Morning arrived swiftly. Ged rose from his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as sunlight spilled into his home. Glass tubes lined the ceilings, channeling bright morning rays from outside into the dim interior, bathing the shadowy corners in soft, golden light.
As he wandered through his modest home, his eyes fell on the entrance. The doorway, warped and sagging from the planet’s recent feeding, looked worse than ever. The edges had crumbled further, threatening complete collapse. A faint breeze slipped through the cracks, stirring dust into lazy spirals.
Ged furrowed his brow, muttering under his breath. “What a nuisance. I left the damn door wide open all night.”
He moved quickly, inspecting his home with sharp, deliberate motions. His first stop was the fridge. Pulling it open, he meticulously counted every piece of mass he had brought home the day before. Only after confirming everything was intact did he let out a relieved sigh.
“I can’t afford to be this careless,” he muttered, shaking his head. His gaze drifted back to the ruined doorway. “As much as I hate it, I’ll have to make a trip to the shops and buy more Eagle Paint to fix this mess.”
Descending to the workout area, Ged checked the stone transmitter for any messages from Trevor. The device remained silent. His frown deepened, frustration simmering just below the surface.
“Lazy bastard,” he muttered. “Trevor still owes me some mass. I was hoping to avoid dipping into my own supply, but…” He exhaled sharply, his irritation evident. “It is what it is. When he finally decides to stir, he’s going to get an earful.”
Not wanting to waste time, Ged moved to prepare for the day. He changed into a clean set of clothes and returned to the fridge, retrieving fifty kilograms of mass. The smooth, dense rocks felt reassuringly solid in his hands. He packed them carefully into his abdomen, ensuring it was filled to capacity.
Before leaving, Ged’s gaze lingered on the fishing rod, a trophy from the red-flannelled man. It stood propped neatly in the corner of his room. Deciding it wasn’t worth bringing along, he turned his focus to the day ahead.
The Elpida Strip awaited him. It was a bustling hub of merchants and shoppers, the same chaotic marketplace he had passed through on his way to the Abyssal Mouth. With his bunker door still in disrepair, Ged propped the warped metal against the entrance. It wasn’t much, but it might dissuade an opportunist from ransacking his home.
On Planet Blue Eagle, few people owned their homes. Instead, most rented dilapidated spaces, held together by the tenuous bond of Eagle Paint. The planet itself acted like a cruel slumlord, dictating tenancy and rent with impunity. Its inhabitants were trapped in an endless cycle of maintenance and compliance, their lives shaped by the whims of its demands.
After a brisk ten-kilometer journey, Ged arrived at the Elpida Strip. The cacophony of traders and bustling buyers greeted him. The market was teeming with life as it always was, its chaotic energy a stark contrast to the heavy silence of his bunker.
Ged scanned the bustling market with sharp attention, his focus unwavering as he searched for deals that might prove useful.
Mass came in various grades and categories, each suited to specific muscle groups. While any mass could be used to build muscle, specialized stones offered the most efficient conversion. Stones, however, were the lowest quality of mass, and higher-grade materials were often hard to come by.
Ged was no longer focusing on strengthening his forearms and now had a surplus of forearm stones. He intended to trade them for mass better suited to his priority muscles, particularly his lats and rhomboids.
As Ged moved through the throng of merchants, his gaze landed on a familiar figure. The man sat cross-legged on a threadbare carpet, surrounded by an assortment of dirty, recently unearthed goods. His once-mighty frame had withered, sagging muscles a testament to years of neglect. Bald, with a long handlebar mustache, his aged features carried the unmistakable look of a bodybuilder long past his prime.
“Gore?” Ged called his voice a mix of surprise and caution.
The man’s tired eyes lifted, meeting Ged’s. Recognition flickered in his gaze, but it was shadowed by something heavier, a quiet weariness etched into his face.
They had not seen each other in a year. Once close, their reunion now carried an unspoken tension that lingered in the air.
Gore had been more than an acquaintance; he was a mentor, the one who had introduced Ged to the underground bodybuilding world. In a landscape where most were content with mediocrity, Gore had dared to dream of more. Like Ged, he had never fully joined the Golden Suns, preferring to work on the fringes of the organization, taking odd jobs and charting his own path.
His ambition had inspired Ged and shaped his journey. But then, without warning, Gore had vanished. His absence left a void that Ged had been forced to fill, stepping into a position of authority at just 17 years old. Rumors about Gore’s fate spread like wildfire. Some claimed he was dead; others whispered of imprisonment in the underground.
