Chapter 22 – A Hard Bargain
I pace the length of our tiny apartment, fingers drumming against the hilt of my combat knife. The neon glow seeping through the window casts twitching shadows across the floor. Lexi is asleep in the next room, and I should be resting too, but my mind is a storm. The System's voice echoes in my head, insistent and unrelenting.
System: "Face it, Jet. At your current rate of progress, you'll hit Level 10 in, oh, roughly never." The AI's tone is dry as a desert, each word clipped with annoyance. "Meanwhile, real opportunities to help people are passing you by."
I grit my teeth, keeping my voice low to avoid waking Lexi. "That's not true. I've been leveling… just more slowly. I'm helping people, not grinding mobs in a dungeon." My whisper feels defensive even to me. In the faint reflection on the window, I see my own furrowed brow — and a translucent overlay of my current XP bar hovering beside my head, courtesy of the System's augmented reality.
The bar is barely halfway to Level 6. The sight makes my stomach tighten. Weeks of grueling volunteer shifts, night watches, and near-death missions, and I'm still only Level 5. The System, of course, can't resist rubbing it in.
System: "At this rate, Lexi will be middle-aged before you unlock anything substantial. All those corporate fat cats and gang leaders you ticked off? They'll outgun and outspend you ten times over."
My hands clench. The AI's words hit a nerve because I know it's right. I've done good — great — things lately, but I'm also painfully aware of how fragile our victories are. One big setback, one powerful enemy, and everything we've built could crumble. "What are you suggesting?" I ask under my breath.
A soft ding sounds in my head. The System displays a glowing prompt, text scrolling rapidly.
SYSTEM ADVISORY: To unlock advanced capabilities (financial management, passive income, skill integration), reaching Level 10 is highly recommended. Primary strategy: EXP Gain via Combat. Estimated timeframe: 7 days of focused engagement.
System: "Translation: to truly protect everyone, you need to level up fast. And the fastest way is down there." I don't need the AI to clarify where "down there" is. My eyes drift to the corner of the room where a steel hatch leads to an old maintenance shaft — one of the many hidden entrances to the Labyrinth beneath Mega-City-Theta.
I swallow hard. The Labyrinth. Just the name sends a chill through me. I've been down there before, but never alone, never for long. It's an ever-changing tangle of tunnels and ruins infested with mutant creatures and rogue tech nightmares. And the System wants me to spend a week in it, fighting for my life, just to gain levels.
"There has to be another way." My voice is barely audible. "I've been doing fine helping people on the surface—"
System: "—And earning a pittance of XP each time. Face reality, Bleeding Heart: you want to save more people, you need more power and resources. Level 10 unlocks financial tools that could feed and house dozens, maybe hundreds. Isn't that worth a short detour into the darkness?"
My jaw tightens. The System knows exactly which buttons to press. The thought of being able to provide for Lexi, to fund Aurora's clinic properly, to improve life in the slums — all that just out of reach because I'm too low level. If hitting Level 10 unlocks that kind of capability…
"Financial tools?" I murmur. I picture the System's interface: at higher levels, greyed-out menu options labeled Investments and Passive Income have taunted me for a while. "You're saying those come online at 10?"
System: "Bingo. Hit Level 10 and I'll finally be authorized to do something useful with the credits you keep giving away. Index funds, automated trading algorithms, interest-bearing accounts — the whole shebang. Your money will work for you, and by extension, for your little do-gooder crusade. Plus, you'll gain an Elite Class at 10. Think special perks, a big stat boost… maybe even a flashy title to impress your friends." I can almost hear the smirk in its digital voice.
Elite Class. That's new. I didn't know about that part. The System must have kept it secret until I got closer. My heart kicks up a beat. A class could mean a significant leap in abilities beyond the incremental stat gains I've been grinding out. If I had better skills… I imagine being able to heal more effectively, move faster than any gang goon, or even bend time to protect someone. Hope sparks in me before I tamp it down.
"And the only way is fighting monsters," I say quietly, running a hand through my hair. "Not helping people, not negotiating or building alliances. Just… combat."
System: "Don't look so dour. Think of it as preventative community service. Every mutant you slay down below is one less hazard for folks up here. Trust me, some of those beasties crawl up into the lower blocks at night. You're cleaning up the neighborhood by cleaning out the Labyrinth."
It's a thin rationalization, but I grasp it anyway. I need to believe this isn't purely violence for the sake of power. I've sworn to use whatever this System gives me to help others. If that means delving into a hellscape for a week, so be it. I exhale slowly, resolve hardening. "Alright… alright. You win."
The relief that floods me is mixed with dread. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this. A full week away from Lexi and my friends, plunging into danger without backup. But the System's right: this might be the only way to quickly gain the strength and funds needed for what's coming. Mega-City-Theta isn't getting any kinder; if I stagnate, people will get hurt.
"We start tomorrow," I say, trying to sound confident. My voice still trembles. "I'll... I'll tell them I'm going away for training."
System: "Good. For once, we're taking the efficient path. Try not to die down there, hmm? It'd put a damper on my ROI." The AI chuckles, as if it didn't just casually mention my possible death.
I shut the voice out for now and move to pack my gear. A sturdy backpack, rations, water purifier, basic medkit — thankfully Aurora's clinic stocked me well after our last run. My old jacket, reinforced with makeshift armor plates Reina scavenged for me, will have to do for protection. And of course, the combat knife, freshly sharpened. I also slip in the stun baton Reina lent me, though its charge is low. It's not much, but it's what I have.
As I secure the pack, I hear a soft shuffle behind me. "Jet?" Lexi's voice is small and thick with sleep. I turn to see my little sister standing in the bedroom doorway, her oversized t-shirt hanging off one shoulder, hair tousled. She blinks at me, then at the packed bag. "Are you going somewhere?"
My throat tightens. I was hoping to slip out without waking her until morning, but Lexi's always had sharp instincts—must run in the family. I force a smile. "Hey, bug. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. It's... I have to go do some training for a few days."
