The wounds left by Neo Opus were still weeping when the frontiers of Argona exhaled an alien, blue light. It was five years after the Storm that a Siso Corp expedition crew cracked open a geode the size of a cathedral.
Inside was a luminous crystalline substance: Venerum.
What they first mistook for a rare mineral was soon revealed to be something far more potent. Venerum was a natural conduit for Mana, a primordial magical essence long thought to be a myth.
The breakthrough enabled a state of constant metamorphosis, blurring the line between the digital and the divine. With neural links hardwired to intent, the infrastructure transcended its mechanical origins, evolving into a reactive, bio-synthetic nervous system.
Identifying a definitive market monopoly, Siso Corp's engineers treated the crystals as a fundamental breakthrough in energy density, aggressively retrofitting Argona's crumbling infrastructure to accommodate the new catalyst.
It changed things.
The result was a leap in processing power, the deployment of artificial intelligence, and the adaptation of magic into the environment.
Within a decade, the entire urban system became mana dependent. From the estates of Balun to the rungs of the Underdistrict, every light ran on Venerum, and Karver Sisori became the man holding the switch to the city's life support.
The origins of Venerum remain a total enigma. It was found at the frontier, sure, but its trail ends there. There is no record of its existence prior to that excavation.
Securing the raw crystals is no small feat as extraction was a restricted operation requiring the Primarch's official seal. Yet, the effort is justified by the refinement process. When forged into Venerite, the substance becomes exponentially more potent.
To put its power into perspective: a bullet made from Venerite can vaporize a target into smithereens, while a mere fragment contains enough raw energy to sustain fifty city blocks for a month.
Naturally, such power would breed obsession, questions, a willingness to kill for a peek at this amazing stuff.
But even crazier was that Broco, of all people, somehow managed to score not just one but five of these bad boys! The sheer audacity of it sent shockwaves through Ratelsi.
She kept her face blank, but behind her eyes, the gears were grinding toward a total stall. The only thing that gave away her frantic mental state was her wide-eyed stare at the shimmering shards before her.
"Oh fuck…. these are Venerites," she murmured.
Altown was the last place on earth you'd expect to find a haul like this. Sure, you could get lucky and snag a piece or two in The Basin if you knew the right people, but five from the same Monger was unheard of. It felt less like a score and more like a setup.
Her mind raced through the logistics.
The checkpoints were supposed to be airtight with patrolling LuBots and Paladins. For Broco to have these, he either found a loophole or he was fronting for a client who didn't care about the Codex Argonis.
To recklessly break the secular laws governing the city was a suicide mission.
Did he really think they could just waltz into the black market with a haul this hot? Like they were just delivering groceries?
That sleazy bastard! What was he thinking, trying to set them up like this?
Tension clotted the air until it was thick enough to swallow. Ratelsi felt the burn of a flush creep up her face—partly from the sudden spike of adrenaline, partly from pure, unadulterated annoyance. She narrowed her malachite gaze into a hateful glare.
"These fucking things are gonna get us killed," she muttered under her breath.
Turning to Timoth, who looked equally captivated and uncertain about the dubious treasure, she noticed his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder. It reflected the crystal's glow, almost like they were soaking it all in. But underneath that awe was a nervous tic twitching at the corners of his lips.
Timoth gulped hard, his Adam's apple bobbing noticeably. There was an undeniable impulse within him, overriding his resistance to touch the jagged pieces.
He reached for a stone, but before his fingers could close around it, a hand clamped onto his forearm. Timoth winced, almost taken aback by how powerful Ratelsi's grip was.
Her nails bit deep into his flesh, reminding him of how physically strong she was.
He looked up to find her green eyes narrowed in warning, meeting his own frantic blue gaze as the stones throbbed a cold, rhythmic light between them.
Ratelsi sarcastically went on, "Oh sure, go ahead and poke the highly suspicious object. What could possibly go wrong besides some screwed up shit? Try using your head for once, idiot. We're flying blind here."
She eased her grip, brushing his sleeve as she let him go.
Fortunately, her words seemed to snap Timoth out of his impulsive daze. A slow exhale helped him breathe. Despite her sarcasm, the eyes facing him were so full of concern that he dropped his hands to his sides and shut the capsule with an irritated flick of his wrist.
