The problem with building an empire in a grave was not the lack of space; it was the lack of teeth.
Varian walked through the makeshift training grounds of Station Zero. The high-vaulted ceiling of the metro station echoed with the grunts of exertion and the clatter of wood against wood.
Three hundred Dregs—the newly formed "Vanguard"—were drilling. They wore the new Legion Carapace Armor, crafted from the boiled shells of Rust-Roaches. The iridescent green plates looked impressive, gleaming under the moss-lights, giving the soldiers a uniform, insectoid appearance.
But in their hands, they held garbage.
Varian watched a mutant with four arms swing a sharpened lead pipe. Next to him, a former miner brandished a shovel with a serrated edge. Behind them, a woman held a spear made of a broom handle and a kitchen knife.
"Pathetic," a grinding voice rumbled beside him.
Gorgon, the High Commander of the Vanguard, crossed his massive stone arms. He was now fully healed from the purges, standing nearly eight feet tall thanks to the Titan Blood.
"They have heart, Boss," Gorgon admitted. "They fight like cornered rats. But if the Union comes down here with plasma rifles and kinetic shields... heart won't stop a bolt of superheated gas."
Varian nodded, his expression grim. "We have defense. We have food. But we have no range."
He looked at his own hand. He had the Sun-Piercer. He had Onyx. He was a walking weapon of mass destruction. But he couldn't be everywhere at once. If an army attacked, his Legion would be slaughtered before they could close the distance.
"Where is Scrap-Jack?" Varian asked.
"In the Forge. Cursing at a pile of scrap."
Varian turned and walked toward the engineering bay, his heavy boots clicking on the station tiles.
Inside the Forge—a repurposed maintenance bay near the tracks—Scrap-Jack was throwing a wrench across the room. It clanged loudly against a disassembled turret.
"Useless! All of it!" Scrap-Jack roared, his hydraulic exo-suit hissing steam.
"Report," Varian said calmly, stepping over a pile of wires.
"Report? The report is we're screwed, Sovereign," Scrap-Jack spat oil. "You brought me those high-grade chips from the Hunter-Killers? Great. I fixed the Fabricator. I can print armor all day. But I can't print bullets."
Scrap-Jack picked up a handful of gray dust.
"We have no sulfur. No saltpeter. No propellant. I can build you a thousand guns, but without gunpowder, they're just expensive clubs. Unless you want us to throw rocks?"
Varian frowned. "What about energy weapons? We have the Union rifles I looted."
"Four rifles," Scrap-Jack held up four fingers. "And twelve battery packs. Once they run dry, we have no way to recharge them. The station's reactor is barely keeping the lights on. We can't spare the gigawatts to charge ammo."
Varian leaned against a workbench. The reality was settling in. They were technologically bottled-necked.
"So we need kinetic rounds," Varian mused. "Old World bullets. The kind that don't need batteries."
"Millions of them," Scrap-Jack nodded. "But who sells bullets in the Deep Core? The Church burned the surface markets. We are cut off."
Just then, the comms unit on Varian's wrist chirped. It was a rhythmic, static-filled click.
"Boss," Rix's voice came through, sounding breathless. "You need to come to Tunnel 9. Now."
"Trouble?"
"No. Mystery. The ground... it shakes. But not like a worm. Like a heartbeat."
The Ghost on the Rails
Tunnel 9 was a "Dead Line"—a section of the metro network that had collapsed centuries ago, leading away from the city and toward the vast, unexplored caverns beneath the ocean layer.
When Varian, Gorgon, and Rix arrived, the air was thick with a strange, oily fog.
Rix was crouching on the rusted tracks, his ear pressed to the rail.
"Feel it," Rix whispered.
Varian knelt. He placed his hand on the cold steel rail.
Thrum... Thrum... Thrum...
It was a rhythmic vibration. Heavy. Metallic. Approaching.
"A train?" Varian whispered. "Impossible. The grid is dead."
"Not electric," Gorgon sniffed the air. "Smell that? Coal. Burning coal."
