The Thirteen Knight

Chapter 15- Contaminated

The drive back to the Academy was agony.

Every bump in the road sent a jolt of pain through my right arm. The raw Demon Core, wrapped in lead cloth and shoved deep into my tool bag, wasn't just a battery; it was a radioactive isotope. Even through the shielding, I could feel it humming. It made my teeth ache and the air in the cab taste like copper pennies.

I looked in the rearview mirror. My face was pale, sweat beading on my forehead. But the veins in my neck were dark, standing out like black spiderwebs under the skin.

"Contamination," I whispered, gripping the steering wheel with my left hand.

I was a Zero. I didn't have mana channels, so the demon energy couldn't explode me from the inside like it would a mage. But it could still poison me. I was basically carrying a leaky nuclear reactor in a backpack.

The Academy walls loomed ahead, the mana-barrier shimmering like a heat haze.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Getting out was easy; nobody cared if a Null went to die in the Wastelands. Getting back in with a contraband Class-A demon heart? That was a different story.

I slowed the heavy crawler to a halt at the South Gate.

It wasn't the bored squad from this morning. The guard post had been reinforced. Two heavy Golems stood flanking the archway, and a team of technicians in white hazmat suits were scanning every vehicle with long, wand-like devices.

And standing in the center of the road, arms crossed, was Commander Vane.

I cursed under my breath. The Head of Security didn't do gate duty. She was here because of the lockdown. She was looking for the Apostate Knight.

I rolled down the window. The air conditioning in the crawler was broken, and I needed to look like I was sweating from the heat, not the fear.

"Vehicle ID," a technician barked, stepping up to the cab. He didn't look at me; he looked at his scanner.

"Maintenance Crawler 77-B," I said, handing over the paperwork. My hand shook slightly. I hoped he thought it was the vibration of the engine.

The technician ran the wand over the door panel. It beeped. Green light.

He moved to the back, scanning the cargo bed.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound sped up. It turned into a high-pitched whine.

"High-level radiation detected!" the technician shouted, jumping back. "Sector 4 signature! We have a breach!"

The Golems pivoted, their massive cannons locking onto the truck. Commander Vane walked forward, her hand resting on the hilt of her rapier. Her eyes were cold, scanning the vehicle like she was dissecting it.

"Step out of the vehicle," Vane ordered. Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the engine noise perfectly.

I opened the door and stepped down. My legs felt like jelly, partly from the nerves, partly from the poison in my blood. I leaned against the truck for support.

"Explain," Vane said, pointing at the scanner readings. "That truck is glowing hot."

"It's the pit, Ma'am," I said, keeping my voice low and raspy. I didn't have to act sick; I felt terrible. "Randar sent me to fix the sensors at Outpost 9. The wind was blowing from the Scavenger Pit. The whole truck is coated in dust."

Vane narrowed her eyes. She stepped closer, invading my personal space. She smelled like expensive soap and cold steel.

"You look ill, student," she said. She reached out and grabbed my chin, tilting my head up.

She saw the black veins in my neck.

I held my breath. If she knew what demon corruption looked like on a Zero, I was dead.

"Mana sickness?" she asked, her lip curling in disgust.

"I'm a Null, Ma'am," I said. "The background radiation out there... it makes me nauseous. I'm not built for the border."

Vane released me, wiping her hand on her pristine white trousers.

"Pathetic," she muttered. "They shouldn't let Zeros leave the safe zone. You're a liability."

She turned to the technician. "It's residual dust. The readings are surface-level. If he was smuggling a demon, the signature would be centralized, not spread across the chassis."

She was wrong. The signature was centralized in my bag, but I had thrown my dirty coveralls over it, and the truck bed was actually covered in radioactive dust. The background noise was masking the signal.

"Wash the truck before you return it to the depot," Vane ordered, losing interest. "And get to the infirmary before you vomit on my pavement."

"Yes, Ma'am," I mumbled.

I climbed back into the cab. I didn't look back as I drove through the gate. I waited until I was deep in the underground tunnels of the Maintenance Sector before I let out a breath.

I parked in Sub Reactor Bay 7 and killed the engine.

I grabbed the tool bag and stumbled out. My vision was blurring at the edges. The black veins were spreading, creeping up my jawline.

