"Okay, Milla. What's today's date?"
December 14th, 2083.
Stephen stopped walking.
He remembered the date of the explosion. June.
"That... can't be right."
My internal clock is synchronized with the Prometheus Industries satellite. The margin of error is 0.003 seconds.
Six months unconscious. Six months without food or water. Without...
"Why didn't anyone rescue me? How did I survive?" Stephen was tripping over his words.
Analyzing.
The panel on his forearm blinked. Lines of text scrolled too fast to follow.
Atmospheric analysis complete. Anomalous composition detected. Volatile Mercury in suspension: 12%. Dispersed Antimony: 8%. Interaction between the two: unknown.
"Unknown?" Stephen tried to understand the text scrolling on the panel, but he wasn't good with scientific terms.
There is no record of this combination in my database. Speculation: Dragon's Tail.
"What's that?"
Alchemical term for mercurial vapors released during high-energy experiments. Documented only in pre-Aurora texts.
The air betrayed nothing. It hung clear and odorless, masking the chemical violence Milla described. The Dragon's Tail lingered in the stillness, a silent, invisible executioner. To the side, a crushed car lay smothered in yellow crusts. Sulfur.
"Why would that prevent a rescue?"
Hypothesis based on limited data: the mist is alchemically active. Resonants who come into contact may suffer unpredictable reactions. Conventional protective equipment does not filter alchemical compounds.
A pause. The static crackled.
Additionally, I detected zero Resonant signatures within a 500-meter radius. Only corpses.
"Everyone... died?"
The Resonants, yes. The mist's composition suggests that already-stabilized alchemical systems collapse when exposed. A forced second transmutation.
Stephen's voice couldn't come out for a few seconds.
"And the others? The ones who weren't Resonants?"
Insufficient to determine. Some may have transmuted. Others may have died from prolonged exposure. My scanner detects no vital signs besides yours within a 500-meter radius.
"Then why did I survive?"
You were not a stabilized Resonant. You were in the process of transmutation during the explosion. Your body absorbed the mist as part of the process instead of reacting against it.
Another pause. His mind appreciated that.
This is a hypothesis. My database has no records of similar events. The last update was six months and thirteen days ago.
Stephen looked at his own hands. At the silvery coloring that still stained his palm.
"So I'm immune."
Possibly. I cannot confirm without more data.
The city was dead. The RCD couldn't enter. And he had slept for six months while the world moved on, unaware of what was happening inside the District.
Mom. Dad. Jenny.
"Can you figure out the range of this... Dragon's Tail?"
No. I don't have the range for that. Suggestion: give me a destination. I'll activate the real-time map.
"Street 447, Block V, District 29, House 2015."
The panel's beep revealed a map in light colors.
Calculation: 87 minutes of walking to reach the destination.
Ninety minutes. That was the timeline to find them. He clung to the single, fragile hope that they had turned Resonant too. Any other option meant digging graves.
Hot, sour bile rose in his throat, but he forced it back down.
Stephen moved. The street had become a canyon of refuse. Rusted sedans stacked in gridlock formed jagged walls, and telephone poles lay snapped like dry bone across the asphalt. The air looked clear. The scanner said otherwise. The Dragon's Tail waited in the stillness, a colorless poison.
Alert: movement detected. Eighty meters ahead.
Stephen stopped.
"Resonant?"
Negative. Unstable alchemical signature. Classification: monster. Awaiting analysis.
He crouched behind an overturned car. The metal was cold against his back. He waited.
Analysis complete. Veinskimmer. Rank D. Affinity: Cinnabar. Senses: detection of body heat and exposed blood.
"Rank D." Stephen breathed. "Weaker than the Brineshade."
Correct. However, Brineshades attack through sensory suppression. Veinskimmers attack through direct contact. They drain vitality.
"Great."
He moved slowly, keeping low. The rubble offered enough cover. When he got close enough to see, he wished he hadn't looked.
The Veinskimmer was feeding.
A vascular knot divorced from any body. A wet tangle of exposed plumbing. Gorged arteries the width of a wrist twisted around capillaries fine as spider silk, all spasming in an arrhythmia that defied biology. Areas of bruised, clotted purple clashed with the bright, oxygenated red of fresh intake. The whole mass glistened, coated in a translucent mucus that left a smear of serum and copper across the concrete.
And beneath the mass, a body.
Stephen swallowed the acid that rose up his throat. The body still wore a lab coat. One of the scientists. Thin veins from the Veinskimmer penetrated the exposed skin, pulsing as they sucked.
Recommendation: avoid confrontation. Go around and continue forward.
"Is he dead?" Stephen asked, unsure if he wanted an answer.
The scientist? Impossible to determine. Vital signs below detection threshold.
Stephen closed his eyes. Opened them. The Veinskimmer continued feeding, indifferent. An unnatural predator.
"If I pass by, will it sense me?"
Likely. Veinskimmers detect body heat within a radius of approximately fifteen meters. You are at twelve.
Shit.
Stephen looked around. There was no alternative path; the rubble blocked the sides, and going back meant losing hours circling destroyed blocks. The creature was directly in the middle of the only viable passage.
"Weak points?"
