The wounds left by Neo Opus were still weeping when the frontiers of Argona exhaled an alien, blue light. It was five years after the Storm that a Siso Corp expedition crew found and cracked open a geode the size of a cathedral.
Inside was a luminous crystalline substance: Venerum.
What they first mistook for a rare mineral was soon revealed to be something far more potent. Venerum was a natural conduit for mana, a primordial magical essence long thought to be a myth.
The breakthrough enabled a state of constant metamorphosis, blurring the line between the digital and the divine.
Identifying a definitive market monopoly, Siso Corp's engineers treated Venerum as fundamental for energy density, aggressively retrofitting Argona's crumbling infrastructure to accommodate the new catalyst.
It changed things.
The result was a leap in processing power, the deployment of artificial intelligence, and the adaptation of magic into the environment. Through runic magic, the infrastructure transcended its mechanical origins, evolving into a reactive, technomantic nervous system.
Within a decade, the entire urban system became mana dependent. From the estates of Balun to the rungs of the Underdistrict, every light ran on Venerum, and Karver Sisori became the man holding the switch to the city's life support.
Meanwhile, the origins of Venerum remain a total enigma. It was found at the frontier, sure, but its trail ends there. There is no record of its existence before that excavation.
Securing the raw crystals is no small feat, as extraction was a restricted operation requiring the Primarch's official seal. Yet, the effort is justified by the refinement process. When forged into Venerite, the substance becomes exponentially more potent.
To put its power into perspective: a Venerite bullet could vaporise a target into smithereens, while a mere fragment contained enough raw energy to sustain fifty city blocks for a month.
Naturally, such power would breed obsession, questions, and a willingness to kill for a peek at this amazing stuff.
But even crazier was that Broco, of all people, somehow managed to score not just one but five of these bad boys! The sheer audacity of it sent shockwaves through Ratelsi.
She kept her face blank, but behind her eyes, the gears were grinding toward a total stall. The only thing that gave away her frantic mental state was her wide-eyed stare at the shimmering shards before her.
"Oh fuck…. these are Venerites," she murmured.
Altown was the last place on earth you'd expect to find a haul like this. Sure, you could get lucky and snag a piece or two in The Basin if you knew the right people, but five from the same Monger was unheard of. It felt less like a score and more like a setup.
Her mind raced through the logistics.
The checkpoints were supposed to be airtight with patrolling LuBots and Paladins. For Broco to have these, he either found a loophole or was fronting for a client who didn't care about the Codex Argonis.
To recklessly break the secular laws governing the city was a suicide mission.
Did he really think they could just waltz into the black market with a haul this hot? Like they were just delivering groceries?
That sleazy bastard! What was he thinking, trying to set them up like this?
Tension clotted the air until it was thick enough to swallow. Ratelsi felt the burn of a flush creep up her face—partly from the sudden spike of adrenaline, partly from pure annoyance. She narrowed her malachite gaze into a hateful glare.
"These fucking things are gonna get us killed," she muttered under her breath.
Turning to Timoth, who looked equally captivated and uncertain about the dubious treasure, she noticed his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder. It reflected the crystals' glow, almost like they were soaking it all in. But underneath that awe was a nervous tic twitching at the corners of his lips.
Timoth gulped hard, his Adam's apple bobbing noticeably. There was an undeniable impulse within him, overriding his resistance to touch the jagged pieces.
He reached for a stone, but before his fingers could close around it, a hand clamped onto his forearm. Timoth winced, almost taken aback by how powerful Ratelsi's grip was.
Her nails bit deep into his flesh, reminding him of how physically strong she was.
He looked up to find her green eyes narrowed in warning, meeting his own frantic blue gaze as the stones throbbed a cold luminescence between them.
Ratelsi sarcastically went on, "Oh, sure, go ahead and poke the highly suspicious object. What could possibly go wrong besides some screwed up shit? Try using your head for once, idiot. We're flying blind here."
She eased her grip, brushing his sleeve as she let him go.
Fortunately, her words seemed to snap Timoth out of his impulsive daze. A slow exhale helped him breathe. Despite her sarcasm, the eyes facing him were so full of concern that he dropped his hands to his sides and shut the capsule with an irritated flick of his wrist.
"Birdie, I suddenly don't wanna be part of whatever mess this is turning into," he said.
She tutted, "Yeah, no kidding. There's only so much shady bullshit I can stand before I can't take it anymore. Let's just bail on this shit and pretend we never saw it. I'm telling you, the danger here is clear as day."
Timoth nodded, but the tension inside him didn't budge. He fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve. Perspiration beaded on his forehead. Avoiding eye contact, he stared instead at the grimy floor, hoping to divert his thoughts.
When Ratelsi called out his name, Timoth flinched, barely able to mask his anxiety.
The crease between her brows deepened. To her, it seemed that he was having doubts. He was weighing the risks against the potential benefits of their situation. The way he bit his cheeks was a clear indicator of that.
Crossing her arms, Ratelsi decided to wait patiently for him to speak up. It was important for him to express his worries. After all, their safety, and perhaps their lives, depended on every decision they made from here on out.
"Broco said he'd pay us double, man," Timoth said, tightening his fists with every word he spat out.
Of course, she knew he'd start with that.
"We need those fuckin' Aures if we're gonna eat anythin' that isn't straight out of a tin." His pleading look silently asked her to back him up in their battle against their fucked up reality.
"Once we get the payout, we can finally wipe our asses with this dude and stay off his radar for good. Just…trust me on this, okay?"
Honestly, how could she even resist such a sweet deal, especially after living off cold, bland oats for weeks?