She pads closer, bare feet silent on the floor, and scrutinizes me with those big, perceptive eyes. She's only thirteen, but she's seen enough of our harsh world to sense when something's off. "Training? What kind of training?"
I gentle my voice. "The System thinks I need to get stronger, faster. Aurora pulled some strings and found a, uh, special program for me." I hate lying, even a soft lie, but I can't tell her the truth. She'd insist on coming or, worse, get Aurora and Reina involved to stop me. "It's outside the city a bit, so I'll be gone for the week."
Lexi's face falls, worry creasing her brow. "A whole week? But… the clinic needs you. I need you." She reaches for my hand.
I clasp her smaller hand in both of mine. "You've got Aurora, Reina, Finn... everyone will look out for you. And you'll look out for them." I muster a grin. "Think of it like I'm taking a short trip for a crash course. I'll come back with a certificate and everything." I tap the silver System implant behind my ear jokingly. "Maybe even a gold star from the AI."
Lexi doesn't laugh. She knows me too well. But she nods slowly. "Just… please be careful. Come back, okay?" Her voice quivers on the last words.
I pull her into a hug. She's so light—too light, still catching up from years of underfeeding. It makes me more determined than ever. "I promise. One week and I'll be right back here. Better, stronger, faster—like some kind of superhero, you'll see." I ruffle her hair gently.
She sniffles, then steps back. To my surprise, she reaches under the couch and pulls out a small object: a crumpled paper crane, folded from a page of an old manga comic. She must have been practicing her origami again. "Take this," Lexi says, pressing the paper bird into my palm. "For luck."
Damn it, now my eyes are stinging. I tuck the paper crane securely into a breast pocket behind my armor plate. "I'll keep it safe."
We exchange one last, long look. Then I shoulder my pack and head for the hatch. Lexi stands in the half-light of our apartment, arms hugged to herself. "Tell Aurora and the others I'll be back soon," I say. "And that I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye in person."
Lexi nods. "I will." As I pull open the heavy hatch, she adds softly, "Love you, Jet."
"Love you too, Lex." My voice echoes down the metal shaft. And with that, I descend into darkness, heart pounding with fear and hope in equal measure.
Chapter 23 – Into the Labyrinth
Stale, humid air surrounds me as I drop the last few rungs of the ladder and land in the upper tunnel of the Labyrinth. My flashlight cuts a cone through the thick darkness, illuminating graffiti-tagged walls and puddles of oil-black water. The city's noise above is gone, replaced by a low mechanical hum that vibrates the very concrete under my feet. I'm barely ten steps in and already my heart is jackhammering.
I mark the wall at the base of the ladder with a white chalk arrow pointing up — my breadcrumb to find this exit later. The chalk trembles in my hand. One week down here. You can do this, I tell myself. For Lexi. For everyone.
The tunnel ahead yawns like a throat. I tighten my grip on my knife and move forward, boots splashing softly. Every drip of water from the ceiling makes me flinch. I remind myself I'm not the same scared kid who first stumbled down here weeks ago. I've trained, fought off gangs and mutants before. But without Reina or Finn at my side, the darkness feels twice as oppressive.
After a few hundred yards, the maintenance tunnel opens into a wider corridor lined with corroded pipes. I recognize a rusted sign half-fallen from the wall: Sector 7 Sub-Transit. Reina's maps of the upper Labyrinth flash in my mind. I'm near an old mag-lev tram line that got sealed off years ago. That line should lead me deeper under the mid-city blocks.
System: "Keep heading south. Scans indicate elevated thermal readings that direction — likely life forms. Mobs, in other words." The AI sounds almost chipper, eager to rack up some combat XP. I wish I shared its enthusiasm.
I jog lightly through the corridor, trying to stay light on my feet. My Agility stat isn't high by solo dungeon delver standards, but it's better than it was. I can feel the difference in how easily I move, even with a pack. If something jumps out at me, I'm ready to react.
It doesn't take long for the Labyrinth to welcome me in its typical fashion — with violence. As I round a corner into what used to be a small tram station, my flashlight catches a cluster of shapes scuttling across the floor. At first I think they're just oversized rats, but then one skitters into the beam fully and I see chitinous plates and too many legs. Giant roaches, each the size of a house cat.
"Ugh." I instinctively draw back as the three roaches hiss, feelers twitching in my direction. Their carapaces glint with an oily sheen, and I notice scrap metal embedded in their backs — bits of wire and circuitry tangled in their shells, as if they've been feeding on electronic junk.
They surge toward me in a sudden wave of clicking mandibles. I force down my disgust and spring into action. The first roach leaps, and I sidestep, bringing my knife down hard. The blade punctures through the shell at the joint of its head, a splatter of acrid green ichor coating my hand. The creature spasms and goes limp.
The other two are on me. I pivot, narrowly avoiding a barbed leg that slices through the air where my thigh was a second ago. Thank you, Agility stat. I respond with a swift kick, bootheel crunching one roach's thorax. It screeches as it flips onto its back, legs writhing.
The last roach clamps onto my pant leg, its mandibles tearing fabric as it tries to bite into my flesh. "Get off!" I grunt, slamming my knife repeatedly into its flank. On the third stab, it releases with a wet shriek. I stomp down on its head, and a crunch echoes in the dark station.
Silence returns, save for my panting breaths. My pulse thrums in my ears. I wipe the gooey residue off my knife on a scrap of cloth. The roaches' bodies twitch faintly, but they're done.
System: "Three hostiles down. First blood to you. And…" The AI trails off as a familiar chime rings in my ears. "...a whopping +15 XP total. Hardly a dent, but it's a start."
I breathe out, relieved that the first fight is over. Only a few minutes in, and I'm already filthy and on edge. But I handled it. Solo. A tiny flicker of pride ignites in my chest.
