The transition through the void carried no physical weight, yet the absolute silence of the dark spatial rift always left a cold, metallic residue against the back of the throat.
Deep within the subterranean concrete foundations of the Magway Depot, the air was suddenly fractured by a wet, tearing sound.
A swirling vortex of dark spatial energy rippled outward in the center of a damp security vault, casting a chaotic indigo distortion across the grimy stone floor plates.
Seth stepped out of the portal first.
His movements were effortlessly calm, his polo shirt and checkered pants completely clean of the dust from his previous surface encounters.
The green neon glow of the surrounding chemical pipes caught the jagged set of scars cutting vertically from his right eye to his cheek, and the brutal slash running from his left ear across the bridge of his nose.
He didn’t say a word, his dark leather gloves flexing as his eyes immediately scanned the perimeters of the room.
Right behind him stepped Saffron, twisting a vibrant lock of his teal-colored hair around his finger with a look of supreme, burning irritation.
His flamboyant posture was dead rigid the moment his boots touched the cold gravel.
Saffron despised field assignments that didn’t involve direct theater, and he despised being used as a logistical vanguard even more.
But the petty complaints dying on Saffron’s tongue were instantly swallowed by the towering shadow that emerged last from the spatial tear.
Phyrus stepped onto the concrete floor, and the baseline atmosphere of the vault instantly plummeted under a suffocating weight.
His massive frame was completely enveloped in the long, sweeping drapes of an olive green, hoodless cloak that brushed the dirt with a heavy rustle.
The high-standing collar rose past his chin, lined with thick, dark feathers that completely framed his jawline.
His face was an unyielding mask of dark tech-wear—an Asymmetrical Split-Face Design where the polished black right side featured a stylized upward swirl emblem, while the left side was cut wide open to fully expose his eye and brow.
The lower jaw was covered by a distinct, cage-like grid-patterned mouthguard anchored by a central metallic circle.
Beneath the open left side of his mask, his jet-black temples bled into a bright, vibrant red gradient at the tips, framing a terrifying, glowing red iris that flickered lazily in the dark like an open ember.
“Lumi’s spatial parameters were precise,” Seth spoke smoothly, his voice slicing through the low, mechanical hum of the laboratory.
“We are sitting directly on the absolute edge of the city limits.
The Kampilan guild patrols have bypassed this transport grid entirely for the last three shifts.” “This place reeks of cheap sulphur and rotting old-world oil,” Saffron drawled, waving a gloved hand dramatically in front of his face as the portal collapsed into a fine purple spark behind them.
“I don’t understand why the master insists on auditing a bunch of backyard chemical vats when the central sectors are practically begging for a grand entrance.
We are the inner circle, Seth.
Not street-level drug runners.” Phyrus didn’t offer a response to the bickering.
His glowing red iris merely shifted toward the heavy, iron-reinforced blast doors leading to the central manufacturing floor.
He moved with a slow, robotic precision, his rigid tech-wear ear guards cupping his ears like tactical headphones as his feathers shifted with every step.
His presence alone was a silent command for authority, forcing both Saffron and Seth to fall into step behind his cloak.
The heavy iron blast doors groaned as Phyrus pushed them open, revealing the grimy, high-tech underworld of the Magway Depot branch.
Unlike the lawless, shattered blocks of the surface tier or the pristine, sci-fi grandeur of Neo Terra, the Walibu manufacturing facility was a labyrinth of industrial paranoia.
Towering rows of translucent polymer pipes pulsed with a vibrant, unpolished violet liquid that bubbled frantically as it moved through automated old-world refinement machinery.
Dozens of rusted computer monitors displayed rows of flickering, green old-era code, tracking the radioactive frequencies and atomic residue of the chemicals.
Standing at the center of the massive distribution tables, anchored near a heap of shimmering glass vials, was Knox.
The eccentric wielder didn’t immediately look up from his feverish work, his dark, messy wolf cut swaying over his brow as his hands moved with a practiced, agile speed against the steel tables.
He possessed an average human physique, a slim frame that carried no bulky muscles but lacked any fragile weakness—a perfectly ordinary structural baseline that hid a background completely shrouded in mystery.
Around his neck was a heavy metal collar lined with wicked thorns and a jagged, cut chain trailing off it, making him look exactly like a dangerous hound unleashed in a chemical tomb.
Beneath his messy bangs, his eyes were a terrifying void—his pupils and iris entirely jet-black, accented by two black, pointed lines that cut sharply from the outer corners of both eyes down his cheeks.
His perpetual, unnatural razor-sharp smile split wide to reveal his teeth the moment he registered their footsteps.
“Ah, the travelers from the deep!” Knox suddenly yelled, his voice carrying a theatrical sharpness that echoed off the damp stone walls.
