Two weeks.
To the surface dwellers in the Noble Shell, two weeks was a blip—a cycle of cocktail parties, stock market fluctuations, and manicured garden walks.
To the citizens of the Industrial Belt, two weeks was a paycheck, fourteen shifts of grinding labor under the smog-choked sky.
But in the sewers of Sector 4, two weeks was a lifetime. In the dark, you either evolved, or you became compost.
Varian crouched on a rusted overhead pipe, looking down into a flooded cistern. His breathing was slow, almost imperceptible. The damp air of the tunnel clung to his skin, but he didn't shiver. The Solar Core in his gut kept his internal temperature at a steady, furnace-like hum.
He wasn't the same boy who had stumbled out of the lab, bleeding and terrified.
His muscles, once atrophied from years of being a blood-bag, were now lean and wiry, roped with tension. His skin was paler, adapted to the dark, but his eyes... his eyes were sharp. They tracked movement in the gloom with the precision of a hawk.
On his left arm, the Cryo-Gauntlet hissed softly, venting a tiny puff of nitrogen steam. Beneath it, the Symbiote was restless.
Hungry, the alien thought echoed in Varian's mind. It wasn't a word, just an impulse. A craving for metal.
"Patience," Varian whispered.
Below them, scuttling through the muck, was the prize.
[Target: Copper-Shell Crab (Mutant Variant)][Rank: Servant (Peak)][Attributes: High Defense. Conductive Carapace.]
It was a monstrosity the size of a coffee table. Its shell wasn't made of calcium; it was a patchwork of scavenged copper piping and bronze sheets that the crab had secreted an enzyme to fuse with its body. One of its claws was a massive, hydraulic pincer.
It was eating a dead rat. Crunch. Squelch.
"That shell," Varian murmured, staring at the gleaming metal on the beast's back. "That's exactly what we need to stop being so soft."
Subject X-99—the slime—had a weakness. It was versatile, yes. It could turn into a shield or a whip. But it was soft. If Varian didn't actively harden it with concentration, a strong bite could tear right through it. He needed the crab's genetic code for "Metallic Hardening."
"Rix," Varian tapped his earpiece—a scavenged radio headset they had bought from Iron-Jaw. "Is the perimeter clear?"
"Clear, Boss," Rix's voice crackled, sounding tinny. "Just small rats. No Gators. Go make sushi."
Varian grinned. "Dropping in."
He didn't jump recklessly this time. He calculated.
[Distance: 8 meters.][Impact Force: High.][Strategy: Aerial Ambush.]
Varian tipped forward, letting gravity take him. As he fell, he extended his left arm.
"Form Shift: The Heavy Hammer."
The black sludge on his arm surged downward, pooling at his fist. It didn't form a claw. It formed a dense, solid block of black iron, shaped like a sledgehammer head.
WHOOSH.
Varian slammed into the crab before it even looked up.
CRACK!
The impact was thunderous. The hammer-fist smashed into the crab's copper shell, denting it inward. The beast shrieked—a sound like metal tearing—and its legs buckled into the mud.
But it wasn't dead.
The crab thrashed, its hydraulic pincer snapping up with terrifying speed.
CLANG.
It caught Varian's left arm. The pincer squeezed.
Varian gritted his teeth. The pressure was immense. He could feel the Symbiote straining, the liquid metal compressing under the force.
"You want to squeeze?" Varian snarled. "Fine. Let's see who breaks first."
He didn't pull away. He leaned into the grip.
"Ignite."
He didn't flare the heat outward this time. He pushed the thermal energy inside the Symbiote, concentrating it into the hammer-head trapped in the crab's claw.
[Thermal Injection: Contact Heat.]
The black metal of his fist turned a dull, angry cherry-red.
The crab's pincer was made of copper. Copper conducts heat fast.
The heat traveled instantly from Varian's fist into the crab's claw, and then down into the soft, wet muscle at the joint.
HISSSSSS.
The crab bubbled. The water inside its joint boiled instantly. It released the grip, flailing wildly as its own claw cooked it from the inside out.
Varian rolled backward, splashing into the water to gain distance. He shook his hand to cool it down. The Cryo-Gauntlet hissed aggressively, pumping coolant into his wrist to prevent the backlash burn.
[Gauntlet Charge: 60%.]
"Finish it," Varian commanded.
He raised his arm. The heavy hammer shape dissolved, the sludge stretching out thin and long.
"Form Shift: Mercury Whip."