The thought of yet another mushy can of glob annoyed her to no end, making Ratelsi's face sour at the realisation that, as much as she hated to admit it, he was right.
But then, as if his pleas weren't enough, Timoth dropped his voice to a near whisper. "You know I'd do anything to keep us safe, Ratel. Especially you."
He said this, still staring at the ground like it had the answers to why he'd said that out loud.
Ratelsi only raised her eyebrows in silent question.
He seemed to be expecting some sort of answer, but the moment passed quickly. Yet, her eyes softened... even though on anyone else, they would still look severe.
Defiant. Untamed. With who knows what brewing behind those slits.
She quivered from her flushed lips, not knowing how to respond, then abruptly lashed out with a back-kick, connecting with a steel bin.
The sound of the impact was a deafening THOOM as the reinforced metal buckled instantly.
Propelled by a strength far beyond human capability, the trash can launched twenty feet into the air, spinning like a discarded toy. Upon landing, it furrowed a trench into the asphalt before slamming into a brick wall.
Spider-webbed cracks with deep fissures decorated the bricks at the point of contact, while the compressed trash metal tumbled to the ground.
Timoth raised his head to Ratelsi, full of concern.
Naturally, he meant what he said; they had built a delicate bond of trust and support, managing to survive in Argona while looking out for each other.
After graduation, Kakkis, where Timoth was raised, became a memory he chose to bury. And for Ratelsi, "home" was a concept she once owned and lost, so she simply followed Timoth.
Together, they found space in a local shelter, surviving on scraps and runner wages. Their existence was pathetic by the world's standards, but it was theirs, and that was enough.
Until now.
That sense of security vanished the moment she felt the sudden terror of captivity loom over her. The threat of torture was secondary to the fear of being alone.
It was a wake-up call she couldn't ignore, jolting her back to reality, forcing her to rethink everything.
They weren't really criminals; just kids trying to make sense of their lives. Okay, maybe kids was a stretch since they were both twenty-two.
But they were technically adults living in a cramped apartment without enough room to stretch out comfortably on their torn, lumpy mattresses. The walls were so thin they could hear the arguments next door, the clink of spoons from the neighbours' kitchen, the moans from the apartment above.
Every night, there was this foreign couple, Dubem and Bose, who liked to do target shooting at their empty beer bottles in the evening.
How stupid would she be to ignore the small chance for something better? No matter how slim, it was still better than what they usually faced day in and day out. Even if Broco was full of shit.
What's life without a little risk anyway?
For the allure of curiosity and adventure, Ratelsi decided to bite back her scepticism. Let them chase this fleeting illusion of luck that was better than sulking in fear of getting caught.
Suddenly, a soft laugh escaped her lips. "Alright, alright, chill," she replied, trying to keep the mood light.
"Fine. If we act like it never happened, then we're like all good, right? No one's the wiser, no one gets burned. What you don't know won't hurt you, or something like that."
She shrugged, hoping that would ease the tension.
It did.
At her words, Timoth visibly relaxed. A wave of relief washed over him, breaking into a big, bright smile.
"Sounds good to me," he said.
In that moment, they were kindred spirits navigating the murky waters of a not-so-fun ordeal, and that felt oddly more comforting than it should've.
Timoth took his time carefully wrapping the box, making sure it was secure for the ride ahead. He wasn't about to risk any surprises during their mission. After tucking the capsule along with the other contraband into the Strider's compartment, he pulled out some tape and sealed it shut.
"Harenae, surgite in turbinem irritum!"
Timoth spoke the incantation while tracing a circle in the air with his index finger, coaxing the loose grains to rise, smelling of ozone and fresh rain.
With every rotation, his internal mana responded to the motion, condensing into fractals of cerulean energy around his fingertips.
A casual flick of his wrist and a column of dust began to spiral upward, mirroring the steady rotation of his hand. The sand hissed as it obeyed his command, pulling itself into a blurring, conical spire of wind and earth.
The grit gathered and climbed into the orbit of his spiralling gesture until a small sandstorm whistled in the palm of his hand.
His fingertips felt how eager the grains were to devour the grime stuck to the cold steel.
With a playful grin, he placed his creation on the ground and led it in the Strider's direction. Whistling toward its target, the sandstorm latched onto the rusted, oily gears of the machine like a hungry leech.
On impact, it dissolved the thickest layers of sludge, leaving behind nothing but a gleam of polished chrome. Soon, the grime flaked away in shimmering dust, revealing a machine with not a single speck of grime left to mar its shiny surface.
Timoth lowered his hand, feeling pretty good about himself.
"Not bad for a quick clean-up," he said as he swung his leg over the Strider and grabbed the handlebars. He nodded for Ratelsi to hop on, but the bulky package took up almost all the seat space.
So, they decided it would be easier for her to meet him at the entry point in about an hour.
The plan was solid: finish the delivery, treat themselves to a nice dinner and stroll home afterwards. All in all, it was shaping up to be an adventurous evening. Before parting ways, the Peculiars did their special handshake.
Tap, slide, fist bump, twist, tap again, and slide - it was a quick little finger dance. Timoth revved the engine once, then again. The ground beneath the Strider trembled in response to the superheated air.
Then, with a burst of energy, he sped off the curb. Ratelsi took the cue and crouched low. The ground spider-webbed under her boots before she took off in a sonic boom, scooping a crater out of the soil where she once stood.
Whoosh!
Her wings moved with such force that they shook the nearby windows. With an uncertain delivery ahead, all they could do was hope they were ready for whatever came their way.