Seeing Gore now, diminished and broken, left Ged grappling with a storm of emotions. Admiration clashed with disappointment, and beneath it all, a faint flicker of pity lingered. Gore was someone Ged had rooted for, a man he had genuinely wanted to succeed. Seeing him reduced to this was like a bucket of cold water.
“What happened to you?” Ged asked quietly. There had been a time when he held great respect for the man in front of him. Gore, once a gargantuan figure with arms like ripe fruit, now looked as if his muscles had dried into shriveled husks after a year of neglect.
“Nothing much,” Gore replied, brushing off the question with feigned confidence. “I decided to stop working for those cowardly Golden Suns. It felt like the right time to try something different with my life.”
He smiled slightly and added, “What about you? You seem to be flourishing in my absence. Shouldn’t you be thanking me for leaving when I did?”
Gore, once a towering mountain in Ged’s life, now seemed like little more than an anthill. Hearing him speak as if nothing had changed, as though their old relationship was untouched, brought a wave of melancholic amusement to Ged. He chuckled dryly.
“I thought you were dead,” Ged said, his tone heavy. “But now you’re telling me you’ve just been hiding away all this time, and you didn’t even reach out? I find that hard to believe.”
Gore smirked. “It’s the truth. Those Equalizer bastards came to my door and forcefully downsized my physique until I barely had any muscle left. I couldn’t bear the thought of starting over. I’m too old to make big breakthroughs anymore. My path as an underground bodybuilder is over. Rather than rebuild myself, I decided to live a new life.” His gaze was steady, filled with a quiet but resolute acceptance.
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Ged frowned, his voice heavy with frustration. “The Gore I knew wouldn’t give up so easily. You told me you’d stop at nothing to ascend to the sky as a Celestial. You claimed to be a student of Celestial Plunk, willing to sacrifice anything to reach your goals. And now, you’re telling me you’ve thrown it all away after one minor setback?” His words were sharp, biting.
“Everyone knows rebuilding your physique is easier than starting from scratch. Did you even try?” Ged’s voice rose, tinged with anger and disbelief.
Gore’s expression darkened, his brows drawing together as he crossed his arms. “You don’t understand anything,” he said, his voice low but firm. “When Plunk ascended to the stars, he didn’t just leave this planet behind.”
He leaned forward, his voice bursting with fury. “He tore it apart! When he left, he took trillions of kilograms of mass with him, destabilizing the economy and breaking the delicate flow of mass that sustains this world. Prices skyrocketed, famine swept the land, and millions died. Planet Blue Eagle clamped down hard, raising rents and tightening control while the rest of us were left to suffer.”
He paused, his voice trembling with bitterness. “I was naïve to think Plunk was a beacon of hope. His actions shook the ones pulling the strings, and now they’ve made damn sure no one like him will ever rise again.”
Ged’s frown deepened, but his tone grew cold. “If Plunk’s path is closed, then we carve a new one. Since when did you care about the economy or the suffering of others, Gore?”
Gore’s eyes flashed with anger, his voice rough and strained. “Ged, do you really think the underground is a safe haven? That you can grow your physique unchecked just because you’re not playing by their rules?”
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “You’ve lost the plot entirely. They’re already onto you. They control the Blue Crystal Mines, Blue Water, and every gang on this planet. You think you’re beyond their reach? Their grip runs deeper than you could ever imagine.”
Gore’s tone softened, growing pained and weary. “I didn’t give up because I was weak. I gave up because I realized too late that my efforts were meaningless. Everything I believed in was a lie,” he said, his eyes gleaming with a cold, distant light. “A cruel illusion of freedom, as if someone like me ever had a chance to ascend.”
He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and empty. “But enough of that. It’s good to see you again, Ged.” His voice wavered, and he shifted his gaze, as if trying to hide the weight of his words.
Ged’s frown deepened, but he found no words to refute Gore’s claims. He was too young, too new to the weight of the world that had crushed his mentor. Unlike Gore, Ged had only begun to feel its oppressive force. His gaze shimmered with denial, but no argument came to his lips.
“I’ll find out for myself,” he said finally, his voice steady but uncertain. He didn’t want to believe Gore’s words, but he couldn’t shake the sense of truth lurking within them.
Shifting his focus, Ged’s eyes scanned the scattered items laid out before Gore. “What’s this you’re selling?” he asked, picking up a muddy stone and turning it over in his hand.
“Scraps from an abandoned house I raided nearby,” Gore replied. “I’ve been scavenging. After laying low and doing odd jobs, I figured out a method for detecting fading Eagle Paint in collapsed homes. I break in, dredge up whatever hasn’t been absorbed by the earth yet, and sell it off. Not glamorous, but it keeps me afloat.”
