Vanya moved a little closer to Talon, her dark eyes gleaming with a greedy and calculating glint that matched his own. The shimmering energy in his veins pulsed brighter for a moment, reflecting in her pupils like distant stars.
"Where they got it from doesn't really matter though, as long as they've got more of it, enough for the both of us, then it's good,"
She said, her voice soft but edged with steel.
"If this serum can transform a dying man into that —" she gestured toward the empty alley where Steven had emerged, "—imagine what it could do for us. Especially, you."
She spoke while taking a subtle glance at Talon's veiny arms that were pulsating with energy, then gave him a meaningful smile.
Talon's jaw tightened. He fully turned to face her, the distortion around his arms intensifying as his emotions stirred. His eyes glowing green with greed when he thought about how many times his physique would be strengthened after injecting the liquid.
"Such a rare resource isn't meant to be monopolized," Talon spoke as he glanced around the ruined district, his greedy thoughts suddenly evaporating as he felt a chill crawl up his spine, like he was doused with a bucket of cold water. He hesitated briefly before he continued
"We can't take it. At least, not by ourselves. That thing's too strong. He even calculated his own strength like he was reading a menu. Nine hundred tons, two thousand five hundred at peak, plus that scary dark energy stuff. Our attacks won't leave a scratch on him even if given the chance to cause damage."
He laughed with a hollow and bitter sound then continued.
"I wouldn't even be able to beat Nocthar. But he dealt with him before he even got strengthened by that liquid.
What should we do if we want him to give us some without having to fight for it?"
Vanya's lips pressed into a thin line. She opened her mouth to retort, but Talon pressed on, his distorted aura making the air between them shimmer like heat off stone.
"Listen to me," he said, each word deliberate. "I'm greedy, and not afraid to die for it. But I am not stupid. I'm sure if we go to him for it, we're no coming back out. At least, not as anything but blood stains."
"Then what?" Vanya demanded, her voice cracking
"We just forget it? Pretend we didn't see—"
"We don't forget," Talon said. A slow, cunning smile spread across his face, transforming his rugged features into something predatory. "We share the information."
Vanya blinked. "What?"
"The whole inner circle," Talon continued, his voice gaining momentum, his eyes alight with strategic fire. "Every strong mutant in the sanctuary's core. The ones who matter, with power, influence, and armies of their own. We tell them. All of them."
"That's—" Vanya hesitated, her mind racing. "That's dangerous. If they know we know—"
"They won't know it came from us," Talon cut in smoothly. "If the rumors spreads, with whispers in the dark, a mutant here, a merchant there. By the time it reaches the inner circle, the source will be buried under ten layers of hearsay. But the content ?"
He spread his hands.
"Irresistible. A serum that can rebuild a shattered body, multiply strength sixfold, push a mutant past their theoretical limits. Do you think the strong will sit idle while a small group hoards such a miracle?"
Vanya was silent for a long moment. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of ash and ozone from the battle's aftermath.
"They'll come," she said finally. "All of them. Demanding and Taking."
"Exactly," Talon said.
"No matter how strong that monster and his group are, they cannot stand against the collective weight of the inner circle. Not if they're united in purpose. Even a two-thousand-ton punch can't fight a war on fifty fronts."
"And when they're connered" Vanya continued, with understanding dawning in her eyes,
"when they're forced to compromise or be destroyed..."
"We'll be there," Talon finished.
"We'll emerge not as enemies or threats but mediators. Reasonable voices in the chaos. We help them survive the storm, and they reward our... discretion."
He paused, his smile widening.
"Perhaps with a vial. Perhaps with the formula itself. Or we simply buy it from whoever wins the scramble. The serum will change hands many times before this ends. We only need to be patient. And patience, Vanya, costs nothing."
Vanya studied him for a long moment, then a slow, genuine smile curved her lips. "You're more cunning than you look, Talon."
"I've survived this long," he replied, turning to gaze in the direction Steven's group had departed. "Not by being the strongest. But by knowing when the strongest are about to become very busy."
They melted into the shadows of the ruined district, their plans already taking shape in whispered words and secret nods.
The outer sanctuary sprawled like a wound that refused to heal.
Where the inner circle maintained order through fear and strength, the outer rings existed in perpetual chaos—shanties built atop ruins, markets trading in contraband and desperation, and mutants who had fled, fallen, or been exiled from the sanctuary's core. The air here tasted of rust and stale water, and the sky above seemed perpetually gray, as if even the weather had given up on this place.
Steven walked at the front of the group, his new height making him conspicuous even among the varied physiques of mutant kind. At 2.1 meters, he towered over most, and the density of his frame made each footfall land with a subtle, unnerving weight. He'd wrapped himself in a long coat salvaged from somewhere, concealing his proportions, but nothing could hide the way the crowd parted for him, unconsciously, like water around stone.
"You're sure about this?" Brant asked, keeping his voice low. "We could've just asked that female general where we're gonna get some house constructing mutants from, cause im pretty sure they're under protection of some kind. Well considering how everyone back there's got their own house."
"No, we aren't going back to her, remembering how we were treated on our first meeting, like we were some kind of nuisance. You sure you wanna go back there??... Cause i remember a certain someone getting pissed off and almost and almost resorting to violence"
Steven said. His voice now carrying more emotion, becoming more "human".
