Behind the rusted frame of a gutted hauler, Leo dropped low and pulled his breath in slow while dust settled around his shoes.
Fifty paces out across the scrap yard, the impact pit was still hissing where the bio-pod had bitten through the ground.
Green vapor rose from the cracked seams in steady pulses, eating through the night air with a biting chemical stink that made his throat prickle.
He focused his gaze on the fracture line and watched the alien rind knit back together like healing skin.
Whatever slept inside that capsule was already patching its shell from the core outward, maintaining a rhythmic expansion.
Deep beneath the outer rind, a verdant heart beat with slow, patient power that sent chills down his spine.
The All-Spark flared behind his ribs, casting red letters across his sight with an urgent chime.
[ Target Scan: Vorn Bio-Pod ]
[ Occupant Status: Gestating ]
[ Hull Regeneration: 71% | Hatching Window: Under Six Hours ]
[ Mission: Devour The Vorn Core ]
[ Threat Assessment: Direct Combat Not Recommended At Current Level ]
He let out a dry breath and checked the notched hook of his crowbar, shaking his head at the odds.
’Good to know the system has some survival instincts left in its programming,’ he thought, crouching deeper into the shadows.
Engines roared across the rail line before he could shift his weight, and four buggies skidded down the embankment in a shower of gravel.
Searchlights crisscrossed the pit as men with rifles hopped off the roll cages, shouting over the rumble of idling motors.
"Hurry, set the perimeter before the corporate trucks catch the scent!" the lead driver yelled, waving a shotgun toward the smoking rim.
"Boss Flint wants this whole site tagged, so nobody touches the shell until the boss gets his cut!"
"Pah, you want to walk down there and put a tag on that boiling green snot?" another guard barked, spitting into the ditch with a disgusted sneer.
"Go right ahead, man, because I’m not melting my hands off for minimum wage."
"Shut your mouth and keep your eyes on the road," the driver snapped back, chambering a round with a crisp click that cut through the engine noise.
"If Apex scouts roll up before we lock the cordon, Flint will skin us both alive."
Leo sank deeper into the shadowed ditch, keeping his head beneath the ridge of scrap while the spotlights swept overhead.
Twenty rifles, three mounted spotlights, and an alien shell that looked tough enough to chew through his crowbar in one hit.
’Fighting that crowd right now is just begging for an early grave,’ he thought, noting their blind paths along the fence line.
’Better to let Flint’s goons play guard dog while I get some real tools together for the job.’
He turned his back on the searchlights and slipped through the drainage gaps, leaving the syndicate to babysit the smoking crater.
The radar node hovered at the corner of his vision, glowing crimson against the map of the district as he moved away.
’Six hours on the clock,’ he thought as his feet hit the silent back alley, his pulse steadying into a calm rhythm.
’Time to see what this new shop can actually do for a street fighter like me.’
He climbed the fire escape, shoved the window open, and stepped into his fifth-floor room with hushed footsteps.
The deadbolt locked behind him with a solid snap, shutting out the sirens that wailed across the lower blocks.
He leaned his back against the door, rolled his neck until the joints popped, and pulled up the system menu with a simple thought.
A translucent blue window expanded in the air, glowing with crisp white text that lit the dim corners of the room.
[ Cosmic System Shop ]
[ Accepted Currencies: Earth Credits | Beast Ether Cores | Cosmic Credits ]
[ Host Balance: 151,500 Credits | 1 Low-Grade Beast Ether Core | 0 Cosmic Credits ]
He browsed the listings of rare gear, finding everything from ancient combat manuals to tactical spatial relics and rare gene serums.
The system charged corporate prices for street fighters, and his wallet was only deep enough for a few essential items.
Still, reading through the descriptions told him he was on the right path with his own fighting style and instinct.
’My own moves hit fine for now, and I can’t drop half my savings on a manual when a pod is ticking down,’ he muttered.
He swiped over to the spatial storage tab, searching for an item that could keep his energy signatures hidden.
A particular entry caught his eye, describing a storage pouch that could mask all active ether signatures.
[ Void Spatial Pouch (10m³) | Cost: 15,000 Credits ]
[ Feature: Total Aura Dampening | Stored Signatures Silenced ]
"Silencing signatures," he murmured, his gaze sharpening on the blue letters as he made up his mind without hesitation.