The System pops up a semi-transparent map in the corner of my vision, highlighting the tram tunnel ahead. I see a blinking dot not far away. "What's that?" I whisper, starting to move again.
System: "Unknown signal, possibly a power source. Could be just an old generator... or something worth checking out for loot. Up to you, but remember: time is XP."
Loot or XP? The eternal question for any adventurer. I smirk despite myself. "We'll take a quick look." Carefully, I advance down the tunnel, stepping over old rails. The dot leads me to a side alcove filled with debris. Amid twisted metal beams and cracked concrete, I spot the glint of a powered terminal screen, faintly flickering.
I crouch beside it. The terminal is part of an old service kiosk, probably for tram tickets. Surprisingly, its interface is still active, running on emergency power perhaps. Most of the text is gibberish code, but I do catch a few words: Service Log... Cache 17A... and Unlock.
"Think you can coax it open?" I ask the System. It interfaces with electronics far better than I can.
System: "Hacking now..." It only takes seconds. The screen flashes green and a panel below it pops open with a hiss. Inside the hidden compartment are a couple of plastic cases. I pull them out eagerly: one contains a syringe labeled Stimulant X and the other a small stack of expired ration bars (looking more like petrified bricks). The rations might be dubious, but the stimulant could be a lifesaver if I find myself exhausted later.
"Not bad," I mutter, pocketing the loot. The System notes the items in my inventory list; I see a little "+1 Stimulant Injector" icon float in my HUD. Now it's nudging me to move on.
Leaving the station, I descend a staircase that vibrations suggest once led to a bustling concourse. Now it opens out into a cavernous passage. The darkness is near total here, only broken by my beam catching flashes of motion in the distance. The hair on my neck rises.
A distant clattering sound echoes — like metal pans falling, or... legs skittering? I slow my steps, knife at the ready, wishing not for the first time that I had a better weapon. My stun baton is ready at my hip, but its single charge I need to save for an emergency.
The tunnel widens into a hub-like chamber with multiple archways branching off. I shine my light across the floor — and my heart jumps. There's a corpse here, half-slumped against a pillar. At least, it was a corpse. All that remains is a human skeleton in shredded security armor, picked clean. Dried blood and... slime coat the floor around it. Whatever did this was thorough.
Above, a pipe drips water steadily onto the bones, the plink plink unnervingly loud. I step closer, gingerly, scanning the shadows above and around. This person might have been a city maintenance worker or a scavenger. Either way, they met something nasty.
"System, any life signs nearby?" I murmur.
System: "Scanning..." A pause that stretches too long for comfort. "No obvious heat signatures in the immediate vicinity. But something was here. Recent organic residue detected." The system highlights a slimy trail leading away from the bones toward one of the archways.
My gut says to avoid that archway entirely. But that arch also has the faint flicker of light — possibly bioluminescent moss or an old emergency lamp. It's as good a direction as any to continue deeper. I steel myself and proceed, every sense on high alert.
The corridor beyond winds left then right. The wet trail continues for a while before smearing out, as if whatever was dragging the corpse... finished its meal. I try not to picture what that looked like.
A sudden chittering noise comes from ahead, followed by a heavy thud. I freeze, kill my flashlight, and press against the wall. My eyes adjust to faint greenish light emanating from fungus patches along the ceiling. Twenty feet ahead, something large moves in the gloom.
It looks like a giant centipede, easily eight feet long, and as thick as an industrial pipe. Its dozens of legs click on the concrete as it drags itself forward. But this centipede is unlike any I've seen: jagged plates of metal are fused to its segmented body, and its head bristles with antennae that crackle with static. It's like someone spliced a scrapyard into an insect.
I barely breathe. The creature hasn't noticed me yet. It's busy gnawing on something — oh God, an animal carcass, maybe a giant rat — using mandibles that spark with electrical energy. Little arcs of blue light dance between its feelers as it feeds. Scavenging and electrocuting its prey... a literal live wire centipede.
My heart pounds. This monstrosity is blocking the corridor I need to take. Maybe I can sneak past while it's distracted? I inch forward, one slow step at a time, keeping my back to the wall. The centipede continues crunching the carcass.
Halfway past the feeding centipede, a drop of moisture from the ceiling splashes onto my nose. I flinch and inhale sharply through reflex.
In an instant, the centipede's antennae shoot upright. It stops feeding, segments tensing. Then its head swivels unnaturally fast, zeroing in on me. Two pinprick eyes glint, and it emits a rattling hiss.
"Easy... easy..." I whisper, edging backward. The creature responds with a burst of crackling energy along its body. Before I can react, it lunges.
I throw myself to the side as the centipede's head strikes the wall where I stood a heartbeat ago. Concrete chips explode from the impact, and a jolt of electricity arcs out, catching my left arm. Pain lances through me — like sticking my arm into a live circuit. I grit my teeth against a scream. My arm goes numb.
I scramble away, and the centipede reorients with frightening speed for something so big. It charges, metal legs scraping. I flick my flashlight back on, high-beam straight into its many eyes. The beast recoils, segments undulating in confusion at the sudden light. Taking the chance, I launch myself forward with a desperate slash of my knife at its face.
The blade skitters off a metal plate above its mandibles, barely cutting flesh. The centipede screams — a high-pitched, warbling shriek that sets my teeth on edge. It retaliates, swinging the front half of its body at me like a whip. I try to dodge, but it clips my side, sending me sprawling into a puddle. Agony flares along my ribs; something definitely bruised or cracked.
Before it can coil around me, I kick to push myself away, sliding on my back across the slick floor. My outstretched hand bumps a chunk of broken concrete. I snatch it and hurl it at the creature's head. The rock smashes into one glossy eye, and the centipede recoils again, hissing in pain.
System: "Jet, your heart rate is spiking. Suggestion: apply stun baton while target is wet for maximal effect." The System's voice is unnervingly calm, even analytical, as I'm fighting for my life.
