The Razor-Back Beetle lay dead at Thalos's feet, its legs curled inward like a crushed spider. Green ichor pooled around his boots, sizzling faintly against the muscle-tissue floor of the tunnel.
Thalos stood over the corpse, his chest heaving. The adrenaline of the fight was fading, replaced by a sharp, gnawing hunger that twisted his stomach. Using [Dermal Plating] and fighting head-on burned calories at a terrifying rate. He felt lightheaded, his vision swimming with black spots.
He needed fuel. And in the depths of the Titan, there were no vending machines.
"System," Thalos whispered, his voice raspy. "Harvest."
[Skill Activated: Scavenger's Hands (Passive)]
[Analyzing Anatomy...]
[Weak Points Identified for Disassembly.]
Thalos knelt in the muck. He didn't have a skinning knife, but his Bone Blade was serrated and sharp enough for the job. Guided by the System, he knew exactly where to cut. He jammed the blade into the soft tissue connecting the beetle's heavy carapace to its body.
Squelch. Snap.
With a wet tearing sound, he pried the heavy chitin plate loose. It came away with a suction noise, dripping with neon-green fluid.
He worked quickly, his hands moving with a precision he had never possessed before. In minutes, he had stripped the creature of its most valuable parts.
[Loot Acquired:]
Razor-Chitin Plate (x3) – Description: Hardened organic armor. Resistant to small-caliber fire.
Acid Gland (Damaged) – Description: Contains corrosive bile. Handle with care.
Beetle Meat (Raw) – Description: High-protein muscle tissue. Toxic to unmutated humans.
Thalos looked at the pile of meat he had carved out. It was pale, translucent, and twitched slightly even though the creature was dead. It smelled of ozone and copper.
His stomach roared, a sound so loud it echoed in the quiet tunnel. His body was screaming for protein to repair the micro-tears in his muscles and fuel the grey scales growing on his skin.
"Don't think about it," he told himself. "Just eat."
He lifted a chunk of the raw, twitching meat to his lips. He hesitated. He had eaten rat skewers and moss-paste his whole life, but this... this was a monster.
He closed his eyes and bit down.
It was tough, like chewing on a rubber tire. Then the flavor hit him. It tasted like licking a 9-volt battery mixed with old blood. It was electric and metallic.
He gagged, his throat convulsing. He forced himself to swallow.
[Devour Successful.]
[XP Gained: 15]
[Biomass Acquired.]
[Trait Progress: Natural Armor (Tier 1) -> 4%]
The nausea passed instantly, replaced by a rush of heat. It felt like he had just downed a shot of high-grade fuel. The dizziness vanished. His strength flooded back, sharper and more potent than before.
He ate again. And again.
He stripped the carcass clean, leaving only a hollow shell and scattered legs. With every bite, the grey scales on his arms seemed to pulse, knitting together tighter, becoming less like a scab and more like true armor.
[Level Up!]
[Thalos is now Level 5.]
[Attribute Point Gained: +1]
Thalos sat back against the pulsating wall, wiping the green blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt... full. For the first time in years, he wasn't hungry.
He opened his status menu, the blue screen glowing in the dark.
[Name: Thalos]
[Level: 5]
[Strength: 14]
[Agility: 11]
[Defense: 13 (+3)]
[Mana: 0/10]
"Level 5," he whispered. Halfway to his goal.
He put the new point into Strength. If he was going to wear heavy armor and swing a bone sword, he needed the muscle to back it up. He felt a slight shift in his body, his muscles densifying, becoming wire-tough.
He bundled the Razor-Chitin Plates into his canvas cloak, tying it into a makeshift sack. These were valuable. In the Marrow Market, armor was scarce. A single plate could trade for three days' worth of clean water or a box of antibiotics for Elara.
"Time to go," he muttered.
He stood up, slung the heavy sack over his shoulder, and headed back toward the safety of the Ribs.
The walk back was quiet. The smaller vermin of the tunnels, the rats and sludge-crawlers, scurried away from him. They could smell the predator on him now.
As he neared the checkpoint that separated the Flesh Mines from the Slums, he slowed down.
Something was wrong.
Usually, the tunnel was empty except for the occasional exhausted miner. But today, three silhouettes blocked the path, standing directly under the flickering yellow safety light.
They weren't guards. They wore patchwork leather jackets adorned with scrap metal studs. In their hands, they held rusty iron pipes and heavy wrenches.
The Copperhead Gang.
Thalos knew them. Everyone in the Ribs knew them. They were bottom-feeders who were too cowardly to mine the depths themselves, so they waited at the checkpoints to rob the miners who did the hard work.
The leader stepped forward. He was a tall, skeletal man with a cybernetic eye that whirred loudly every time he blinked.
"Well, well," the leader sneered, his voice echoing off the wet walls. "Look at what we have here. A little lost miner coming back from the dark."
Thalos stopped ten paces away. He kept his head down, his hood shadowing his face. He tightened his grip on the sack of loot.
"Let me pass," Thalos said. His voice was calm, deeper than it had been yesterday.
The leader laughed, a harsh, barking sound. He tapped his iron pipe against his open palm. Clang. Clang.
"Pass?" the leader mocked. "Nobody passes without paying the toll, kid. You know the rules. The Ribs are dangerous. You pay for protection."
The two thugs behind him fanned out, blocking the width of the tunnel. They were grinning, revealing teeth rotted by sugar-chews.
"Drop the bag," the leader commanded, his smile vanishing. "And empty your pockets. If you have any credits, toss them over. Do it quick, and maybe we won't break your legs."
In the past, Thalos would have handed it over. He would have begged. He would have given them everything just to survive another day to see his sister.
But Thalos felt different today.
He felt the weight of the Golden Syringe hidden in his belt pouch. He felt the hard edges of the Chitin Plates on his back. And mostly, he felt the lingering, metallic taste of the beetle's blood in his mouth.
He wasn't prey anymore. He had just killed a monster that would have eaten these three punks for a snack.
He slowly lowered the sack to the ground.
"Good boy," the leader smirked, taking a step forward. "Now the coat."
Thalos didn't take off his coat. Instead, his hand drifted to the hilt of the Bone Blade concealed beneath the canvas.
"I think you misunderstood," Thalos said.
He looked up. Under the hood, his amber eyes glowed with a faint, bioluminescent light.
"I didn't put the bag down to give it to you," Thalos growled. "I put it down so I can use both hands."
The leader paused, the cybernetic eye zooming in with a soft whirrr. He saw the grey scales on Thalos's neck. He saw the look in those unnatural eyes.
"What the hell are you?" the leader whispered.
Thalos drew the Bone Blade. It hissed through the air, a jagged, white nightmare of a weapon.
[Combat Initiated.]
[Target: Thug (Lvl 2)]
[Target: Thug (Lvl 2)]
[Target: Gang Leader (Lvl 4)]
"I'm the toll collector," Thalos said. "And you're standing in my way."