The harsh sun beat down as Blake studied the jutting section of hull that breached the surface of the scrap field like the fin of some ancient mechanical shark. Sweat trickled down his neck, and he fought the urge to wipe it away. The light here felt wrong—too blue, casting everything in slightly alien hues that kept throwing off his depth perception. own
Mara crouched beside him, her braided hair catching metallic highlights as she consulted a battered dataslate. Two other scavengers—Korrn and Dex—stood a few paces back, tools ready but clearly uncertain about their role in all this.
"Thanks for meeting me," Blake said, nodding to the newcomers. "Glad Zeph could get a hold of you. This is where we dig."
"You're sure about this location?" Mara asked, not looking up from her slate.
Blake nodded, letting his gaze track across the exposed section of hull. "Chimera confirmed the coordinates, and she is very excited about new toys. What we need is in there."
"And the noise won't be an issue?" Korrn shifted his weight, the movement causing his cybernetic leg to whir softly. "Cutting through that hull will ring something fierce."
"That's part of the plan," Blake said, his voice steady and assured. "We need to draw attention anyway. Might as well do it on our terms."
Mara's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "You want to attract a patrol? That's insane."
"No," Blake corrected, "that's strategy. Trust me on this. When the patrol arrives you three make yourselves scarce and let me handle it."
He moved forward, running his hand along the scarred metal of the hull. The surface felt warm under his palm, decades of exposure to the alien sun having baked it to an almost painful temperature.
Blake focused his thoughts, activating Warden's Insight to gather additional details. Once the faint hum of the ability settled in his mind, he turned his attention outward.
"Chimera," he said, his tone deliberate, "mark an entry point for me." A soft chime sounded in his mind as his HUD highlighted a section of the hull where the metal looked slightly thinner.
"There," Chimera confirmed. "The structural integrity is already compromised. Should be relatively easy to breach."
Blake noticed Korrn had already marked the spot with a grease pencil during his earlier discussion with Mara. He gave an approving nod, silently acknowledging his team's expertise.
The cutting tools screamed against steel for twenty minutes straight. Sound carried far in the wasteland. Too far. Blake swept his gaze between his team's work and the scrap mountains around them. Nothing moved—not yet. Mara stood watch too, head cocked, listening. A lifetime of vigilance had taught her well.
They talked strategy while the work went on. Blake kept his voice low, and asked the right questions. Mara's answers came crisp and clean. No wasted words. She knew her business - how to hit Rax where it hurt, how to keep her people alive while doing it. The more she talked, the more Blake saw it. She wasn't just some busy-body with a clipboard. She was good. But she had serious gaps in her planning.
Korrn and Dex worked like machines. They'd clearly done this many, many times before . Blake listened to Mara, and filed away the important bits. She claimed she wasn't playing defense anymore. She was trying to build something bigger. Something that could win.
Blake leaned back against a slab of metal, studying Mara's face as she outlined the final stages of her plan. The more she talked, the more his unease grew. Every aspect of her strategy hinged on Eland's power—the Stokrine would handle Rax while her people managed the periphery.
"Your teams will block the eastern passages here and here?" Blake pointed to spots on her slate.
"Yes. We've identified key structural weaknesses. A few well-placed charges will bring down enough debris to cut off any retreat."
Blake nodded slowly. "And the patrols?"
"Small teams will keep them occupied. Hit-and-run tactics." Mara's confidence never wavered. "We know these fields better than they do. We can keep them running in circles until it's over."
"What happens when they catch up to your people?" Blake kept his tone neutral, calm, professional.
Mara blinked. "They won't need to fight. Not directly. Once Eland defeats Rax, his followers will stand down."
Blake's jaw tightened. He'd seen this before—civilians planning military operations, imagining everything would go perfectly. No plan survived first contact with the enemy. These weren't soldiers she was sending out there. They were scavengers, technicians, everyday people who'd never faced real combat.
"From what you say, most of your people have no combat training," he said. "Certainly no experience fighting stronger opponents."
"They won't have to." Mara's certainty remained absolute. "We just need to keep Rax's forces occupied while Eland handles the real threat."
Blake wanted to argue, to explain how quickly plans fell apart, how many ways this could go wrong. But Mara's expression told him she wouldn't hear it. She'd built her entire strategy around a single point of failure, and she couldn't—or wouldn't—see the risk.
