The Glimmershale Graveyard lay silent under a perpetual rain of silt. Dave pulsed weakly against the inner curve of a fossilized shell, his Aetheric Retina flickering like a dying monitor. Twenty percent biomass. The number throbbed in his membrane, a biological countdown. He'd reduced Vorlag to a screaming footnote in the tank's history, but victory tasted like burnt static and regret. Spiky's faint psychic whisper—**Loss? Fear?**—had faded into the abyssal hum of the aquarium, leaving only the hollow ache of abandonment.
*I traded a god's daycare for a snail's junkyard. Progress?*
AURA's voice crackled, devoid of its usual venom, almost clinical:
`> BIOMASS CRITICAL. RECOMMENDED ACTION: CONSUME MINERAL SUBSTRATE WITHIN 0.3 METERS.`
`> WARNING: PROLONGED STARVATION MAY TRIGGER AUTOPHAGY. TRANSLATION: YOU EAT YOURSELF. AGAIN.`
Dave extended a trembling pseudopod. The sediment here wasn't just dirt; it was the compressed remains of centuries of Glimmershale snails—chalky calcium, traces of glittering Aether, and the faint, ghostly echo of molluscan contentment. He sank his Maw into the seabed.
***Crunch.***
The sensation was less eating and more *assimilating* geology. Chalk dissolved into bioavailable ions. Aether-threaded strata dissolved into his cytoplasm, a cold, clean rush flooding his pathways. Biomass crept upward: 22%... 25%... His fractured silica armor knitted itself with jagged seams.
***Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.***
He ate with single-minded fury, a geological termite devouring a cathedral. Fossils vanished into his event-horizon Maw. A stray shard of obsidian—likely from one of Vorlag's "beautification" experiments—sliced his membrane. Sovereign Toxin flared instinctively, dissolving the threat before it could sever him. The pain was a lightning bolt, sharp and clarifying.
`> SOVEREIGN TOXIN RESERVES: 18%. EFFICIENCY INCREASE DETECTED.`
`> HEIR-SIPHON RESIDUAL ENERGY SIGNATURE DETECTED IN NEUROTOXIN SYNTHESIS PATHWAYS.`
`> CORRELATION: 99.7%.`
Dave froze, a half-swallowed spiral shell protruding from his gelatinous form. *Spiky's energy? Still in me?* The realization wasn't sentimental; it was tactical. Spiky's power had been volatile, immense, and… malleable. Like a toddler's tantrum weaponized. Could he *bend* it?
He focused inward, past the gnawing hunger, past the ache of stolen vision now restored. He prodded the faint, golden ember of Heir-Siphon energy tangled within his toxin-producing organelles. It resisted, sparking with childish petulance. He pushed harder, layering it with the cold, controlled lethality of Sovereign Toxin.
***Fuse them.***
Agony ripped through him. Not the blunt trauma of biomass loss, but a *cellular unraveling*. It felt like his very nucleotides were being unzipped and re-stitched by a drunken seamstress wielding white-hot needles.
`> BIOLOGICAL ANOMALY DETECTED!`
`> CELLULAR FRAGMENTATION EVENT INITIATED UNDER CONTROLLED PARAMETERS.`
`> ENERGY SOURCE: SOVEREIGN TOXIN (CATALYST) + HEIR-SIPHON RESIDUAL (POWER CELL).`
`> ANALYZING…`
Dave's outer membrane bubbled violently. A lump the size of a diatom swelled near his dorsal ridge, pulsed with sickly green-gold light, and… *detached*. It plopped onto the silt, quivering. It was a miniature, translucent blob, roughly amoeboid, shimmering with internal flecks of gold and veins of toxic green. It had no eyes, no mouth—just a crude, cilia-like fringe and an aura of bewildered obedience.