From the darkness of the tunnel, a light appeared. It wasn't the clean white LED of the Union or the soft blue of bioluminescence. It was a harsh, yellow beam of an incandescent searchlight, cutting through the fog.
A whistle blew—a lonely, haunting shriek of steam that echoed off the damp walls.
CHUG-CHUG-CHUG-HISSS.
A monstrosity emerged from the gloom.
It was a steam locomotive, but it looked like a fortress on wheels. The engine was armored with heavy iron plates, welded over with spikes and chains. Turrets manned by figures in heavy welding masks sat atop the coal tender. The wheels were taller than a man, grinding sparks from the rails.
It slowed as it approached the station platform, steam venting from its pistons in massive white clouds.
[Faction Analysis: Unknown.][Tech Level: Steampunk / Scavenger.][Threat: High.]
"Stand ready," Varian ordered, the Sun-Piercer materializing in his hand. Gorgon raised his tower shield.
The train hissed to a halt. A heavy iron door on the side of the engine swung open.
A ramp extended.
A woman rolled down the ramp. She was sitting in a motorized wheelchair that looked more like a tank tread. She was old—ancient—her skin like crumpled paper. Around her neck hung a necklace of cybernetic eyes, all looking in different directions. Her own eye sockets were empty, covered by a black cloth.
She was flanked by four guards wielding heavy, rotary machine guns. Not energy weapons. Projectile weapons.
The old woman stopped at the bottom of the ramp. She inhaled deeply.
"I smell... disinfectant," she rasped, her voice like dry leaves. "And roach meat. And... ozone."
She tilted her head toward Varian.
"And I smell a Sovereign."
Varian stepped forward. "Who are you?"
"I am Mama Ferro," the woman cackled. "Matriarch of the Rail-Walkers. We trade where the sun doesn't shine. We move where the maps are blank."
"Rail-Walkers," Varian tested the name. "I've heard rumors. Smugglers who never stop moving."
"Traders, boy. Traders," Mama Ferro corrected. "We supply the outposts that the Union forgot. We bring medicine to the mutants and tech to the luddites."
She tapped the armrest of her chair.
"We usually bypass Station Zero. It's been a tomb for fifty years. Imagine my surprise when I see the lights on and the tracks cleared."
"We're reclaiming it," Varian said. "I am Varian. Leader of the Iron Legion."
"Legion?" Mama Ferro laughed, a hacking sound. "I see a lot of people in bug-shells holding sticks. That's not a legion, honey. That's a mob."
Varian didn't flinch. "A mob that killed a Union Hunter squad yesterday."
Mama Ferro stopped laughing. Her necklace of cybernetic eyes whirred, all focusing on Varian.
"Is that so? Then maybe you have currency other than talk."
"I have Credits," Varian said. "I have Union tech."
"I don't want chips. I have plenty," she waved a hand at the armored train. "I need a path."
She pointed a bony finger down the dark tunnel ahead—the track leading toward the Industrial Belt.
"My route to Sector 4 is blocked. A nest has moved in. Crystal-Weavers. Nasty things. They spun a web across the Main Junction. My train can't push through without getting stuck. If I stop, the Spiders swarm us."
She leaned forward.
"You want guns? I have crates of Old World assault rifles. 7.62mm. Armor piercing. Ten thousand rounds."
Varian's heart skipped a beat. That was exactly what they needed.
"And the price?"
"Clear the Junction," Mama Ferro grinned, revealing gold teeth. "Burn the web. Kill the Queen. Open the line for my train. Do that, and I arm your Legion."
Varian looked at Gorgon. Gorgon nodded.
"Done," Varian said. "Rix, suit up. We're going hunting."
The Crystal Junction
The Main Junction was a kilometer down the line. The air here was dry and smelled sharply of vinegar—the scent of concentrated formic acid.
The tunnel didn't look like stone anymore. It looked like the inside of a kaleidoscope.
Massive webs, made not of silk but of spun silicate crystal, crisscrossed the cavern. They glittered in the light of Varian's torch.
