The girl's knife was steady. Her eyes were steadier.
Zain raised his hands slowly, showing his empty palms. He was exhausted. His body still ached from the backlash of using the Void seal. If he tried to fight her, she would gut him before he could even summon Nox.
"I'm not a threat," Zain said, his voice raspy. "I just needed a ride off the island."
"A ride?" The girl laughed, a sharp, barking sound. "This isn't a ferry, rat-boy. This is a Junker. We don't give rides. We give headaches."
She stepped closer, the blade inching toward his nose. She sniffed the air.
"You smell like ozone and burnt hair," she wrinkled her nose. "And you're wearing Temple rags, but you're hiding in a anchor room. Did you steal something? Did you kill a priest?"
Zain hesitated. If I tell her the truth, she'll turn me in for the bounty.
"I failed the Awakening," Zain lied. It was a half-truth. "They were going to send me to the mines. I ran."
The girl's expression softened for a fraction of a second, but then her eyes narrowed again. She looked at his right arm. Zain had instinctively pulled his torn sleeve down to hide the black ink.
"Let's see the arm," she commanded.
Zain froze. "It's nothing. Just a dud."
"Show. Me." She pressed the knife against his throat. A droplet of blood welled up against the steel.
Zain gritted his teeth. He slowly rolled up the sleeve.
The black seal was there, etched into his skin like a chaotic tattoo. But in the dim light of the cargo hold, it didn't look like a vortex. It just looks like a mess of black scars.
The girl stared at it, confused. "What is that? I've never seen a seal like that. It looks... ugly."
"She dares insult me?" Nox hissed in Zain's mind. "Let me rot her tongue."
Quiet, Zain thought frantically. We need her to not kill us.
"It's a defect," Zain said quickly. "That's why they wanted to send me to the mines. It doesn't work. It's useless."
The girl lowered the knife slightly. "A defect, huh? Useless seal, scrawny arms, and running from the law. You're not exactly a prize catch."
She stepped back, sheathing the dagger in one fluid motion.
"I'm Vera," she said. "And you're lucky I'm the one who found you. If it was Boz, he would have thrown you out the hatch just to hear you scream."
Zain exhaled, his knees trembling. "Thank you. I can work. I can clean, I can carry crates..."
"Save the resume," Vera interrupted. She grabbed his collar and shoved him toward the door. "I'm taking you to the Captain. If he decides you're worth the food, you stay. If not... well, hope you know how to fly."
The deck of The Rusty Bucket was a sensory assault.
The wind roared constantly, whipping Zain's hair into his eyes. The smell of burning mana-fuel and grease was overpowering. The ship was ugly—a patchwork of metal plates welded together—but it cut through the clouds with surprising speed.
Crew members ran back and forth, securing rigging and shouting orders. Most of them were burly men with scars and tattoos. They stopped to glare at Zain as Vera marched him toward the bridge.
"Who's the fresh meat, Vera?" a massive man with a beard like steel wool shouted. He was holding a wrench the size of Zain's leg.
"Stowaway, Boz!" Vera yelled back. "Found him in the chain locker!"
Boz grinned, revealing several missing teeth. "Throw him over! I bet he bounces!"
Zain kept his head down, trying to make himself look small.
They reached the bridge. It was a cramped metal room filled with ticking gauges and navigational charts.
At the helm stood the Captain.
He was a tall, gaunt man wearing a long leather coat. His back was to them, watching the clouds through the reinforced glass.
"Captain," Vera said, her voice respectful. "Found a rat."
The Captain turned slowly.
Zain swallowed hard. Half of the Captain's face was flesh, but the other half was covered by a brass metal plate. His left eye was a glowing red mechanical lens that whirred as it focused on Zain.
Captain Silas. A legend among the Junkers. They said he lost his eye fighting a Sky Kraken.
"A rat," Silas's voice was like grinding gravel. "We have enough rats. Why is this one still breathing on my deck?"
"He says he wants to work," Vera shrugged. "And he's got a weird scar on his arm. Says it's a defective seal."
Silas stepped forward, his heavy boots clanking on the metal floor. He towered over Zain. The red mechanical eye zoomed in and out, scanning him.
"Work?" Silas scoffed. "Look at him. He's got no muscle. He's a twig. What can you do, boy?"
Zain's mind raced. He couldn't fight. He couldn't navigate. What could he do?
"The Engine," Nox whispered suddenly. "I smell... concentrated energy. It is leaking. It is poisonous to them. But to us... it is an appetizer."
Zain blinked. He sniffed the air. Beneath the oil and grease, there was a sharp, stinging scent coming from the floor vents. It made his eyes water, but it made the black seal on his arm throb with hunger.
"The engine," Zain blurted out. "I can clean the Core Filters."
The bridge went silent.
Vera looked at him like he was insane. "You want to clean the Filters? Are you suicidal? The Mana Radiation in the core room cooks people in an hour. We draw straws to see who has to go down there for five minutes."
"I can do it," Zain insisted, looking Silas in his human eye. "My seal... it's defective. It doesn't channel power, but it absorbs... static. Radiation doesn't bother me."
It was a bold-faced lie. But it sounded plausible enough.
Silas studied him for a long, agonizing minute. The red eye whirred.
"The Filters are clogged," Silas admitted. "We're losing 20% efficiency. If you go down there, you'll probably vomit blood and die before you finish one vent."
"Let me try," Zain said. "If I die, you just throw me over. No loss."
Silas grinned. It was a cruel, sharp expression.
"I like that logic," Silas said. "Vera, take him to the Engine Room. Give him a scraper. If he cleans the filters without melting his skin off, give him a bunk. If he dies, mop him up."
The Engine Room was hell.
The heat was unbearable. The air shimmered with blue Mana Radiation. In the center of the room, the massive engine thrummed, glowing with unstable energy.
"Here," Vera tossed him a heavy metal scraper and a ragged mask. She stood by the door, refusing to step inside the yellow caution line. "Good luck, rat. Try not to scream too loud. It annoys the engineer."
She slammed the heavy iron door shut, locking him in.
Zain stood alone in the roaring heat. He felt his skin prickling. The radiation was real. He could feel it trying to burn him.
But then, the seal on his arm woke up.
"Finally," Nox purred.
The black ink swirled, expanding slightly. It didn't wait for Zain's command. It opened its "mouth."
Zain didn't need the scraper. He walked up to the first filter—a vent clogged with glowing blue sludge (solidified mana waste).
He reached out and touched the sludge.
Sizzle.
It didn't burn his hand.
The black seal latched onto the blue sludge and drank it. The toxic waste dissolved, turning into a stream of pure energy that rushed into Zain's body.
It wasn't a trickle like the rat. This was a flood.
Zain gasped, his back arching. His muscles filled with strength. The exhaustion from the temple vanished instantly. The scratches on his shoulder healed in seconds.
He wasn't cleaning. He was feasting.
"More," Nox demanded. "This ship... is a buffet."
Zain smiled, his eyes glowing with a faint, dark light in the gloom of the engine room. He moved to the next vent.
For everyone else, this room was a death sentence.
For the Abyssal Hunter, it was a banquet hall.