The man's breathing is ragged, uneven, each inhale scraping through damaged lungs.
Blood seeps steadily into the dirt beneath him, soaking the roots of the willow that binds his hybrid body in place.
Tendrils coil tight around broken limbs and severed tubes, holding the monster immobile, but the human within still clings stubbornly to life.
His eyes meet Kaelen's.
They burn with pain, regret, and something sharper beneath it. Urgency.
"You… go," he rasps, every word tearing its way out of his throat. "There's someone waiting… my son… in the city beyond the Iron Gate."
He coughs violently. Blood bubbles at his lips and drips down his chin.
"Tell him… I sent you." His voice weakens, but his gaze does not waver. "Street of Broken Lamps… number forty two."
Another breath shudders through him. "Tell him… Kaelen… only you can…"
The sentence never finishes.
His head slumps slightly, breath fading into a shallow rattle before stopping altogether.
Kaelen kneels despite the pain tearing through his side, pressing a hand to his wound to steady himself.
His thoughts race, colliding and unraveling all at once. 'A son? A city? A name and an address burned into his mind'.
More questions with more mysteries.
Yet he knows one thing with absolute clarity. He cannot ignore this, especially not now and not after everything.
SC's voice cuts through the silence as he adjusts his datapad, sweeping the area with rapid scans. "We need to move. That hybrid's energy residue is unstable. The longer we stay, the more likely it attracts others."
Kaelen rises slowly, forcing his body to obey.
His grip tightens around the laser rifle until his knuckles ache.
He gives a single nod.
They move quickly through the forest, slipping between warped trunks and shadowed growths, careful to avoid patrol routes and the scavengers that stalk the aftermath of battles.
The terrain gradually changes. The trees thin. The oppressive density of the Forbidden Area eases just enough to reveal something beyond the next rise.
A city.
Iron gates stand tall and rusted but reinforced, massive walls forming a brutal boundary between the settlement and the cursed forest behind them.
Guards line the gates at regular intervals, their cybernetic eyes sweeping the area with precision.
"We go slow," Kaelen mutters. "SC, map me a blind spot."
SC flicks through layered overlays on his datapad, his voice barely audible. "Shift left on my mark. There's a gap in the sensor sweep here. Follow my steps exactly."
They slip through the gate unnoticed, hearts pounding, tension coiled tight in their chests.
Inside, the streets narrow immediately. Leaning buildings of metal and reinforced concrete crowd close together, patched with salvaged panels and flickering neon signs that struggle against the permanent dusk.
People move in the shadows, heads down, eyes wary. Every face bears the mark of exile, those abandoned by the Empire be punished for minor crimes, or simply deemed too insignificant to matter as low level individuals.
Kaelen watches them quietly.
This is where the forgotten go. Every expression tells a story of betrayal, survival, and quiet desperation, and somewhere within this maze of decay, a son waits.
He wonders what kind of man he has become. What kind of truth he carries.
They duck into an alley to let a larger crowd pass. SC pulls out portable fabric wraps and scavenged gear, hiding themselve to move more efficiently.
"You'll be Kia," SC says softly. "I'm Liam. Low level offenders, they are removed from official records years ago, so no one will look twice."
Kaelen nods as he pulls the hood low. A bitter thought settles in his chest. I am no criminal, yet I wear the mask of one, and survival demands it.
They move carefully, asking questions using coded phrasing, listening more than they speak.
A wary man eventually directs them toward a side office tucked between abandoned buildings where identification can be forged for the right price.
SC handles the technical work with practiced ease. A synthetic identity forms on the screen.
Kia. Low level registration, with a minor criminal background is just enough to disappear into the city's noise.
Kaelen studies the data before accepting it, better to walk unseen than be hunted openly.
In the backstreets, movement catches his attention. A group of men haul heavy crates marked with crude symbols and smeared with faintly glowing bloodstains, and SC leans closer.
"Monster hunting parties," he whispers. "They deliver to the Guild. Rewards scale based on energy signatures, spiritual nutrition, and rarity."
"Spiritual nutrition," Kaelen repeats quietly.
SC nods. "Enhancements. Energy extraction. Consuming or processing remains from zerg or hybrids grants temporary or permanent boosts. Strength. Endurance. Reflexes. It's dangerous. Addictive. Effective."
Kaelen's jaw tightens. They profit from suffering. And the Empire allows it to thrive.
They follow the directions to a massive structure at the edge of the sector. A fortress of reinforced steel and concrete. Above the entrance, a flickering sign reads Adventure Guild Headquarters.
The guards at the door are alert, scanning everyone who approaches. SC murmurs, "Leave it to me."
With subtle manipulation of the access panel, he forces a misread in the sensors.
The guards wave them through without suspicion.
Inside, the Guild is alive with motion, there are armed members move with disciplined efficiency, carrying energy weapons, flamers, and heavy rigs.
Large screens display maps of nearby zones, monster nests, hybrid sightings, and reward tallies. Kaelen's gaze lingers on logs detailing captured creatures and records of experimental subjects.
A waitress passes carrying trays of steaming protein packs infused with glowing compounds. Kaelen notices posted reward values correlating to consumption. Strength.
He signals SC. "Information first."
They enter the restaurant section. Kaelen pays extra, discreetly buying time and trust. The waitress leans closer, lowering her voice.
"The hybrids don't leave the forests," she whispers. "Energy builds up inside them. Curse energy. The body rejects it eventually. Some survive. Most don't. No medicine stops it."
Her eyes dart nervously. "Those who tried to escape… didn't make it. The energy reacts. Violently."
Kaelen's stomach turns. So that is why no one leaves. The planet itself kills you for trying.
SC nods slowly. "This explains the absence of external sightings. Anyone carrying the energy destabilizes once they cross certain thresholds."
The waitress swallows. "They say it started with the old experiments. No one knows when. Only that it's everywhere now."
Kaelen clenches his fists beneath the table. This planet does not imprison. It punishes. It twists life into weaponized suffering.
He meets SC's gaze. "We move carefully. If we find the son, and whatever truth he holds, we cannot trigger the energy."
SC nods, already calculating routes, marking zones of lower interference. "We move tonight. Shadows only. Information first."
Kaelen exhales slowly.
A son. A dead father. An Empire built on lies and abandoned lives.
Every step forward feels like entering another trap.
But there is no turning back.
________________________________________
The waitress got out of the restaurant, with a smile. She opened her terminal brain communication " General~ i found the cold kitten"
" Did you follow the order?"
" Yeah~ i told him, but you promised me , he is mine ok"
" Alright after i use him, he will be your s*x slave"
" Thank you general ~ i will go and prepare my welcoming party"