The sky was the color of a bruised plum, hanging low over the jagged, skeletal remains of the city. Zervok Aldrathen pulled himself out from under a pile of pulverized concrete, his lungs burning as he inhaled the acrid scent of scorched rubber and rot. His head felt like it had been split open with a dull axe."God, my skull," he groaned, clutching his temples. "Where the hell am I? Everything looks like a graveyard."He pushed himself up, his palms scraping against grit and shattered glass. A few yards away, a group of figures stumbled through the haze. They moved with a jerky, disjointed rhythm, their skin gray and sloughing off in wet, necrotic strips."Hey! You guys!" Zervok called out, his voice cracking. "I’m hurt, man. Can you help me out? Does anyone have a radio or a phone?"The figures stopped. Their heads snapped toward him in perfect, unnatural synchronization. A low, rattling growl emanated from their chests, and as they turned fully, Zervok saw the hollow, milky voids w

The silence that followed the blast was absolute, save for the rhythmic, pulsing hum of the vending machine. Zervok stood amidst the settling dust, his chest heaving, his knuckles white as he gripped the lead pipe. The three scavengers were gone, reduced to nothing more than a faint ozone scent and a scattering of jagged, violet crystals—the "harvest," as the system had implicitly framed it.Zervok knelt, his hands trembling, and gathered the glowing cores. They felt warm, humming with a frantic, residual energy that mirrored his own accelerated heartbeat."Not a merchant," he whispered to the empty, debris-choked street. "Just a guy trying to stay alive in a graveyard."He stood, but before he could even tuck the cores into his pocket, the shadows at the end of the street shifted. The sound of heavy boots hitting shattered glass returned—this time, there were more of them. Six, maybe seven figures emerged from the gloom, led by a man whose face was a roadmap of jagged scars and unche

Zervok stared at the crimson cores, his pulse thrumming in his throat. He reached out, his fingers grazing the velvet lining of the container."These aren't from any hollow I’ve ever seen," Zervok murmured, his voice tight. "They’re too steady. Too alive."Qevran stood perfectly still, his eyes tracking every flicker of the machine’s neon light. "We found them in the crater, Zervok. Not the outskirts—the center. My scouts lost half a squad just grabbing that box. We don't have the key to open their potential. We’re hoping you do."Zervok pulled a crimson core from the box. It felt warm, vibrating with a frequency that made his teeth ache. He turned toward the vending machine, but as he moved to insert it into the slot, the machine’s display erupted in a violent cascade of corrupted code.[CRITICAL ERROR: INCOMPATIBLE ENERGY SOURCE.][SYSTEM OVERRIDE: INITIATING EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN.]"Hey, what are you doing?" Qevran stepped forward, his hand dropping to his sidearm. "I thought you were

The roar of the collapsing ceiling was still vibrating in Zervok’s teeth as he braced the Blood-Iron Reaper against his shoulder. The weapon felt less like a tool and more like an extension of his own nervous system, humming with a rhythmic, parasitic heat."Get down!" Zervok barked, his voice cracking against the cacophony of incoming fire.Qevran scrambled behind a thick, reinforced concrete pillar, dragging Tervok by the collar of his grease-stained jumpsuit. "That cannon is tearing the floorboards apart, kid! You’re going to bury us alive before they even get a clean shot!"Zervok ignored him, his eyes locked on the breach where the armored transport now sat, a smoldering wreck of twisted steel. "I’m not the one who invited them to dinner, Qevran! Keep your head down and watch the flank!"A figure stepped through the swirling dust of the collapse. He moved with a predatory, fluid grace that stood out against the frantic stumbling of the lesser Syndicate soldiers. This was Cazren M