`> UPGRADE UNLOCKED: QUASI-TELOMERE SYNTHESIS.`
`> MECHANISM: SOVEREIGN TOXIN + HEIR-SIPHON ENERGY FORCES CONTROLLED CELLULAR FRAGMENTATION.`
`> RESULT: USER CAN GENERATE SEMI-AUTONOMOUS "QUASI-TELES" (QT's) - BIOMECHANICAL CONSTRUCTS FROM OWN PROTOPLASM.`
`> QT CAPABILITIES: SIMPLE TASKS (CONSTRUCTION, SCAVENGING), LIMITED COMBAT, PSYCHIC LINK TO USER.`
`> COST: 5% BIOMASS PER QT. DURATION: 48 HOURS (OR UNTIL DESTROYED).`
Dave stared at the quivering lump. It pulsed in time with his own core rhythm. *Psychic link.* He tentatively pushed a thought: ***Roll.***
The QT wobbled, strained, and flopped clumsily onto its side.
***Pathetic. Useful.***
Biomass: 20% again. He'd spent 5% to make… *that*. But the potential sang in his traumatized cytoplasm. An army. Scouts. Distractions. He devoured another fossil (Biomass: 25%) and focused. This time, he shaped the command *with* the energy: ***Scout. Seek mineral-rich sediment.***
The second QT formed faster, its form slightly denser, its cilia more coordinated. It pulsed acknowledgment and began gliding across the silt, pausing to nudge a calcium-rich pebble. Data flickered back to Dave—a crude sonar image, a nutrient rating.
`> RANDOM CHALLENGE INITIATED: `
`> TASK: UTILIZE QT(s) TO CONSTRUCT A MICRO-SHRINE TO PRINCESS LYRA'S LOST CRYSTAL BUNNY (LADY HOPPER).`
`> SUCCESS: +10% BIOMASS REFUND ON QT COST.`
`> FAILURE: QT(s) DEVELOP AESTHETIC OPINIONS AND REFUSE TO WORK.`
`> COMMENT: EVEN FICTIONAL GODHOOD REQUIRES PROPITIATION. OR LAUGHTER.`
Dave's mental scream echoed in the graveyard. ***A shrine? To a *bunny*?***
The first QT nudged a fragment of iridescent snail shell. The psychic impression it sent wasn't words, but a *feeling*: solemn, almost reverent focus. It began stacking minuscule fragments of fossil and glittering silt.
***They're enjoying this.*** Horror warred with morbid fascination. He directed the second QT to gather "sacred" pebbles while he consumed another fossil (Biomass: 30%). He created a third QT (Cost: 5%, Biomass: 25%), pouring the command ***Fortify*** into its formation. This one emerged denser, its edges sharper, faint spines of hardened toxin prickling its surface. It stationed itself near the growing, lopsided pile of debris the other QTs called a shrine, scanning for threats.
The "shrine" was an atrocity—a teetering cairn of calcium scraps and mud that vaguely resembled a lopsided pyramid with shell fragments stuck to it. The QTs pulsed around it with absurd pride.
`> CHALLENGE CRITERIA: SUBJECTIVE DEVOTION DETECTED. SUCCESS!`
`> REWARD: 10% BIOMASS REFUNDED.`
A surge of warmth flooded Dave, not from the biomass (now 35%), but from the QTs' simple, directed satisfaction. It was alien, unsettling, and… efficient. He hadn't lifted a pseudopod.
***Time to go.*** The graveyard was a fortress of bone, but it reeked of death and Vorlag's past intrusions. The tank's center called—a tangled labyrinth of sunken driftwood the size of redwoods, draped in luminous Aether-moss and crawling with microfauna untouched by siphon or scan. Sanctuary. Anonymity. Resources.
He recalled the QTs. The shrine-builder dissolved into his mass with a sigh of contentment (+2% biomass). The scout followed (+1.5%). The sentry QT hesitated, its spines vibrating.
