[ Ironhaven Megacity, Undercity Sublevel 8 – The Hollow Market ]
The Hollow Market never slept.
The Hollow Market stretched out in a cavern left behind by three collapsed transit hubs, the ceiling hung with glow-lamps that flickered and buzzed, some barely holding on. Stalls crowded the walls in messy lines, selling scavenged tech, strange cuts of rift meat, medicine with labels half-scraped off, and weapons that gave off a faint, stolen hum. The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of fried protein, charred ozone, and something sour underneath it all—desperation that stuck to your skin like old rain.
Ebon kept his hood low, black veins masked beneath long sleeves. The stolen cores weighed down his inner pockets—twenty-four vials, mostly blues and greens, three reds pulsing dimly against his chest like guilty little hearts.
He found Ol' Kess behind her usual stall, a tarp-covered table piled with dubious vials and cracked holo-screens. She was sixty if she was a day, half her face veiled by a patched eyepatch, the other half scarred from some long-ago rift burn. Rumor said she'd once been at Helix Institute before they cut her loose.
Kess looked up as he approached, one good eye narrowing.
"Well, if it isn't the black-veined wonder boy. Heard you made Apex cry yesterday."
Ebon slid two blue cores across the table. "Heard you buy quiet."
She snorted, picking one up to the light. "Quiet costs extra. Especially when the merchandise is… warm."
Ebon added a red. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
Kess whistled low. "Now you're speaking my language." She leaned in, voice dropping. "Word is there's a bounty on you. Fifty large. Alive."
Ebon shrugged. "Alive's negotiable."
Kess barked a laugh. "Cocky. I like it. But cocky gets dead fast down here." She slid a credit chip across. "Fifteen for the lot. Take it before I decide to collect that bounty myself."
"Twenty."
"Seventeen, and I throw in a fake ID chip. Good for Mid-Crown gates."
Ebon hesitated. Seventeen was a rip-off, but he didn't have time to argue. Right now, getting out was worth more than a few extra credits.
"Deal. But if anyone asks, you never saw me."
Kess grinned, teeth yellowed. "Kid, I've been blind since the Shattering. Didn't see a thing."
He pocketed the chip and turned to leave.
He felt it then—a crawling at the back of his neck, the kind of feeling you get when someone's watching you for real, not just the usual glances. This was colder, sharper, like a knife pressed against his skin.
A man stepped out from behind a nearby stall. Mid-twenties, thin, with wind twisting around his fingers in restless shapes. Another B-rank Elemental — same spectrum as the one Ebon had taken down yesterday.
"Bounty's fifty thousand alive," the hunter called, loud enough for nearby stalls to hear. "But I'll take forty and call it a bonus if you come quiet."
The market quieted. Eyes turned.
Ebon sighed, rolling his shoulder where yesterday's cut still pulled.
"You new down here?"
The hunter smirked. "New enough to cash in."
Blades of wind spun into shape around his hands — three discs of compressed air catching the light.
Ebon tilted his head, voice dry. "Funny. I think I met your twin last night. Didn't turn out great for him."
The hunter's smirk faltered for half a second.
Ebon didn't wait.
He stepped forward, spikes manifesting mid-stride.
The hunter flung the blades.
Ebon caught two blades on his armored forearms. The hit rattled his bones, but nothing broke. The third slipped past, slicing his sleeve and leaving a thin line of blood on his arm.
He closed the distance in two steps and drove a spiked fist into the hunter's chest.
Not deep. Just enough.
The man gasped, wind dying around his fingers.
Ebon leaned in close.
"Tell Apex their scraps aren't worth my time."
He pulled back, spikes retracting.
The hunter dropped to his knees, clutching his chest, eyes staring with shock.
The market stayed quiet for three heartbeats.
Then someone started clapping slowly.
Old Kess cackled from her stall. "Show's free, folks! Tip the fighter!"
Laughter rolled through the crowd. Tension broke.
Ebon walked away before more hunters got brave.
Later, deeper in abandoned Sublevel 10 tunnels, he trained alone.
The loneliness landed harder than any punch he'd taken.
No Mira's sarcasm. No Jax's drawings. No Lena's quiet smiles.
Just him, the dark, and the Beast.
He pushed harder.
Forearms fully armored now—stable for a full minute.
Knees next. Shins.
Pain rolled in, numbness crawling up his legs. His breath caught, muscles tightening until it felt like something might snap.
He welcomed it.
Every time a spike came out stronger than before, it was proof.
Proof he was becoming what he needed to be.
Proof no one could touch what he'd left behind.
He kept punching the wall, over and over, until the concrete started to crumble under his fists.
Cracks crawled across the wall, dark lines branching out like veins.
Like his own.
He stopped only when his hands bled too much to hold form.
Collapsed against the wall, chest heaving.
The hunger stirred—cold, patient.
For the first time, he didn't push it down.
He let it sit there.
And whispered to the dark.
"Fine. We'll do it your way."
Somewhere far above, in the Spires, Carver read the report of the failed bounty hunter and smiled thinly.
Below, in the Abyss, something ancient shifted in its sleep.
And in the tunnels, Ebon Thorne closed his eyes.
Alone.
But not empty.
A Beast was growing inside.
And it was almost ready.