Blake's boots echoed through the ship's corridors as he made his way to the bridge. The new abilities still thrummed through his system, mana cycling in lazy loops through his enhanced awareness. It was good to know he still benefitted from his skills even with minimal mana flowing to them.
"What's the situation?" Blake asked, settling into a stance that gave him clear lines of sight to both exits.
Zephyr's holographic interface sprang to life, projecting a detailed topographical map of the surrounding area. Red markers indicated the locations of known scavenger camps, while a pulsing blue icon showed their ship's position. Between them, maybe three kilometers out from the ship, a new marker flashed an urgent yellow.
"Wormhole activity detected," Zephyr reported. "Similar energy signature to the one that brought you here, but larger in scale. It's dropping salvage."
Blake studied the map, flaring his [Warden's Insight] to aid him in parsing potential approach vectors. "What kind of salvage?"
"Primarily spaceship components," Zephyr replied. "Initial scans suggest intact hull sections, possibly even functional power cores. The kind of materials that could get us airborne again."
"Or load up up our enemies with new kit," Blake noted. His enhanced perception picked out the most likely routes the scavengers would take. Given their known patrol patterns, they'd have spotters on the high ground within minutes of detecting the anomaly.
Zephyr shifted into place beside him, her tilting slightly. Her tone was conspiratorial, but her volume remained unchanged. "We need those parts. The ship's current power system is held together with hope and prayers."
"Hey now," Eland's voice carried a note of strained amusement. "I'll have you know there's some very sophisticated technique involved in my prayers."
Blake's lips twitched, but his focus remained on the tactical display. The salvage zone sat in a natural bowl formation, with several elevated positions offering clear views of the approaches. Good defensive position, if you could hold it. Bad place to get caught in a crossfire.
"How long until the scavengers mobilize?" he asked.
"Already happening, if Mara's information about their habits are to be believed. Ideally we're looking at small scouting teams first, with heavy teams only coming in after loot is confirmed."
Blake checked his sidearm's magazine. Fifteen rounds. Not enough, but it would do.
"I can reach the zone first," he said, activating [Unfettered Stride] alongside [Warden's Insight] to assist in calculating. His enhanced mobility likely offered him some advantage in the terrain, and they were closer to the site by two klicks. He could scout and maybe grab key parts before they arrived.
"Alone?" Worry tinged Eland's voice. "That's risky."
"Less risky than losing everything," Blake said. "We need those parts, and I'm the only corporeal option we've got. The longer we wait, the more likely this turns into a shooting war. Better to get eyes on the situation now, while we still have options."
Eland was quiet for a long moment, electricity arcing lazily over his form as he considered. Finally, he spoke: "Very well. But remember—your safety takes priority over any salvage. If the situation turns ugly, you withdraw. Understood?"
"Yeah, sure boss," Blake was already moving toward the exit, his enhanced awareness mapping the fastest route through the ship. "Zephyr, keep Big Wheel over here from burning his eyes out or something."
"Of course," the AI replied congenially. "One last update that might help—weather patterns suggest a dust storm approaching from the northwest. Visibility will be severely reduced within the next hour or so."
Perfect. Limited visibility would make his job harder, but it would hamper the scavengers more. Their vehicles would have to slow down, giving him more time to work.
Blake paused at the ship's main airlock, double-checking his gear. Sidearm secured, knife sheathed in it's new location on his lower back. A small pack contained basic medical supplies and water. Everything else would slow him down more than help.
"Ready?" Chimera asked, her presence settling into the familiar space at the edge of his consciousness.
Blake activated [Warden's Insight], feeling the familiar surge of mana through his system. His HUD sparkled to life, already highlighting optimal routes through the debris field. He pushed power into his legs, feeling [Unfettered Stride] engage. With a rush of motion, Blake threw himself into the towering stacks of the junkyard.
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Blake's enhanced senses mapped the terrain in perfect clarity as he sprinted through the debris field. Metal surfaces gleamed with possibility, each handhold and foothold highlighted by his HUD. He vaulted over a twisted beam, using momentum to swing beneath a suspended hull section.
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The world flowed around him in a blur of motion. His body responded with inhuman grace, each movement flowing into the next. A gap opened before him—too wide to jump. Blake's perception caught a hanging chain, and he snagged it mid-stride. The chain's arc carried him up and over, releasing at the apex to land in a roll across weathered deck plating.
Dust kicked up beneath his boots as he ran along the plating's edge. His HUD tracked optimal paths through the maze of wreckage, highlighting structural weaknesses and unstable sections. Blake leapt from the edge, catching a protruding pipe to swing himself through a narrow gap between two crushed cargo containers.
[Warden's Insight] fed him constant updates on material strength and momentum calculations. Blake pushed off a wall, tucking into a tight spin through a hole in ancient hull plating. His enhanced muscles coiled and released with precision, each movement maximizing efficiency.
