The acid grit of Aetheria IV tasted like regret and old steel. Jericho Vane stood at the edge of the industrial encampment, the harsh, metallic cold of the two moons—one a fragmented red, the other sickly blue—doing little to distract him from the throbbing pain behind his eyes.
He had been on this planet for nearly twelve hours. Every conscious moment was a battle against his own skull. The neurological pain was the Circuit Breaker, constantly threatening to throw the switch on his consciousness. He had to process the world at a fraction of his normal speed. It was like trying to run a supercomputer's operating system on a child's toy calculator.
His first task was not confrontation, but survival through observation. He needed to understand the environment without triggering a mental cascade.
--OBSERVE SLOWLY. CATALOGUE SIMPLE FACTS. AVOID STRATEGY.--
He looked at the ground. It was packed earth laced with iron oxide dust and synthetic petrochemical residue. **Fact 1:** The world is toxic and corrosive. He looked at the air. It was thick with ozone and the distant groan of massive, obsolete machinery. **Fact 2:** The colony is abandoned industry, not nature. He cataloged the light: faint, inconsistent, and casting long, deceptive shadows. **Fact 3:** Ambush is a high probability.
This deliberate, forced cataloging of simple facts was agonizing. It was the lowest form of INTELLECT training.
His crew remained huddled by the dying fire pit, avoiding him. He had established dominance in the last chapter simply by his stillness and unexpected lack of panic, but this authority was fragile. The physical strength of the Boss (STRENGTH 16, ENDURANCE 18) was meaningless if his mind shut down.
He walked away from the camp, moving toward the base of a rusted storage tank—a safe vantage point. The movement felt clumsy, heavy, like piloting a new, powerful body with no muscle memory.
"Boss. Where you going?"
It was Zek, the thin, twitchy coward, his voice high-pitched with anxiety. Zek wasn't challenging him; he was genuinely afraid of being left alone. Zek was a classic sub-minor NPC, driven by base fear.
Jericho stopped, not turning fully. He measured his response, focusing on the simple transaction of the moment. He could not afford a single wasted word.
"Perimeter check. You remain here. Maintain position."
Zek wrung his hands. "But the patrol, Boss. They're due on the ridge."
Jericho held himself absolutely still, letting the sheer, unreadable stillness amplify the psychic pressure he was suppressing. He allowed a minuscule, controlled surge of raw mental effort, the first subtle test of his unique mechanic.
SYSTEM PROMPT: EDICT AUTHORITY ATTEMPTING ACTIVATION. PSYCHIC COST: 2 UNITS. WILL SHUTDOWN THRESHOLD: 8.
The pain spiked—a sharp, sudden hammer behind his eyes. He stopped the surge instantly. Two units was too much for a minimal gain. He needed a simpler command.
He lowered his voice. "I require quiet. Your current contract is to remain silent and alert."
The language was formal, contractual. He was banking on the fact that Vane's thugs, while not seeing the system, inherently understood the Cobalt Scar's brutal code of conduct.
Zek flinched at the tone, which carried a cold finality the original Vane lacked. Zek didn't understand the complex logic, but he understood the implicit contract of his employment. He immediately subsided, shrinking back toward the fire.
Jericho continued his slow walk. He had achieved obedience with almost zero psychic cost, relying on psychological leverage and the fear of the unknown. That was the lawyer's victory.
He reached the rusted storage tank and began his real reconnaissance, focusing on the dark landscape beyond the immediate camp. He was looking for signs of the larger world—the political environment.
He moved his hands across the corroded metal, feeling the texture. He closed his eyes and forced his mind to review the simple geometry of the tank, counting the rivets, calculating the circumference. A repetitive, low-impact logic task.
SYSTEM PROMPT: DEDICATION TO CONCEPTUAL LOGIC DEMONSTRATED. INTELLECT HAS INCREASED TO 9.01.
A fractional gain. Painful, but verified. The grinding logic was working.
He opened his eyes. In the distance, maybe half a kilometer away, he saw movement. A group of three figures. Not the clean, military posture of the Blackstone militia, but the heavy, lumbering gait of miners. They were hauling a crude sled of ore. Sub-minor characters, entirely focused on their resource loop.
Jericho immediately sank into the shadow of the tank.
He ran a quick, agonizing mental check on the three figures, attempting to catalog their existence.
SYSTEM PROMPT: MINIMAL TARGET ACQUISITION. PSYCHIC COST: 3 UNITS. INTELLECT WARNING: 9.01. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
He pushed through the pain. He focused not on their faces, but on their equipment: the crudely modified mining lasers, the worn work vests, the specific color coding on the ore bags—a neutral, unaligned color.
--THEY ARE INDEPENDENT CONTRACTORS. THEY DO NOT PAY TRIBUTE TO THE SCAR. THEY ARE UNALIGNED ASSETS.--
The old Vane would have ambushed them, killed them for their low-grade ore, and left a mess. A chaotic, high-risk play.
Jericho held his position. He watched them pass slowly, their conversation a faint, incomprehensible murmur carried by the erratic wind. He let them go. He was not here for small-scale murder. He was here for the strategic contract. Wasteful violence jeopardized his primary goal.
The entire exercise—the minimal interaction with Zek, the slow physical movement, the forced cataloging of simple facts, and the strategic decision to let the miners pass—had cost him immensely in psychic energy, but yielded the first verifiable progress. He had survived his first shift as the Rote-Boss. The world was gritty, silent, and deadly, and he had to become its coldest observer.
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Updated System Panel (After 12 Hours)
PLAYER: JERICHO VANE - ROTE-BOSS
STATISTICS:
STRENGTH: 16
AGILITY: 12
ENDURANCE: 18
INTELLECT: 9.01
WILL: 8
LUCK: 5
UNIQUE MECHANIC:
THE CIRCUIT BREAKER (CONCEPTUAL AMENDMENT)
LATENT CIRCUIT: UNSEEN (PREREQUISITE: 15 INTELLECT / 15 WILL)
PROGRESS: 0 PERCENT
MISSION LOG:
PRIMARY MISSION: SECURE THE BLACKSTONE OUTPOST (ACTIVE)
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EVENT TIMER: PLAYER INFLUX (GLOBAL LAUNCH) - 4 YEARS, 2 MONTHS, 10 DAYS.