Finally, the section of hull gave way with a grinding shriek, revealing a dark passage into the ship's interior. Stale air wafted out, carrying the scent of ancient electronics and dried lubricants.
"Dex, Korrn," Mara spoke up, her voice carrying quiet authority. "See what you can salvage from the ship. But stay within earshot."
The two men nodded and moved off, their footsteps oddly muted against the deck plating. Blake watched them go before turning to Mara with a raised eyebrow.
"Keeping them busy?"
"Keeping them happy," she corrected. "They'll work harder later if they get something for themselves now."
Blake grunted in acknowledgment as they moved deeper into the ship. He kept [Warden's Insight] running on as little mana as it would take. He added [Unfettered Stride] as well, also using the bare minimum of power. Chimera understood his intention and fed all the information from the skills to him, his HUD highlighting doorways and damage to floors and walls. The lighting was dim and uneven, but Blake walked with confidence towards his target.
"Third door on the left," Chimera whispered in his mind. "That's where the security storage should be."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The door in question had partially seized in its track, requiring Blake to force it open. Inside, they found exactly what Aureon's manifest had promised—a storage locker for ship's security personnel. Most of the equipment had degraded beyond use, but one sealed compartment yielded what they needed.
Blake pulled out a reinforced jumpsuit, running his hands over the material. Basic armor plates were integrated into key areas, and though the fabric showed signs of age, it remained intact.
"Perfectly serviceable," Chimera announced, her satisfaction evident. "The material will work well with my modifications."
A weapons locker yielded additional prizes—a sturdy looking baton and a well-preserved taser. Blake checked both quickly, and Chimera all but purred at the additional gear.
"The baton's good quality," Chimera noted. "Durosteel. I can use some of it to extend your knife's blade."
Blake was about to respond when Mara's hand shot up in warning. She pressed herself against the wall near the door, head tilted slightly. Blake moved to mirror her position, straining his ears. A faint tremor brushed against Blake's Perception, subtle but unmistakable. Trusting his instincts, he channeled mana to sharpen it. As if sensing his intent, Chimera lent her expertise, guiding a delicate thread of energy up his spine and curling it around his skull, amplifying the connection to his ears.
The enhancement surged through him, and his Perception flared with that peculiar, silent resonance he could feel deep in his core. In an instant, the world sharpened, every sound crashing into clarity.
There—the sound of boots crunching through sand and small debris. Multiple sets, moving with purpose.
"Patrol," Mara mouthed silently.
Blake nodded, a grim smile tugging at his lips. Right on schedule.
The footsteps grew closer, seeming to echo through the ship's corridors with Blake's newly enhanced hearing. He could hear voices now—rough and confident, speaking in the harsh whispers. He caught Mara's eye and gave her a meaningful look.
She understood immediately, her expression shifting from concern to determined focus as she realized this was exactly what Blake had planned for.
The patrol was about to enter the breach in the hull.
----------------------------------------
MARA
Mara pressed herself deeply into the shadows, her back against cold metal. She clutched tightly to the baton and taser Blake had left with her for protection. The acrid stench of corroded metal filled her nostrils as she watched Blake position himself near the hull breach. Sunlight filtered through the jagged opening, casting strange patterns across the deck plates.
Her fingers dug into her palms. She'd seen fights before - living under Rax's rule made that inevitable—but something about Blake's stillness sent a chill down her spine. He moved with the practiced grace of someone intimate with killing, settling into a crouch that reminded her of the predatory beasts that stalked the lower salvage fields.
The rhythmic crunch of boots on debris grew closer. Mara's heart hammered against her ribs, each beat seeming to echo in the confined space. Blake drew in a deep, controlled breath, his frame coiled with lethal intent.
A massive figure ducked through the breach - one of Rax's enforcers, his cybernetic arm gleaming dully in the filtered light. Blake struck like lightning, his knife slashing toward the enforcer's throat. Metal scraped against metal as the blade deflected off the enforcer's armor plating.
The knife clattered across the deck. Mara's breath caught in her throat, but Blake didn't hesitate. He pivoted smoothly, driving the heel of his open hand into the enforcer's jaw with brutal force. The impact rang out like a hammer strike, and the enforcer crashed to the ground.
Mara's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. She'd never seen anyone move that way. It wasn't just speed, though he was fast, but he wasn't as supernaturally quick as some of the warriors from her old clan. There was simply an economy to each of his movements that made him feel faster than the man he was fighting. The violence was raw, immediate, and nothing like the posturing displays of strength she was used to seeing in the clan.