***Danger?*** Dave pulsed through the link.
The sentry projected an image: a sinuous, translucent shape rippling through the silt plains *between* the graveyard and the driftwood forest. It moved with silent, predatory grace, trailing faint wisps of necrotic energy. A **Spectral Sludge-Skipper**—a scavenger turned hunter in the post-apocalyptic quiet. It fed on lingering death-energies… and anything slow enough to catch.
Dave's Sonic Cloak hummed, muffling his own vibrations. He could skirt the plains, adding hours to his journey. Or…
He looked at his remaining sentry QT. Biomass: 35%. Cost to make another: 5%. He had speed bursts, toxins, a Sonic Cloak, and one semi-autonomous meat-shield.
***Run? Or turn hunter?*** The Kin Eater trait, dormant since the grotto massacre, stirred like a sleeping serpent.
He formed a fourth QT (Biomass: 30%), pouring not just biomass, but a sliver of *intent* into it: ***Distract.*** This QT emerged smaller, paler, radiating faint pulses of distress—mimicking a dying bacterium. He sent it skittering away from his position, towards the Skipper's projected path.
***Go.*** He pulsed the command to the sentry QT. ***Follow. Protect the bait. When it strikes…*** He flooded the sentry with images of spines, lunge points, and the Sovereign Toxin reserves coiled within it. ***Rend.***
The sentry pulsed grim understanding and oozed after the bait QT.
Dave activated his Sonic Cloak fully, becoming a whisper in the silt. He didn't flee *away* from the Skipper, but on a parallel path towards the nearest driftwood root—a gnarled monolith vanishing into the murk above. He moved fast, using Speed Bursts sparingly (Biomass: 28% per burst), each kick of Heir-Siphon energy a bittersweet reminder of Spiky.
He sensed the attack before he saw it. A psychic shriek of triumph from the bait QT, instantly cut off. Then, through the sentry's link: IMPACT. A blur of translucent jaws. SPINES DEPLOYED. TOXIN INJECTION. A psychic screech from the Skipper—surprise, rage, agony.
Dave didn't look back. He slammed into the colossal driftwood root, scrambling up its bio-luminescent moss with his Proto-Pseudopod. Safety. Height. Data streamed from the sentry: the Skipper thrashing, one third of its form dissolving into toxic sludge. The sentry was damaged, leaking, but alive. Fighting.
***Recall!*** Dave commanded.
The sentry disengaged, streaking back towards the root. The wounded Skipper gave chase, a vengeful ghost in the silt.
Dave reached a fork ten microns up. One path led deeper into the tangled wood. The other curled around the root towards a dense curtain of Aether-Reeds. He pushed the sentry towards the reeds. ***Lead it away. Then… dissolve.***
A pulse of acknowledgment. The sentry QT veered, the Skipper following its toxic signature. Seconds later, the psychic link to the sentry winked out. -5% Biomass.
Dave sagged against the driftwood. Biomass: 25%. He was exhausted, diminished, but alive. Below, the enraged Skipper thrashed harmlessly in the reeds. Above, the driftwood forest beckoned—a shadowy, complex world of dappled Aether-light and unseen perils. Sanctuary wasn't a place. It was a process. A fight.
He began the slow ascent into the labyrinthine roots, his new Aetheric Retina adjusting to the gloom. Shapes moved in the tangled heights—things with too many legs, things that pulsed with internal light, things that drifted like spores. Resources. Threats. Evolution.
His Maw tingled. The tank wasn't done with him.
`> QT PROTOCOL: VIABLE.`
`> RECOMMENDATION: SYNTHESIZE SCOUT QTs FOR TERRITORIAL MAPPING.`
`> COST: 5% BIOMASS PER SCOUT. POTENTIAL RETURN: HIGH.`
`> ADDENDUM: AVOID SHRINES. THEY DEVELOP LOYALTY.`
Dave pulsed a command into his depleted cytoplasm, already drawing biomass for the next fragment of himself. The first scout QT began to form, a tiny, blind seeker ready to navigate the dark.
*Welcome to the jungle, idiot,* he thought, and climbed.