"Birdie, I suddenly don't wanna be part of whatever mess this is turning into," he said.
She tutted, "Yeah, no kidding. There's only so much shady bullshit I can stand before I can't take it anymore. Let's just bail on this shit and pretend we never saw it. I'm telling you, the danger here is clear as day."
Timoth nodded, but the tension inside him didn't budge. He fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve. Perspiration beaded on his forehead. Avoiding eye contact, he stared instead at the grimy floor, hoping to divert his thoughts.
When Ratelsi called out his name, Timoth flinched, barely able to mask his anxiety.
The crease between her brows deepened. It was clear to her he was having doubts, that he was weighing the risks against the potential benefits of their situation. The way he bit his cheeks was a clear indicator of that.
With crossed arms, Ratelsi decided to wait patiently for him to speak up. It was important for him to express his worries. After all, their safety, and perhaps their lives, depended on every decision they made from here on out.
"Broco said he'd pay us double, man," Timoth said, tightening his fists with every word he spat out.
Of course, she knew he'd start with that.
"We need those fuckin' Aures if we're gonna eat anythin' that isn't straight out of a tin." His pleading look silently asked her to back him up in their battle against their fucked up reality.
"Once we get the payout, we can finally wipe our asses with this dude and stay off his radar for good. Just…trust me on this, okay?"
Honestly, how could she even resist such a sweet deal, especially after living off cold, bland oats for weeks?
The thought of yet another mushy can of glob annoyed her to no end, making Ratelsi's face sour at the realisation that, as much as she hated to admit it, he was right.
But then, Timoth dropped his voice to a near whisper. "You know I'd do anything to keep us safe, Ratel. Especially you."
He said this, still staring at the ground like it had the answers to why he'd said that out loud.
Ratelsi raised her eyebrows in silent question.
He seemed to be expecting some sort of answer, but the moment passed quickly. Yet, her eyes softened... even though on anyone else, they would still look severe.
Defiant. Untamed. With who knows what brewing behind those slits.
She quivered from her flushed lips, not knowing how to respond, then abruptly kicked a trash bin with the tip of her boot.
It wobbled, creaking pathetically.
Naturally, Timoth meant what he said; they had built a delicate bond of trust and support, managing to survive in Argona while looking out for each other.
After graduation, Kakkis became a memory Timoth chose to bury, and for Ratelsi, "home" was a concept she'd owned and lost, so she simply followed him.
Together, they found space in a local shelter, surviving on scraps and runner wages. Their existence was "pathetic" by the world's standards, but it was theirs, and that was enough.
Until now.
That sense of security vanished the moment she felt the sudden terror of captivity loom over her. The threat of torture was secondary to the fear of being alone.
It was a wake-up call she couldn't ignore, jolting her back to reality, forcing her to rethink everything.
They weren't really criminals; just kids trying to make sense of their lives. Okay, maybe kids was a stretch since they were both twenty-two. They were technically adults living in a cramped apartment that felt less like home and more like a cardboard box.
There wasn't even enough room to stretch out comfortably on their torn, lumpy mattresses. The walls were so thin they could hear every argument next door, the clink of spoons from the neighbours' kitchen, the moans from the apartment above.
Every night, there was this Nigerian couple who liked to do target shooting at their empty bottles of beer in the evening.
How stupid would she be to ignore the small chance for something better? No matter how slim, it was still better than what they usually faced day in and day out. Even if Broco was full of shit.
What's life without a little risk anyway?
For the allure of curiosity and adventure, Ratelsi decided to bite back her scepticism. Let them chase this fleeting illusion of luck that was better than sulking in fear of getting caught.
Suddenly, a soft laugh escaped her lips. "Alright, alright, chill," she replied, trying to keep the mood light.
"Fine. If we act like it never happened, then we're like all good, right? No one's the wiser, no one gets burned. What you don't know won't hurt you, or something like that."
She shrugged, hoping that would ease the tension.
It did.
At her words, Timoth visibly relaxed. A wave of relief washed over him, breaking into a big, bright smile.
"Sounds good to me," he said.
In that moment, they were kindred spirits navigating the murky waters of a not-so-fun ordeal, and that felt oddly more comforting than it should've.