Mara jerked back as another enforcer burst through the gap, the woman's scarred face contorted with rage as she drew a wicked-looking blade. The enforcer charged, but Blake caught her wrist in a brutal grip and twisted. The knife clattered away as the woman's scream pierced the air. Blake shoved her hard, sending her careening into one of her companions. As they went down in a tangle of limbs, his boot lashed out with surgical precision, and something crunched in the woman's knee. Her shriek of agony made Mara's gut clench.
Blake flowed through the fight like oil on water, his movements precise and deliberate. When the first enforcer tried to rally, Blake rolled to the side, retrieved the woman's knife in one fluid motion, and buried it to the hilt between armor plates. With a savage twist, he snapped the blade off, leaving the steel buried in flesh. The enforcer collapsed onto one knee, clutching at the wound.
Mara flinched as the third enforcer recovered, launching into a flurry of strikes that seemed to blur in the dim light. Blake moved like a shadow, deflecting some blows with his forearms and using his shoulders to absorb others. A faint purple glow wreathed the enforcer's fist as he battered Blake's guard wide and drove a crushing blow into his ribs. The impact rang through the corridor. His grunt of pain made Mara's stomach twist.
Blake's pain only seemed to fuel his savagery. He snapped forward, driving his elbow into the enforcer's face with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across the deck plates. Even as the pugilist was stumbling backward, Blake spun, his boot catching the injured woman in the cheek as she struggled to rise.
Mara's hands trembled. The violence before her was unlike anything she'd witnessed in the clan fights. Those were displays of power, cultivators showing off their strength. This was different - raw and desperate, like watching a cornered animal tear into its attackers.
The first enforcer lurched to his feet, blood streaming from his side. He charged with a roar that made Mara's heart skip. Blake ducked beneath the wild swing, rising like a coiled spring. His uppercut lifted the enforcer clean off his feet. The man crashed to the deck and lay still. Blake looked between his fist and the downed man for a long moment. It was the longest she had seen him stay still.
The pugilist didn't miss the opportunity. Desperation blazed in his eyes as he lunged forward, his own baton now drawn and whistling through the air. Blake's body twisted and his hand shot out, catching the weapon mid-strike. Muscles corded in his arm as he wrenched it away, the motion so swift and decisive it spun the enforcer half-around.
The crack of metal against bone as Blake struck the man's temple made Mara's gorge rise. The enforcer dropped like a puppet with cut strings, leaving Blake standing amid the carnage, chest heaving.
The woman braced against the bulkhead, blood trickling from her split lip. Her eyes darted between Blake and the fallen bodies of her companions, wild with fear. Blake nodded at her, almost beckoning. The gesture made Mara's skin crawl.
With a desperate cry, the woman threw herself forward. Her attack was clumsy, driven by panic rather than skill. Blake caught her arm with practiced ease, twisting it behind her back in one fluid motion. The woman screamed as he forced her down, his knee pressing into her spine. His fist struck the base of her skull with brutal precision. She crashed to the floor, barely moving.
Mara watched as Blake reached for his side, drawing his strange weapon. It was smaller than the crude slug-throwers some of the clan warriors carried, with clean lines and a metallic sheen that spoke of careful maintenance. He held it with casual familiarity, his grip purposeful.
The confined space amplified the twin cracks that followed, the sound hitting Mara like physical blows. She clapped her hands over her ears, wincing at the assault on her senses. The noise bounced off the metal walls, leaving her ears ringing with a tone that seemed to drill straight into her skull.
There was no more movement from the woman. Just the pooling of her blood on the deck.
Blake moved to the first patrolman—the big one. Two more of those terrible shots rang out. Mara was certain he wouldn't ever move again, either.
Mara's breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps. Her legs felt weak as she watched Blake retrieve his knife from the floor and rise to his full height. Blood and sweat dripped from his face, staining the deck beneath his feet. His chest rose and fell with deep, measured breaths.
When his gaze found Mara, she instinctively shrank back. His eyes blazed with golden light, lit from within by a miniature storm of mana. That look made her throat go dry. Something in that gaze burned like a brand, forcing her to look away.
This wasn't right. She had seen cultivators fight before—displays of technique and supernatural ability. But this... this was something else entirely. Blake fought like no one she had ever seen. The revelation left her cold.
She had no idea what manner of being she had allied herself with.