"Harder!" Bayu screamed, his veins bulging against his temples as the sheer weight of the pressurized bulkhead fought their every micro-inch of leverage. "Put your back into it, Alaric, or we’re going to be crushed into paste before Thorne’s guards even find us!""I don't have anything left to put!" Alaric yelled back, his face turning a furious, mottled purple as he threw every ounce of his remaining strength onto the iron bar. His boots shrieked against the grease-slicked steel plating, sliding an inch before catching on a raised rivet. "The metal's fused! The heat from the conduits below welded the seal shut!"With a deafening, metallic shriek that sounded like a dying beast, the pneumatic seam finally tore open. A blinding hiss of superheated steam blasted out from the gap, smelling violently of scorched oil and sulfur."Back!" Bayu threw his arm across Alaric’s chest, dragging him backward just as a white-hot jet of vapor scorched the space where their heads had been a fraction o

"Keep your eyes on the footing, Galang, not on your skin!" Bayu barked, his boots splashing violently into the knee-deep, lukewarm sludge that filled the subterranean corridor. He swung a heavy, jagged piece of scrap iron to fend off a dangling wire of erratic violet energy that hissed and spat sparks against the damp brick walls. "If you fall behind in this muck, Thorne’s hollow-guards won’t even need to waste a bullet on you. The runoff will dissolve your boots before you hit the bottom.""Easy for you to say," Galang wheezed, his voice carrying an unnatural, high-pitched resonance that vibrated through the damp air. He stumbled, his shoulder slamming hard against a protruding pipe. A fresh wave of sickly purple light rippled violently beneath his skin, casting grotesque shadows across his hollow cheeks. "You aren't the one carrying half a reactor's worth of residual discharge in your bloodstream! Every step feels like walking on exposed live wires!""Then stop drawing on the damn t

"Calm down? Alaric, look at his arms!" Bayu shouted, pointing a gloved finger straight at Galang, whose skin was now pulsing with a steady, blinding rhythm of violet light that illuminated the entire damp, cramped tunnel. "He’s glowing like a fucking signal flare! If Thorne’s hollow-guards are within a mile of this ridge, they won't even need their spyglasses to spot us through the rock!""I don't care about Thorne, and I don't care about your goddamn spyglasses!" Galang screamed back, his voice cracking into a high-pitched, hysterical shriek that echoed harshly off the dripping stone walls. He slammed both palms against the brickwork, his fingers digging into the mortar as if he were trying to rip the very foundation apart. "Can't you feel it? It's not just in my veins anymore! It's in the air! It's under the dirt! The whole damn wasteland is vibrating!""That's because we're right on top of the old drainage mains," Alaric said, his breathing shallow and rapid as he slid down the sli

"Step back, Alaric," Bayu warned, his hand instantly dropping to the hilt of his chipped, salt-crusted blade. "We don't know what's crawling out of those ruins."The figure in tattered burlap didn’t stop. It took three agonizingly slow steps forward, dragging a foot wrapped in crude, wire-bound leather. As the dust cleared, the yellowed sun caught the harsh, leathery lines of a woman's face. Her eyes were clouded with milky cataracts, yet she stared with terrifying precision right at Galang’s pulsing, violet-veined arms."You bring the poison here," the old woman rasped, her voice like grinding stones. "You carry the city's thirst on your skin.""We're not here to fight," Draven said, stepping up beside Bayu, his cross-guard raised defensively. His eyes darted to the crumbling concrete overhangs above. "But if you've got friends in the shadows, tell them to keep their distance. We're in no mood for games.""Games?" The woman let out a dry, rattling laugh that turned into a hacking cou

"I am not a plague," Galang snarled, his fingers curling into fists. "And I am not rotting."As he spoke, the violet veins beneath his skin flared, pulsing with a cold, sickly radiance. Beneath his boots, a patch of pale, stubborn weeds—one of the few living things in this desolate salt-flat—shriveled. The stems turned grey, brittle, and crumbled into fine ash in a breath of wind.Baran jabbed his rusted spear forward, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and fury. "Look at the ground! You see that, Mother? He steps, and the earth dies. He breathes, and the moisture vanishes. Get back, city-born, or I’ll put this iron through your throat!""Try it," Draven barked, stepping between them, his sword half-drawn. "You think you’re the first wasteland scavengers to brandish a rusty stick at us? Put it down before I take your arm off.""Draven, hold your tongue," Bayu commanded, his hand firm on Draven’s shoulder. He stepped forward, raising his palms in a gesture of peace. "We don't want