Rex had no idea where they were.
The masked woman had dragged him through the maze of underground tunnels for what felt like hours, half-carrying him when his legs nearly gave out. The air was damp, heavy with rust and the faint stink of chemicals. Every step splashed against puddles of stagnant water that rippled with a soft plop-plop-plop—the heartbeat of the Undersprawl's buried veins.
At last, she stopped.
"Rest," she said, her voice muffled by the ski mask. "We move again soon."
Rex collapsed beside a cracked drainage pipe. The ache in his ribs pulsed like a living thing. For a moment, he simply breathed, staring at the flickering emergency light above that buzzed like an insect. It was strange—how familiar this pain felt.
He'd thought that with his new System, he'd left agony behind. That he was done being prey.
But the bruises, the blood, the hollow ache in his chest told another story.
Power didn't make you untouchable—it only made you bleed slower.
A low chime broke through his thoughts.
---
---
> [System Interface: Devourer Protocol v1.0]
User: Rex
Level: 6
Race: Human (Unregistered)
Class: Blacksmith
System Tier: Devourer
Title: Mediocre Newbie Blacksmith
Stats:
• Strength: 26 (+3)
• Endurance: 2 (+2)
• Agility: 1 (+5)
• Intelligence: 2 (+2)
• Mana: 50 / 30 (+20)
• Luck: 0 (+1)
Stat Points Available: 10
System Points Available: 5
Abilities:
† Shadowstep (Tier D) – Teleport up to 5 meters in a chosen direction. Leaves a brief afterimage.
→ Mana Cost: 5 per use
→ Upgrade Progress: 22 / 100
† Scrapmeld (Tier E) – Fuse junk materials into temporary weapons or armor.
→ Mana Cost: 13 per item
→ Cooldown: 2 minutes
Passives:
• EXP Gain +100%
Active Protocols:
• System Assimilation – Consume a weakened or inactive System. Absorb core features.
Items:
Relic – Forgotten Throne Fragment [1/6] (Tier SS)
Item Note: Fragment of a lost relic from an ancient sovereign thought erased from history.
Bonus Stats:
• Strength +3
• Endurance +2
• Agility +5
• Intelligence +2
• Mana +20
• Luck +1
---
---
Rex stared at the glowing panel hovering before him, the blue light painting his face in ghostly hues.
The last battle had taught him a bitter lesson—raw power meant nothing without balance. He'd been stronger than half the Spinebreakers that came after him, but they'd still crushed him because he couldn't take a hit or move fast enough to dodge one. Two solid blows, and he was bleeding out on the pavement.
He clenched his jaw.
If Endurance governed his defenses and overall health, then it needed serious work.
And Luck… well, that was a joke. The moment he decided to run, he'd been ambushed. If the System allowed it, maybe bumping that up a few points would stop the universe from laughing at him next time.
He thought for a while, mentally shuffling the points like dice on a table. Five to Durability—no, Endurance—three to Luck, and the last two… that was the hard choice.
Intelligence meant better crafting, faster blueprint comprehension. But Agility meant survival—speed, reflex, fluidity.
After a long moment, logic won out.
Intelligence boosted his Scrapmeld, and without better gear, he wouldn't last long anyway.
---
---
> [Assign Points?]
– Endurance +5
– Luck +3
– Intelligence +2
Confirm? [Y / N]
---
He confirmed.
A sharp current of heat rolled through his body. Bones realigned with muffled cracks, torn muscle stitched together in seconds. The pain faded, replaced by an almost euphoric lightness.
Then came the notifications.
---
---
> New Notification [See more...]
---
He tapped it.
---
> Milestone Reached!
Intelligence has risen past 5.
New Subsystem Unlocked – Drawing Room
Description: An analytic space within Scrapmeld for blueprint creation and storage.
Maximum blueprints: 5. Higher Intelligence increases complexity and tier access. [See more...]
---
He clicked it and another window blossomed open, lines of text scrolling like ink across glass.
---
Blueprint Tiers
• Stone Age – Primitive weapons and tools.
• Bronze Age – Refined metals, basic armor and blades.
• Iron Age – Standard swords, spears, bows, and shields.
• Industrial Age – Gunpowder, projectile arms, basic machinery.
• Arcane-Tech Age – Hybrid energy and mana-infused weaponry of devastating potential.
---
Rex's eyes widened.
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Now this… this is something."
He could already imagine himself shaping junk into something lethal. Not yet—his tools were crude, and his Intelligence still too low—but the foundation was there. The Drawing Room meant evolution.
For the first time since he'd awakened the Devourer System, he felt a spark of genuine hope.
---
"Hey."
The woman's voice cut through his thoughts.
Rex blinked and looked up. The masked figure stood at the far end of the tunnel, her outline barely visible against the dim red emergency glow.
