaders have increased," she muttered, tentacle flicking sharply toward the doorway.
Kael's gaze fell on a man hobbling in, dragging a broken leg behind him, patched roughly with metal braces. His coat was shredded, his hands were trembling, eyes were darting nervously. Kael could tell immediately: this was a gifted — someone who had fought the invaders and paid a brutal price.
Gifted, he'd notice were usually more roughed up than Scavengers and cleaners.
"They keep coming," the man croaked. "Every day… it's harder. The aliens… they've made our lives even worse."
Kael's chest tightened. He hadn't been born here. He hadn't fought. He didn't know what it truly meant to risk everything against the invaders. Yet he could feel the weight of it in the gifted man's posture, in the exhaustion etched into his face.
"Don't worry," Lura said softly, one of her tentacles curling around the man's shoulder in a reassuring pat. "They say the new batch of Gifted will be this world's saviours. You'll see—things will get better soon."
"You're lucky, kid," Jeb, leg casted, slurred at Kael, who was downing a huge cup of alcohol Lura got him.
"You don't face the danger yourself, safe and sound here with Lura taking care of you," he continued, a hint of jealousy in his voice.
"Okay, Jeb, that's enough," Lura said, snatching the cup away.
"You little fucker, lucky aren't ya?" he slurred. "Never worked a day in your life, just fed by Lura."
"Jeb!" Lura warned.
"It's true, he doesn't know the hardship of being gifted, and he gets you all to himself." Lura dragged him out of the bar.
Kael stayed silent. He couldn't argue that he didn't know hardship; his last life on Earth was nothing but hardship. But he couldn't exactly tell them that. Plus, it was amusing how easily Jeb got jealous that he got to live with Lura.
Still, it was true he hadn't experienced the danger of fighting invaders and he never wanted to fight them especially since he was yet to get a permanent heart and fighting might reduce the expiry date of his heart.
Kael watched him, saying nothing. A month had passed since he'd woken up in this strange world, and still, he hadn't seen a single Invader. He'd heard the stories—creatures that tore through flesh and metal alike—but stories only went so far.
Sometimes, late at night, he caught himself wondering what they really looked like… and whether they were truly the monsters everyone claimed.
Days passed, quickly turning into months, and Kael had now been in this world for two months and twenty-eight days.
Two days before his heart expired, and he still hadn't found a replacement.
"Aargh," he groaned, pressing a hand against his chest as pain tore through him. The metal box attached there pulsed hard, sending sharp stings through his body until blood seeped through the fabric of his shirt.
Ever since he hit the two-month mark, the pain had gotten worse—like the thing inside him was reminding him that time was running out.
It wasn't that he forgot. He just couldn't do anything about it. Hearts like his weren't sold in the outer district. No one here could even afford an arm upgrade, let alone a heart.
He'd thought about scavenging one from the cyborg corpses in the zones, but none had enough life left in them. They were all drained, useless.
So he had to bear it.
He didn't want to die. Not in this world.
He liked it here. He liked the quiet after the runs, the rough air, even the people. And he liked Lura.
Every time he thought about dying again, it sank into him—heavy, cold—but he still kept moving.
He didn't know how, but somewhere inside, he still believed he'd make it.
Zone 13, another wasteland destroyed by the invaders, they were scavenging there this time.
Even though Kael had been in this world for two months, he was yet to make any friends. So he was paired with Tarek again.
They didn't talk much, but neither of them minded the silence—it wasn't uncomfortable, just peaceful.
"Aha," Kael said, his voice rising with hope as he dug something out of the dirt. For a second, he thought he'd found a nanite vial. But when he held it up, it was empty.
The smile on his face faded into a frown.
"Shit," he muttered. Two days left before he would die, and he'd found nothing.
He threw the useless vial aside. That's when he heard it—voices. Scared, hurried voices, getting closer.
"Run!!!" someone yelled, sprinting toward them.
"What's happening?" Tarek asked, stepping forward.
"Run!!!" the voice came again, even louder, even more desperate.
Tarek's expression changed instantly. His eyes went wide. He reached into his sack, grabbed a small device, and threw it into the air. It let out a shrill, metallic wail.
Kael froze. That sound—he'd heard it before. It filled him with a kind of fear that made his chest tighten.
Then Tarek grabbed his arm. "Move!"
They ran.
Kael risked a glance back—and wished he hadn't.
The Invader towered over the ruins, far taller than any human, its limbs bent at impossible angles. Its skin—or whatever it was—shone black and wet like polished stone, glinting with shards of light as it oozed a thick, dark liquid that hissed when it touched the ground.
Its head was narrow and triangular, splitting open into a mouth that spewed acid. Dozens of glowing orbs across its skull scanned the rubble, moving in perfect rhythm like a machine.
It screeched, the sound sharp enough to make Kael's ears ring, and lunged forward. Tentacles whipped out from its mouth, slicing through the air as it chased them.
Kael ran harder, every step pounding through his chest. He was a good distance away when the worst happened.
The metal box in his chest—the heart that wasn't truly his—began to spark.
It fizzled, whining like an overloading circuit. He gasped as heat tore through his chest. Sparks flew. Then, with a loud pop, the box burst out of him.
Kael fell to the ground, blood spreading fast through his shirt, oozing out of the gaping hole in his chest.
The world tilting sideways. The heart—the metal box—rolled a few feet away, still sparking weakly, pulsing with faint blue light.
Tarek's voice shouted something, but Kael couldn't hear it anymore.
All he could feel was the cold creeping in and the ground shaking beneath him as the Invader closed in.
"Fuck."