[Environmental Hazard: Crystal Web.][Properties: Razor sharp. Extremely sticky. Conductive.]
"Don't touch the strands," Varian whispered. "They'll slice your finger off before you feel it sticking."
They moved slowly. Varian took point, the Sun-Piercer glowing faintly to light the way. Gorgon covered the rear. Rix crawled on the ceiling, avoiding the webs with unnatural dexterity.
"I see them," Rix hissed over the comms. "Statues."
Varian looked where Rix pointed. Wrapped in the crystal silk were bundles. Some were small—rats, roaches. Some were large.
A human scavengers, mummified in glass. His face was frozen in a scream.
"The acid dissolves them from the inside," Gorgon noted grimly. "Then the spiders drink the soup."
Skitter. Skitter. Click.
The sound came from everywhere. The vibration of hundreds of legs on crystal.
"We rang the doorbell," Varian said. "Formation!"
From the shadows of the webs, they emerged.
Crystal-Weavers.
They were the size of wolves. Their bodies were translucent, looking like they were made of cut glass. Their fangs dripped with a glowing yellow liquid.
[Enemy Encounter.][Subject: Crystal-Weaver (Warrior Rank - Low).][Attributes: Camouflage / Acid Spray / Glass Armor.]
There were dozens of them. A swarm.
"Fire!" A spider hissed, spraying a jet of yellow acid at Varian.
"Onyx! Shield!"
Varian didn't dodge. The black Symbiote on his shoulder expanded instantly, forming a wide, curved shield of liquid metal.
HISSS.
The acid splashed against the Acid-Resistant plating Varian had evolved from the roaches. It smoked, but didn't burn through.
"Now! Heat!"
Varian channeled the Solar Core. The shield turned red hot. He didn't retract it; he pushed it forward, slamming the superheated shield into the spider's face.
The thermal shock shattered the spider's glass-like armor. It shrieked and crumbled into shards.
"Gorgon! Smash the pillars!" Varian ordered.
Gorgon roared and charged. He didn't aim for the spiders; he aimed for the crystalline stalagmites anchoring the webs.
CRASH.
His hammer pulverized the crystal. The webs collapsed, dropping five spiders to the floor in a tangle of razor-wire.
"Rix! Grenades!"
Rix dropped from the ceiling, pulling the pins on three stolen Union plasma grenades. He tossed them into the tangle.
BOOM.
Blue fire erupted, turning the spiders and the webs into molten slag.
"Keep moving!" Varian shouted, carving a path with the Sun-Piercer. "The Queen will be at the center!"
They fought their way deeper. Varian was a whirlwind. He switched between Spear Mode and Symbiote Mode fluidly. One second he was slicing legs with the golden blade; the next, his arm was a black whip dragging a spider into Gorgon's hammer range.
[Soul Resonance Increasing.][Combat Synergy: 94%.]
They reached the center of the Junction. An old switching station for the trains.
And there she was.
The Crystal Queen.
She was massive. A bulbous abdomen the size of a tanker truck, suspended from the ceiling. Her legs were long spears of diamond-hard chitin. She had eight eyes, each burning with a hateful intelligence.
[Boss Encounter.][Subject: Crystal-Weaver Queen.][Rank: Commander (Mid-Tier).]
She didn't spray acid. She opened her mouth and fired a solid spike of crystal.
THWIP.
It moved faster than a bullet.
"Dodge!" Varian tackled Gorgon.
The spike embedded itself in the stone floor where the giant had been standing, buried three feet deep.
"She's a sniper," Varian realized. "She's picking us off."
The Queen scuttled across the ceiling, lining up another shot.
"I can't reach her!" Gorgon yelled. "She's too high!"
Varian looked at the webs. They were razor sharp. But...
"Rix," Varian said. "Do you still have the Void Essence?"
Rix patted the pouch on his chest. "Yes. Rix saving it."
"Use it. Now."
"Now?" Rix's eyes went wide. "Scary drink."
"Drink it! And get on her back!"
Rix didn't argue. He uncorked the purple vial and downed it in one gulp.
