The sewer safehouse was a cathedral of concrete and rot. High, vaulted ceilings dripped with a slow, rhythmic condensation that sounded like a ticking clock in the absolute quiet of the undercity.
Kael sat with his back against a rusted support pillar, watching Elara as she cleaned his discarded scav-kit. The green mold paste on his chest had dried into a protective crust, its emerald light now a steady, muted thrum. He felt more than better; he felt different. The Orchard was still there, a silent weight in the back of his mind, waiting for the Essence he didn't have.
"We can't stay here long," Elara said, her voice echoing in the vast chamber. "The Ironbark are thorough. Jax isn't just a brute; he's a tracker. He'll find the melted lock in the smuggling tunnel within the hour."
Kael looked at his hands. The needle-fingers were gone, retracted back into the bone, leaving only faint, silvery scars on his knuckles. "You said you knew where their Essence overflow is. If we can get enough to unlock the second plot..."
"It's a suicide mission, Kael," she interrupted, looking up from her work. "But then again, so is staying here. The Sprawl is a closed system. Everyone is connected, and everyone has a price."
She reached into his kit and pulled out a small, dented radio—the one Kael had scavenged from the scout he'd killed during the run through the vents. It was a standard-issue Ironbark comms-unit, its casing scarred by the structural collapse.
"It still works," Elara noted, her fingers flying over the tuning dial. "The encryption is old Guild-spec. I can bypass the—"
The radio hissed, a spray of static that cut through the silence of the sewer. Then, a voice broke through. It wasn't the frantic chatter of scouts or the clinical commands of a recovery team. It was slow, gravelly, and saturated with a cold, controlled fury.
"This is Commander Jax."
Kael froze. The name alone felt like a physical weight on his lungs.
"All sectors, acknowledge," Jax continued. "We have confirmed the target's identity. Scavenger Badge 442. DNA status: Inert. He is accompanied by the defector Doctor Elara."
Elara's jaw tightened, her hands stopping their work.
"The target is in possession of a Class-A biological asset," Jax's voice was broadcasting on a general, unencrypted frequency now—a public declaration. "Every scavenger, every guild-grunt, and every 'Pruner' in the Sprawl is hereby informed. There is a bounty on Kael's head."
Kael looked at the radio, his heart rate beginning to spike. The system alerts in his mind responded to the tension, the emerald veins on his chest flickering with a sharp, warning light.
[WARNING: EXTERNAL THREAT LEVEL ESCALATED]
[Social Status: Fugitive (High Priority).]
[Recommended Course: Immediate Relocation.]
"Ten thousand Units of Essence," Jax's voice boomed, crackling through the small speaker. "For the head of the Blank. Fifteen thousand for the Seed, intact. Anyone found aiding them will be grafted into the Ironbark pylon as living fertilizer. The hunt is active."
The radio went silent, the static returning like a slow-burning fire.
Kael looked around the vaulted chamber. The shadows, once protective, now felt like open mouths. Every drip of water, every scuttle of a spore-cricket, sounded like an enforcer's boot.
He was no longer just a scavenger who had found a lucky seed. He was a fortune on legs. In a city where Essence was more valuable than life, he was the biggest prize the Sprawl had seen in decades.
"Ten thousand," Kael whispered, his voice trembling. "Nobody in the Sprawl will pass that up."
"Then we stop being the prey," Elara said, throwing the radio into the dark pool of water at the center of the chamber. She stood up, her face a mask of cold determination. "Phase One is over, Kael. You survived the run. Now comes the patch job."
She looked toward the tunnel that led deeper into the dark, uncharted sectors of the undercity.
"We're going to find that Essence. And then, we're going to give Jax something else to hunt."