Timoth took his time carefully wrapping the box, making sure it was secure for the ride ahead. He wasn't about to risk any surprises during their mission. After tucking the capsule along with the other contraband into the hoverbike's compartment, he pulled out some tape and sealed it shut.
The spell "Granum Abluere" left his lips in a hushed command that stirred up the dusty air around them.
The loose sand at their feet swirled into a little dirt tornado.
Timoth's fingers thrummed with magic as the sand obeyed, eager to devour the grime stuck to the cold steel. Bursts of sand shot out at a stubborn patch of grease on the hoverbike's thrusters, then wound their way around the frame and handlebars.
Enchanted grains scoured away years of neglect without a scratch on the vehicle. The strong smell of ozone in the air was the only sign that the spell was working.
The sandy grains floated away to reveal a bike with not a single speck of grime left to mar its shiny surface. Timoth lowered his hand, feeling pretty good about himself.
"Not bad for a quick clean-up," he said as he swung his leg over the hoverbike and grabbed the handlebars. He nodded for Ratelsi to hop on, but the bulky package took up almost all the seat space.
So, they decided it would be easier for her to meet him at the entry point in about an hour.
The plan was solid: finish the delivery, treat themselves to a nice dinner and stroll home afterwards. All in all, it was shaping up to be an adventurous evening. Before parting ways, the Peculiars did their special handshake.
Tap, slide, snap, twist, tap again, and slide - it was a quick little finger dance. Timoth revved the engine once, then again. The ground beneath the Strider trembled in response to the superheated air.
Then, with a burst of energy, he sped off the curb. Ratelsi took the cue, wings spread wide, ready to leap into the sky.
Whoosh!
She shot up into the air, kicking up a cloud of dust and leaving a small crater on the ground. With an uncertain delivery ahead, all they could do was hope they were ready for whatever came their way.
********
Not quite ready to part with the comfy afternoon, hues of pink and tangerine splashed across the sky, gradually deepening into darker shades as the sun sank lower.
The usual breeze was soft and calming.
In the long, narrow alley, chrome gleamed on slitted pupils, intensifying the charm in their phosphorescent gaze as Ratelsi leaned back against a wall lit by backlights and LED strips.
A rebellious strand of white in her dark hair slipped from behind her ear to mischievously brush against her shoulder. She raked her fingers through her mussed waves.
Surrounding her, the brick walls came alive with graffiti in an explosion of colours and designs. There were huge, grinning smiley faces and chaotic tags with bold letters and cartoonish eyes.
Orange swirls playfully danced with vibrancy. It was clear that the artists had let their inner kids go wild, expressing their creativity on the brick canvas.
A feather levitated, spinning lazily above Ratelsi's hand.
It flickered, split. Two now drifted between her fingers. Lost in thought, she examined the barbs with an impassive gaze.
The air reeked of piss and dampness, gossiping with the city's constant buzz.
Muffled footsteps scraped against the concrete, backlit by glaring billboards advertising Siso Corp's latest LuBot upgrade. The streetlights flickered desperately to stay awake.
But all of that faded into a blur as Ratelsi couldn't shake the nagging thoughts about the engraving on the capsule.
E.X.O.N. echoed relentlessly in her mind.
What could it mean? And, most intriguingly, what connected it to the Luminites? Oddly enough, those four letters seemed to lure her interest even more than the crystals themselves.
Soon enough, she found herself wrestling with a strange urge to uncover the source of this newfound fascination. Biting her lower lip, she shook her head. There wasn't much to be done right now.
Just then, a low thrum of something zooming in interrupted Ratelsi's musings.
Disturbed by the breeze it kicked up, candy wrappers and cans tumbled all over the ground, chasing each other across the pavement. She looked up to see Timoth bring the Strider to a smooth stop.
With a casual flick of Ratelsi's wrist, the feathers frayed and vanished. Watching them go, the emerald light in her eyes went dark.
Timoth hopped off the Strider with his casual swagger and walked over, holding three bags stuffed with contraband. A delightful grin spread across Ratelsi's face.
"Well, look at you…"
Her smoky drawl seemed to cling to the damp brick walls of the alley. She leaned back against a rusted fire escape, the neon signs from the main thoroughfare painting her silhouette in flickering magenta.