For a second, nothing happened. Then, Rix screamed.
His body dissolved into smoke. He didn't vanish; he became a cloud of sentient shadow.
[Mutation Accelerated.][Subject Rix: Phase-Shift Ability Unlocked.]
The shadow-Rix shot up the wall. He didn't climb; he flowed. He passed through the razor webs without being cut.
The Queen lined up a shot on Varian.
Suddenly, a cloud of darkness materialized on her head. Rix solidified, his claws glowing with purple void energy.
"SQUEAK!"
Rix drove his claws into the Queen's eyes.
SCREEEEEEE!
The Queen thrashed, blinded. She lost her grip on the ceiling.
Gravity took over. The massive spider fell twenty meters.
CRASH.
She landed on the tracks, her glass legs shattering under her own weight.
She was broken, but alive, thrashing and spraying acid everywhere.
Varian walked toward her. He combined his forms.
The Symbiote covered his entire body in the black Abyssal Armor (partial manifestation). He held the Sun-Piercer with both hands.
"Onyx. Lock joints."
The armor rigidified, turning Varian into an immovable object.
"Core. Max Output."
The spear turned blinding white. It was like holding a piece of the sun.
Varian leaped.
He drove the spear downward, straight through the Queen's thorax and into the bedrock beneath.
SHH-DOOOM.
The heat was so intense the Queen didn't bleed; she exploded into steam and ash. The shockwave of thermal energy cleared the remaining webs in the Junction instantly.
Silence returned to the tunnel.
Varian stood amidst the smoke, the spear pulsing.
Rix materialized beside him, looking solid again, but exhausted. "Rix feels... fuzzy."
Gorgon kicked a piece of the Queen's shattered leg. "That was... messy."
"It's clear," Varian said, looking at the open tracks. "Call the train."
The Price of War
Two hours later, Varian stood on the platform of Station Zero.
Mama Ferro's train had rolled through the cleared junction and docked at the station. Her crew was unloading crates. Heavy, green wooden crates stamped with Pre-War military insignias.
[Item Acquired: M-55 Assault Rifle x 500.][Item Acquired: 7.62mm Ammunition x 20,000 rounds.][Item Acquired: Heavy Machine Gun (Emplacement) x 4.]
It wasn't enough to conquer the world. But it was enough to defend a kingdom.
Mama Ferro watched the unloading from her ramp.
"You delivered," she rasped. "You're a man of your word, Sovereign."
"I need more," Varian said, looking at a rifle Gorgon was holding. "This is just the start. The Union has mechs. The Church has power armor. Bullets barely scratch them."
"Then you need Armor-Piercing rounds," Ferro said. "Depleted Uranium. Or... Beast-Core munitions."
"Beast-Core munitions?"
"Bullets tipped with crushed beast cores. Fire, Ice, Acid. Magic bullets. But to make those, you need a Soul-Smith."
She leaned forward.
"There is one. A master. But he's not in the sewers. And he's not in the city."
"Where is he?"
"He's in The Pit. The Union's maximum-security prison for 'Asset-Class' criminals. Sector 5."
Varian's eyes narrowed. Sector 5. The prison layer.
"What's his name?"
"They call him The Architect," Ferro whispered. "He built the first Symbiote containment units. The Union locked him up because he refused to build weapons for them."
Varian looked at the crates of guns. Then he looked at the map of the world in his mind.
He had an army. He had a base. Now he needed a weapon-maker.
"Looks like we're going to prison," Varian said.
Mama Ferro laughed, her train whistle blowing a signal to depart.
"You have a death wish, boy. I like it. Next time I come around... try to be alive."
The train chugged away into the darkness, leaving the Iron Legion armed and dangerous.
Varian picked up a rifle. He racked the bolt. Clack-Clack.
The sound was satisfying.
"Gorgon," Varian ordered. "Arm the Vanguard. Drills start in one hour. We aren't scavengers anymore."
He looked down the sights of the rifle, aiming at the dark tunnel exit.
"We are soldiers."