The hunger was a living thing inside him, a clawed beast scraping at the walls of his stomach. It drove him through the labyrinthine underbelly of the sector, a compass pointing toward a need he didn't fully understand but couldn't ignore. The System's quest marker pulsed in his vision, a constant, silent.
[Objective: Locate Sustenance. 0/1]
His new senses, still a overwhelming barrage of information, were slowly becoming tools instead of tortures. He learned to dial down the input, to focus on one thread in the symphony of stink and sound. He filtered out the rot and the chemicals, and focused on the scent of… life. Of protein.
It led him away from the residential stacks, toward the industrial heart of the sector. The air here was thicker, humming with the latent energy of machinery and cold storage units. And there, underneath it all, was the smell. Faint, but unmistakable. Preserved meat.
The distribution warehouse for GenTech Provisions was a fortress of grey permacrete and reinforced steel. A high fence topped with razor wire surrounded the compound. Two guards in cheap corporate security armor flanked the main gate, looking bored but alert.
The old Fexl would have seen an impenetrable wall. The new Fexl saw a puzzle. His golden eyes, seeing perfectly in the deep shadow of a nearby access tunnel, mapped everything.
He could hear their murmured conversation. "…swear I heard something crack over in the G-sector alleys earlier." "Probably just more junkies fighting over scrap.Not our problem."
Fexl's lips pulled back from his teeth in a silent snarl. You have no idea.
He focused. Agility: 15. The number wasn't just a stat; it was a promise of capability. He moved away from the gate, sticking to the shadows that seemed to embrace him now. He found a section of the fence where a flickering light created a pool of darkness. He tested the links. Strong. But the post… it was slightly rusted at the base.
He wrapped his hands around the metal. Strength: 12. He pulled, not with the desperate strain of a weak boy, but with the steady, terrifying power of something more than human. The metal groaned in protest, then with a sharp crack, the bolts securing the post to the concrete footing sheared. He'd created a gap just wide enough to squeeze through.
He was inside.
The scent was stronger here, leading him to a large loading bay door. A smaller personnel door was set into the wall beside it. Locked. A keypad glowed softly. Fexl raised a clawed finger. He could try to break it, but the noise…
[Skill Check: Intelligence - Success.] [Alternative entry point detected.]
His eyes tracked upwards. A ventilation shaft cover, high on the wall. He jumped, his powerful legs propelling him upward silently. His claws found purchase in the tiny gaps between the permacrete blocks, and he scaled the wall like a spider. He pried the vent cover off with minimal noise and slipped inside.
The shaft was a tight, dark maze, but his sense of smell was an infallible guide. He followed the trail of cold air and the promise of raw meat until he found a grate overlooking his destination.
The main cold storage unit. Racks upon racks of crates and pallets stretched into the gloom, labeled with sector codes and contents. His mouth watered. The hunger roared in approval.
He dropped down from the vent, landing on the cold concrete floor without a sound. The air was frigid, puffing from his lips in small clouds, but he barely felt it. His body ran hotter now.
He found an open crate. Inside, vacuum-sealed packs of red, raw meat. Beef. Real, actual beef, imported from the agro-domes for the wealthy topsiders. He tore a pack open with a claw.
The smell that hit him was intoxicating. Rich, iron-heavy, alive. He didn't think. The human part of him was a distant spectator, horrified. The wolf part was in control.
He ate. It was not a meal; it was a consumption. He devoured the contents of the pack in seconds, barely chewing, the raw flesh sating a deep, primal need he hadn't known he possessed. It was the most satisfying thing he had ever tasted.
[Objective Updated: Locate Sustenance. 1/1] [Quest Complete: First Hunt.] [Reward: 100 XP awarded. New Ability Unlocked: Keen Smell (Active Tracking).]
A new wave of information flooded his senses. The ability wasn't just passive anymore; he could now focus it. He could isolate a single scent thread from the air and follow it with laser precision. He could smell the guards' individual sweat, the oil on the machinery, the specific type of meat he'd just eaten.
A new screen appeared.
[Level Up!] [You have reached Level 2.] [+5 Attribute Points to allocate.]
Power. Tangible, quantifiable power. He could feel the energy from the meal and the level-up coursing through him, making him stronger, sharper. The silvery streaks in his hair seemed to shimmer in the cold light.
He was about to turn to leave when a new scent hit his newly-enhanced nose. It was faint, buried under the smell of meat and cold, but unmistakable.
Blood. Fresh blood. And fear.
It was coming from a door at the back of the cold storage unit, marked 'Authorized Personnel Only'. The scent told a story the sign didn't: pain, and desperation.
Ignoring the voice in his head that screamed for him to run, to be satisfied with his victory, Fexl moved toward the door. It was unlocked.
He pushed it open slowly.
The room beyond was a stark contrast to the orderly cold storage. It was a butchering room, but not for animals. Rusted tools hung on the walls. A drain was set in the center of the stained concrete floor. And in the corner, crammed into a too-small cage, was a creature.
It was a young boy, no older than fourteen. He was shivering, not from the cold, but from pure terror. He was thin, dressed in rags, and his arm was wrapped in a crude, blood-soaked bandage. His eyes were wide with a fear Fexl knew all too well.
And beside the cage, sitting on a stool and cleaning a wicked-looking knife, was a large man in a blood-stained GenTech apron. A guard, off-duty, running a side business.
"Fresh delivery," the man muttered to himself, not noticing Fexl in the doorway. "The bosses'll pay a pretty credit for a strong one. Shouldn't have tried to run, kid."
Fexl stood in the doorway, the frigid air doing nothing to cool the sudden, absolute fire that erupted in his veins. The hunger was gone, replaced by something colder and far more dangerous.
The man finally looked up. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in confusion at the sight of the feral-looking boy with glowing eyes in his secret room.
"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?"
Fexl didn't answer. He took a step forward, his claws extending fully. The System text, usually blue, flashed a warning crimson in his vision.
[New Quest Received: Butcher's Work.] Objective: End the trafficking operation. Reward: 200 XP. Increased Reputation with Sector 7-G Undercity.
The man in the apron stood up, raising his knife. "I said, who are you?!"
Fexl's voice was a low, guttural growl that echoed in the small, bloody room. It was the first true sound of the wolf.
"I'm the butcher's bill."