"Now that’s worth every single credit."
He tapped the purchase button and watched the confirmation flash across his sight.
[ Purchase Complete: -15,000 Credits ]
[ Balance: 136,500 Credits ]
A charcoal cloth pouch formed out of thin air and dropped into his waiting palm with a soft rustle.
The fabric felt cool to the touch, and the small opening swallowed the room’s dim light without reflecting a single beam.
He unhooked his old pouch and tipped the contents into the new void opening, watching cash envelopes and spare bandages vanish.
He picked up the crowbar and willed it inside with a single pulse of intent.
The tool slid into the fold without making a sound, disappearing into the black space with zero resistance.
[ Void Fold Active: Signatures Masked ]
’No more ether leaking out when I walk past patrol scanners,’ he thought, letting out a satisfied breath.
’That alone will keep the bounty hunters and corporate hounds from sniffing me out in the crowd.’
He pulled the grey beast core from his pocket and set it down on the table, watching its faint pulse in the dimness.
He opened the blueprint tab and found the entry matching the stone in his hand.
[ Ether Channeling Blueprint | Cost: 1 Low-Grade Beast Ether Core ]
[ Effect: Optimizes Internal Energy Gate Pathways | Reduces Flow Friction ]
"Take it," he said, tapping the confirmation icon without looking back or second-guessing his choice.
[ Transaction Confirmed | Beast Core Consumed ]
[ Integrating Ether Channeling Blueprint... ]
The core on the table crumbled into fine grey dust, dissolving into ribbons of light that flowed into his chest.
A rush of warmth surged through his ribs, spreading down his arms and legs like fresh water washing out clogged pipes.
He sat down on the floor, crossed his legs, and drew his breath deep into his lungs to test the internal changes.
The energy circulated through his pathways in a clean, effortless loop, moving twice as fast as before without snagging.
He held out his right hand and willed his shadow ether to rise to the surface of his skin.
A clean glove of umbral mist coated his knuckles instantly, holding steady without the slightest twitch or wasted flicker.
He formed the mist into a needle point, collapsed it back into a flat sheath, and pulled it back inside with a simple thought.
’Smooth,’ he thought, flexing his fingers with a confident grin as he felt the difference in his marrow.
’No drag, no hesitation, and half the drain on my reserves.’
He was starting his fourth circulation cycle when the room suddenly shuddered beneath his seat.
The pane in the window frame rattled violently, and the hanging bulb swung on its cord as a shockwave rolled through the building.
A flare of green light painted the smog outside green, washing over the southern rooftops from the direction of the scrap yards.
The All-Spark in his chest flared crimson, pulsing with urgent alarms that crowded his field of vision.
[ Warning: Cosmic Threat Detected ]
[ Entity Deployed: Vorn Bio-Extractor Unit ]
[ Target Objective: Retrieve All-Spark Vessel ]
[ Proximity: Sector 9 Perimeter | Sweep Active ]
He scrambled to his feet and ran to the window, peering out into the smog-choked night as the ground trembled again.
Sirens wailed across the lower avenues, and the sudden frenzy of barking dogs echoed from block to block as the alarm spread.
Beneath the sirens, a rhythmic low vibration thrummed against his jawbone, sweeping back and forth across the district.
’The pod opened early,’ he thought, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs in the sudden silence.
’And whatever crawled out of that shell is hunting the core in my chest right now.’
He reached into the void pouch and drew his crowbar, inspecting the hairline cracks running along the shaft in the lamplight.
The tool had carried him through street fights and broken bone, but it would shatter against cosmic armor on the first strike.
"I need a real weapon," he muttered, slipping the crowbar back into the fold before turning toward the door.
"And I need it before that thing tracks my pulse to this room."
There was only one man in the whole district who kept weapons that old and that dangerous locked in his cellar.
Doc Richter ran his pawn shop near the southern canals, and rumor had it the old man had salvage from before the Incident.
He pulled his hood over his brow, checked his bindings, and unlatched the window sash with a quick flick of his wrist.
The night air hit him cold as he vaulted onto the fire escape, dropping into the alley below before sprinting south into the shadows.