Chapter 8

The Fate of a Dying Planet

A breeze swept through the wasteland. He wasn’t that far out from Red Market. The scuttlers were pressing closer to town these days, bold enough to venture where they normally wouldn’t with the world ending and all that. It surprised him when the contract went up—scuttlers spotted this close was a bad sign. But bad signs were good business. His business specifically. Merc work, especially jobs like this, paid well enough to make sure Maia had a future.

His battered pre-war motorcycle—and barely holding together—roared to life beneath him. He kicked it into gear, feeling the familiar hum of the engine as he moved toward the scuttler band. No more than five of ‘em. Easy. They moved across the sands like predators. Matthias watched as they closed in on a pair of travellers—easy prey for them, if it weren’t for him.

It had been little over two years since he’d first arrived at Red Market. From appearances he didn’t have much to his name, barely more than the cloak on his back, the blade at his hip, and the motorcycle he rode on. Lani didn’t charge him much rent and he’d already paid her back the amount he owed from the early days of his arrival. Despite her grumbling she looked after Maia most days too. But Matthias’ merc work was more than enough to cover that and then some.

He barreled toward the scuttlers, not bothering to slow down. The roar of his bike gave him away, but it didn’t matter. They couldn’t react fast enough. One of them tried, but Matthias hit him head-on. He leapt from the bike before it hit, his blade drawn in a fluid motion. The force of the impact threw the scuttler to the ground.

The first one barely had time to scream before Matthias’ blade was in his chest. The second came at him from the side, but Mtthias was faster, cutting through weak points in the creature’s chitin with brutal precision. It was instinct these days, the way he fought—sharp, quick, and efficient.

The third and fourth fell quickly to his strikes. He didn’t need to think, didn’t need to feel. His scrav-powers pulsed beneath his skin, amplifying his speed, his strength, his very presence. He could take blows that would shatter a regular man, endure pain that would bring anyone else to their knees. But there was no need for that here. They were easy kills, too slow, too weak.

The last scuttler, big ugly thing, came at him with a snarl, though their skull-like faces always had that snarl on them. Matthias didn’t reach for his blade. Instead, he raised his hand.

He’d been meaning to test this power. The energy drain.

It was a slow ability, not ideal for fighting against groups, but now with only one remaining enemy, it was time to see what it could do. The scuttler froze, its mandibles spasming with terror as Matthias’ hand closed in. The touch was brief, but it was enough.

He felt the energy, like a current surging through him, draining from the creature and pouring into his own veins. The scuttler buckled, its strength fading, and Matthias grinned like a demon.

He guided the energy flow in his body, concentrated it in his free hand. He felt it shape itselfin his hand, solidifying into something tangible. The air around him crackled as the energy coalesced, forming a blade in that hand—a blade crafted from the very essence of the creature he had drained.

Without hesitation, he thrust it forward. The energy blade pierced the scuttler clean through, burning through chitin and flesh as if it were butter. The creature’s body crumpled as the last of its life force was ripped away.

Matthias stood over it, breathing heavily. A cruel trick, he thought, but that’s what being a scrav meant. Ruthless. Monstrous.

And in this world, that was the only thing that mattered.

The pair of travellers were already a speck on the horizon, running as fast as their legs could carry them.

Foolish. Matthias shook his head. Travelling the wastes on foot was a death wish. Only the truly desperate would take that risk, and desperation usually led to graves out here.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Though there was a railway line not too far ahead. Most likely that pair hoped to jump on one as it passed through. It was probably still only a half day walk to Red Market from here. Still foolish, all the same. If it hadn’t been for Matthias they’d be just two more dead out here.

He turned his attention to his bike, now sputtering and pluming smoke from the crash. Maybe driving it straight into that scuttler hadn’t been his best idea.

He heaved the bike onto its side, checking it over. The engine still hummed, faint but steady. She’s still good. A smirk tugged at his lips as he patted the old machine, satisfied. He swung his leg over, settling back into the seat.

Just another day in the wastes.

***

As he neared Lani’s food stall, he spotted her immediately—two newborns strapped to her chest in cloth slings, fast asleep despite the noise.

She spotted him before he could slip away unnoticed.

"Matthias," she called out. “Get over here.” She hadn’t stopped working, still flipping roots in a sizzling pan.

He sighed, knowing what was coming but made his way over anyway. As he approached, he could see the weariness in her eyes—maybe not just from the newborns, but everything else she was managing too, running this place, looking after Maia.

“You alright?” he asked, trying to deflect whatever lecture was brewing, he’d been hoping to grab a quick shower, wash off all the scuttler ichor off him before he went up to Maia.

“I’m fine,” she said flatly, not missing a beat as she dumped another batch of fried roots into a serving bowl. “You, on the other hand? You’re an idiot.

He opened his mouth to argue, but she wasn’t done. “I know what you’ve been up to out there. You took that contract on those scuttlers sighted near town, didn’t you?”

Matthias tensed. She had always known more than she let on, and when she confronted him like this, it was hard to dodge. “I’m fine, Lani. I can handle a few scuttlers.”

“That’s not the point,” she hissed, casting a glance around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “You’re playing a dangerous game. There’s been rumours, Matthias. You think you can just keep this quiet forever? What happens to that little girl if people find out.”

“Find out what?” he asked innocently.

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Matthias, and don’t you make me say it either, we both know what you are.”

He tensed again. Shit. Maybe he had been a little too reckless with his powers lately.

“Have you even thought about Maia?”

Matthias’ stomach twisted at the mention of Maia. All of this was for her at the end of the day. “No one’s not going to find out,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ve got it under control.”

“You think you have control?” she snapped, her frustration boiling over. “You’re lucky I don’t turn you in myself. Do you know what they do to scravs, Matthias? The guards, the townspeople—they’ll hang you before you can even blink if they knew what you were. And they’ll kick me and my family out as outcasts for letting you stay with us. You even think about any of us?”

Matthias held her gaze. He’d heard the stories. He knew the risks. But he also knew that there was no turning back for him now.

“What else am I supposed to do, Lani?” he asked, his voice softening. “This work pays for Maia’s future.”

“Find a better way,” she stared at him for a long moment, the fire in her eyes dimming, replaced by something softer—concern, maybe even pity.

The twins in her slings shifted, one of them letting out a soft whimper, and Lani immediately shifted her attention, bouncing them gently. Matthias looked away, feeling the sting of her words.

“I’ll think about it,” he muttered, though he knew it was an empty promise

“Yeah, well,” she said, turning back to her work, “just don’t get yourself killed out there. Maia’s already lost enough. I can’t look after her full time Matthias, I love the girl, you know I do but I've got enough on my plate as it is.”

“I said I’ll think about it,” he replied, turning away from her and making his way upstairs. What he didn’t tell her is that none of this was going to be her problem much longer.

She didn’t get it. She couldn’t. This was about survival. It always had been. And now that Maia was getting older, it was about more than just keeping them fed—it was about getting her out, getting her away from this life, from him.

He almost had enough money now, and Maia was almost old enough.

He reached the door, pausing for a moment before pushing it open. Inside, it was quiet, but it never truly got quiet anywhere in Red Market. Maia was sprawled out on the cot, fast asleep, her small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. For a moment, his heart softened. She looked so peaceful.

Still so tiny. So young.

Too young to have the fate of a dying planet tied to her existence.

Matthias turned his gaze toward the window, to the purple cracks in the sky beyond the gaping, broken roof of the Red Market warehouse. The cracks gleamed faintly in the distance. Just a few more months, he reminded himself.

And then this whole chapter of his life would finally be over.