Right. Stun baton. My left arm is still tingling and weak from the shock, but I force it to move. I draw the baton from my belt and thumb the activation. It hums faintly, a tiny blue spark at its tip. I only have one good discharge on this thing, so I need to make it count.
The centipede recovers and rushes me again, enraged. I duck under its snapping mandibles and shove the baton forward with a hoarse shout. The tip jabs into the softer underbelly segments just behind its head. I press the trigger.
A bright flash — the air fills with the smell of ozone and burning flesh. The centipede convulses violently, its whole body wracked by the electrical current amplifying through the metal embedded in it. I yank the baton back and roll clear as the creature flails, screeching loud enough to hurt my ears.
With a final spasm, the centipede collapses. Thin wisps of smoke curl from its charred underbelly. I remain in a crouch, panting, baton still in hand in case it stirs. But it lies still, the light in its eyes dimming to black.
"Hah... hah..." I laugh weakly between gulps of air. That was far more intense than any fight topside. If I hadn't had the stun baton or the System's advice, I might be dead.
A soft chime and the familiar warm sensation of experience gained washes over me. The System displays a notification:
XP gained: 50.Level Up! You have reached Level 6.
System: "Congratulations, Level 6 achieved. Stat points automatically allocated for optimal survival. Oh, and you might want to retrieve something useful from our friend here." The System highlights part of the centipede's corpse with a pulsing marker.
Curious, I approach the smoldering carcass. The marker is on one of the larger metallic plates on its back. On closer inspection, I realize it's not just scrap metal but a device of some sort fused into the creature. With effort, I pry it loose. It's a triangular gadget, like a circuit board crossed with an insect carapace. The thing is cracked and fried from the stun attack.
System: "Remnant bio-circuit implant. Likely used by the centipede to generate electric shocks. It's junk now, but might fetch some credits with the right buyer up top." Ever practical, the AI catalogs it. "Also, might I suggest taking one of its mandibles? The material could be fashioned into a blade or sold."
I grimace but do it anyway, using my knife to saw off one of the smaller mandibles that aren't completely mangled. The chitin is tough, almost like ceramic. Could be a good dagger with proper work, or at least proof I killed this thing.
My ribs protest as I straighten up. I probe gently and wince. Definitely bruised. I fish out a small pill from my medkit — a basic painkiller — and swallow it dry. It'll take the edge off so I can keep moving.
As I gather myself, the System pings: New Skill Unlocked. I blink, pulling up my status. Sure enough, hitting Level 6 has granted me a skill choice. Three options float before me:
Speed Boost (Active): Temporarily doubles movement speed for 10 seconds. Shield Burst (Active): Emit a burst of energy to push back enemies. (Note: energy intensive) First Aid Mastery (Passive): Increases effectiveness of medical items and techniques.
My eyes linger on option 1. Speed Boost. As a predominantly agility-focused fighter, the ability to move faster could be a literal lifesaver. Shield Burst sounds useful but I don't have energy abilities yet, and First Aid Mastery… well, I already have a medic background. The passive boost is tempting, but I need immediate combat help more.
"System, any recommendations?" I whisper, though I've mostly decided.
System: "Normally I'd advocate the passive for long-term survivability. But given our goals and your current situation... Speed Boost would synergize well with your style. Plus, outrunning danger is often better than tanking it, especially for you." Did the AI just gently insult my toughness? I shake my head.
"Alright. Let's do Speed Boost." The moment I think it, the other options fade and I feel a slight tingle in my legs, as if my muscles themselves recognized the new potential.
System: "Skill acquired: Speed Boost. You can activate it mentally or with a quick double-tap to your leg implant." I nod, filing that away.
I realize my hands are trembling again, from adrenaline and the shock aftermath. I take a minute to steady myself. Only a couple hours into Day 1, and I've already leveled up and nearly been electrocuted. This is fine. Everything is fine.
Focus. I need to keep moving while I have strength. I glance down at the slain centipede one last time. It's horrific, but it was also a source of progress. The System's approach is brutal, yet effective.
With a deep breath, I step over the carcass and push onward, deeper into the twisting underworld, ready (as I can be) for whatever comes next.
Chapter 24 – The Scavenger King
I wake with a start to the sound of skittering feet. My back aches from where I slumped against a wall — I must have dozed off for an hour or two in a cramped service alcove after that last fight. The memory of the centipede's electrifying attack jolts me fully awake. In the faint glow of a dying emergency light, I check my surroundings. No immediate threats in sight, but the distant scuttle of who-knows-what echoes down the corridor. The Labyrinth never truly sleeps; I'll get no real rest here.
Stifling a groan, I rise and roll out my neck. My ribs still hurt, but the painkiller has dulled it to a tolerable throb. Day 2, I think — though without sunlight it's all a continuous night. Time to move.
I consult the System's map in my HUD. It's piecemeal, expanding only as I explore, but I can see I've traversed perhaps a mile of winding passages from my entry point. I'm under a sector known for scrap and waste processing. That likely explains the mutant roaches and centipedes — they thrive on the junk down here.
My goal is simple: keep going deeper, fight what I can, survive, and gain XP. Rinse and repeat. The System highlights a path ahead where it detects a larger open space. Possibly a central dump or an interchange of tunnels. Large open space could mean larger threats, but also the fastest route onward.
"Bigger arena might favor me now that I have Speed Boost," I murmur, steeling myself. I tap my thigh twice experimentally, and a subtle warmth flows through my leg muscles. It fades quickly — I didn't fully trigger it, just primed the skill. Good to know it's responsive.
As I venture forward, the air grows thicker with the stench of rust and decay. Piles of detritus clog sections of the corridor: twisted girders, old drones broken into pieces, plastic barrels leaking who-knows-what. I squeeze through a partially collapsed doorway and emerge onto an elevated ledge overlooking a sprawling cavern.
My eyes widen. This must be an old waste sorting facility. The floor, twenty feet below my ledge, is a landscape of scrap heaps. Mountains of metal junk glint in my flashlight beam. Robotic arms, long defunct, hang from the ceiling like stalactites. Some flicker with dying power, causing lights to strobe intermittently and cast dancing shadows.
