13 Heavens: Rise Of The Bloodline Dreg

The Rusty Bolt

Leo pushed open the heavy, sound-proofed door and was hit by a wall of noise. Raucous laughter, the clink of glasses, and the low hum of a dozen conversations.

The place was packed. Men and women with hard eyes and scarred skin the marks of countless fights in the Tangle clustered around tables.

They wore a mix of scavenged military gear and custom-made armor infused with low-level beast cores. Pulse rifles and powered axes leaned against chairs. These were Hunters.

Leo, in his simple, worn Reclaimer gear, stuck out like a sore thumb. A few people glanced his way, their eyes scanning him before dismissing him with a snort. He looked like what he was supposed to be: a nobody.

He made his way to the bar, a long slab of pitted metal, and sat on a wobbly stool. The bartender, a huge man with a cybernetic arm, ambled over.

"What'll it be?" the man grunted, not even looking at Leo as he wiped a glass with a dirty rag.

"Information," Leo said, keeping his voice low.

The bartender stopped wiping and finally looked at him. His eyes were cold. "This ain't a library, kid. Buy a drink or get out."

"Ginger ale," Leo said. It was the cheapest thing on the menu.

The bartender snorted but slid a grimy glass filled with fizzy brown liquid across the bar. Leo pushed a few chipped credit chips across the counter.

"I'm looking to join a team," Leo said.

The bartender laughed, a short, harsh sound. "You and every other Skin Refining punk who thinks he's tough. What's your level? Four? Five?" He leaned in, his voice a low rumble. "You see that guy in the corner?"

He gestured with his chin towards a hulking man with a face like cracked leather. "He's Body Refining, Level 7. He's been looking for a team for a week. No one wants dead weight. Finish your drink and go back to the Reclaimers, kid. You'll live longer."

Leo sipped the overly-sweet ginger ale. He'd expected this. He needed a different approach. He couldn't announce he was a Marrow Refining Level 13 freak. He had to show them.

His enhanced hearing picked up a conversation a few tables over. A trio of Hunters a wiry man with a scanner over his eye, a muscular woman with a shock-baton on her hip, and a lanky youth who looked nervous were arguing.

"We can't go in with just the three of us, Kaelen's ghost, Lia!" the wiry man hissed. "The map says the nest is deep. We need a fourth. A tank. Someone to draw fire."

The woman, Lia, slammed her hand on the table. "And who, Marc? Who's gonna join us on a suicide run for a handful of Razor-Feather eggs? We're not exactly the Aetherius Clan, in case you hadn't noticed."

"The pay is good if we pull it off," the lanky youth mumbled.

"If," Marc stressed. "Big if."

This was his chance. A team that was desperate. A mission that required a "tank"—someone who could take a hit. That, he could do.

Leo stood up and walked over to their table. The conversation stopped immediately. Three pairs of suspicious eyes locked onto him.

"Who are you?" Lia demanded, her hand resting on her shock-baton.

"I heard you're looking for a fourth," Leo said, his voice calm.

Marc looked him up and down and burst out laughing. "You? Get lost, Reclaimer. This is a real hunt, not a herb-picking trip."

"I can draw fire," Leo said simply.

Lia's eyes narrowed. "What's your cultivation level? Skin Refining, Level 5? 6? A Razor-Wing can slice through that like paper."

"I'm tougher than I look," Leo replied. He needed a demonstration. He looked around and spotted a large Hunter by the dartboard, a man known for his bad temper and his Body Refining strength. The man was bragging about how he'd punched through a concrete wall.

Leo walked towards him, his new team watching, bewildered.

"Hey," Leo said, tapping the big man on the shoulder.

The man turned, his face sour. "What do you want, pipsqueak?"

"I hear you're strong," Leo said, loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. "I bet you can't make me budge an inch."

A hush fell over that section of the tavern. The big man's friends started laughing.

"You're kidding, right?" the man sneered. "I'll put you through the wall."

"A simple push," Leo said. "Right here. If I move my feet, I'll buy a round for you and your friends. If I don't, you leave me alone."

The man's eyes gleamed with the prospect of free drinks. "You've got a death wish, kid."

Leo planted his feet, sinking into a subtle stance. He didn't channel his aura outwardly. He just let his Diamond Hide skin and Phoenix Marrow do their work, making him an immovable object.

The Hunter cracked his knuckles, took a step back, and then shoved Leo with all his might, his Body Refining strength enough to shatter brick.

His hands hit Leo's chest.

THUD.

The sound was dull, final. Leo didn't rock back. He didn't even flinch. It was like pushing a mountain.

The Hunter's confident smirk vanished, replaced by shock. He pushed again, grunting with effort. Nothing. Leo stood firm, his expression unchanged.

A murmur ran through the crowd. The big man's face turned red with embarrassment and anger. "What kind of trick is this?"

"No trick," Leo said softly. "You lost."

He turned his back on the sputtering Hunter and walked back to the table where Marc, Lia, and the youth were staring at him, their mouths agape.

Lia was the first to recover. She looked at Leo with a new, calculating respect. "Alright. You have our attention. I'm Lia. This is Marc, our scout, and Ben, our tech and trap man." Ben, the lanky youth, gave a weak wave.

"Leo," he said.

"What was that?" Marc asked, his single scanner-lens whirring as he looked Leo up and down. "Some kind of kinetic-dispersion tech? I'm not reading any high-level aura."

"Just good conditioning," Leo said, evading the question. "Now, about this nest..."

Lia leaned forward, her voice dropping. "Razor-Wings. A nest about three klicks into the Central Park Tangle. We have a map. The eggs are worth a fortune to alchemists. But the nest is in a tight canyon. They attack from above. We need someone who can stand at the front, take the hits, and keep them off us while we secure the eggs."

"I can do that," Leo said. It was perfect. A confined space played to his defensive strengths. He wouldn't have to reveal his offensive capabilities.

"And what's your cut?" Marc asked, ever the pragmatist.

"An equal share of the credits," Leo said. "And first pick of any one non-egg item we find."

Lia and Marc exchanged a look. It was a fair deal, especially if he could actually do what he promised.

"Deal," Lia said, sticking out her hand. Leo shook it. Her grip was strong, calloused. "We move out at dawn. Meet us at the 72nd Street gate. Don't be late."

As Leo left the Rusty Bolt, a sense of purpose settled over him. He had a team. He had a mission. It was a small step, but it was his first step out of the cage.

Back in the shadows of the tavern, a pair of eyes watched him leave. A woman with silver hair tied back in a practical braid, her aura so controlled it was almost invisible. She had seen the entire display. She took a sip of her drink, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"He didn't use any Qi," she murmured to herself. "His body alone resisted a Level 7 Body Refining push. Interesting."

She made a note on a small data-slate. The Hunter community was about to get a new player.