The transition from the incinerator level to the sewers wasn't subtle. It was a plunge from the frying pan into the septic tank.
Varian slid down the rusted maintenance ladder, his boots splashing into a foot of viscous, lukewarm water. The air here was heavy, pressing against his lungs like a wet wool blanket. It smelled of ammonia, ancient decay, and the sickly-sweet scent of Bio-Luminescent Mold.
He paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust.
"Hold on, El," he whispered, hiking the unconscious boy higher up on his back. Elian groaned softly, a pained sound that vibrated against Varian's spine.
The only light came from the walls. Patches of green and purple moss clung to the damp brickwork, glowing with a faint, radioactive pulse. It cast long, distorted shadows across the arching tunnels of the Sector 4 Waste Filtration System.
Varian shivered. But it wasn't from the cold.
His left arm—the one bonded with the Symbiote—was burning. Not with pain, but with a feverish, contained heat. The Solar Lion Core he had ingested was like a coal ember sitting in his stomach, radiating energy outward.
He looked at his wrist. The black, tribal tattoo of the Symbiote was pulsing rhythmically. Thin veins of gold light traced their way through the black metal, glowing brighter every time his heart beat.
[System Status Check][Host Body Temperature: 39.5°C (Mild Fever)][Symbiote Stability: 88%][Energy Reserve: 92% (Solar Battery)]
"We're too bright," Varian muttered.
In the darkness of the sewers, he looked like a walking glow-stick. A beacon for every predator lurking in the muck.
"Dampen the light," Varian commanded internally, focusing on the Symbiote. "Cover the veins."
The gray sludge shifted sluggishly under his skin. It felt heavy, like trying to move a limb that had fallen asleep. The black metal expanded, layering over the golden veins. The light dimmed, but didn't disappear completely. It was like covering a flashlight with a thick cloth; a dull, red smolder remained.
[Skill Proficiency: Morph Control (0.5%)][Note: Symbiote is heavy. Fine manipulation requires practice.]
"Fine manipulation," Varian scoffed quietly. "I just don't want to be eaten."
He began to walk.
The sewer tunnel was massive—easily ten meters wide—built to handle the runoff of a million people living in the industrial districts above. The water was a slurry of gray and brown, carrying floating debris: plastic crates, dead fish with three eyes, and chemical foam.
Every step was a calculation. Varian moved slowly, testing the footing beneath the sludge. He couldn't afford to twist an ankle. Not with Elian on his back.
Splash. Squelch. Splash.
He walked for twenty minutes. The adrenaline from the lab was gone, replaced by the crushing reality of their situation.
They were escaped livestock. They had no food. They had no medicine for Elian's concussion. And they were walking into the territory of the "Dregs"—the outcasts and mutants who lived in the filth because even the slums wouldn't take them.
Suddenly, Varian stopped.
The water ahead of him rippled.
It wasn't the current. The ripple was moving against the flow.
Varian backed up slowly, pressing himself against the slime-slicked wall. He held his breath.
Something is here.
He focused his eyes on the darkness. His "Genetic Archivist" trait was itching at the back of his skull, trying to analyze the shadows.
[Passive Scan Initiated.][Lighting Conditions: Poor.][Audio Analysis: faint scratching... irregular breathing.]
Above him.
Varian didn't look up. He threw himself to the right, splashing into the deep water.
SWISH.
Something dropped from the ceiling. A rusted iron pipe, sharpened to a needle point, slammed into the spot where Varian had been standing a second ago. Sparks flew as it struck the concrete.
A figure landed on the pipe, perched like a gargoyle.
Varian scrambled up, water dripping from his hair. He raised his left arm, the Symbiote instinctively flowing to form a jagged shield over his forearm.
"Who are you?" Varian hissed.
The attacker didn't answer immediately. It—no, he—was small. Maybe Varian's age, seventeen or eighteen, but hunched over so severely his spine curved like a question mark. He wore rags made of stitched-together plastic bags.
But it was his face that froze Varian.
The boy had no nose. In its place was a flat, scarred patch of skin with two slits. His eyes were wide, black, and reflective, with no whites. And from his upper lip, two long, yellowed incisors poked out.
A Rodent-Type Mutant.
A "failed" human whose genes had been corrupted by waste, devolving into something bestial.
The Rat-Boy tilted his head. His black eyes darted from Varian to the unconscious Elian, then to Varian's glowing left arm.
"Shiny," the Rat-Boy croaked. His voice was a series of clicks and squeaks that barely formed words. "Warm. Give."
He pointed a clawed finger at Varian's arm.
"It's attached to me," Varian said, keeping his voice low and steady. He couldn't fight this kid. The Rat-Boy was agile, balanced perfectly on the slippery pipe. Varian was exhausted and carrying a burden.
"Cut off," the Rat-Boy suggested simply. He pulled a second weapon from his belt—a jagged piece of glass wrapped in leather. "I help."
He lunged.
He was fast. Inhumanly fast. One second he was on the pipe, the next he was a blur of gray rags flying through the air.
Varian didn't have time to dodge. He swung his armored left arm in a desperate backhand.
CLANG.
The glass knife struck the black metal of the Symbiote. The glass didn't shatter; it skittered off the hardened surface.
But the force of the impact knocked Varian backward. He slipped on the mossy floor, falling onto one knee. Elian slid dangerously on his back.
"Give!" The Rat-Boy shrieked, landing on Varian's shoulders. He bit down on Varian's shoulder—the human one.
"Argh!" Varian shouted. Sharp teeth sank into his trapezius muscle.
Pain flared, white and hot. But with the pain came anger.