He snapped his head toward the trio, his dark wolf cut shifting.
“Lumi’s chosen keys have arrived to bless my little kitchen!” Knox executed a dramatic, sweeping bow, his camouflage baggy pants dragging through the grey ash on the floor as his thick tactical boots clicked together.
“Cut the theater, Knox,” Saffron snapped, crossing his arms as his teal bangs shadowed his face.
“We are here under strict orders from the throne.
Lumi wants the progress report on the absolute version of the booster drug.
Is the distribution grid ready for the surface war?” Knox chuckled maniacally, the thorned collar around his neck rattling against his collarbone as he straightened back up.
He gestured with a slim arm toward a massive steel vat, where a dense, dark purple fluid was swirling under extreme thermal heat.
“The chemistry is flawless, my flamboyant friend!” Knox grinned, his black void eyes illuminating with a manic excitement.
“Under the master’s absolute command, I have accelerated the multiplication process.
This isn’t the unpolished garbage we delivered to Braxley’s street dealers at the docks.
This absolute iteration doesn’t just flood the pores with unstable aura; it targets the baseline biology.
It forces a civilian’s internal stamina tank to forcefully overflow, accelerating them directly into a full Segonda element within three seconds of consumption.
We have thousands of vials ready to be multiplied and shipped past the perimeter lines.” Seth walked forward, his sharp eyes analyzing the density of the shimmering violet liquid inside the rows of glass boxes.
“And the side effects?” “Biological collapse if they sustain the element for more than five minutes, of course!” Knox laughed, entirely unbothered by the lethality of his own creation.
“But to Lumi, a civilian who can burn down a Culler block before their body rots to dust is a highly efficient pawn.
We are multiplying the assets every hour.” Phyrus stepped toward the central table, his massive cloaked posture casting a heavy shadow over the drug ledgers.
His unyielding cage mouthguard emitted a low, deep rasp as he spoke for the first time.
“The Kampilan leaders are closing the board.
Xan has deployed a vanguard squad to the eastern outposts.” Knox’s smile locked rigid for a fraction of a second, his slim fingers twitching violently against his thigh before he masked the reaction with another theatrical grin.
“Let the guild lapdogs scurry through the dirt.
They are looking for a Calamitous abnormal that doesn’t exist anymore.
By the time they realize this depot is the true heart of the limits, the sky will already be on fire.” Knox paused, leaning his slim frame against the edge of the steel distribution table.
His unnatural smile stretched even wider, curving up toward the black lines on his cheeks as a cold, mocking amusement flared within his jet-black void eyes.
“Besides,” Knox whispered, tilting his head back to let his messy wolf cut spill away from his brow.
“They think they are executing a silent, brilliant infiltration.
They have no idea I’ve been holding the leash the entire time.
That green-haired vanguard captain—Asher—actually managed to sneak his way onto the upper rafters of this very perimeter a few shifts ago.
He sat right up there in the dark, using his quiet little sensory steps to spy on my production lines.” Saffron’s hand froze on his teal hair, his arrogant demeanor instantly hardening.
“Asher was inside this facility?
And you didn’t erase him on the spot?” “Why would I kill a rat when I can use him to bring me the entire nest?” Knox cackled, his thorned metal collar rattling violently as shoulders shook with psychotic glee.
“I saw him the exact millisecond his boots cleared the outer vent.
He thinks his unmanifested movements make him a ghost, but his physical scent reeks of the guild’s baseline dust.
I didn’t give a single damn.
I purposefully let him watch me multiply the formulas.
I wanted him to go back to Xan and report exactly what he saw, because a vanguard squad that thinks they have the tactical upper hand is a squad that walks straight into a slaughterhouse.
I lured them here.
They are walking directly into my trap.” Seth turned his back on the tables, adjusting the long sleeves of his shirt as his distinctive facial scars hardened in the dim light.
“The audit is complete.
Lumi’s parameters dictate that the separation happens immediately.
Phyrus, you are ordered to stay behind to safeguard this edge-town branch and manage the defensive cells.
Saffron and I must return to the subterranean capital to report the production numbers back to the throne.” Saffron let out an arrogant sigh, brushing a speck of drywall dust from his vest.
“Finally.
Get me out of this freezing icebox before the grease ruins my hair.” Seth extended his dark leather gloves, his raw Astral Energy beginning to churn deep within his core.
A faint, shimmery purple distortion began to ripple across the air in front of his palms, the microscopic radioactive frequencies crackling as he prepared to open the spatial portal to transport himself and Saffron back to the main base camp.
Phyrus stood perfectly still like a stone monolith, his cloaked arms crossed over his chest, his thick dark feathers catching the green neon glare as he prepared to watch his partners depart.