Kael left the dead machine behind in the flooded alley and stepped into the main artery of the orbital slum.
He didn't know the name of this floating city.
He didn't care.
The structure of the place was obvious to a man who had spent centuries conquering sect compounds and fortress cities.
This was the bottom tier.
The dregs.
The acidic rain couldn't pierce the thick canopy of tarps and rusted metal above the street. Instead it leaked through cracks in unpredictable waterfalls, splashing onto the grimy metal decking below.
Oil slicks coated the ground.
Chemical runoff mixed with trash.
The entire corridor smelled like burnt circuitry and spoiled food.
Kael walked slowly through the market.
Each step was deliberate.
The tiny reactor he had absorbed from the cyborg had fully settled into his body. The abrasive energy now rested inside his muscles like coiled steel.
His skin felt tight.
Dense.
The first step of the Iron Body tier had taken root.
Compared to his previous life—where a single breath could flatten mountains—it was pathetic.
But it was enough to stop a blade.
For now.
The street was a chaotic assault on the senses.
Fluorescent lights buzzed from makeshift stalls. Pink, yellow, and toxic green neon slashed across the damp corridor.
People packed the narrow market.
Kael observed them quietly.
He noticed the weak immediately.
Men and women huddled over ventilation grates where warm air leaked up from the machinery levels below. Their clothes were little more than synthetic rags.
Many were missing limbs.
Cheap prosthetics replaced them.
Rusting pistons.
Grinding servos.
One beggar reached toward Kael with a skeletal mechanical hand.
"Spare credits…?"
Kael ignored him.
In his old world, a crippled cultivator was a tragedy.
A warrior whose connection to the Dao had been severed.
Here, it was just poverty.
If you were poor, you bolted scrap metal to your bones and prayed it didn't poison your blood.
Kael continued walking.
The stalls around him sold strange things.
Not herbs.
Not spirit artifacts.
Just machines.
"Fresh optical sensors!" one vendor shouted. "Barely any blood on the casing!"
Another slammed a dented disc onto a table.
"Military shield emitters! Needs a bypass but it'll take a plasma hit!"
Kael listened without appearing to listen.
Information was currency.
"Keep your head down tonight," a woman whispered nearby.
"Why?"
"Bloodhand Guild sweep. They're taxing scrap shipments off the cargo docks."
"Corporations allowing that?"
"The corps don't care about outer rim trash," the woman spat. "As long as the guild pays docking fees, Valen Industries won't send security."
Kael filed the information away.
Corporations.
The ruling sects of this era.
The hierarchy hadn't changed.
Only the weapons had.
A squad of armored bounty hunters pushed through the market.
Four men.
Heavy augmentations.
Armor plates bolted directly into their flesh.
The crowd parted instantly.
Kael did not.
He kept walking.
At the last second he rotated his shoulder slightly.
The lead hunter brushed against him.
The armored brute stumbled.
He turned, irritated.
"Watch your step, meat."
His hand hovered over a heavy pistol.
Kael looked at him.
Nothing else.
Just a flat, empty stare.
The kind of look a predator gives an insect while deciding whether it's worth killing.
The hunter's instincts screamed.
Danger.
His grip loosened.
"…Forget it."
He turned away quickly and shoved through the crowd.
External shells, Kael thought.
Soft insides.
They rely on batteries.
Not strength.
The corridor suddenly opened into a massive plaza.
Thousands of people filled the open space.
Weapon shops.
Bars.
Trading depots.
But no one was looking at the stores.
Every face in the plaza was tilted upward.
Suspended above the square was a colossal holographic projector.
A towering cylinder of blue light poured down from it.
The Galactic Bounty Board.
Names and faces scrolled endlessly.
Smugglers.
Hackers.
Murderers.
Corporate defectors.
Numbers floated beside every name.
Credit values.
The crowd watched with hungry eyes.
This was how the bottom of the galaxy survived.
They hunted each other.
A sudden synthetic chime echoed across the plaza.
The scrolling list stopped.
The hologram flickered.
Blue light turned crimson.
The crowd fell silent.
Priority update.
All the smaller names vanished.
A single image appeared.
A woman.
She looked completely out of place in the filthy slum.
Sharp aristocratic features.
Perfect silver hair.
Thin crimson neural threads embedded along her temples.
Her white combat suit looked worth more than the entire station.
Her posture radiated arrogance.
Text appeared beneath her image.
LYRA VALEN
Corporate Heiress — Valen Stellar Industries
STATUS: HIGH PRIORITY ACQUISITION
The number appeared next.
BOUNTY
2,800,000,000 CREDITS
The plaza exploded.
Hunters shouted into wrist comms.
Mercenary crews ran for the docks.
Weapons were drawn as rival crews shoved past each other.
Two point eight billion credits.
Enough to buy a private moon.
Enough to build an army.
Enough to live like a god.
Kael stood motionless at the edge of the mob.
Credits meant nothing.
Power couldn't be purchased.
It had to be taken.
Consumed.
Digested.
While the hunters drooled over the bounty, Kael's eyes moved lower across the scrolling data.
Security escort.
Last known trajectory.
Transport vessel.
His gaze stopped.
Target Vessel: Valen-Class Luxury Pursuit Cruiser
Defenses: Golden Aegis Shield Array
Power Source: Class-III Stellar Core
Kael stopped reading.
A Class-III Stellar Core.
He slowly looked at his hand.
The tiny reactor he had consumed earlier had barely been the size of an apple.
Yet it had been enough to awaken Iron Body.
A Class-III core wouldn't be a drop of power.
It would be an ocean.
A boiling ocean.
Enough to force a Meteor Flesh breakthrough.
The bounty hunters rushing for the docks were fools.
They were chasing credits.
They planned to capture the heiress and return the ship.
Kael lifted his eyes to Lyra Valen's holographic face.
Their gazes met across the projection.
A slow smile formed on his lips.
Cold.
Predatory.
Let the galaxy chase the credits.
He was going to eat her ship.
Author note:
Energy Signature: Zero
The scanners say Kael's energy signature is zero.
The galaxy thinks he's harmless.
Big mistake.
Do you think hiding his power will help him…
or will it make him even more dangerous?