Heat. The Veinskimmer's vascular tissue is vulnerable to cauterization. Burns prevent regeneration. Recommendation: the car beside you has Sulfur residue.
Sulfur. Combustion. He could do this.
Stephen stood up slowly and approached the vehicle, pressing his hand against the yellow crust covering the hood. He focused on his left palm, where the Conductor's opening exposed his skin. A familiar tingle crawled up his forearm. Heat surged through his veins. The air around his hand began to shimmer.
Chk—
The spark was born small. Yellow, unstable, the size of a lighter flame. Stephen pushed it, not with his hand, but with that thing he didn't know he had. The spark shot forward.
—fss!
The fire hit the mass of veins. The Veinskimmer shuddered. A wet sound, like someone chewing with their mouth open, escaped from the creature as it moved away from the body on the ground.
The veins blackened and withered. A grin tugged at his mouth, then froze.
Then the veins around the burn pulsed. New branches sprouted, thin as capillaries, intertwining over the dead tissue. In less than three seconds, the wound was closed.
Regeneration active. Insufficient damage.
"I can see that."
The Veinskimmer turned. A faceless, eyeless stump rose like a cobra, swaying in the air. Ultrafine capillaries quivered like cilia, sniffing.
Sniffing him.
Stephen stepped back. His foot found a shard of glass. The sound was minimal, but the Veinskimmer froze.
And then the creature moved.
It wasn't fast in the traditional sense. It crawled, contracting and expanding like a grotesque slug. But suddenly, vein tentacles shot out; pulsing extensions cutting through the air. Stephen threw himself to the side.
He rolled as protrusions lashed toward him.
Elevated heart rate. Suggestion: breathing control.
"You have no sense of urgency?!"
I am an Artificial Intelligence. Conclusion: no.
Another wet strand. Stephen dodged, but the movement threw him off balance. Stephen stumbled. His right hand slammed against a jagged sheet of aluminum. The metal bit deep into the webbing of his thumb.
Warmth slicked his palm instantly. Blood.
The Veinskimmer stopped.
The creature's mass rippled, orienting toward him. The chaotic pulsing synchronized into a hungry rhythm. The wet, slapping sound turned into a continuous hiss.
Critical alert. Exposed blood detected by target. Aggressive behavior imminent.
The creature spilled forward, a tidal wave of arteries and capillaries, all converging on the scent of his open wound.
Stephen raised his left palm. Spark. Fire.
Chk-fss!
The flame hit the front of the wave. Veins blackened, withered, but others took their place. The Veinskimmer didn't stop. Couldn't stop. The smell of blood was too strong.
A vein-whip wrapped around Stephen's ankle.
Cold was hollowing him from the inside. He felt, no. He lacked. Something. Less of him remained.
Active drainage. Estimated loss: 3% of vital capacity per second.
Stephen howled. He tried to kick, but the tentacle tightened. More drainers approached, drawn by the blood still dripping from his right hand.
His right hand.
The cut.
If the Veinskimmer wanted the blood, he needed to close the source.
He pressed his left palm against the cut on his right hand and focused. Heat radiated.
SSSS-TZZ.
The sound was wet and violent, like raw steak hitting a hot pan.
Stephen screamed. The sound tore from his throat raw and animalistic. His vision whited out. The smell hit him a second later. Pork roast. Him.
Process identified: localized cauterization. Wound sealed.
The blood stopped.
The Veinskimmer faltered. The sensory tentacles waved in the air, confused. The scent trail had vanished.
Stephen rose. Smoke drifted from his left hand, blurring the air with residual heat. The monster recoiled from the cauterized wound.
Heat meant more than damage. Heat meant a barrier.
The Veinskimmer lunged again, a whip of veins snapping toward his neck.
Stephen intercepted it.
His palm, superheated by intent, clamped onto the wet tentacle.
The wet tissue boiled instantly. Capillaries burst with a violent, snapping sound as the moisture vaporized. Instead of draining him, the vein boiled. The tissue turned grey and necrotic under his grip, capillaries sealing before they could siphon a drop of vitality.
The creature emitted a high-pitched whistle of escaping steam.
Stephen tightened his grip. He advanced, driving the heat up the tentacle like a burning fuse. The necrosis raced toward the main body.
Warning: Alchemical reserves dropping.
He ignored the alert. Reaching the central mass, he slammed his open palm against the wet, pulsing bulk.
FULL DISCHARGE.
Every ounce of heat left his body. The internal moisture flashed to steam, inflating the creature into a bubbling grotesque before the pressure became too much.
The Veinskimmer ruptured.
The mass collapsed into a puddle of cooked, grey sludge and black ichor.
He fell to his knees.
Alert: vitality levels at 67%. Alchemical exhaustion detected. Recommendation: immediate rest.
Stephen looked at his own hands. The left one was red, throbbing. The right one had a fresh scar at the base of the thumb; flesh sealed by heat instead of time.
"Milla."
Yes?
"What I did. Does it have a name?"
Cauterize. Concentrated application of heat to seal organic tissue.
Stephen slumped against the cold metal of the overturned car. The sky stared back, indifferent.
But first, he needed to rest.
Just one minute.
Kill count updated: Veinskimmer, rank D, one kill. Total: two.
Stephen closed his eyes.
Two.