I spot movement among the heaps — small shapes darting in and out, likely more mutant vermin. Nothing giant visible yet. A ramp to my right looks like a viable way down. I descend carefully, mindful of each step on the corroded metal slope.
Down in the scrap yard, the scale of the junk piles is imposing. I pass an upturned hovertruck chassis, a stack of cracked monitors, a forest of bent rebar. It's a graveyard of technology. I try to tread softly, but debris shifts and clatters underfoot.
The moment I cross the center of the cavern, a chitinous screech echoes from somewhere high on the scrap piles. I freeze. The scuttling I heard earlier intensifies, coming from multiple directions now.
Pairs of glinting eyes appear amid the junk. One, two... five, ten. A swarm of centipede-like creatures, smaller than the one I killed but still each several feet long, pour out from hiding. They move in a unnervingly coordinated way, circling to cut off escape routes. My mouth goes dry. Looks like I've stumbled into a nest.
"System..." I whisper, tightening my grip on my knife. "Any sign of a big one?" My heart is already racing.
System: "Thermal scan shows a large mass near the back of the chamber. Likely their alpha. Heads up: these readings are spiking." As if on cue, a deep, resonant hiss vibrates the very metal under my feet.
From atop the highest scrap mound, it emerges: the Scavenger King. A centipede at least twice the size of the last one, easily fifteen feet of segmented horror. Its exoskeleton is studded with an assortment of metallic junk – I see blades, shattered drone parts, even a cracked cybernetic eye grafted into its natural armor. A crown of ragged wire and bone sits upon its head like a mockery of a king's coronet. This creature has literally adorned itself with the spoils of its domain.
The King's mandibles clack, and the smaller centipedes below chitter in response. It's commanding them, I realize with a spike of fear. They start skittering toward me from all sides.
"Oh, crap." I back up until I feel a heap of scrap press against my shoulders. They're trying to encircle me. My mind races. Running isn't an option — they're everywhere I'd run to, and the King blocks the path deeper. I have to fight.
One of the smaller ones lunges, and I bat it away with my knife, slicing through a few legs. It screeches and recoils. Another tries from my left; I pivot and kick it into a rusted appliance carcass. But there are too many to keep this up.
System: "Jet, you might consider thinning the herd with that new skill of yours. Speed can be a weapon." It's right. I won't survive a prolonged fight if I get swarmed.
I duck as two centipedes leap from a pile, their bodies sailing over my head and crashing behind me. In that adrenaline-charged heartbeat, I double-tap my thigh. Speed Boost – Activate.
The effect is instantaneous. A surge of energy floods my limbs. The world around me seems to slow just a fraction, enough that the chittering rush of centipedes becomes more separated instead of one overwhelming blur. I move.
Darting forward, I slash through one centipede's head, my knife cleaving it clean before it can react. Green ichor sprays, but I'm already gone, spinning to smash the pommel into another's eyes. My movements feel fluid, almost preternatural — the System's boost pushing my body beyond its normal limits.
I weave through the swarm, a whirlwind of steel and adrenaline. In seconds, I've dispatched four of the smaller ones, leaving twitching husks on the scrap floor. The others recoil momentarily, wary now. The Speed Boost wears off as a wave of fatigue hits my legs. Ten seconds goes fast in a fight, but I made them count.
The Scavenger King emits a furious rattling screech at the sight of its minions falling. It scrambles down the scrap mound with terrifying agility for something so large. I take a step back, chest heaving. Time for the main event.
The King circles me, its massive body slithering over junk piles and flattening them under its weight. One swipe of those mandibles could shear my arm off — I have to be careful, look for an opening.
It feints with its head, and I dodge to the side, only for its tail to whip around. The heavy end of its body catches me across the shins and I go down hard, crashing into a heap of scrap. Pain flares as a jagged piece of metal cuts into my shoulder. I roll aside just as a scything mandible stabs down where I was, piercing straight through an old machine casing like it was paper.
That would have been my torso. Too slow! my mind screams at me. I scramble up, ignoring the blood running down my arm.
The King rears, the front third of its body lifting off the ground to loom over me. In this dim flicker-light, it's the stuff of nightmares: a titanic centipede monarch wreathed in jagged scrap metal, roaring its challenge. If I had any breath to spare, I might scream back just to psych myself up. Instead, I grit my teeth and ready the stun baton in one hand, knife in the other. I doubt one baton shock can finish a beast this size, but maybe I can slow it or create an opening.
The smaller centipedes skitter anxiously at the edges of the improvised arena, but they don't approach; the King apparently wants to deal with me itself now.
It strikes with a sudden lunge, much faster than something that big should move. I throw myself forward and to the side—toward it, not away, surprising it. Its jaws snap shut just behind my back. I'm underneath its thorax now, where all those legs are thrashing.
I feel pincers graze my calf—one of the legs got me. Ignoring the sting, I slam the active stun baton up into the creature's underbelly and trigger it.
Blue arcs of electricity dance along its body. The King screeches, segments convulsing. I roll out from under it as it collapses heavily to the ground, momentarily stunned but not dead. The shock wasn't nearly as effective as before — maybe its scrap armor is diffusing the current, or it's just too massive.
Still, this is my chance. I leap onto its back, dagger raised, and drive the blade down at the base of its skull. The knife scrapes off a metal plate, failing to penetrate. The King shudders, recovering rapidly, its paralysis already fading.
Before I can strike again, the centipede bucks, launching me off its back. I land sprawling on a pile of coiled wires. The King twists with wrath, tail and head whipping around in a frenzy. A heavy coil of tail slams my left side and I hear a crack—white-hot pain bursts from my arm. I cry out, something between a gasp and a scream. My left arm hangs limp; I pray it's just dislocated or bruised, not broken, but I can't tell.