This was the technique he had spent two weeks perfecting. The Symbiote extended into a three-meter long tendril. It was liquid in motion, but solid on impact.
Varian snapped his wrist.
The black whip lashed out. Just before it hit, Varian hardened the tip into a razor-sharp blade.
SNICK.
The whip wrapped around the crab's eyestalks and pulled.
The crab stumbled, blinded.
Varian closed the distance. He leaped onto the beast's back, avoiding the thrashing legs. He placed his palm directly over the crack he had made with his opening strike.
"Eat."
The Symbiote didn't just bite. It flooded.
The gray sludge poured out of Varian's hand, seeping into the crack in the shell. It invaded the crab's body, seeking the biological material that created the metal shell.
The crab convulsed once, then slumped dead into the sludge.
[Target Neutralized.][Consuming Genetic Material...][Extracting 'Metallurgy Enzyme'...]
Varian sat on the corpse of the crab, panting. He watched as his arm pulsed, digesting the essence of the beast. It was grotesque, but to Varian, it was beautiful.
[Evolution Complete.][Subject X-99 Attributes Updated.][New Trait: Chitinous Plating (Level 1).][Description: The Symbiote can now form semi-permanent solid plates without constant focus. Defense +15%.]
Varian looked at his arm. The smooth, liquid texture of the black metal had changed. Now, subtle, hexagonal scales—like roofing tiles—were visible on the surface. He tapped them with a fingernail.
Tink. Tink.
Hard as rock.
"Good girl," Varian patted his arm. He felt a wave of satisfaction from the alien consciousness.
"Boss?" Rix's voice came over the radio. "Iron-Jaw is calling. Says it's urgent. Says it smells like money."
Varian stood up, wiping the crab gore from his pants.
"Tell him I'm coming. And Rix?"
"Yeah?"
"Start the fire. We're having crab legs tonight."
The Dojo of the Dregs
An hour later, Varian sat in the corner of a hollowed-out drainage silo that served as the "Arena" for the local gangs.
In the center of the pit, two massive mutants were fighting. One had hammer-hands, the other spat acid. The crowd roared, betting scraps of food and credits.
Varian wasn't betting. He was watching.
[Archivist Scan: Active.][Analyzing Movement Pattern: Hammer-Hand Swing.][Flaw Detected: Over-extension of the right shoulder.]
He wasn't just watching for entertainment. He was building a database. Every punch, every dodge, every dirty trick used by the Dregs was being recorded by his System.
"You fight like a mathematician," a voice buzzed beside him.
Varian didn't look up. He knew the sound of those hydraulic servos.
"Iron-Jaw," Varian greeted. "You left your train."
The cyborg merchant sat down heavily on the concrete bench. He was wearing a heavy trench coat to hide his mechanical parts.
"For this, I had to," Iron-Jaw grunted. He handed Varian a secure data-pad. "You wanted a job? A real job? Not just rat-catching?"
Varian took the pad. On the screen was a map. It showed a route leaving the sewers, crossing the "Fungal Forest" (Sector 3.5), and entering the lower levels of the Industrial Belt.
"Escort mission?" Varian asked.
"Smuggling run," Iron-Jaw corrected. "A caravan is moving 'perishable goods' from the deep sewers up to a buyer in the Gray Market. They need guards who aren't afraid of the dark. Or the Spore-Beasts."
"What's the cargo?"
Iron-Jaw hesitated. His red optic whirred. "Eggs."
Varian paused. "Beast eggs?"
"Rare ones. Found in a nest deep near the Core layer. The client pays 5,000 Credits per guard. Plus a bonus if all cargo arrives intact."
5,000 Credits.
That was enough to buy better medicine for Elian. Enough to buy information on the Bio-Alchemy Union. Enough to get out of Rix's trash heap and rent a safe room with a lock and a shower.
"Who is the client?" Varian asked.
"A group called the 'Red Mycelium'. Drug runners, mostly. But they pay upfront."
Varian looked at the fighting pit. The Hammer-Hand mutant just crushed the Acid-Spitter's skull. The crowd went wild.
This was the life of a Dreg. Fighting for scraps in the dark.
Varian stood up. "I'll take it. But I bring my own team."
"The Rat and the Blind Kid?" Iron-Jaw scoffed. "They're liabilities."
"The Rat is the best scout you'll ever meet. And the Kid..." Varian's eyes hardened. "The Kid stays in the wagon. If he gets touched, the deal is off."