He gestured toward the stone in Ged’s hand. “That’s part of a delt stone. You’ve got three there. I’d trade all of them for two stones of mass.”
Ged considered the stone for a moment before looking up. “Would you like some work? I need a trustworthy bodybuilder, and it seems like our interests might align.”
“I’m not going back to the underground,” Gore said firmly, shaking his head. “I’ve no desire to return to that madness.”
Ged reached into his abdomen and pulled out a clay tablet along with two forearm stones, handing them to Gore.
Gore pocketed the stones and glanced over the tablet. “What’s this?” he asked, skepticism lacing his tone.
Retrieving the three fractional delt stones, Ged replied, “A workout routine for building guns. No ties to the underground, no Blue Water required. Follow the tablet’s instructions, and you’ll get paid. It’s a personal request coming from me.” He offered a faint smile, attempting reassurance.
Gore’s frown deepened as he read the tablet. “You want me to build guns? Ged…” His voice lowered, sharp with suspicion. “This reeks of Golden Suns business. Are you messing with me?”
Ged’s gaze hardened. “They asked me to do it, but I refused. I have my own plans for my biceps. You said you needed work, and I’m offering you some. I’m not a Golden Suns member, and without a bodybuilding license, what better options do you have? At least I’m not Resh asking for this favor.”
Gore sighed heavily, the weight of his words settling between them. “I see how it is.”
He glanced around the busy streets, his eyes scanning for eavesdroppers. Satisfied they weren’t being overheard, he leaned in closer. “I’m looking for someone trustworthy too. If I build your guns, you’ll have to promise to help me when I call for you.”
Reaching into his abdomen, Gore retrieved a stone transmitter. With a swift motion, he smashed his fist into the stone ground, breaking off a small rock. He recorded the frequency of his transmitter into the fragment and handed it to Ged.
“Store this in your personal transmitter,” Gore said softly. “When I contact you, I want to limit who can view my message.”
Ged nodded, taking the stone and storing it in his abdomen. In return, he produced five bicep stones and handed them to Gore.
“This is all I have for now,” Ged said. “I’ll get more later. In total, I need ten guns made. As for your request, as long as it’s reasonable, I’ll do my best to help an old friend.” His tone was sincere.
Gore’s expression hardened. “Don’t pull one over on me, Ged. I don’t have ties to the underground anymore, and if things go bad, I won’t hesitate to report you to the Equalizers. Understand?”
Ged shrugged off the warning, satisfied that the exchange had gone well. He bid Gore goodbye and turned to finish his errand.
Navigating the rest of the bustling market, Ged soon arrived at the Apricot Warehouse, an obsidian spire standing starkly among the surrounding stone structures. Its automatic sliding doors and a flashy sign that read “Apricot Warehouse” drew the attention of passersby.
Inside, the store buzzed with activity. Shoppers browsed the aisles, eager to spend their mass on goods displayed by the Apricot Warehouse’s top bodybuilders. A cool breeze greeted Ged as he stepped inside, the temperature-controlled air brushing against his skin.
The aisles were filled with appliances, gadgets, snacks, and various higher-quality mass types for trade. Ged ignored the temptations, his purposeful strides taking him straight to the back of the store where Eagle Paint was sold.
A line of people snaked toward the counter, each waiting to purchase the vital paint. Ged joined the queue, his patience wearing thin as the minutes dragged on. When he finally reached the teller, his frown deepened at the price. A thumbful of Eagle Paint cost a painful 35 kilograms of mass.
Sighing, Ged reached into his abdomen and handed over the payment. The transaction left his total reserves at just ten kilograms, a dangerously low amount. The teller passed him a pitiful plastic baggie of blue Eagle Paint, its meager contents barely justifying the steep cost. Ged slipped it into his abdomen, his jaw tight with frustration.
As he exited the store, a prickling sensation ran down his spine. Someone was watching him. A browsing shopper had begun trailing him, their movements too deliberate to be coincidental.
Ged quickened his pace as he left the Apricot Warehouse and made his way toward home, his thoughts racing. The follower stayed close, matching his stride with unsettling precision.
When Ged crossed the city’s boundaries, he stopped abruptly. Turning on his heel, he faced the pursuer, his eyes narrowing into a glare. The man didn’t flinch, standing calmly under Ged’s scrutiny, making no effort to hide his intentions.
The stillness between them was heavy. Ged’s voice cut through it, cold and commanding.
“Barry. Why are you following me?”