Varian didn't try to pry the mutant off. He slammed his left hand—the metal hand—onto the mutant's leg.
"Burn," Varian commanded.
He didn't know how to use the solar energy yet. He just pushed the feeling of the "ember" in his stomach toward his hand.
[Ability Triggered: Thermal Discharge (Low Output)]
The golden veins in his black arm flared blindingly bright. The temperature of the metal spiked from 37°C to 200°C in a split second.
HISSS.
The sound of searing flesh filled the tunnel.
The Rat-Boy screamed—a high-pitched, ultrasonic squeal that hurt Varian's ears. He released his bite and scrambled backward, splashing into the water. He clutched his burned leg, hissing, baring his needle-teeth.
Steam rose from Varian's metal hand. The heat was so intense Varian could feel his own skin blistering at the wrist where the metal met flesh.
[Warning: Host Tissue Damage Detected. Regulate output.]
Varian panted, holding his arm out like a torch. "Come closer," he bluffed, his eyes wild. "And I'll melt your face off."
The Rat-Boy stared at him. Fear flickered in those black bead eyes, but also... respect. In the sewers, power was the only currency. And heat was power.
"Hot-Blood," the Rat-Boy clicked, sniffing the air. "You smell like... Sun-Lion."
Varian paused. The mutant could smell the core inside him?
"I ate a Sun-Lion," Varian lied. "Whole."
The Rat-Boy blinked. He lowered his glass knife slightly. "Liar. You too skinny."
"Try me."
They stared at each other for a long, tense minute. The only sound was the drip of water and Elian's shallow breathing.
Varian needed to de-escalate. He was bleeding from the shoulder. His energy was dropping. If he fought again, he might pass out.
"I don't want your territory," Varian said slowly, lowering his arm but keeping the heat active. "I need a dry place. For him." He jerked his head toward Elian.
The Rat-Boy looked at Elian. "Meat? You save meat for later?"
"He's not meat. He's my pack."
The Rat-Boy sneered. "Pack is weak. Eat the weak. Survive."
"Is that why you're alone?" Varian asked.
The Rat-Boy hissed, his ears flattening against his skull. It was a sore spot.
Before the mutant could attack again, a low, vibrating rumble echoed through the tunnel.
GRRRRRR...
The water in the center of the sewage canal began to churn. Bubbles, smelling of sulfur and rot, rose to the surface.
The Rat-Boy froze. His ears twitched. His arrogance vanished instantly, replaced by sheer terror.
"Croc," he whispered. "Big Croc."
Varian looked at the water. A massive shape was rising. It was easily six meters long. Scales the color of rusted iron. Eyes that glowed a sickly yellow.
[Analysis Initiated.][Subject: Corrosion-Tooth Crocodile][Rank: Servant (Peak Stage)][Threat Level: Lethal.][Note: Its saliva is highly acidic. Do not let it bite you.]
Varian looked at the Rat-Boy. The mutant was already backing away, preparing to climb the wall.
"Wait," Varian whispered.
The crocodile's snout broke the surface. It exhaled, a cloud of green gas hissing from its nostrils. It turned its yellow eyes toward them. It sensed the heat from Varian's arm.
"Can you climb with a burden?" Varian asked the Rat-Boy.
The mutant looked at him, confused. "Why?"
"Because if you leave me, I'll use this light," Varian raised his glowing arm, "to shine it right on you. It will chase the shiny thing. But if you help me hide... I'll give you something better than shiny."
"What?"
"Heat," Varian said. "I can warm your nest. Forever."
The Rat-Boy hesitated. The sewers were freezing. Mutants often died of hypothermia. A portable heater was worth more than gold.
The crocodile lunged. It moved with terrifying speed for its size, its massive tail thrashing the water, propelling it onto the concrete walkway.
SNAP.
Its jaws closed on the air where Varian had been a second ago.
"Up! Up!" The Rat-Boy screeched.
He didn't run away. He grabbed Varian's shirt and pulled.
Varian scrambled up the rough brickwork. The Rat-Boy was surprisingly strong, his clawed fingers digging into the mortar like climbing picks. He hauled Varian and Elian up onto a rusted catwalk suspended five meters above the water.
Below them, the Corrosion-Tooth Crocodile slammed into the wall, shaking the entire tunnel. It roared, frustrated, snapping at the empty air.
Varian lay on the grating of the catwalk, gasping for air. His shoulder throbbed.
The Rat-Boy crouched next to him, staring intently at the glowing veins in Varian's arm.
"You promise," the mutant clicked. "Warm nest."
Varian deactivated the heat, the glow fading to a dull red. "I promise."
"I am Rix," the mutant said, thumping his scrawny chest. "King of Pipe 4."
"Varian," he replied, sitting up painfully. "Just Varian."
Rix sniffed Varian's shoulder wound. "You bleed. Croc smell blood. Must go deep. Away from water."
Varian nodded. He checked Elian again. The boy was still out cold, shivering.
"Lead the way, King Rix," Varian said.
As they moved deeper into the labyrinth of pipes, Varian looked at his System interface. A new notification blinked softly.
[Combat Encounter Survival.][Symbiote Adaptation: Minor Heat Resistance acquired for Host Skin.][Diplomacy Successful.][New Contact: Rix (Affinity: Neutral - Curious)]
It wasn't a level up. It wasn't a new power. But he had survived a Servant Peak beast and made an ally.
Small steps, Varian reminded himself. Don't trip.
But as they disappeared into the shadows, he didn't notice the tiny, mechanical drone hovering silently in the darkness of the tunnel ceiling, its red camera lens recording everything.