He bounded up a series of precariously balanced beams, letting [Unfettered Stride] guide his feet to the strongest points. At the top, Blake caught a glimpse of his destination through the forest of wreckage. Two kilometers of terrible terrain covered in less than ten minutes.
"Goddamn," he said, taking a moment to catch his breath. His mana and stamina had dropped significantly, but the exhiliration coursing through his veins made the cost negligible. "Magic is a hell of a drug."
Blake settled into a crouch on the beam, his breathing already evening out. The rush of movement had been intoxicating, but he needed to be smart about resource management.
"How long until I'm back to full capacity?"
Chimera's avatar shimmered into view, perched impossibly on a jutting piece of metal. "Your physical stamina is recovering quickly. Ten minutes of light activity should restore it completely."
"And the mana?"
"That will take longer. Several hours for a full recovery, given your current cultivation level." Chimera's form rippled like mercury. "The drain was significant during your enhanced movement."
Blake nodded, scanning the remaining distance. Wreckage stretched out before him, a kilometer of twisted metal and broken dreams between him and the potential salvage. "We should pace ourselves for the rest of the way."
"Agreed. Your resources will begin regenerating more efficiently at a slower pace. The last thing we need is to arrive depleted."
Blake rose from his crouch, muscles already feeling fresher. The enhancement had been worth it—covering that much ground in such a short time gave them an edge over other scavengers. But now was the time for caution and recovery.
"Walking it is," he said, starting down a relatively stable path through the debris. "Though I have to admit, that run was something else."
"You adapted well to the enhanced capabilities," Chimera said. "There might be hope for you yet."
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Blake crouched behind a twisted hull section as the sky lay split open above him. A massive tear in reality, edges crackling with impossible energies that made his HUD flicker and dance. The void beyond was darker than the blackest night, yet somehow burned his eyes to look at directly. There were echoes of a sedan-sized phenomenon that had appeared over the river and pulled him to this place, true. But it was like comparing a dolphin to a blue whale—no one could ever confuse them.
A new piece of debris emerged—something the size of a house that as a cargo hauler's engine block. It tumbled end over end, trailing crystalline fragments of frozen atmosphere. The impact shook the ground beneath his feet, sending tremors through the scrapyard that dislodged centuries of accumulated junk.
More followed. Sections of hull plating larger than football fields crashed down in terrible silence, the vacuum-preserved metal pristine until it met the corrupted atmosphere of the junkyard. Smaller pieces rained between the larger chunks—countless fragments of someone's lost civilization scattered like confetti.
Blake's enhanced senses took in every detail of the orbital dump, but his mind struggled to process the scale. There were multiple pieces of debris that dwarfed anything humanity had managed to put into space. The smallest fragments were the size of passenger jets, while the larger sections...
A kilometer-long section of what might have been a warship's spine crashed into a mountain of existing debris, the impact throwing up a wall of dust and shrapnel that his HUD traced in perfect detail. The sound hit moments later—a deep bass roar that rattled his teeth and vibrated through his bones.
"Holy shit," Blake whispered, the words lost in the cacophony of destruction.
He tried to contextualize the scene through familiar references—carrier groups, mechanized divisions, strategic bombers. Nothing fit. The scale of what he witnessed belonged to another order of magnitude entirely. Whatever civilization had built these ships had operated on a level that made humanity's greatest achievements look like children's toys.
The humbling display continued as more debris fell from the void. Blake watched in awe, feeling smaller with each impact. All his recent gains in power, his enhanced abilities and newfound strength, seemed insignificant against the backdrop of such massive engineering.
"We need to wait," Chimera said. "There's no safe way to get in there and start scavenging."
Blake nodded, tracking another massive piece of wreckage as it crashed into the scrapyard. His enhanced perception picked up the way the impact sent ripples through the unstable ground, causing distant piles of debris to shift and collapse.
"That might be a problem." Blake gestured toward the horizon, where dark clouds gathered in an ominous wall. The storm system Zephyr had warned them about was already visible, its leading edge eating up the sky. "Don't know how long we have before that hits."
Movement caught his eye—a flash of color against the monotone landscape of rust and decay. Blake focused his attention on a distant hill of wreckage, where a figure stood silhouetted against the churning sky. Even at this range, his enhanced vision picked out details: scavenged armor, crude weapons, the distinctive stance of someone used to violence.
"And when it rains, it pours. Looks like we've got company," Blake said. "A scout, probably, but earlier than expected."
"You're not the only one with movement abilities," Chimera responded. "At least he doesn't seem to have spotted us yet."
The scout's presence meant others would follow soon. Blake checked his weapon, feeling the familiar connection through his bond with Chimera. And he began to map out a route that would take him close to the scout without being noticed.
"I don't think we get to do this peacefully."