"You actually thought ahead. Such foresight! My weary limbs are practically singing your praises."
Timoth let out a low chuckle, shifting his weight. He was close—close enough to catch the faint scent of cheap perfume clinging to her neck. "Hey, I'm just a humble man on a noble mission," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he playfully winked. "I have to ensure the lady doesn't collapse from exhaustion before the sun finishes its retreat."
He stepped a fraction closer, invading her personal space just enough to be bold, but not enough to be a nuisance. He knew she was looking; he could feel her appreciative gaze tracing the line of his shoulders.
"Because if you do go down," he continued, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I'll be forced—once again—to hoist you into my arms like some tragic heroine and parade you through the streets. And we both know how much you hate bein' the center of attention."
She didn't look up immediately, but the corner of her mouth quirked into a knowing smirk. Her fingers danced across her HoloSmart, the blue light of the projection illuminating her face in ghostly pale strokes as she filtered through the icons.
"Tragic heroine?" she murmured, finally picking a wireframe cube. The 3D isometric icon made of glowing neon lines collapsed into her wristband with a soft shhhht.
She looked Timoth dead in the eye.
"Keep talking like that and I might just faint right here to see if your back is as strong as your ego."
"Try me."
"Pssh. Fuck off."
They laughed.
The device lit up again, casting a wireframed beam around them. Ratelsi aimed it at a huge smiley face painted on the wall. The scanner pinged as it swept up and down, then zeroed in on a single brick that was slightly recessed compared to the rest.
She tapped the identified brick.
A distinct hollow sound followed, and she easily pried out the brick to reveal a metal sheet behind it. Timoth's pupils dilated with excitement; everything was happening as it should.
Fingers splayed, Ratelsi's nails elongated into sharp talons. She tore the metal sheet open in one quick slash, sending it clattering to the ground. There was an electric keypad lock with dimly glowing buttons.
"Passcode?" she asked Timoth, who quickly checked his HoloSmart.
A series of encrypted numbers projected above his wrist, eventually coming together into a clear sequence.
"Six-nine-zero-three-seven," he replied.
One by one, Ratelsi punched in the code.
Beep.
The walls shuddered, sliding sideways with a mechanical sigh to reveal an underground passage bathed in ultraviolet light. A gust of cool air whooshed out the doorway, bringing with it the scent of damp soil.
What lay beyond was a narrow staircase flanked by vividly decorated walls. The backlight enhanced the psychedelic vibe of the fluorescent graffiti.
Each step of the stairs was adorned with neon phrases in Latin.
Ratelsi and Timoth exchanged a look. "You all set?" he asked.
"Yep. Let's get this shit over with," she grabbed the smallest of the bags with the capsule inside, while he slung the other two bags over his shoulder, geared up and ready.
The woman strutted into the hidden passage with her best friend right on her heels. The door hissed shut, locking them in.
Moisture clung stubbornly to the cracked concrete walls.
Drip….drip…drip.
Water leaked from broken pipes, plopping against the grimy floor, gathering murky puddles in the corners. Old spray cans were scattered around, some rusting away from the moisture that had seeped in over time.
Ratelsi tore her gaze away from the weeping stone walls. The passage smelled of stagnant copper and the kind of humidity that clung to your lungs when you breathe.
Beside her, Timoth walked with his eyes fixed on the dark throat of the tunnel, lost in the sort of heavy silence that usually preceded a disaster.
She broke the tension with a sharp nudge of her shoulder against his.
"Snap out of it," she murmured, her voice echoing too far for her liking. "Broco says this is the back door. Or one of them, anyway. But 'entry point' is a generous term for a hole that looks like it leads to a meat grinder."
She tightened the strap on her belt, adjusting its size around her small waist. "Knowing our luck, a Monger's 'shortcut' is usually a one-way ticket to a fucking trap."
Timoth finally looked at her, the corner of his mouth twitching as he suppressed a grin.
"Ever the optimist, Rat," he joked.
"But it's flagged as low-risk. Green light security, minimal time spent on foot. Broco's an idiot about a lot of things, but his knowledge about the passageways under this city is better than anyone I've met."
He jumped over a puddle. "Besides, if we're going to slip in, grab our pay, and ghost out before Broco whips out another contract, this is the safest needle we can thread."