"Feeling better?" she asked. "We need to move. Those thugs won't stop. If we don't reach the hideout before noon, the beasts'll make a meal out of both of us."
"Hideout?" he echoed, dragging himself to his feet. "Where exactly are we going?"
"Zone V-13," she said simply. "Deep edge of the Spill Zones. The boss thinks you'll be useful."
"Useful?" Rex scoffed. "I didn't sign up for any crew. I just need those bastards off my trail."
She shrugged. "Then we're helping each other. You want to survive, right? We've got medicine, food, cover. You've got something special—that System of yours is different. He'll want to see it."
Rex frowned. "He? Who's he?"
"You'll see."
The distrust in his voice hardened. "I don't like mysteries. I appreciate the save, really—but I'm not trading one leash for another."
She tilted her head slightly, eyes glinting behind the mask. "You sound like every Undersprawl stray. Always expecting the knife, even from the hand that feeds you."
"That mindset's what keeps me alive."
She was about to reply when she stiffened. Her head jerked toward the tunnel's left passage.
"Shh."
Rex fell silent.
The only sound was the distant drip of condensation from the ceiling.
Then—footsteps. Dozens of them. Echoing from every direction.
"Company," she hissed. "Twelve at least. Coming fast."
Rex's stomach sank. "Spinebreakers?"
"Most likely. They're sweeping sectors now." Her hand went to the twin machetes on her belt, blades whispering free of their sheaths. "We need to move—now."
Rex nodded, forcing his aching body upright.
He didn't trust her. Not yet. But right now, she was the only thing standing between him and a shallow grave in the tunnels.
They ran.
---
The tunnels twisted like veins beneath the city—tight corridors lined with rusted pipes and old service markings. Somewhere above, the Undersprawl continued to breathe and burn, unaware of the hunt unfolding below its feet.
Rex's lungs burned as they sprinted. The faint blue glow of his System flickered in the corners of his vision, warning that his mana was still recovering. Shadowstep was off the table for now.
"Keep up," the woman said over her shoulder.
"I'm trying," he snapped. "You're faster than you look."
"Perk of having an Acceleration-type System," she replied. "Now quiet—left!"
They ducked into a narrow side passage just as beams of yellow light flooded the main tunnel. Voices followed.
"Spread out! The rat's close!"
Rex pressed himself flat against the wall, holding his breath. The woman crouched beside him, gun drawn, the faint whine of mana-charge building in the barrel. It wasn't a model he recognized—sleek, compact, and pulsing faint blue at the seams. Arcane-Tech.
So she did have resources.
The footsteps drew nearer.
Rex's mind raced. He'd just spent his stat points, was still recovering, and had no real weapons except his rust-forged throwing knives.
He whispered, "If this goes south—"
"It won't," she said. "But if it does, run east. There's a hatch leading down into the old maintenance grid."
"Got it."
The first Spinebreaker rounded the corner.
A sharp pop cracked through the tunnel. Blue-white light flared, and the man dropped, a neat smoking hole through his chest.
Before the others could shout, she moved—fluid, precise, deadly. One machete arced through the air, the other followed, both humming with faint mana traces. She danced between enemies like water flowing through cracks, each strike clean and final.
Rex watched, half-stunned, half-admiring. Her System clearly enhanced speed and perception; she fought like someone reading seconds ahead in time.
Still, there were too many. Gunfire echoed, sparks lighting the tunnel. He ducked, grabbing a chunk of scrap from the floor.
"Shit," he muttered.
He quickly pulled out one of his remaining crude throwable daggers from his inventory. It wasn't elegant, but it would do.
He lunged at the nearest thug, slashing low. The blade tore through armor, then shattered, its durability spent. He spun, elbowed another in the jaw, and kicked him into a wall.
The woman shot the last one point-blank.
Silence fell again, broken only by the soft hum of her gun cooling down.
Rex panted, staring at the carnage. "That… that was insane."
"Efficient," she corrected. She wiped a splatter of blood off her mask with her sleeve. "And lucky I found you before they did."
"Who are you?"
She hesitated, then holstered her weapon. "Call me Nyra. The rest can wait till we reach the base."
Rex frowned, but nodded. "Fine. Lead the way."
They started walking again, deeper into the labyrinth of the Undersprawl.
Above them, faint tremors rumbled—the kind that spoke of machines or beasts moving somewhere far away. The air smelled different here, older, almost electric.
Rex glanced at Nyra's back and muttered under his breath, "Zone V-13, huh? Guess we'll see what kind of monsters live there."
Behind them, unnoticed, one of the fallen Spinebreakers twitched.
A faint crimson glyph pulsed to life on his chest—Kragg's mark.
The hunt wasn't over.