The Grade D Mana Core pulsed against my thigh, a beat of pure magic that seemed to mock my human blood. In the darkness of my warehouse, the blue light it emitted was the only thing that recalled the cleanliness of the upper floors in this hell of rust.
I had the copper bracelet. I had the core. I had the reputation. My brain was already assembling the pieces of the next objective.
«Resource Analysis: Grade D Core (Estimated value: 5,000 Credits in the Percentile black market). Copper bracelet (Value: 50 Credits). Social status: Local hero (Protection variable: Medium)».
I couldn't sell the core in Block 17. It would be like lighting a beacon for predators like Kael. I had to go up. Not toward the Countries, not yet, but toward the Middle Sectors, where Percentiles 30-50 managed the illegal loot traffic the System couldn't track.
The Shadow Transaction
I left the warehouse at three in the morning, when the acid rain is so dense it blinds even surveillance drones. I headed toward "Conduit 04", a massive drainage tunnel connecting Sector Z to the upper sectors. It was a place where physics reigned supreme: if you didn't know where to step, the sewage current would sweep you into the organic recycling turbines in less than sixty seconds.
«Who goes there?» a metallic voice scraped the darkness.
A fence. A Percentile 42 with a Grade E mechanical arm emitting small voltage arcs. He looked at me with contempt until I pulled out a fragment of the core to show him the radiation's color.
«A Nil with a Grade D core?» He weighed the object, his sensors clicking frantically. «Where'd you get this? Did you rob a Gilded transport?»
«Took it from the corpse of the Beast I downed yesterday. I'm the hero everyone's talking about, right?» I replied. Lies were the gear's lubricant. «I want bio-synthetic supplements, lead alloy weights, and a set of surgical calibration tools. No credits. I want matter.»
The Pact with the Devil
I returned to Block 17 with a black metal crate. Inside were Grade E Bio-Steroid vials and a series of neural cables I would have to manually insert into my muscle tissue to bypass the biological limits of Level 0.
«Operation cost: 90% of endurable pain. Modification success probability: 64%».
I sat on the ground, opening the surgical kit. There was no anesthesia. Anesthesia was a luxury for those not in a hurry. I only had nine hundred thirty-eight days left.
I saw my image reflected in the crate's lid. My eyes were sunken, my skin pale, but my brain was a furnace. I pulled out the first vial and pointed it at my arm's vein.
«The System says I don't exist», I whispered, as the needle pierced the skin. «But pain... pain is the physical proof that it's wrong.»
I pressed the plunger. The Abyss inside me stopped cheering. For an instant, everything went white. My heart stopped, then restarted with the violence of a nitro-fueled combustion engine.
One thousand days. Day 62. The machine has been started.