The deeper they went, the less it smelled like sewage and the more it smelled like rust.
Varian followed Rix through a maze of pipes that grew progressively narrower. They were no longer in the main drainage arteries of Sector 4. They were in the capillaries—the forgotten, unauthorized maintenance shafts that hadn't seen a human engineer in fifty years.
"Watch head," Rix clicked, scrambling on all fours like a spider. "Steam vent hot."
Varian ducked just as a jet of superheated vapor hissed from a cracked valve. The heat washed over his face, sweat stinging his eyes. His legs burned with lactic acid. Elian, still unconscious on his back, felt like he was made of lead.
"How much further?" Varian wheezed.
"Close. My kingdom close."
They squeezed through a hole in a chain-link fence and emerged into a space that defied logic.
It was a cavern, likely an old pumping station, with a ceiling soaring thirty meters high. But the machinery was gone. In its place was a mountain of trash.
But it wasn't just a pile. It was a structure.
Discarded plastic crates, rusted car chassis, sheets of corrugated iron, and mounds of tires had been stacked and woven together with wire to form a chaotic, towering fortress. It looked like a castle made of garbage. Bioluminescent moss—the green and purple kind—had been harvested and stuffed into clear plastic bottles, hung from the ceiling like makeshift chandeliers.
The eerie green light illuminated the "Courtyard," where piles of "treasure" were sorted: shiny hubcaps, broken electronics, and colorful glass shards.
"Welcome," Rix said, puffing out his narrow chest. "To Pipe 4 Kingdom."
Varian stared. It was filthy, yes. But it was also... ingenious.
"You built this?" Varian asked.
"Me and others. Before... others go away." Rix's ears drooped slightly. He scampered toward a shelter made from the hollowed-out hull of a transport truck. "Come. Dry inside."
Varian followed him into the truck. Inside, the floor was lined with shredded newspapers and old foam mattresses. It was surprisingly warm and dry.
Varian gently lowered Elian onto the mattress. The boy was so pale he looked translucent in the moss-light. His breathing was shallow, his forehead slick with cold sweat.
As the weight left his back, Varian nearly collapsed. He sat heavily against the rusted wall of the truck, his left arm throbbing.
He looked at his wrist. The skin around the Symbiote bond was angry and red—second-degree burns. Using the Thermal Discharge against the Rat-Boy had cooked his own flesh.
"Stupid," Varian hissed, wincing as he touched the blistered skin. "I'm not fireproof."
Rix appeared at the entrance of the truck. He was holding a clump of something that looked like wet, gray fur.
"For bite," Rix said, pointing to Varian's shoulder where he had bitten him earlier. Then he pointed to Varian's burn. "And for hot-ouch."
He tossed the gray clump to Varian.
It was moss. But it pulsed slowly, like a dying heart.
[Item Detected: Ghost-Moss (Fungal Variant)][Origin: Subterranean damp zones.][Properties: High antibiotic concentration. Mild paralytic agent. Bioluminescent.]
[Genetic Archivist Trait Triggered.][Analyze Composition? Y/N]
"Analyze," Varian whispered.
[Analysis Complete.][Contains: Luciferin (Light), Penicillin-strain (Healing), Neurotoxin (Numbing).][Usage: Safe for topical application. Do not ingest.]
Varian looked at Rix. "You use this as medicine?"
"Chew first. Then spit. Makes paste," Rix demonstrated, miming chewing. "Stops the rot. Stops the pain."
Varian nodded. He didn't chew it; he mashed the moss between two rocks he found on the floor until it became a gray paste.
He applied it to his shoulder first. The sting was immediate, followed by a cool, numbing sensation that spread through his muscle. The pain vanished.
"Good stuff," Varian sighed, his shoulders sagging in relief.
He turned to Elian. The boy had a nasty bruise on his temple. Varian gently applied the moss paste to the wound, praying the "mild paralytic" wouldn't hurt him.
"Wake up, El," Varian whispered, brushing the hair from the boy's face. "We're safe. Sort of."
Rix sat in the corner, watching them with his unblinking black eyes. He was gnawing on a piece of dried rat jerky.
"You keep promise?" Rix asked, pointing a claw at Varian. "Heat?"
Varian nodded. He raised his left arm. He didn't flare it this time. He visualized a low simmer, like a dying coal.
The black metal of the Symbiote warmed up. It wasn't burning hot, just a steady, radiating warmth, like a radiator.
Rix's eyes widened. He scrambled over and curled up near Varian's arm, basking in the heat.
"Good," Rix purred, a rattling sound in his chest. "Sun-Lion is warm."
For an hour, there was silence in the truck, save for the dripping water outside. Varian let his eyes close, the exhaustion pulling him under.
"Varian?"
The whisper was so faint Varian thought he dreamed it.
He snapped his eyes open. Elian was moving.
"El!" Varian scrambled to his knees, leaning over the boy. "I'm here. Don't move too fast."
Elian turned his head. His eyes were open. They were looking right at Varian.
"Varian?" Elian asked again, his voice trembling. "Why is it so dark?"
Varian frowned. "It... it is dark, El. We're underground. In the sewers. But there's light. The moss..."
He pointed to the glowing green bottle hanging from the ceiling of the truck. It was bright enough to read by.
Elian reached out his hand, groping blindly at the air. His fingers brushed Varian's face, tracing his nose, his cheek.
"I can't see you," Elian whispered. The panic began to rise in his voice, high and thin. "I can't see the light. I can't see anything. Did... did the Lion eat my eyes?"
Varian felt a cold stone drop into his stomach.
He grabbed the moss-light bottle and held it directly in front of Elian's face. He waved his hand.
Elian didn't blink. His pupils were blown wide, fixed and unreactive.
The concussion. The explosion. Or maybe the sheer trauma of the pressure change.
