The first thing I did when I woke was send a message to HexaGen management, telling them I’d be taking the position. A change would be good. Waking up to hunt a portal and earn enough essence for a few more days had become exhausting. I didn’t want to spend my life counting down hours and falling asleep to cyber dreams.

I was living no better than anyone else in the slums.

Ella Parker, a socialite from the Upper District, was now a low-level hunter in the Lower District who survived on essence drops. Was this how my father meant things to be?

A three-year contract wasn’t long, and I’d get off this rock and see the rest of the system. There’d be a bit of monster hunting, but I was already doing that for HexaGen, so I might as well bleed them as much as I can while they bleed me.

Still, traveling to a different world was scary. I had done it in the sims countless times. Other than discoveries and expeditions, I usually skipped the travel. What was the point in talking about nothing?

There wasn’t a magic button that let you skip time in space, though. A month of travel was a month of travel. I’d be stuck on a ship with a crew who had nothing better to do than share stories. An experienced crew that worked together for over a dozen cycles. It wouldn’t hurt if Hexa gave me a few details about them.

There wasn’t much point in worrying. I accepted the job, so I looked around the apartment and realized that my life could fit in a bag.

Outside a few sets of clothes and my hunters’ gear, I owned nothing. A pillow and a blanket, and maybe a few things like soaps, but that was all I needed to bring.

It only took thirty minutes to collect my things, and 10 minutes to pack them into a rucksack. Even the air cycle folded up enough to fit in a bag.

I grabbed a bowl of tasteless cereal and sat in the chair facing my artificial window. The Tiliri II sunrise. Would I miss it? What did the sunrise look like on different planets?

And what about the other stars? Hexa’s contract was three years, but it might be something that lasts longer. Or maybe I wouldn’t re-sign with Hexa and move to a new system.

The more I thought about it, the more I concluded it was a good move.

I loaded the directions to the office and left my room. Once I entered the lobby, a crowd was already on their way out the door. I said goodbye to (The Bot) and whisked outside.

The heavy rain from the night before left a chill lingering in the air and a sky that wasn’t normal. The typical smog was gone, and the perpetual dust that covered the crater had vanished, leaving a clear sky.

A sky that wasn’t all that common. I wasn’t the only person who stopped to look. The yellow-orange hue was mixed and almost looked green in some places. I had only seen it happen as a child.

They say the sky on Homeworld was blue. A G-type star with green grass and blue skies. That’s where they say we’re supposed to be. I couldn’t imagine the difference.

Perhaps I could find a place with a blue sky if I left Tiliri long enough. The nearest G-type was 12 light-years away. It wasn’t a trip most ships could make. 30 or more years on fleet-class ships.

But perhaps, someday, I might see a blue sky.

The train to the slums was colorful if I had to describe it. Half the people there were on the verge of overdosing. Dream catchers most likely. I hadn’t tried them, but they say it’s better than real life.

Take a dose of dream catchers and go to a cyber brothel and your actual body will orgasm thanks to the stimulation. For most people, the best part of their lives is getting high, having virtual sex, and ignoring the fact that everyone in the virtual world is wearing a skin.

Two middle-aged men skinned like models getting each other off while high on dream catchers was funny and depressing.

Mohawks and tattoos somehow became popular again. Or maybe they always were popular in the slums. One thing was for sure: water restrictions in the slums were worse than where I was.

I’d like to think that the grimy clothes and smudged dirt were stylistic choices, but the smell told me otherwise. I didn’t know why they made their way to the Lower District, but the classes rarely mingled outside of shady business.

After stepping off the train and admiring the local wall art, I did my best to block out the mix of odors. How people could sleep while lying on a building wall was beyond me. You’d think the rats would wake them.

Filthy creatures that somehow traveled with humans to almost every colony we formed. I once heard that humans were just meant to be with certain animals. Rats were one of them.

I weaved my way through the garbage piles that almost served as landmarks and avoided people the best I could. My talent for avoiding eye contact served me well in the slums.

Down a tight alleyway and past a burnt-out dumpster stood a man who easily towered over 2 meters. If it weren’t for the facial movements, I would have thought he was a bot.

“You Ella?”

A simple nod was enough for him.

“Get in. Doc is waiting in the back,” he grunted, then returned to his patrol.

The dingy room was a Doc Shop. Temporary room where underground mods took place. Even though they were black market operations, they weren’t cheap. They were more expensive.

People didn’t go to black market doctors because of the price; they went for privacy. The Union tracked everything from the food you ate to the color of your shit. The last bit of privacy came from the slums. Either The Union didn’t care about the slums or they kept records secretly without nobody knowing.

I was more inclined to believe the latter. I was certain that the Union didn’t care about the people here, but I couldn’t see them ignoring the trouble that could spill upward.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

From drugs, mods, weapons, and crime, the slums were where they came from. As long as it stayed here, The Union didn’t care. Coming out, though, was a problem. Nipping the problem in the bud was how The Union operated.

Still, we all hoped that there was a little privacy to be had here. I certainly did.

Doctor XXX, once a well-known doctor in the Upper District, lost his license for less than legal experiments. Without a license or support in the Upper District, he ended up in the slums, earning credits by performing the experiments they had banished him for.

Today was my turn.

Nothing could go wrong by carving patterns found on monsters into an evolutionary anomaly, such as a human with a core, right?

The ready-made office had tools scattered around and pads stacked on a counter. It certainly gave the “I’m a professional running a legitimate operation” feel.

The old man took out three vials with amber liquid in them and tossed a sheet of paper towards me. “Are you sure these are the three you want?”