Dazed and hurting, I scramble behind an overturned crate as the creature regains its bearings. I've lost my knife somewhere in that tumble, and the stun baton clattered away, its charge likely spent. Things are not looking good.
"System... options?" I hiss under my breath, panting. The AI calculates furiously; I can almost feel its processor cycles whirring.
System: "Speed Boost cooldown: 30 seconds remaining. Your best bet: keep away until you can use it again. Then aim for the eyes or mouth — flesh spots. Also, maybe don't let it hit you next time." I roll my eyes despite the gravity — thanks for that last gem.
Clutching a length of pipe as a makeshift weapon in my good hand, I dart out from cover as the King barrels into the crate, splintering it. It's relentless, smashing aside debris to get to me. I just need a little more time. I lead it around a heap of junk, trying to create distance. The beast charges straight through the pile instead, scattering debris like leaves. So much for distance.
Its front lifts up again, preparing another lunging strike. My muscles twinge, ready to dodge, but I hesitate — an idea sparking. Instead of running blindly, I put my back to a particularly tall scrap pile and stand my ground, holding the metal pipe like a spear.
The Scavenger King lunges, and I dive aside at the last possible second. With a thunderous crash, its head rams deep into the scrap pile behind me. Metal and concrete collapse onto the creature's upper body, momentarily pinning it. The centipede thrashes wildly, trying to free itself from the impromptu avalanche.
This is it. Ignoring the stabbing pain in my arm and side, I summon every last ounce of strength and sprint at the partially buried head. The King sees me coming and opens its maw in a furious hiss, one eye glaring. I raise the pipe and jam it with a roar straight into that eye.
The monster's scream is like grinding metal. It convulses, wrenching free of the debris, pipe still protruding from its ruined eye socket. It's not dead yet, unbelievably. But as it rears back in agony, I see a clear shot: its underside neck, exposed and vulnerable.
Speed Boost is back online. I feel the mental ping. Without hesitation, I activate it again. Time lurches to my favor as everything slows.
I bolt forward with superhuman speed, leaping up onto the creature's neck. I find my knife still embedded between two plates — I yank it free, and with a furious yell, drive it down with boosted force into the soft joint beneath the head, plunging deep.
The blade sinks to the hilt. I twist it savagely.
The Scavenger King's tail slams the ground, its whole body spasming. I'm thrown off as it writhes in its death throes. I hit the ground and scramble back on all fours, breathing hard.
Finally, the enormous centipede collapses and goes still, the only movement the trickle of viscous green fluid from its fatal wound.
A long exhale shudders out of me. I almost can't believe it. By some miracle of adrenaline, cunning, and a healthy dose of System assistance, I killed the damn thing.
The remaining smaller centipedes give distressed chitters and quickly scatter into cracks and crevices, leaderless and afraid. I'm not inclined to pursue.
My vision swims as the adrenaline drains away, pain from my injuries roaring back. I slump against a relatively stable pile of junk, willing myself to stay conscious at least a bit longer. The familiar ding of victory barely registers.
XP gained: 120.Level Up! You have reached Level 7.
System: "Level 7. Nicely done. And might I add: that was one for the record books, Jet." For once, the AI's voice carries something like genuine respect beneath its sarcasm. "Now let's see about not bleeding out."
I chuckle weakly, which turns into a cough. Blood from a cut on my cheek drips onto my collar. I'm a mess: one arm likely dislocated, shallow gashes all over, bruises blooming. But I'm alive.
"Give me options, System." I rasp. The AI quickly highlights a relatively safe-looking alcove formed by two slabs of fallen concrete against one wall. I nod and stagger to it, retrieving my baton and any supplies I can spot along the way. The alcove is cramped but defensible. Good enough.
I manage to pop my left shoulder back into place with the System's countdown (and a muffled scream into my sleeve). Then I disinfect and wrap the gashes I can reach, using torn cloth from my pack as bandages. I swallow another painkiller, chewing the bitter pill since I've no water to spare.
Once triaged, I allow myself a moment to examine the King's remains from afar. The System is already cataloging potential loot. The centipede's metallic crown-like growth stands out.
System: "That 'crown' is actually a cluster of fused tech – scanning… there's a data core and high-grade optics in there not completely destroyed. Extractable components could be valuable."
I shake my head in amazement. Even dead, the monster might help me help others. "We'll grab what we can when I'm able." Right now, I can barely lift my arm, let alone pry armor plates off a corpse.
The System pings a new notification: Skill Selection Available. Ah, leveling up. Through the haze of exhaustion, I will my interface open, eager for something good after that hellish battle.
This time, two skills hover into view (perhaps as I climb higher, choices narrow?):
Blink (Active): Short-range teleport, up to 5 meters. Cooldown 15 seconds. Berserk Mode (Active): Temporarily boost Strength at cost of defense.
Blink. The word alone makes my eyes widen. A teleport ability — that's practically a legendary skill for someone focused on speed and agility. Berserk might increase damage output, but taking more hits when I'm already squishy? No thanks.
"Definitely Blink," I whisper. The moment I choose it, I feel a strange disorientation, like for a split second my body forgets its own position, then reorients. A taste of what the skill offers.
System: "Skill acquired: Blink. You can trigger it by focusing on a target location or double-blinking your eye with intent. Try not to rematerialize inside a wall, hmm?" It gives a cheeky beep.
I lean back, a tired smile tugging at my lips. Blink will be a game-changer. Between that and Speed Boost, I can move like a ghost through these tunnels... or at least have a better chance of getting out of the way of massive centipede jaws.
My eyelids grow heavy. I know it's risky, but I have to rest. Just a short sleep to regain strength. The System promises to keep watch and wake me if anything approaches. I position myself deeper in the alcove, cradling my injured arm, and let exhaustion overtake me.
As I drift off, one thought stays with me: I did it. I survived against all odds, and I'm stronger now. For them. For Lexi, Aurora, all the people counting on me. I allow that sense of purpose to carry me into uneasy dreams.