"No, El," Varian's voice shook. He choked back the lump in his throat. "Your eyes are fine. It's just... it's a side effect. From the medicine. It'll pass."
It was a lie. The System was already scanning.
[Target Scan: Elian (Subject 745)][Diagnosis: Traumatic Optic Neuropathy.][Status: Permanent Blindness. Optic nerve severed by cranial impact.][Cure Possibility: 0% with current resources.]
Permanent.
Elian began to cry. Not a scream, but a quiet, terrified sobbing. "I wanted to see the sun, Varian. You promised."
Varian pulled the small boy into his chest, hugging him tight so Elian wouldn't feel him shaking.
"I know," Varian whispered fiercely into Elian's hair. "I know. And you will. I promise you, El. I will fix this. I will find a way."
Rix, who had been watching, stopped chewing his jerky. He tilted his head. He understood broken things. In the sewers, everything was broken.
"Eyes gone?" Rix asked bluntly.
Varian shot him a glare that could have melted steel. "Shut up."
Rix didn't take offense. He rummaged in his pile of trash in the corner. He pulled out a pair of old, scratched aviator goggles. One lens was cracked, the other was dark tint.
He slid them across the floor to Varian.
"For hide," Rix said. "If eyes don't work, hide them. Make him look... tough. Like Scavenger."
Varian looked at the goggles. Then he looked at Elian, who was still sobbing into his chest.
Varian took the goggles. "Thanks, Rix."
He waited until Elian's crying subsided into hiccups. "El, listen to me. I need you to be brave. Can you do that?"
Elian nodded against his chest. "I'm scared, Varian. It's just black."
"I know. But I'm going to be your eyes for now. And this..." he tapped the Symbiote on his arm, "This is going to be your shield."
He gently placed the oversized goggles over Elian's useless eyes. "There. Now you look like a pro."
Elian managed a weak, watery smile. "Really?"
"Really."
Varian stood up. A dark, resolute energy radiated from him. The grief was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating determination.
He looked at the System interface.
[Cure Possibility: Requires Biological Reconstruction.][Potential Solutions:][1. High-Tier Healing Symbiote (Holy/Light Type).][2. Genetic Grafting (e.g., Transplanting beast eyes).][3. The "Ambrosia" Elixir (Legendary Rank).]
I will find them all, Varian swore. If I have to tear this world apart brick by brick.
"Rix," Varian said, turning to the mutant.
"Yes, Hot-Blood?"
"You said you know the 'Deep Ways'. The paths the Cleaners don't go."
"Yes. Rix knows all holes."
"I need money," Varian said. "I need resources. I need to get strong, fast. Where is the most dangerous place in the sewers where I can find things to sell?"
Rix's ears twitched. He grinned, revealing his needle teeth.
"The Sludge-Falls," Rix clicked. "Where the Big Trash falls from the City Above. Many good things. But..."
"But what?"
"Many Corpse-Eaters. And the King of Rot lives there."
"King of Rot?"
"A big slime. Not like your arm. Big. Stupid. Eat everything."
Varian looked at the black metal on his arm. His Symbiote pulsed. It felt... interested.
A slime.
If Subject X-99 was a mimic, what would happen if it ate another slime?
[Genetic Archivist Insight][Subject X-99 is an Amorphous Type. Consuming other Amorphous Types creates rapid evolution.][Recommendation: Cannibalism.]
Varian smirked. It was a cruel, dark expression that didn't reach his eyes.
"Perfect," Varian said. "Take us there."
Later that night.
While Rix slept and Elian drifted into a fitful, feverish doze, Varian sat awake by the entrance of the truck, guarding them.
He couldn't sleep. The hunger was back. The Solar Core was providing energy, but his stomach felt empty.
He picked up a piece of scrap metal from the floor—a rusted bolt.
"Analyze," he whispered.
[Item: Oxidized Iron Bolt.][Contains: Iron, trace Carbon.][Edible for Symbiote? Yes.][Nutritional Value: Low.]
Varian placed the bolt against his metal arm.
"Eat."
The Symbiote rippled. The black metal surfaced like a liquid mouth and swallowed the bolt.
Crunch. Sizzle.
Varian felt a weird sensation, like swallowing a heavy pill without water.
[Iron Absorbed.][Armor Density increased by 0.01%.]
"It works," Varian muttered. "I can eat metal."
He looked at the mountain of trash around him. To everyone else, this was garbage. To Varian... it was a buffet. It was an armory.
He picked up a piece of copper wire. Then a jagged piece of aluminum siding. Then a lead pipe.
He fed them all to his arm, one by one.
[Copper Absorbed. Conductivity increased.][Aluminum Absorbed. Weight reduced.][Lead Absorbed. Radiation resistance increased.]
He was building a monster.
As he fed the Symbiote, he noticed something sticking out of a pile of old books Rix had scavenged. It was a leather-bound journal, damp and mildewed, but the gold leaf on the cover was still visible.
"The Journal of Arthur Vance - Bio-Engineer, Year 214."
Varian's breath hitched. Year 214. That was over a hundred years ago. Just after the Great Rejection.
He opened the book. The pages were brittle, but the ink was waterproof.
Entry 1: The experiment failed. The World Soul has rejected our code. The beasts are not mutating randomly... they are organizing. I saw it today. The plants... they were whispering to each other.
Entry 14: I hid the prototype in the lower sectors. If anyone finds this, do not trust the Church. They know what the Core is. They know it's alive.
Varian closed the book.
"They know," he whispered.
He looked at the glowing red veins in his arm. Was this the prototype? Or was it something else?
He tucked the journal into his waistband.
The sewers weren't just a hiding spot anymore. They were the starting line.
Varian looked at the darkness of the tunnel leading to the Sludge-Falls.
"Time to go hunting."