Ratelsi took a whiff, filling her lungs with the acrid sting of old paint fumes. It thickened with the smell of rats scuttling around a worn-out shoe, eagerly licking up a sticky substance smeared on its tattered leather.
"Safest, huh?" Ratelsi murmured, casting a wary glance toward the silhouette of another stairwell at the next turn. "I take it the Palashits don't even know this route exists?"
Haha, Palashits. This joker.
Timoth offered a lopsided grin. "Eh, not really. They're creatures of habit, Rat. They stick to patrollin' the main streets where the sensors are most sensitive, and they've got LuBots roundin' every corner. This alley?"
He swept an arm over the grimy space. "It dodges their perimeter entirely. We're ghosts down here. No scans, no pings, no problems."
That logic made sense.
Ratelsi exhaled an anxious breath she didn't know she was holding, finally seeing the method in Broco's madness. "Cool. Definitely lowers our chances of getting pinched."
"Exactly," Timoth said. "And let me tell ya, I have zero interest in spendin' the night, or the next decade, in Turris. That place isn't exactly my idea of a five-star stay."
Ratelsi let out a sharp, cynical snort. "With what we're loaded with? If we get caught, a cell in the tower would be a mercy. They wouldn't even bother with rehab. They'd just scrub us off the grid. Permanently."
Timoth shrugged, "You don't know that. They might be bothered enough to put us on trial. We're entitled to that, yunno?"
Ratelsi's indignant retort died in her throat, replaced by a deep gurgle vibrating through her ribs. The sound was a traitorous wet groan slicing through the silence of the tunnel.
Blushing a furious shade of crimson, she slapped a hand over her stomach and cursed. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying to Liyuen that the acoustics of the cavern were less efficient than they seemed.
But in the damp, echoey stillness, her stomach had sounded like an engine stall.
Timoth didn't say a word. He simply arched a judgmental eyebrow.
"I should have eaten that nutrient bar when i crossed the ridge," Ratelsi muttered to her boots, her voice small and defeated. "Stupid, chalky, sawdust-flavoured waste of space..."
"Is that what your stomach is protestin'? The lack of sawdust?" Timoth finally asked, trying his hardest not to betray the amusement in his voice. "Cheer up. We might actually have a shot at a decent meal before bed. Dream big, Rat."
The embarrassment evaporated instantly, replaced by a predatory gleam in her eyes.
"The Aures!" she hissed, suddenly energetic. "I almost forgot we actually have the buying power to be picky!"
Rubbing her palms together, she licked her lips. "Honestly? Anything that doesn't have the texture of wet cardboard sounds like heaven right now."
Then she wiggled her fingers, letting them trail upward like wisps of smoke. "I want something that's actually been near a flame. Something hot, something seasoned, and something I don't have to spend twenty minutes bartering for."
Groaning, she let her hands fall. "Ugh. If I keep talking about it, I'm actually gonna start drooling."
The air was thick with the scent of ozone and stagnant water, but Timoth's focus remained anchored to the woman at his side. He watched Ratelsi with a fond smile softening the boyish features of his face.
Even with the weight of their situation pressing down on them, she moved with a feline, unbothered grace. Beautiful as it is, to Timoth who knew her better than he knew himself, she was more of a coiled spring held in check only by her own willpower.
Boots squelching in mire was the only sound in the narrow corridor as they made a turn toward another stairwell lit up by fluorescent lights. Eventually, they reached the top step, where a big steel door stood covered in a plethora of warnings. Ominous messages yelled at them in bleeding red:
"Rule #1: Never let them catch you."
"Si te tutum esse putas, non satis diu hic fuisti."
"Go ahead, paint over this. If you dare,"
Ratelsi rolled her eyes, looking around with an apprehensive frown.
She wasn't unsettled by the ridiculous signs; she simply disliked being underground. It felt too tight and made her skin crawl; unlike the open sky, where she was free to take off whenever she wanted.
Down here, the claustrophobia was hard to shake.
Timoth faced the electronic lock on the steel door and entered a code. The device's screen lit up with "Access granted," and the door swung open. The Peculiars were assaulted with a wave of noise and bright light as they stepped into the lively marketplace of The Basin.