"I'm only gonna ask for information. Which I'm sure they'll be happy to give, right?"
Brant became a little speechless, his dark face blushing a little because he knew he was the one Steven was talking about. He got enraged earlier because of the way they got treated by that female general. And here he was, suggesting they meet her a second time
They moved through the maze of makeshift structures, past vendors selling questionable meat and mutants with mutations that had left them more grotesque than powerful. Eyes tracked them—some curious, most fearful. The aftermath of the battle with Nocthar had spread, as such things always did. Whispers had wings in the sanctuary.
Anna, still clinging close to Veronica, her small frame dwarfed by the taller woman's steady presence. "It's so... sad living here," she whispered, remembering how much she's suffered since she mutated and got turned into a blood coin slave.
"It's survival,"
Veronica replied, her tone neutral as always, but her eyes scanning every shadow, and face.
"Not everyone gets to be strong."
They found their target near what passed for a marketplace—a cluster of stalls selling scavenged tech and black-market medicine. The mutant was huddled against a crumbling wall, wrapped in layers of filthy cloth, his eyes darting like trapped insects. He was thin, almost emaciated, with skin that seemed to shift colors faintly, trying to match the concrete behind him.
A chameleon-type, Steven noted. Low-grade. Useful for hiding, but useless for fighting. Perfect for someone a knowledgeable spy.
Steven stopped in front of him.
The mutant's color-shifting skin went pale, then blotchy with fear. He tried to press himself further into the wall, as if he could phase through it.
"Wait," Steven said spoke, emitting a commanding presence.
The mutant froze.
"I need information," Steven continued. His voice was calm, trying his best to sound gentle in deep resonance, but there was no warmth in it. The emotionless state had worn off somewhat—Brant and Veronica could see hus micro-expressions returning, subtle shifts in the set of Steven's jaw—but the emptiness hadn't fully receded. It still lingered like frost in shadow.
"I want information about a builder. A mutant with the power to construct structures. Durable and defensible ones."
"I—I don't know what you're—"
Steven, not patient enough to continue this meaningless conversation moved.
It was so fast that Brant barely tracked it—one moment Steven was standing still, the next his hand was pressed against the wall beside the mutant's head. The concrete cracked , spiderwebbing outward from his palm, dust settling in a slow cascade.
"I don't have time for this" Steven said, his face inches from the mutant's. His eye—singular, the other still healing beneath a patch—held no cruelty, nor anger. Just that terrifying impatience.
"Fear makes you lie and look stupid. I need you functional. So understand: I will not hurt you if you tell me the truth, and I will also not hurt you if you don't know. But if you lie to me, I will know. And I will be... disappointed."
The mutant's mouth opened, closed. His skin cycled through colors so rapidly it looked like a strobe light.
"Builder," he squeaked finally. "Yes. Yes, there's one. In the eastern fringe. Near the old water treatment plant. They call him... they call him Mason. He builds for anyone who pays. Walls, fortresses, underground bunkers. His power turns raw material into architecture. Strong stuff. Really strong."
"How strong?" Steven asked, withdrawing his hand. The cracked wall remained, a silent testament to his earlier force control.
"The last guy who tried to break into a Mason-built house was a class-four strength mutant. Brawler type. Broke both his hands and three ribs. The wall barely had a scratch."
Steven filed the data. "How does he collect his payment?"
"Varies. Sometimes food, sometimes protection, sometimes..." the mutant swallowed, "sometimes he asks for favors. Information. Services." He looked up at Steven with desperate eyes.
"That's all I know. I swear. I don't know his exact location, just the area. The eastern fringe, near the big rusted tanks. Please. Please, that's everything."
Steven held his gaze for three long seconds. Then he straightened, stepping back.
"Yes," he said. "It is."
He turned and walked away without another word. The group followed, leaving the trembling mutant against his cracked wall.
"That was..." Anna started, then trailed off.
"Efficient," Veronica finished.
"Necessary," Steven corrected. "We need shelter. Defensible shelter. Nocthar was one enemy and I'm sure there's gonna be more."
He glanced back, though not at the mutant they'd interrogated. His gaze seemed to look through the shanties, through the walls, into some calculated future only he could see.
"You shouldn't have used the serum on me in such an open area. I'm pretty sure my transformation was seen by someone. What do you think will happen if a desperate mutant sees such a rare non existent strengthening product?
We need to be behind Mason's walls before the information reaches the wrong set of people."
Brant fell into step beside him, his expression troubled. "You think they'll come? The inner circle?"
"I think," Steven said, his voice carrying that new, heavy resonance, "No one here's stupid. They watched, calculated and they will have concluded what I would have concluded in their position."
"Then we're walking into a trap," Brant said.
"Who knows what's gonna be waiting for us before the base is finished. We messed up big time"
"It's not a trap," Steven corrected. "We have limited time to prepare before what's coming."
He looked at the gray sky, as if measuring something invisible. "Mason's walls will serve as a form of declaration. That we've officially become citizens here, then we'll basically be under the protection of the Heat Emperor."
They moved toward the eastern fringe, the rusted tanks and the builder who could turn stone into sanctuary. Behind them, the outer sanctuary swallowed their passage, but not their trail.
Whispers had wings. And somewhere in the dark, Talon and Vanya were already teaching them to fly.