Essence aura, essence projection, and essence attachment. They were exactly what I wanted. “Yeah. These three. Only taken aura and projection now.”

“Alright. Take off your top and sit there.”

I pulled off my hoodie and hopped onto a steel fold-up chair with straps. As confident as I was normally, once the straps around my arms went on, I started questioning my sanity.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I haven’t resorted to selling people. Not yet, at least.” The less-than-reputable doctor reassured me.

“You’re the first one looking to carve your core since I’ve been here.”

All of us were usually days or a month away from death. Only idiots would spend the credits to get abilities that would kill them faster. Cybernetics were cheaper, provided good results, and were 10 times safer. But everything had a trade-off.

Cybernetic arms were stronger and more durable than normal arms, but they couldn’t heal in seconds when you’re on a hunt. They didn’t grow either.

Every time your core grew, so did your body’s strength. After a while, your mods would no longer match your body. You’d need a new set.

But that wasn’t common. Who could afford the free essence to build up their core layers? Only the wealthiest.

The doctor shook the vials and dropped a worm in each. “Coring worm. I’ve chipped them with the patterns. Just lay back and enjoy.”

The doctor wasted no time and shot two vials into my left arm. The cocktail entered my arms like a river of blades and ripped everything it touched.

The worms squirmed in my arms, twisting the veins beneath and burrowing their way up. Although I tried to bear with it, I kicked my legs and couldn’t control myself.

My body locked, then my neck twisted. As my diaphragm constricted, the air in my lungs shot out and squealed through my clenched jaw.

I bit the sides of my tongue, creating a bloody foam that flowed down my cheek, and my legs and arms flailed violently.

When I woke up from the seizure, I was on the ground in a puddle of my piss and bloody foam. It had to have been close to an hour before I could stand. Even then, I must have fallen close to ten times before I made it to the counter.

The doctor left the other coring worm. Next to it was an injection of pink fluid with a white note that read, “Inject the recovery liquid at 8 and let it settle for two hours before using your core.”

Everything was gone, including the chair. I wanted to leave right away. I couldn’t afford to stay the night in the slums, but my body was too sore to make it back home. A trip back would be too dangerous.

After deciding to risk it once I was healed, I wasted time listening to the latest updates for useless products with a bit of news mixed in. When the timer went off, I stuck myself with the pink fluid and set up a projector image of my core.

The core looked angry. Almost as if someone had purposely damaged it. The sharp throbs in my body matched my core’s anger perfectly.

The pink fluid coated my essence channels and worked its way into the core. Slowly the pain disappeared, and the holes left behind by the now dead worms smoothed and closed.

My core siphoned free essence from my body, three days’ worth until my core had finally healed.

I spent another eight hours of essence to heal my body and thought over my options.

I needed to be at the Hexa Gen space dock by 7:30 a.m. If I stayed overnight, I wouldn’t be able to make it to my apartment in time to grab my stuff and head there. The last thing I needed was to miss my first flight.

There was only one choice: I had to leave. But a single person on the streets at night was asking for trouble. After thinking a bit, I decided.

I checked the remaining essence in my body and did something I had only done twice before. I activated my core and pulled the free essence in my body to it.

Like a drain, the core swallowed everything that went near it. When the alert went off, telling me I had used enough, I grit my teeth and focused everything on solidifying the essence.

After 30 minutes of stress, my fourth layer had finally formed, and like an engine upgrade, I could feel the strength in my body flowing.

Unable to hold my curiosity, I called up my status window.

Ella Parker:

22 Cycles

Lifespan Remaining:

9.3 Days

Free Essence:

0.145 mL

Core Layers:

4

Core Mass:

37.7 g -> 50.2 g

Mass to Next Layer:

12.5 g -> 14.9 g

Body Status:

Optimal

Injuries:

None

Illnesses:

None

Genetic Abnormalities:

None

Neurological Response:

83.6%

Essence Utilization Eff:

74.3% -> 79.4%

Attribute Multiplier:

1.56 -> 1.89 [Expand]

Core Abilities:

3

Injury Repair:

Variable

Max Aura:

0.02mL/min

Max Projection:

0.05mL/min

Unattributed Core Layers:

1

They were there. The shoddy old doctor hadn’t screwed me over. Just like repairing my body, each use cost essence, cost lifespan. They were well worth it, though.

I opened up my attribute panel and reviewed the upgrades

Attribute Multiplier:

1.56 -> 1.89 [Expand]

Strength:

(4.2) x M = 7.93

Agility:

(5.7) x M = 10.77

Dexterity:

(4.8) x M = 9.07

The multiplier increase from 1.56 to 1.89 wasn’t huge, but it was exactly what I needed. Using my base body measurements with the new multiplier made me as strong as most adult men with high-level cybernetic limbs.

Even though I didn’t have a huge amount left of free essence left, I couldn’t wait. Almost as if I had grown three new limbs, I pushed the free essence into the channel for Aura, and a layer coated my body.

I took a knife from my waist, took a breath, and stabbed it into my arm. Nothing.

“Ha.”

No blood, not even a scratch. If only I had this when I went on previous hunts.

Next, I took out my club and used essence projection to wrap around it. In time, I’d learn to shape my essence without a frame, but for now, it worked. Essence attachment would need to wait. I checked on my free essence losses, and they were minimal. Perfect.

With the new strength, core abilities, and skills I had from fighting, I was confident in leaving back to the Lower District. Once I packed everything, I activated the helmet collar and stepped into the alleyway.