The safehouse was a hollowed-out coolant tank buried under three tons of scrap metal. It smelled of burnt grease and cheap tobacco. Han-wool kicked the heavy iron hatch three times—a jagged, uneven rhythm.
Clang. Clang-clang.
A small slit in the metal slid open. A pair of sharp, distrustful eyes peered out.
"Open the goddamn door, Suji," Han-wool growled.
The bolts hissed as they retracted. The hatch swung wide, and Han-wool stumbled inside, the Noble girl still draped over his shoulder like a blood-stained rug. He dropped her onto a pile of moth-eaten blankets.
"What the fuck is that?" Old Man Gwak roared, jumping up from a crate. He dropped his bottle of rotgut, the glass shattering against the floor. "Han-wool, you crazy piece of shit! You brought a High-Blood into the Nest? Are you trying to get us all turned into fertilizer?"
Suji, the small scout, didn't say a word. She just flicked a rusted butterfly knife open, her eyes darting between Han-wool and the girl.
"Shut it, Gwak," Han-wool panted. He slumped against the wall, clutching his right arm. The deep plum veins were still pulsing under his skin, refusing to fade. "The Enforcers are crawling all over Sector 4. This brat is the only reason I made it past the perimeter. They won't shell the block if they think a 'God' is still breathing down here."
Gwak stepped forward, his massive, scarred hand reaching for Han-wool's shoulder. "Your arm, kid. It looks like... like you stuck it in a reactor."
Han-wool jerked away. "It's fine. I just... I hit a pipe."
"Don't lie to me!" Gwak grabbed Han-wool's wrist, forcing his palm open. The jagged, glowing mark of the Core sat there, fused into the flesh. "That's a Sync-Scar. Only High-Bloods with 'Pure' marrow can survive that. Your heart should have exploded ten minutes ago."
Suji stepped closer, her knife lowered but her expression darkening. She pointed a small, dirty finger at the girl on the floor, then at Han-wool's arm. She made a crushing motion with her hands.
"Yeah, I know, Suji," Han-wool muttered, wiping a streak of black hydraulic fluid from his brow. "It's a mess. A total fucking disaster."
The girl on the blankets groaned, her golden eyes fluttering open. She looked around the dim, rusted tank, her gaze landing on Gwak's massive frame and Suji's cold stare.
"Where... where am I?" she croaked.
"You're in the dirt, Princess," Han-wool said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rasp. He knelt beside her, the dark amethyst light in his arm flickering in sync with her panicked breathing. "And you're going to tell us exactly what that Core was. Because it just ate my hand, and I'm starting to feel like I could punch a hole through a mountain."
Outside, the distant thrum-thrum-thrum of a heavy transport ship vibrated through the scrap heap. The High-Bloods weren't just searching anymore. They were surrounding.
"They're not here for me," the girl whispered, her voice trembling. "They're here for the 'Seed.' If you have it... if it's inside you... they'll peel the skin off your bones to get it back."
Han-wool looked at his glowing palm. He felt a strange, cold hunger gnawing at his marrow.
"Let 'em try," he spat, his grip tightening until the metal plating of the floor buckled under his fingers. "I've been hungry my whole life. Let's see how they like being the ones on the menu."
Gwak's face went pale, the deep gullies of his wrinkles twitching. He grabbed a rusted pliers from a workbench and slammed them down next to Han-wool's hand.
"You don't understand, you arrogant brat," Gwak hissed, his breath smelling of stale yeast and fear. "That 'Seed' is the heart of a Sky-City. It's dense mana, compressed until it's screaming. A normal human body is a glass cup. You just poured a goddamn ocean into it."
Han-wool didn't flinch. He watched the dark plum light beneath his skin. It looked like a parasite, a glowing centipede burrowing toward his elbow.
"The cup hasn't broken yet," Han-wool said.
Suji suddenly froze. She pressed her ear against the curved metal wall of the coolant tank. Her eyes went wide, and she signaled a sharp, horizontal line in the air with her hand. Silent. Still.
A second later, the sound hit them. It wasn't the heavy thud of a Cleaner's boot. it was a high-frequency whine, like a mosquito trapped in a glass jar.
"Seekers," Gwak whispered, reaching for a massive, serrated cleaver hidden under the table. "Small. Fast. They don't fight—they just mark you for the orbital strikes."
Skreeeeee.
A tiny, silver sphere, no bigger than a fist, punched through the rotted seal of the hatch. It hovered in the center of the room, its single lens spinning wildly as it mapped their faces.
"Identity confirmed: Low-Blood insurgents. Priority: Eradicate."
Han-wool didn't wait for the drone to signal the fleet. He lunged.
His movement was a blur, a jagged streak of violence that even Gwak's trained eyes couldn't follow. He didn't use a weapon. He swung his right fist, the one etched with the amethyst scar.
The air around his knuckles didn't just move; it ignited. A localized shockwave of purple energy slapped the drone, crushing the silver sphere into a flat pancake of scrap before it could even blink.
The impact sent a recoil through Han-wool's shoulder that popped his joint. He gritted his teeth, shoving his arm back into its socket with a sickening thud.
"We're compromised," Han-wool barked, turning to the girl. "Princess, get up. If you can't walk, I'm dragging you by your hair."
"Wait!" the girl cried, clutching her broken leg. "If you leave now, you're walking into a kill-zone! The Seekers always travel in swarms of twelve. If you killed one, eleven more are painting this tank with targeting lasers right now!"
As if on cue, eleven red dots appeared on the floor, the walls, and Han-wool's chest.
"Fuck," Gwak groaned, hefting his cleaver. "It's been a good run, kid. Tell the Reaper I'm coming for my tab."
Suji pulled two jagged shards of glass from her belt, her face a mask of cold, silent fury.
Han-wool looked at the red dots dancing on his skin. He felt the Core—the Seed—humming inside his bone marrow, whispering a language of heat and destruction.
"Gwak, Suji," Han-wool said, his voice sounding metallic, layered with a resonance that wasn't human. "Get behind the turbine. Cover your eyes."
"What are you—"
"DO IT!"
Han-wool slammed his glowing palm onto the metal floor. He didn't just hit it; he channeled every ounce of the burning hunger in his veins into the ground.
The deep purple light exploded outward in a dome of raw, jagged pressure. The coolant tank groaned, its thick iron walls bulging as the energy looked for an exit. The eleven drones outside didn't just break; they vaporized, turned into silver dust by the sheer force of the Mana-Pulse.
When the light faded, Han-wool was on his knees, steam rising from his skin. The floor around his hand had melted into a pool of glowing slag.
He looked up, his eyes now flecked with permanent specks of amethyst.
"Pack the gear," he croaked, coughing up a mouthful of dark, ionized blood. "We're going to the Upper Tunnels. If the Gods want their Seed back, they're gonna have to come down into the dark and find it."