The three-mile march from the collapsed overpass to Forward Outpost Delta cut straight through the grey, ash-covered plains of the Sector 7 perimeter.
As the afternoon wore on, the sky hung like a bruised violet sheet, heavy with toxic Aether-Miasma that drifted down from the subterranean chasms to the south. Cold wind howled across the gravel, carrying the bitter, metallic tang of oxidized iron and ancient ruins.
Squad Alpha maintained their tight diamond formation along the rusted military supply road. Marcus held his iron-braced tower shield at the ready, while Timothy kept his freshly greased crossbow leveled, his eyes scanning the low stone culverts. Sabrina led at the apex, her silver rapier resting in its scabbard, while Rian covered the rear.
Beneath Rian's boots, the newly ascended Level 2 Living Shadow moved like a liquid pool of midnight-black ink, extending three meters across the ash-covered asphalt. As his leather soles struck the ground, thin threads of darkness curled up through the soil, continuously siphoning the low-density atmospheric miasma.
> [Living Shadow Passive: Atmospheric Siphoning Active]
> Current Zone: Sector 7 Buffer (Low Miasma Density)
> Living Shadow EXP: 0 / 500 (+2 EXP per minute from ambient absorption)
Five hundred EXP for Level 3, Rian calculated mentally as the blue status text faded. The jump from Level 1 to Level 2 required one hundred EXP. The exponential curve is kicking in. Passive siphoning won't be enough—I'll need pure, high-density cores from deeper rifts.
"There it is," Marcus whispered, pointing his gauntleted hand ahead.
Emerging through the purple fog stood the massive, rusted iron walls of Outpost Delta.
Built into the hollowed-out concrete shell of a pre-collapse stadium, the base was a fortress of survival. Its outer walls rose fifty feet high, studded with heavy star-iron plating and automated harpoon batteries. Atop the watchtowers, heavy mana-reflectors cast intense beams of white light across the desolate ash plains, sweeping for low-tier rift beasts that wandered out of the Wastes.
A long queue of returning cadet squads was already assembled at the eastern Sally Port, waiting under the glare of the searchlights to have their daily core yields weighed by academy instructors.
"Keep formation," Sabrina commanded softly, her voice crisp against the wind. "We turn in our yield and secure our credit chits before the mess hall closes."
As Squad Alpha joined the tail end of the registration line, the heavy iron turnstiles clicked and groaned.
Standing beside an iron scales table near the inspection tent was Instructor Brandon. His battle-scarred face was grim under his single eye as he recorded squad metrics on a crystal ledger, surrounded by three Vanguard guards holding heavy mana pikes.
"Squad Four: two cracked Tier E Skitterer fragments," Brandon rumbled, signing the slate without looking up. "Below quota. Two hours extra wall duty tomorrow. Next!"
"Squad Alpha reporting, Instructor," Sabrina said, stepping up to the table.
With a crisp metallic CLINK, Rian set two canvas pouches onto the iron scales plate.
Brandon opened the pouches, dumping their contents onto the flat iron surface. Three pristine, unblemished Tier E+ Skitterer cores rolled across the scale, followed by the glowing, purified fragments of the micro-rift node Rian had harvested under the overpass. The brass needle on the scale slammed hard into the high-yield indicator.
Brandon’s single eye widened slightly. He looked up from the scale, his sharp gaze sweeping over Squad Alpha—from Sabrina’s cool, unbothered expression to Rian’s unruffled slate-grey coat.
"Three purified Tier E+ cores and a harvested spatial node fragment," Brandon noted, his rough voice dropping an octave. "And no life-tether activations. No filter burnout. Not bad for a team led by an exiled Level 1 and a runaway merchant daughter."
"Grid 7-West was clear, sir," Rian replied flatly.
"Clear because you knew how to handle your business," Brandon muttered. He leaned over the table, his eye narrowing as he looked directly at Rian. "Curious thing, Craig. My scout scope picked up a minor spatial disruption under the highway overpass an hour ago. The miasma density dropped to zero before the node collapsed. Care to explain?"
"The node was unstable, Instructor," Rian said, his dark eyes completely calm, reflecting the cold white glare of the overhead searchlights. "It consumed itself when the Skitterers were cleared."
"Top yield for the outer buffer zone," Brandon declared, signing the ledger with a sharp flick of his pen. "Squad Alpha earns double credit rations and priority access to the outpost quartermaster. Dismissed."
"Look who made it back alive," a loud, arrogant voice mocked from across the courtyard.
Squad Alpha turned to see Victor Vance walking out from the inner armory corridor, flanked by Garrick and two broad-shouldered cadets from Block B.
Victor was no longer wearing his basic cadet wool. He was clad in a tailored suit of crimson iron-plate armor, polished to a mirror shine and etched with gold heat-conduction runes. Strapped to his hip was a heavy, broad-bladed incendiary sword, its hilt embedded with a glowing Tier D Fire Core that radiated a warm, suffocating heat into the cold evening air.
Behind him, Garrick wore reinforced steel chainmail, his right hand resting on a heavy warhammer.
> [Target Identified: Victor Vance]
> Level: 5 (Tier D- Flame Affinity — Upgraded Gear)
> Mana Capacity: 350 / 350
> Equipment: High-Density Thermal Plate (Vance Guild Issue)
> Threat Level: Moderate
"Enjoying your little credit chits, failure?" Victor sneered, stopping ten paces away while his goons fanned out behind him. "You managed to scrape together a few low-tier bug cores in Grid 7-West. Impressive for a defective who can't even flare an aura."
