The sigil on the building's side was now even clearer as Quinn crept closer. The emblem shimmered faintly under the fractured light of the moon.
He'd made it this far without drawing the attention of the beasts that roamed nearby—a miracle, considering how the air reeked of death and old metal. Before him stood the main gate, guarded not by men but by silence and time.
Quinn wiped the sweat off his brow and exhaled softly. "Let's hope luck's on my side for once."
He crouched before the passcode device and punched in a few random numbers. Beep.
Red light.
Beep. Again.
Every wrong attempt echoed sharply in the emptiness, each rejection testing his patience.
Out of frustration, he decided to use his Inspect skill on the device.
[A passcode machine linked to a reinforced steel door. Entering the correct combination will successfully open it.]
He leaned his head back with a sigh. "No shit, genius. I could figure that out myself."
Quinn encircled the perimeter instead, keeping low and careful. The moonlight struggled to pierce through the clouds, barely illuminating the ruined landscape.
Behind the building, something caught his eye—a pile of bones. On closer inspection, it was the remains of a Rattaclaw, its flesh long gone, its skeleton gnawed clean. That alone was a bad sign.
But then, he saw it—a small hole near the corner of the wall, just big enough for a man to crawl through.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Bingo."
Dropping to his stomach, Quinn crawled closer. The dirt was cold beneath him, and the stench of rust and decay grew stronger as he neared the hole. He hesitated for a moment, his instincts screaming don't do it.
Inside that hanger could be anything—hundreds of beasts, or worse, something stronger than the Rattaclaw.
Still, the lure of what could be inside was too strong. A beast weapon? Maybe a relic? Anything that could tilt the odds in his favor.
He crawled forward and peeked through. The interior was dark, yet the luminance of the moon bathed through the reinforced windows at the top, painting everything in soft shades of gray.
Silence. Not even a breath of wind.
He scanned the area as much as his vision could go. The place looked deserted, or else he would have been attacked right away , though that meant nothing. Monsters had a habit of being patient. Still, after a few tense minutes, he saw no movement.
"Alright," he whispered. "Let's risk it."
He pulled himself through the hole and rose to his feet, brushing off the dirt. His eyes adjusted quickly—and disappointment hit him almost instantly.
The hanger was a graveyard.
Scrap metal lay scattered across the floor like the aftermath of a war. Shattered crates, twisted steel, burned-out engines—everything screamed ruin. No airships, no mechs, no weapons. Just forgotten debris and the faint echo of what once was.
Quinn's jaw tightened. "Damn it… nothing useful."
But he wasn't about to give up. The hanger was massive, and he could feel something about it—something that didn't fit the emptiness. He started to move slowly between the wreckage, his boots crunching on loose bolts.
Eventually, he spotted something at the far corner—a large rectangular structure built into the hanger wall. Unlike the rest of the ruin, this one seemed intact. From the outside, it looked more like a giant container, its surface reinforced with dull steel plates.
He approached cautiously. A heavy door greeted him—military-grade, fitted with another passcode lock.
"Of course," he muttered. "Another one."
He examined it closer. The mechanism was far more advanced than the one at the entrance. The metal frame had resisted corrosion, and the keypad still glowed faintly. Even a strong ability user would struggle to breach something this solid.
That alone told him one thing: whatever's inside was important enough to protect.
He ran his hand along the cold steel. "If I can get this open… maybe it'll finally be worth something."
He thought briefly about using his Hammer Strike ability—but before he could act, a faint sound reached his ears.
Squeak.
His body tensed immediately. The sound came from deeper inside the hanger.
He pressed himself against the wall and peeked around the corner.
His breath caught.
Three creatures stood in the center of the hanger.
Their upper bodies resembled humans—muscular, twisted, and grotesque—but from the waist down, they were scorpions, their tails coiled and glistening with venom. Each had two massive pincers sprouting from their human torsos, and their movements were disturbingly synchronized.
"Inspect," Quinn whispered under his breath.
[Scordana]
[Intermediate-level Beast]
The largest of the three—the matriarch, perhaps—was feeding on the remains of a Rattaclaw, tearing flesh and bone with unsettling precision. The two smaller ones clustered beside it, devouring what was left.
Near them, half-buried in dust, lay an oval-shaped mass—translucent, pulsing faintly.
He used Inspect again.
[Scordana Eggs]
[Intermediate-level Beast]
Before he could even process it, another message blinked before his eyes.
[Your Inspect skill has leveled up. More detailed information will now be available.]
Quinn's pulse quickened. "Nice," he murmured—but when he tried using it again, the skill displayed the same information. No extra details. He scowled. "Figures."
He took a slow step back. Three intermediate beasts… was not at all ideal.
His fingers twitched around the hilt of his weapon. Part of him wanted to test his strength—to see how far he'd come. But logic whispered otherwise. He could maybe take one… not three all at once.
Then, a sharp metallic scraping cut through the silence.
Quinn froze.
He turned toward the source—and his blood ran cold.
From the hole he'd crawled through earlier, a Rattaclaw was trying to squeeze its way in, its claws scraping against the steel edge.
"You damned rat…" he hissed under his breath.
The noise, however, was enough.
The Scordanas jerked their heads toward the sound. A low chittering rumble filled the air as they scuttled toward the intrusion.
No. No no no—
In seconds, the hanger erupted into chaos.
The Rattaclaw forced its way inside, shrieking, as the Scordanas charged forward, their tails slicing through the air with terrifying force. Quinn ducked behind a half-crushed crate, heart pounding like a war drum.
The beasts clashed violently—the Scordanas ripping into the Rattaclaw, their tails stabbing down like spears. The rat-beast screamed, thrashing wildly, metal fragments flying in every direction.
Quinn gritted his teeth. He needed to move—fast.
If he stayed, he'd be next. But if he ran for the hole, he'd be cornered.
Dust and smoke filled the air as the fight raged. Quinn's mind raced.
One of the younger Scordanas broke off from the fight, its many eyes flicking in his direction. It had sensed him.
"Crap."
He bolted.
The creature lunged, claws snapping where he'd stood a moment before. Quinn slid behind a fallen girder.Not waiting —he dashed toward the other side of the hanger, boots slipping on the debris. He could hear them now—three sets of claws skittering against steel, closing in fast.
He turned back. The Scordanas were almost upon him—their shadows stretching across the wall like monstrous echoes.
"Damn it!"
He clenched his fist tighter, adrenaline surging through his veins. He had no choice left but to fight.
And as the creatures drew closer, their tails glinting in the dark, Quinn muttered under his breath—
"Guess i'll see how strong I really am."