The march towards the ruins was an ordeal.
Every step on the rocky ground was a painful reminder of his condition. Julius was panting, sweat mixed with dust streaming down his forehead. A stabbing pain gripped his side. His lungs, clogged by years of cigarettes, burned as if they had been grated. He stopped, hands on his knees, to cough violently, a raw, worrying sound that echoed in the hostile silence.
"Fuck..." he gasped between coughs. "I should have... listened to... my mother."
He looked at his distorted reflection in the metallic shell of his Gauss Pistol. A pale, bloated face, with dark circles that spoke volumes about his sedentary geek lifestyle. An engineer, yes. But an engineer who spent his days in front of a screen, surviving on coffee, pizza, and packs of reds. Just and honorable at heart? Perhaps. But for now, he was mostly pudgy, out of breath, and terribly vulnerable.
A noise of gravel being moved made him jump. A small creature, resembling a six-legged scorpion, shot out of a crack. It was fast. Too fast for him. Before he could properly shoulder his heavy weapon, the thing slashed his ankle with a sharp stinger.
"OW! Damn!"
The pain was sharp, burning. He fired almost point-blank, vaporizing the creature in a green flash. The relief was immediate, but the lesson, bitter.
< Threat neutralized. +5 energy units.>
< Warning: Host has sustained a minor injury. Minor toxin detected. Weakened immune system. Recommendation: Physiological enhancement.>
"You think?" he growled through gritted teeth, examining the gash that was bleeding profusely. "I'm not exactly in athlete shape, in case you hadn't noticed!"
He slumped against a rock, his heart racing. The barracks at 300 units suddenly seemed like a distant dream. He wouldn't survive long enough to gather it.
"System, show me these... physiological enhancements you're talking about."
The holographic menu appeared, much vaster than he had imagined. Under a new heading "Host Enhancements", a dizzying list of options presented itself.
[Lung Optimization - Level 1]
Cost: 40 units.
Cleanses alveoli, restores lung capacity to 100%, and eliminates chemical dependencies (nicotine).
[Basic Muscle Reinforcement - Level 1]
Cost: 60 units.
Increases muscle density by 25%, reduces fatigue, and improves endurance.
[Metabolic Catalysis - Level 1]
Cost: 50 units.
Accelerates metabolism, promoting healthy weight loss and better recovery.
[Accelerated Tissue Regeneration - Level 1]
Cost: 80 units.
Speeds up healing of minor wounds and fights infections.
Julius read them, his gaze greedy. This was it. The solution to his weakness. The key to no longer being a burden to himself. He could become the man he was meant to be, or even better. Stronger. Faster. But...
He glanced at his energy counter: 65/100.
He had almost enough for the lung enhancement. To feel air fill his lungs again without that constant burn... to be able to run without collapsing after ten meters...
But the barracks. The army. Security.
He looked at his injured ankle, then at the threatening horizon. The logic of survival prevailed.
"The barracks can wait," he murmured. "A dead man produces no Marines."
He took a deep breath, which ended in a coughing fit.
"System. Proceed with Lung Optimization - Level 1."
< Purchase confirmed. Consumption of 40 energy units.>
< Remaining energy: 25/100.>
< Beginning procedure.>
An immediate and incredible sensation overwhelmed him. It wasn't painful, but intense, like a wave of icy, pure water flooding the inside of his chest. He felt a tingling in his lungs, a sensation of deep cleansing. The constant oppression he had carried for years dissipated, replaced by an impression of emptiness, of new space. He inhaled deeply, and the air, for the first time, didn't taste of ash and sickness. It tasted... of air. Sharp, cold, and invigorating.
"Oh my God..." he gasped, tears in his eyes, as much from relief as from wonder.
The cough was gone. The urgent need for a cigarette, that familiar anxiety, had evaporated.
He stood up, and the difference was already noticeable. He was breathing easily. The pain in his ankle was still there, but it seemed more manageable.
"Alright," he said, his voice clearer and firmer. "Next step. Farm."
He looked around, his Gauss Pistol held firmly. The creatures that prowled were no longer just threats. They were his passport to a new body. To a new life.
He was no longer Julius, the overweight, smoking engineer. He was becoming something else. Something that could survive in the nightmare of the 30th millennium.