Chapter 25 – Reflections of Fear
A clatter in the dark wakes me. I jolt upright, heart in my throat, before I recall I'm in the scrap cavern alcove. By the weak light of my dying flashlight, I see nothing has intruded into my little shelter. The noise came from outside, something shifting in the junk. My body protests as I move — every muscle stiff from yesterday's ordeal. Still, a quick self-check tells me I'm functional. The bleeding has stopped, and although my left arm screams with pain, I can move it in a limited range. Probably not broken, just badly bruised. I'll manage.
I nibble half of one of those expired ration bars I found earlier. It's rock hard and tastes like charcoal, but it's fuel. A sip of water to wash it down, and I feel marginally better. Time to press on.
The System projects a faint waypoint guiding me out of the scrap yard area. I follow, skirting the edge of the cavern to avoid any lingering centipede critters. None challenge me — perhaps the death of their king has them in disarray.
I find a maintenance tunnel leading away from the junkyard. It slopes downward, deeper still, and the air gradually becomes cooler and oddly still. My footsteps echo now; the tunnel architecture changed from rough utility to something more refined — perhaps I'm nearing an old corporate sector underground, maybe labs or transport.
After twenty minutes of cautious walking, I arrive at a junction where multiple corridors diverge. Signs in peeling paint indicate directions: Hydroponics, Cryo Storage, Data Center. Most arrows point into collapsed passages clogged with debris or murky water. One route, toward the data center, looks clear enough. I decide to head that way, hoping it might loop around the obstructions.
The data center tunnel is lined with shattered glass panels and hanging cables. My boots crunch on broken glass, each step producing a sharp crackle that sets my teeth on edge. I sweep my light around — big mistake. The reflective surfaces catch the beam and send it bouncing in confusing directions. Shadows dance erratically.
I slow down, senses tingling. Something feels off here. It's too quiet. My own footsteps echo back unnaturally, almost like... like something else is walking in step with me.
I freeze and listen. Drip... drip... a leaking pipe somewhere. My heartbeat. And...there. A soft scuttling, like claws on glass, from up ahead. I extinguish my flashlight to avoid creating more reflections and let my eyes adjust to the faint glow of emergency lights flickering in the distance.
"System, can you scan—" I begin, but the words die in my throat as I see a silhouette at the end of the hall.
It's Lexi.
I blink, unbelieving. Lexi is standing about thirty feet away, partially illuminated by a sparking panel. She looks terrified, her eyes wide, one hand reaching out to me. How—
"Lexi?!" I whisper-shout, stumbling forward before my brain catches up. No. No, she can't be here. This is impossible. My sister can't be down in this hell.
The figure shifts, and in the dim flicker I see tears on her face. "Jet... help me," she sobs, voice echoing. My heart lurches. It sounds so real.
System: "Jet, that's not her." The AI's warning cuts through my panic. Of course it isn't. It can't be. I halt myself just as the Lexi-figure abruptly dissolves into motes of light.
An illusion. I exhale shakily, nerves on fire. Something is messing with my mind—no, with my senses.
The claws-on-glass sound comes again, this time behind me. I spin around, back pressed to a wall. My broken reflections stare back from dozens of cracked glass shards littering the corridor. In some shards, I swear I see movement that doesn't match my own.
I catch a glimpse of a shape flitting between pillars — vaguely quadrupedal, low to the ground. Another flicker in corner of my eye. It's fast, staying out of direct sight.
My pulse quickens. I swallow, gripping my knife and baton tightly. This thing – whatever it is – can apparently cast illusions. That sobbing Lexi... It knew exactly what would throw me off. Is it reading my thoughts? Or just plucking general fears (lost child, maybe) from common human psyche? Either way, it nearly had me walking into who-knows-what.
I inch forward cautiously, back to the wall, trying to minimize angles of approach. "System, analysis?"
System: "I'm picking up faint refractive distortions. Likely a creature with natural camouflage or light-bending abilities. Thermal imaging is having trouble locking on – it might have a very low heat signature or some form of cloaking."
Great. So even the System's not sure exactly where it is. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Panicking will only get me killed.
A faint scraping comes from above. I snap my gaze upward—just in time to see something drop from the ceiling.
I hurl myself to the side as a creature lands where I stood. It's hard to get a clear look — its skin seems to shimmer and blend with the environment like a living mirror. But I catch the outline of a lithe, feline-like form, with a long tail tipped in a scythe-like blade. Two gleaming, multifaceted eyes briefly reflect the dim light before it scuttles back into the shadows with an angry chitter.
It left something behind — a thin gash on my upper arm that I didn't even feel in the moment. Blood oozes. If I'd reacted a split-second slower, that slash might have opened my throat. A cold sweat breaks out on my skin.
System: "So, bad news: it's fast. Good news: a small blood trail. Tracking..." I see a faint red-highlighted trail on the floor where the creature skittered away, likely from where my blood smeared on its claw.
I follow slowly, knife raised. The trail leads around a corner into what looks like a security checkpoint room with glass walls — many shattered — and a desk.
The room is dim, lit only by a single emergency lamp casting a pale yellow glow. My reflection is everywhere on the remaining glass fragments and the glossy floor puddles. It's disorienting. I step in, and a dozen Jets step in too from pieces of mirror and glass around the room.
In one large cracked wall mirror, I see myself — tired, bloodied — and behind me, the silhouette of the creature creeping up. I spin, slashing, but there's nothing. A high laugh, almost human but not, reverberates through the air. My own face in the mirror twists into a grin that I definitely am not making.
"This is messed up," I mutter. My voice echoes strangely, each reflection in the room seeming to whisper it back with a delay. The effect is deeply unnerving.
Without warning, the mirrored version of me in the wall lunges out — an illusion bursting from the mirror! I yelp and instinctively raise my knife. The false Jet flickers and shatters into shards of light upon contact with my blade, but the distraction works — the real creature strikes from my left, claws aiming for my ribs.