Victor flared his thermal plate armor. A wave of hot, choking red heat surged outward, causing Timothy to step back nervously behind Marcus's tower shield.
"Your armor is loud, Victor," Sabrina said coolly, her hand resting loosely on her silver rapier. "The heat-conduction runes on your chest plate are leaking four percent of your core output. A Tier D beast will smell you coming from half a mile away."
Victor’s face flushed dark red with irritation. "Keep running your mouth, Tran! My uncle’s guild just delivered full Tier D field gear for my entire squad. While you four are starving on basic rations in the outer trenches, Squad Vance was assigned to Grid 12 — The Sector 7 Deep Ruins starting tomorrow morning!"
Marcus gasped, his face draining of color behind his filter mask. "Grid 12?! But that's a Tier C hazard zone! First-year cadets aren't supposed to go deeper than Grid 8!"
"We have official Guild Exemption," Victor boasted, tapping the crimson emblem on his chest plate. "High Command granted us exclusive hunting rights to the old commercial subway station. One Tier D core from the Deep Ruins is worth ten of your pathetic Skitterer bugs."
Victor stepped closer to Rian, his voice dropping into a harsh, venomous whisper.
"Enjoy your basic patrols, Rian," Victor mocked. "When my squad returns tomorrow with Tier D cores, my uncle will use our yield to strip whatever little noble standing you have left. You'll be expelled from the academy before mid-terms."
Rian stood unmoving, his hands tucked inside his dark coat pockets. He looked at Victor's polished crimson chest plate, then down at the shadow cast by Victor's boots on the gravel.
Living Shadow... siphon.
> [Living Shadow Passive: Physical Shadow Contact]
> Siphoning Thermal Leakage from Target: Victor Vance...
> Living Shadow EXP: 0 / 500 -> 12 / 500 (+12 EXP!)
A subtle, cold tug ran up Rian's left leg as twelve units of leaked thermal energy were absorbed into his core subspace. Rian didn't flinch or show a single trace of physical strain. With his Living Shadow at Level 2, his internal channels processed the low-tier thermal leak effortlessly.
"Grid 12 has high spatial instability, Victor," Rian said quietly, his voice steady, flat, and completely devoid of emotion. "Make sure your guild armor can handle the deep dark."
Victor clicked his teeth in frustration, irritated that his taunts hadn't shaken Rian's unblinking composure.
",Let's go Garric" Victor spat, turning on his heel. "Don't waste time talking to trash."
Later that night, Squad Alpha gathered in the subterranean mess hall of Outpost Delta.
The hall was a cavernous stone bunker lit by dim, sputtering mana-bulbs, filled with the loud clatter of iron mess trays and the low rumbles of exhausted cadets.
Timothy set four steaming iron bowls of thick meat stew onto the wooden bench, pulling out a small brass map slate he had rented from the quartermaster using their double credit chits.
"I pulled the sector maps for Grid 12," Timothy said softly, leaning over the table so his voice wouldn't carry. He activated the brass slate, projecting a dim, holographic blueprint of the Sector 7 Deep Ruins. "It's bad, sirs. Grid 12 is built over the ancient transit concourse. The miasma saturation down there is over forty percent."
Marcus took a heavy gulp of his stew, shaking his head. "Victor’s crazy. Even with Tier D guild armor, entering a Tier C hazard zone without a Vanguard squad leader is suicidal."
"Victor isn't going down there to hunt," Sabrina noted smoothly, using her spoon to break the crust on her bread. "His uncle hired a team of private guild mercenaries to clear the subway concourse ahead of him. Victor will just walk in, harvest the dead cores, and claim the yield for his academy score."
Marcus slammed his spoon onto the table in frustration. "That's cheating! The instructors can't allow that!"
"The academy rewards results, Marcus," Rian spoke up quietly, taking a small bite of his rations. "It doesn't matter how the cores are brought back to the scale. Only the weight counts."
He looked at the holographic map of Grid 12 projecting from Timothy's slate.
His dark eyes fixed on a specific dark blue marker labeled Lower Mag-Lev Transit Platform — Unexplored.
Beneath his leather boots, the Level 2 Living Shadow twitched with a subtle, restless hunger, its liquid dark surface pulsing three meters across the cold stone floor under the mess table.
...Master... deeper... The faint, leaf-scraping voice echoed inside Rian's mind—clearer, smoother than before. ...The deep soil... holds dense food...
Sabrina set her spoon down, her icy blue eyes turning to look directly at Rian across the narrow table. She had noticed the faint, dark ripple under his boots, though she kept her expression perfectly composed.
"You're thinking about Grid 12," Sabrina stated, her voice quiet and analytical.
"Grid 7-West is depleted," Rian replied flatly. "The micro-rifts in the outer buffer only yield Tier E fragments. At this rate, our squad quota will fall behind Vance’s team by the end of the week."
"Grid 12 requires a Tier D hazard permit from Brandon," Marcus warned, looking nervously between the two of them. "He won't sign a deep ruins permit for a squad with a Level 1 and two Tier E cadets!"
"He will if we clear Grid 8 first," Sabrina said, her pale lips curving into a sharp, almost invisible smile. She looked at Rian. "Grid 8 is the gateway to the Deep Ruins. If we clear the perimeter posts by tomorrow afternoon, Brandon will have no choice but to authorize our extension into Grid 12."
Timothy swallowed hard, looking at his freshly greased crossbow. "Are... are we really going into the Deep Ruins?"
Rian adjusted his dark coat, his dark eyes glowing with a quiet, unyielding spark.
"We go where the high-density cores are," Rian whispered into the dim light of the mess hall.