The Engine Room was no longer a blue hell. It was silent, cool, and terrifyingly clean.
Zain wiped a smudge of grease from his cheek. He wasn't sweating. In fact, he felt like he could run a marathon. The gnawing hunger that had plagued him since the Awakening was gone, replaced by a hum of energy vibrating beneath his skin.
He looked at the filters. An hour ago, they had been caked with three inches of toxic, solidified mana-sludge. Now, the metal shone like new silver.
"Adequate," Nox grumbled in his mind, sounding like a satisfied glutton. "The quality was low—mostly waste and unrefined byproduct—but the quantity was sufficient. My hold on your soul is stable."
Zain flexed his hand. The black seal had receded, looking like a harmless tattoo again. "Stable? Does that mean you won't kill me if I don't eat a rat tomorrow?"
"It means I won't kill you for two days," Nox corrected. "Don't get lazy, boy."
Clang.
The heavy iron door groaned. The lock disengaged with a heavy thud.
Zain quickly tossed the scraper onto the floor and leaned against the wall, trying to look exhausted. He didn't want them to know he felt superhuman. He had to play the part of the "defective" runt.
Vera stepped in, holding a wet rag over her mouth to filter the fumes. She squinted through the haze, expecting to see a curled-up body or a vomiting boy.
She froze.
Zain was standing there, dusting off his pants.
"You..." Vera lowered the rag, her mouth hanging open slightly. "You're standing."
"I told you," Zain coughed—a fake, dry cough he had perfected in the slums. "My seal absorbs the static. It... stings a bit, but I'm okay."
Vera walked past him, ignoring his health, and went straight to the engine core. She ran a gloved finger over the intake vent.
It came away clean.
"Impossible," she whispered. She looked at the gauges on the wall. "Efficiency is up to 98%. We haven't hit 98% since this bucket came out of the shipyard ten years ago."
A frantic scrambling sound came from the doorway. A short, wiry man covered in soot burst in. He wore goggles that magnified his eyes to ridiculous sizes. This was Torque, the ship's engineer.
"Who touched it!?" Torque shrieked. "The vibrations stopped! Is it broken? Did the core die?"
He rushed to the console, tapping furiously. Then he stopped. He looked at the engine, then at Zain, then at Vera.
"It's... purring," Torque whispered, caressing the metal casing of the engine like it was a lover. "It's breathing freely. Who did this?"
Vera jabbed a thumb at Zain. "The rat. He scraped it."
Torque zoomed over to Zain, grabbing his face with oily hands. "You! How? The radiation levels in here should have turned your insides to soup!"
"Defective seal," Zain repeated his lie, pulling away. "I just scraped it really hard."
Torque didn't seem to care about the logic. He laughed, a manic, high-pitched sound. "I don't care if you licked it clean! Vera, get this boy a bunk! Get him double rations! If he dies, I'll kill you myself!"
The crew mess hall smelled of boiled cabbage and stale beer, but to Zain, it smelled like heaven.
He sat at the far end of a long metal table, nursing a bowl of grey stew. It wasn't the "life essence" Nox wanted, but Zain's human stomach still needed physical food.
The other Junkers ignored him, but the hostility had shifted. They weren't glaring with murderous intent anymore; they were staring with confusion.
Rumor travels fast on a small ship. Everyone knew the "Rat" had survived the Engine Room.
"So," a heavy shadow fell over his table.
Zain looked up. It was Boz, the giant who had wanted to throw him overboard.
Boz slammed his tray down across from Zain. He chewed on a piece of gristle, eyeing Zain up and down.
"Torque says the ship is flying five knots faster," Boz grunted.
Zain nodded, keeping his head down. "The filters were dirty."
"Dirty," Boz repeated. He leaned in, his voice lowering. "I've seen men go in there and come out coughing blood for a week. You go in, you come out looking like you took a nap. That ain't natural, boy."
Zain's heart skipped a beat. He suspects.
"It's a curse," Zain said quietly, leaning in too. "My seal. It eats magic, but it doesn't give me power. I can't fight. I can't cast spells. I can just... touch poison and not die. It's a useless trick."
Boz stared at him for a long moment. Then, he let out a barking laugh.
"A garbage eater!" Boz slapped the table, making the bowls jump. "That's what you are! A magical garbage disposal!"
He turned to the rest of the crew. "Hey lads! The Rat is a Garbage Eater! He can eat poison!"
The tension in the room broke. The crew laughed. It wasn't respectful laughter, but it wasn't hateful either. He had been categorized. He wasn't a threat; he was a useful freak.
Zain forced a weak smile. Good. Let them think I'm a joke. Jokes don't get stabbed.
"Humiliating," Nox hissed. "I should wither his hand for pointing at us."
No, Zain thought back. Let him laugh. We need to reach a port before we make enemies.
Vera slid onto the bench next to him. She didn't have a tray. She was cleaning her nails with her dagger.
"You handled Boz well," she murmured, not looking at him. "Most fresh meat tries to act tough. Boz breaks tough guys. But he likes useful people."
"I just want to earn my keep," Zain said.
"Good," Vera said. She stabbed the knife into the wooden table, standing up. "Because the Captain just changed course. We're not going to the Trade Outpost anymore."
Zain looked up. "Where are we going?"
"The Mist Belt," Vera said, and the room suddenly went quiet. Even Boz stopped chewing.
The Mist Belt was a region of the Sky Sea where navigation systems failed. It was full of wreckages... and predators.
"Why?" Zain asked.
"Because the Engine is running at 98%," Vera grinned, a sharp, dangerous smile. "Captain thinks we're fast enough to outrun a Sky-Eel now. We're going hunting for a Class-B wreck."
She patted Zain on the shoulder.
"Eat up, Garbage Eater. You're going to need your strength. Cleaning filters is easy. Salvaging a wreck in the Mist? That's where people actually die."
Zain looked down at his stew. The hunger was gone, but a new feeling settled in his stomach. Dread.
He touched his arm.
"A Sky-Eel..." Nox mused, the voice sounding almost... excited. "Large. Magical. full of essence. Perhaps this Captain isn't a fool after all."
Zain sighed. Out of the frying pan, into the Mist.