I manage to twist so the blow skitters off the armor plate in my jacket, instead of flesh. Still, I'm thrown by the impact, tumbling into the desk. The creature vanishes again into a blur of light.
This isn't working. I'm flailing at phantoms and it's going to slice me to ribbons. Think, Jet. Use your new tools.
I've been reacting on its terms. I need to change the game. Speed Boost could help me dodge, but I can't hit what I can't target. Blink... maybe I can use Blink unpredictably to avoid its feints or position behind it? But I have to know where it is first.
System: "Idea: cause a lot of movement. Overload its camouflage ability. If it can refract light, messing with light sources or the environment might disrupt it."
My eyes land on the emergency lamp and the shards of glass. Light sources... I have a flashbang in my kit, but no, I don't. I do have something simpler: my flashlight and the reflective surfaces themselves.
I snatch a shard of mirror from the floor, about the size of my hand. Taking a deep breath, I click my flashlight on and angle it at the mirror shard, sweeping it in an arc. Beams of light ricochet around the room in a wild strobe.
The creature screeches — an irritated, buzzing shrill. Got you, you bastard. It leaps from a corner, visible for a split second as its camouflage falters under the onslaught of random light beams.
I trigger Speed Boost and rush not directly at it, but to the side, kicking up a loose swirl of papers and dust from the floor. The flurry obscures the area for just a moment. I then Blink — focusing on a spot behind the creature.
Reality folds and snaps. In a blink (literally), I teleport behind the predator. The lurch in my stomach is nothing compared to the thrill of seeing the creature exposed a few feet in front of me, confused by my sudden disappearance.
Before it can turn, I lunge and drive my knife into what I hope is a vital spot at the base of its spiny tail. The blade bites in, meeting some resistance — its hide is tough like glass — but then sinks through.
The creature releases an ear-splitting shriek. It bucks forward, away from me, greenish, sparkling blood splattering the floor from the wound. The lights in the room flicker violently as its camouflage field goes haywire. Multiple half-formed illusions of me, of it, of random people flutter in and out of existence, then fade.
It's tangible now — a lithe panther-like beast with crystalline skin that reflects the room in distorted ways. Desperate, it whirls to face me, one of its mirror eyes cracked from the damage. It pounces, claws outstretched.
I can't fully dodge, so I do something crazy: I Blink straight up, aiming for a spot above and slightly behind it. The move is clumsy — I reappear a few feet above the ground and gravity immediately grabs me — but it's enough. The predator sails under me as I drop. I come down right on its back, knife first.
With my full weight and momentum, the blade drives deep between its shoulder blades, right into what passes for its heart. The creature crashes to the floor, taking me with it in a heap.
I roll clear as it thrashes, a keening wail echoing from its maw. Then, at last, it grows still, limbs splayed, tail twitching once before falling limp.
I collapse onto my rear, chest heaving. That was by far the strangest fight of my life. My head is pounding from the adrenaline and the disorienting illusions.
System: "Target eliminated. And may I say, very resourceful use of environment and skills, Jet." The AI sounds genuinely impressed. "XP incoming..."
The chime confirms it. XP gained: 90. Not a level up, but a hefty chunk. I'll need a bit more for the next level, but that's fine; I'm just relieved to be alive.
I gingerly approach the creature's corpse. In death, its camouflage fades entirely, revealing a bizarre anatomy. Its skin is semi-transparent and faceted like a living prism, with circuits or vein-like conduits glowing beneath — a perfect blend of organic and synthetic. What a marvel... and a terror.
The System highlights something in its chest cavity, visible through a crack in the glassy hide. "Is that..."
System: "Loot opportunity: There's a crystalline core inside — likely the source of its illusion abilities. I can attempt to extract it." The AI guides my hands as I carefully pry open a plate of its chest with the tip of my knife and some leverage. With a final snap, a grapefruit-sized crystal, pulsing faintly with light, comes free in my hands. It's like holding a solid hologram, shimmering with rainbow hues.
"What have we got?" I ask, holding up the prize.
System: "Mirror Core: a rare techno-organic organ capable of advanced light manipulation. In game terms: a passive enhancement. If integrated into your System, it should bolster your Perception and confer resistance to visual illusions or blinding effects. It might even enable minor optical camouflages of your own, in time." I can hear the satisfaction in its voice — this is a big find.
My eyes widen. That's incredible. "Integration won't... change me in some creepy way, will it?" I ask warily. Tech mutations are a thing, and I don't want to turn into whatever this was.
System: "Relax. I'll synthesize it into a subroutine. You won't grow antennae. Probably." Was that a joke? Hard to tell with the monotone.
"Do it," I decide. The crystal in my hands glows warmly as the System interfaces. Data streams flash across my HUD as the Mirror Core is absorbed — not physically into me, but into the System's architecture. I feel a slight pressure in my skull, then a pop, as if my vision just got a software upgrade.
I glance around the room. The reflections don't confuse me as much now; I can kind of delineate the real from the reflected instinctively. It's subtle but remarkable. I also notice details sharper than before, especially in dim light. "Wow."
System: "Mirror Core integrated. Perception stat significantly enhanced. Illusion resistance active." It gives a little satisfied hum. "I must admit, Jet, you're amassing quite the toolkit down here. Chronologically speaking, you're ahead of projections."
I manage a small smile. Coming from my usually critical AI companion, that's high praise. "Thanks. That means a lot... I guess." I retrieve my knife and search the area one last time in case of extra loot (finding only a half-charged portable battery on the dead guard's desk, which I pocket). Then I carefully exit the mirror-filled chamber, eager to leave the scene of that mind-bending fight.
As I slip back into the data center corridor, I feel a new confidence. I've faced fear made flesh — or glass, anyway — and come out on top. My injuries still ache, and I'm sure I look like hell, but internally, a weight is lifted. The Labyrinth threw my worst fears at me and I stared them down.
I tighten my grip on my knife and step forward. Onward.