Iron-Jaw shrugged. "Your funeral. Caravan leaves at 0600 hours from the North Sluice Gate. Don't be late, Scavenger."
The Night Before Departure
The atmosphere in Rix's "Kingdom" was subdued.
Elian sat on his mattress, running his fingers over the braille-like carvings Varian had made on a piece of scrap metal to teach him to read.
"We're leaving the castle?" Elian asked softly.
"We have to, El," Varian said, packing their meager belongings. He polished the Cryo-Gauntlet, checking the fluid levels. "The sewers are safe for now, but they won't cure your eyes. The money is upstairs."
Rix was manic, stuffing his pockets with dried moss and sharp rocks. "Upstairs is bright," he clicked nervously. "Upstairs has Cleaners."
"We'll be in the Fungal Forest first," Varian reassured him. "It's dark there. Shadows everywhere. You'll love it."
Varian walked over to Elian and knelt down.
"El, I have something for you."
He pulled out a small, round object. It wasn't a toy. It was a Sonic-Pulse Emitter. He had bought it from Iron-Jaw with the last of his previous earnings.
"What is it?" Elian felt the smooth metal.
"It's a clicker. Like a bat uses," Varian explained. "You press the button, and it sends out a pulse. If you wear your headset, it will make a 'ping' sound when it hits a wall or a person. It will help you 'see' with your ears."
Elian pressed the button. Click.
In his headset, he heard a distinct Ping... Ping... indicating the walls of the truck.
Elian's face lit up. A genuine smile, the first in weeks. "I can hear the shape of the room!"
"Practice with it," Varian said. "Because where we're going, I need you to tell me if something is coming before I see it."
Varian stood up and walked to the entrance of the truck. He looked out at the glowing moss of the sewers.
He touched the Symbiote on his arm. The new scales felt rough and reassuring.
[System Check.][Host: Varian.][Rank: Soul Disciple (Entry).][Beast: Chrome-Slime (Servant Rank - Stage 2).][Combat Readiness: 85%.]
"Ready or not," Varian whispered.
The North Sluice Gate - 0600 Hours
The caravan was an ugly thing.
Three massive, six-wheeled transport rovers, rusted and armored with welded steel plates. They chugged black smoke, their engines running on refined sludge-oil.
Around them stood the mercenaries. A motley crew of Dregs, mutants, and desperate humans.
Varian scanned them.
[Target: Mercenary.][Threat: Low.]
[Target: Mercenary.][Threat: Medium (Has a Cybernetic Eye).]
Then, his gaze landed on the Caravan Leader.
She was a woman standing atop the lead rover. She wore a gas mask painted with a red mushroom skull. On her shoulder sat a beast that made Varian's skin crawl.
It was a Spore-Crow. A bird with fungus growing out of its beak, its eyes leaking green fluid.
"Listen up, meat-shields!" The woman shouted, her voice amplified. "I am Vara. You are here to ensure these trucks get to Sector 3. If a beast attacks, you kill it. If a raider attacks, you kill them. If you run away, I kill you. Clear?"
A murmur of assent went through the crowd.
Varian kept his head down, Rix and Elian close beside him. He helped Elian into the back of the second rover, settling him among the crates.
"Stay hidden," Varian whispered. "Use the clicker."
He stepped back out.
"Hey, kid," a voice grunted.
Varian turned. A massive man, shirtless despite the cold, with skin that looked like gray rock, was staring at him. He carried a hammer made from an engine block.
"You bring a cripple and a rat to a war zone?" The man laughed. "You looking for a babysitter?"
Varian looked up at the giant.
[Target: 'Gorgon' (Rock-Skin Mutant).][Weakness: Joints are unarmored.]
Varian smiled. It was a cold, sharp smile.
"The rat bites," Varian said calmly. "And the cripple hears things you're too stupid to notice. Worry about yourself, rock-head. Moss grows on slow things."
The giant snarled and raised his hammer, but Vara shouted from the rover.
"Mount up! We move!"
The giant spat on the ground near Varian's boot. "You die first, kid. I'll take your boots."
"We'll see," Varian murmured.
The engines roared. The massive blast doors of the Sluice Gate groaned open, revealing a tunnel choked with thick, purple fog.
The Fungal Forest.
Varian climbed onto the side rail of the rover, the wind whipping his hair. The Symbiote on his arm hardened, the scales locking into place.
The training was over. The mission had begun.