I kicked the door to the workshop open.

Randar was there, welding a pipe. He flipped his mask up when he saw me.

"You look like a corpse," he observed calmly.

"I got it," I wheezed. I dropped the bag on the workbench. It hit with a heavy thud.

Randar walked over and undid the buckles. He unwrapped the lead cloth.

The green light of the Scavenger Heart flooded the room. It pulsed like a living thing, casting long, eerie shadows against the rusted walls.

Randar whistled low.

"A Scavenger Alpha," he said, admiring the jagged, ugly rock. "Raw. Unfiltered. That’s enough juice to power a city block for an hour. Or kill a man in ten minutes."

He looked at me. "You've been carrying this for two hours?"

"Yeah," I grunted, sitting heavily on a stool. "Is the... black stuff normal?"

Randar grabbed a magnifying glass and inspected my neck.

"Vein necrosis," he diagnosed. "The energy is too 'spicy' for your blood. It's cooking your capillaries. You're lucky you're a Zero. If you had mana, this would have turned into a feedback loop and popped your heart."

"Can I fix it?"

"It'll fade," Randar said, going to his medicine cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of murky brown liquid. "Drink this. It's Dwarf moonshine mixed with charcoal. It'll flush the toxins."

I took a swig. It tasted like gasoline and dirt. I gagged, but the burning sensation in my veins started to cool almost instantly.

"Now," Randar said, turning back to the core. "We need to shield this properly. You can't just jam this into the bracer. It needs a containment unit."

For the next four hours, we worked.

Randar didn't just supervise this time; he got his hands dirty. We took the lead lining from the box he gave me and forged a casing for the core. I used the bone plating I harvested from the Alpha to create a locking mechanism.

When we were done, the raw green crystal was encased in a matte-grey shell, with only the connection points exposed. It looked like a heavy, military-grade battery pack.

"The Apostate Drive," Randar named it, wiping grease on his pants. "It slots into the bracer. When you're not fighting, the lead shield keeps the radiation in. When you engage the suit, the shield opens."

I picked it up. It was heavy, but it felt safe. Cold.

"Thanks, Randar," I said. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"I didn't do anything," Randar grunted, turning back to his welding. "I was just fixing a pipe. You found some scrap in the trash. That's the official story."

I smiled tiredly. "Right. Scrap."

I hid the Apostate Drive in my jacket pocket. It was bulky, but manageable.

I left the workshop and headed for the dorms. The sun had set, and the campus was dark. The lockdown curfew was in effect, so the walkways were empty.

I stuck to the shadows, moving through the service corridors. I felt better. The moonshine was working; the black veins were receding, leaving only faint bruises behind.

I reached my dorm room window and climbed in.

Tal was out, probably studying in the library before the curfew locked him in. The room was empty.

I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.

I had done it. I had survived the Wastelands, tricked Commander Vane, and built a power source that could actually keep up with the suit.

I pulled the Apostate Drive out of my pocket and set it on the nightstand. It didn't glow anymore, thanks to the casing. It just sat there, a silent promise of violence.

My datapad buzzed on the desk.

I picked it up. A notification from the Academy Administration.

ALERT: MID-TERM PRACTICAL EXAMS - ROUND 2 Format: Team Combat Simulation. Assignment: Random Pairing. Your Partner: Sylvia Nightshade.

I stared at the screen. The blood drained from my face.

Sylvia. The girl I saved. The girl who was hunting for the "vigilante." The girl who was smart enough to put two and two together if she got too close.

I was going to be fighting alongside her.

If I used the suit, she would recognize the fighting style. If I didn't use the suit, I was a useless Zero who would drag her down.

And if I used the suit and the new green core... the radiation signature would be unmistakable.

I dropped the datapad on the bed and groaned, covering my face with my hands.

"Just my luck," I whispered.

I had the ultimate weapon, but using it might cost me the only friend I had.

I looked at the grey box on the nightstand. The Apostate Knight was ready for war. But was Chase Royce ready for the fallout?

I closed my eyes, but sleep didn't come. All I could see was the green light, and Vane's cold eyes staring right through me.

The real test wasn't the demons. It was the secrets. And mine were getting too heavy to carry.