"You sure about this?" he asked, looking at her foot.
"You're worse off than I am," she growled, clenched jaw. "Besides, I don't plan on carrying you. Just don't fall anymore."
Side by side, they walked. Step by unsteady step, further into the tunnel. Her limp was conspicuous, but she didn't slack. Neither did he.
The quiet in the area now seemed denser. Less absence of noise, and more presence of something waiting.
Reth smashed it first.
"You recognized what that thing was," he declared, voice rough but inquiring. "Back there. You didn't even hesitate. You recognized."
Asthia didn't respond immediately. She shifted his weight slightly as they came around a corner, ensuring his footing remained.
Then she spoke, low-voiced, "Mana Abomination."
Reth blinked. ".That's an actual word?"
"Unfortunately, yes." Her voice was crisp. "Rare. Nearly forgotten. But real."
He scowled. "So… not a mutant or a monster, then. It was human?"
"It used to be." She looked down at the path they were leaving behind—his blood mixed with sewer water. "They're born when an individual who has little or no mana affinity is exposed to extremely dense, unstable mana for too long. The sort found in overcompressed crystals—typically illegal ones. Shattered containment cores. That sort of thing."
Reth scrunched up his face. "That dense mana transforms a person into. that?"
"Not ordinary mana. Corrupted mana," she said. "When mana is pushed to be compressed beyond what is safe, it shatters. Destroys its form. The end product isn't merely compact—it's aberrant. It distorts. Leaks through. That seepage is what turns it."
He digested that carefully. "You're telling me. a person was subjected to that for years? And then.
"They lose form. Their mind. The body distorts trying to contain the mana it's taking in—but it can't. So it twists. Bones shatter and form incorrectly. Flesh doesn't adhere to anatomy anymore. And the mind?"
She paused.
"The mind precedes the body's demise. They're empty. Just instinct and agony wrapped in power."
Reth glanced back down the tunnel behind them. "It was feeding. On an individual."
She nodded grimly. "That's the other part. Mana Abominations need mana. They'll feed on anything with even a spark. People. Monsters. Doesn't matter."
A quiet moment passed.
He exhaled. "And the way it moved… the way it smelled… That wasn't natural."
"They're not. Abominations are officially marked for extermination on sight. No mercy. No exceptions."
"Harsh."
"Necessary," she stated, voice tougher now. "They can't be saved. That thing would've pursued us until it sucked us both dry, and continued crawling afterwards. If we hadn't blown out its core, it would've risen again."
Reth remained quiet for a moment.
"I just read about them once," she finally said. "Archives tucked away in the higher Empire. Forbidden texts. Not even the Legion Command distributes it openly."
He arched an eyebrow. "And you read it, despite that?"
"Do I appear to be someone who only uses approved reading material?" she replied with a tired smirk.
Reth actually laughed, even though his head was throbbing.
"You shouldn't really be carrying me," he grumbled, after a bit. "Your ankle's getting worse."
"And you're not light," she snapped. "So walk straighter. Dead weight gets a scolding."
He corrected, leaning less, gritting his teeth against the pain.
"Thanks," he muttered.
She didn't respond, but her grip on his side didn't relax.
They continued walking. The tunnel curved again, and the foul water alongside them ran more quietly. The darkness persisted, but the worst of it had passed—for now.
Still, neither of them was safe.
Eventually, the slope of the tunnel began to rise. The air shifted—less rot, more dust. The waterline thinned to a trickle.
Asthia grunted, her breath ragged. "We're close to a maintenance exit."
Reth didn't answer, but his steps quickened slightly. Or maybe his legs were just giving out faster.
They arrived at a rusted service ladder bolted to the wall. Half of it was gone. The rest appeared not to have been used in decades.
Asthia canted her head back towards the rusted grate overhead. "That goes to surface alleyways. District edge, if I'm correct."
"Any idea what century that ladder last held someone heavier than a rat?" Reth asked, squinting upward.
She provided a brief, humorless smile. "You'd like to wait for renovations?"
He growled and wiped his hands against his pants, spreading blood over dried ichor. "Fine. You first. I'll catch the fall if it breaks."
"Deal."
She ascended slow, gritting her teeth. Her ankle groaned with every extension, but she reached the top and pushed the grate aside with a grinding shriek.
Moonlight streamed through.
Reth came after, slower. Each rung howled. His shoulder almost broke halfway up. But he succeeded.
They stepped into a dingy brickwork alley, wet and half-strangled by crates and garbage. The city beyond thrummed with muffled nighttime sounds—clinking glass, distant music, a shout or two in a nearby square.
Redhill.
Alive. Crowded. Deadly.
They ducked automatically as voices rang too near. Patrol? Drunks? Didn't care.
Asthia grabbed Reth's wrist and yanked him into the shadows behind a stack of busted pallets.
She panted once, then reached into her coat, pulling out a coin-sized disc etched with soft, glowing script. She thumbed the center, and it pulsed faintly.
"Elenya," she whispered. "We're out. Sector 3. South backline. Near the distillery vents."
A beat passed. Then a soft chime.