Council life was, as Lucas quickly discovered, mostly boring bureaucracy interspersed with moments of high-stakes tension. He spent his days listening to arguments about latrine placement, mediating disputes between the [Builders] and the [Scavenger's Union] over who got first claim on rebar, and trying not to fall asleep while Finch droned on about perimeter security protocols.
His real work happened away from the crates.
Amir, the Surgeon, proved to be an unexpected ally. In a sealed, ventilated tent at the edge of the Caregiver's sector, they conducted "research." Lucas would direct Vir to secrete minute amounts of corrosive gel onto various materials—scrap metal, monster chitin, treated wood—while Amir observed with his [Diagnostic Eye], taking notes on a cracked tablet.
"The enzymatic structure is adaptive," Amir murmured one afternoon. "It seeks weakness. It's not mindless acid; it's… targeted decay. If we could synthesize a counter-agent, we could make armor that actively resists corrosion."
"Or a weapon that seeks structural flaws," Lucas added, thinking of his [Scavenger's Eye].
Amir glanced at him. "You think like a weapon, Overlord."
"It's the world we're in."
Their collaboration yielded its first practical result a week later: a small jar of [Neutralizing Balm], born from studying Vir's byproducts and Eleanor's [Minor Mend]. It could halt the spread of low-level acid burns and minor infections. It wasn't much, but it was a start. A product. Something his "faction" could contribute.
It was during a routine scouting patrol just beyond the dome's southern edge—a duty Lucas had volunteered for to escape the tedium—that they found the bird.
The patrol was Lucas, Mem (whose silent durability made him an ideal guard), and two [Scout]-class volunteers from the Vanguard. They were checking the now-slime-free water treatment plant for any residual threats when one of the Scouts, a woman named Lena, pointed.
"Movement. In the old office block. Not slime-like."
It was a figure, stumbling along a broken third-floor walkway. Humanoid, but wrong. Its movements were jerky, uncoordinated. As it passed a shattered window, the light caught on something metallic and twisted on its back.
[Entity: ???]
[Status: Heavily Corrupted, Maimed, Systems Failure.]
[Class Signature: [Sky-Knight] - [F] (Damaged).]
[Disposition: Hostile (Error), Lost.]
"A Player," Lena whispered, raising her short bow. "But what happened to it?"
"Don't shoot," Lucas said, his [Scavenger's Eye] activating. He saw the Fracture Points—not for attack, but for stability. The thing was held together by luck and corroded metal. "It's not attacking. It's dying."
The entity stumbled again, clutched the railing, and with a shriek of tearing metal, the walkway gave way. It fell two stories into a mound of soft, rotten debris below.
They approached cautiously. Up close, it was a tragedy. It had once been human, probably a young man. Now, half his body was fused with a harness of intricate, bird-like brass and copper mechanisms—a flying apparatus. But the wings were snapped, the gears clogged with rust and a familiar greenish residue. Acid corrosion. Vir's kin had done this. The flesh around the metal fusion was necrotic, pulsing with sickly light.
His eyes were open, clouded with pain and system errors. His lips moved, forming silent words.
Lucas knelt, ignoring Lena's warning. He could feel it—the guy's will was shattered, not just by pain, but by the System corruption eating him alive. He was a living [Critical Threshold].
The golden prompt flickered, unstable, in Lucas's vision.
[Target Vulnerable. Soul is Corrupted. Binding carries high risk of instability. Activate [ABSOLUTE SUBJUGATION]? Y/N]
A corrupted soul. What would that even give him? A broken Thrall? A dangerous, glitching liability?
But the class… [Sky-Knight]. Even broken, the potential was enormous. Scouting, mobility, aerial advantage. It was everything the Safe Zone lacked.
It was also his last empty slot.
"What are you doing?" Lena asked, her arrow still trained on the dying man's head.
"Salvaging," Lucas said quietly.
He placed a hand on the hot, corrupted metal of the chest plate. The man's clouded eyes focused on him for a second, a flash of desperate, silent plea.
Lucas made his choice.
**"Yes."**
The chain that erupted from him was different this time. It was streaked with sickly green, the color of Vir's corruption. It slammed into the man's chest, and for a terrifying moment, Lucas felt the corruption lash back up the chain, a feedback loop of decay and agony. His [Acidic Blood] seethed in response, a strange resonance.
The binding was a battle. Not of strength, but of purification. Lucas's will, the core of [Absolute Subjugation], clashed with the chaotic, dying data of the corruption. He wasn't just binding a soul; he was forcibly reformatting it.
It took minutes. The man convulsed. The corroded metal screeched. Then, with a final, shuddering sigh, it was over.
The body dissolved in a wave of black and green static. From the static, a new form coalesced.
It was smaller. A humanoid shape about four feet tall, made of dark, weathered bronze and black iron. Its "wings" were now two tattered, cloak-like appendages of corroded metal mesh, hanging from its arms. Its face was a smooth, featureless metal plate, save for a single, vertical green slit that glowed with the same light as Vir's core. It stood on slender, bird-like talons.
[ABSOLUTE SUBJUGATION Successful! (High-Risk Bind)]
[Thrall Acquired: [Corrupted Sky-Knight] -> Designation Updated: [Rook - The Broken Aviary].]
[Capacity: 5/5.]
[Soul-Theft Initiated… Scanning Corrupted Skills…]
[Primary Skill [Soar] unrecoverable. Secondary Skill [Sky-Sight] corrupted.]
[Extracting Skill-Shard Fragment…]
[New Passive Skill Acquired: [Keen Altitude - Lvl 1] - Your vision is slightly enhanced at high elevations or when looking down from heights. Passive situational awareness increased.]
Rook tilted its featureless face plate toward Lucas. A series of soft, clicking gears sounded from within its chest. It took a halting step forward, then knelt on one creaking knee, a gesture of fealty.
Lucas was at capacity. Five Thralls. His arsenal was complete: Ground, Artifact, Tech, Acid, and now, Air. A twisted, broken air.
"By the System's grace," Lena breathed, lowering her bow. "You… you saved him?"
"I used him," Lucas corrected, his voice tired. "He was a resource. Now he's mine." He looked at Rook's tattered metal wings. "Can you still fly?"
Rook's head clicked side to side. A negative. But it pointed a taloned finger upward, then made a slow, gliding descent motion with its hand. Then it pointed at its own chest and made a repairing gesture.
It could be fixed. It wanted to be fixed.
Lucas looked back toward the dome. He had gone looking for routine and found a broken bird. Now he had the final piece of his twisted court.
"Come on," he said to his thralls and the stunned scouts. "Let's go home. We have a new project."
The chain was full. The Overlord's retinue was assembled. The next phase was about to begin.