As he walked through the warehouse again, it felt different.
The smell of burnt metal and flesh now hung everywhere. Small fires had started where plasma rifles hit wooden crates, leaving smoke to fill the ceiling.
"Uriel, what's my status like?" Zion asked, turning the corner.
All across his body, he felt slight stings where metal shards had cut his skin. Then there was also his left arm, which had patches of melted skin on it.
[Energy reserves sit around 70%,] Uriel responded calmly. [Injuries are mostly surface level. A few metal shards are stuck in your flesh, but I can easily take care of those.]
"Mhm," Zion let out, his mind replaying the entire fight. 'My unique weapons gave me an edge, but the fight could've gone wrong more than once.'
Especially his energy management. He hadn't burned himself dry like he did against the shadeleecher, but holding back too much could be just as fatal.
Upon reaching the meeting room, Zion immediately pushed those thoughts out of his mind as he searched for Erick.
'There,' he thought, spotting the young man slumped against a wall with debris and dust all over his body.
Erick's head was hanging forward, eyes half shut, his chest rising and falling steadily. Under the layer of dust, Zion could faintly see blood stains, but none of it seemed excessive.
Without wasting any more time, he stepped forward and placed a hand on Erick's shoulder.
"Scan his body for me, Uriel," Zion asked, exhaling quietly.
[Affirmative,] Uriel replied, its tone cold and mechanical. [Scanning now…]
[…Scan complete]
Zion removed his hand, standing up straight again.
[Multiple fractures detected,] Uriel reported calmly. [Two cracked ribs, a fractured forearm, and signs of heavy concussion. He'll recover naturally within a few weeks.]
Just as Zion nodded, Erick's body moved slightly as he let out a weak groan. His eyes opened a little, hazy as they slowly drifted toward Zion.
"…I'm alive?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.
Zion smiled a genuine smile. "Yes, you're alive."
For a moment, confusion flickered across Erick's face. Then his eyes moved, taking in the wrecked room, the smoke, and the bodies.
"They're… gone?" he asked weakly.
Zion gave a short nod.
Erick blinked slowly as relief spread across his face. His brow furrowed, then relaxed again as the tension finally left his body.
"…Good," he muttered, before his eyes closed again.
[Host,] Uriel spoke. [He is in no immediate danger. I recommend waiting for his consciousness to stabilize before moving him.]
Zion contemplated Uriel's words silently. It made sense—Erick was just a stranger, and moving him without him being aware would scare him rather than help.
"Sure," he answered, nodding as he moved away from Erick.
Finally, his eyes moved over the slain mercenaries in the room.
He walked up to Devan's corpse, crouched down, and picked up the rifle he had dropped.
"Uriel, you think we can sell these for a good price?" he asked, inspecting the energy rifle.
[Of course,] Uriel responded. [According to local networks, there are plenty of black markets that deal in this kind of equipment. Energy rifles typically sell for around twenty-five thousand credits, while plasma rifles go for closer to thirty-five thousand.]
Hearing that, Zion's eyes lit up.
"It would be a waste to leave them lying around then," he said, immediately moving on to the next corpse.
As he collected weapons, he stumbled upon more than he'd expected, finding multiple mercenaries carrying energy handguns that sold for ten thousand credits each.
After Zion finished gathering the last weapon, his gaze drifted back to Erick.
'He still hasn't regained consciousness,' he thought. 'But just leaving him there doesn't feel right either.'
Zion walked back and crouched beside him again, checking his breathing once more.
"Uriel," he said quietly. "Any way to contact emergency services without tying it to me?"
[Yes,] Uriel replied immediately. [I can send out an anonymous distress signal whenever the host wants. Medical response time is estimated at fifteen minutes.]
Zion nodded. "Do it."
[Affirmative.]
With that done, he stood up and turned back toward the guns he'd collected.
Without another choice, Zion ripped the jacket off Devan's corpse and used it to wrap two energy rifles, four plasma rifles, and nine energy handguns together.
'There should still be ten minutes left before they get here,' he thought, glancing back at Erick. 'I should check the warehouse for more valuables in that time.'
He wanted to leave before anyone arrived to avoid a massive misunderstanding. Something like this couldn't be covered up anyway, and staying around would only complicate things.
Sooner or later, the Mercenary Guild would question the only survivor. And when that happened, Erick would explain what really took place.
'There's plenty of proof around the place,' Zion thought, not worried in the least. 'They'll probably find more than enough suspicious activity in the mission and crew logs to back up Erick's account.'
With that out of his mind, he started to scour the warehouse for any remaining valuables.
He opened two crates, metal and wood alike, but none held anything actually valuable.
"There should be a room somewhere with some valuables then, right?" he mumbled, scanning the paths for any doors.
Zion searched everywhere but didn't find much, to his disappointment.
[Emergency services will arrive in approximately four minutes,] Uriel informed him.
"That's my cue," Zion replied, voice low.
He adjusted the bundle of weapons on his shoulder and headed for the exit, leaving the warehouse behind.
Zion stepped out of the warehouse and didn't slow down. The weapons were too valuable to sit on, and he had no intention of staying nearby any longer.
"Uriel, give me a route to one of those markets you mentioned," he said as he walked down the street.
[Host, it would be better to stay the night at a motel first,] Uriel said calmly. [Your appearance will attract too much attention right now.]
'Appearance…' Zion looked down at his blood-soaked clothes. "Seems like I got too carried away. Thanks, Uriel."