The Rust-River wasn't a river of water. It was a slow-moving sludge of industrial runoff, fluorescent algae, and the liquefied remains of whatever the canopy decided to discard. It ran through the guts of the Sprawl, a shimmering, toxic vein that smelled of oxidized metal and ancient, rotting grease.
Kael crouched behind the skeleton of a submerged delivery drone, his breaths shallow and rhythmic. Beside him, Elara was checking the filters on her mask, her gaze fixed on the jagged shoreline where the metallic "river" breached the concrete embankments.
"There," she whispered, pointing toward a half-submerged housing pod. "The algae is thickest near the vent-grates. That's where the Essence-rich sediments settle. If we can harvest a gallon of the concentrate, it might buy you another twenty-four hours."
Kael didn't answer. Every movement felt like pulling a weighted sled through deep mud. The "starvation" of the Orchard had moved from a dull ache to a sharp, electrical twitching in his muscles. His vision was beginning to grain at the edges, the system overlays flickering with a persistent, low-power warning.
[STAMINA CRITICAL: 18%]
[Orchard Status: Malnourished.]
[Warning: Sensory lag detected. Reflexes degraded by 30%.]
"I can't... I can't stay still," Kael rasped, his eyes fixed on the glowing sludge.
"Stay low," Elara cautioned, her hand on his shoulder. "The Rust-River isn't just toxic. It's a feeding ground. The 'Feral' don't need Essence to survive—they just need meat."
Kael stepped out from behind the drone, his boots squelching in the oily mud. He waded into the shallows, the reach of the Orchard itching at his skin, desperate to pull anything amber from the sludge. He reached for the vent-grate, his needle-fingers hooking into the rusted iron.
Splash.
The sound was small, but in the oppressive quiet of the riverbed, it sounded like a gunshot.
Kael froze. He looked toward the center of the river, where a massive pile of twisted girders and plastic-mesh was partially submerged.
A shape detached itself from the shadows of the wreckage.
It looked human once, perhaps a scavenger who had stayed too long in the lower levels. But now, its skin was a mottled, translucent grey, stretched tight over a skeletal frame. Its eyes were missing, replaced by twin pits of pulsing, bioluminescent moss that glowed with a sick, greenish light. A Feral Scrapper.
It didn't roar. It let out a wet, clicking sound from a throat that had been rewritten by the Rot.
[THREAT DETECTED: FERAL SCRAPPER (GRADE E)]
[Status: Starving. Aggressive.]
[Probability of Injury: 82% (Reflex Lag active).]
"Kael! Get back!" Elara's voice was a sharp crack in the air.
The Scrapper didn't run; it skittered, moving on all fours with a disjointed, insect-like speed. Kael tried to raises his hands, to trigger the 'Acid Spit' he had used so effectively against the panther, but the Orchard didn't respond. The yellow sapling in his mind was dry, its leaves curled into tight, brittle knots.
"I... I can't—"
The Scrapper hit him with the force of a falling beam. Kael was thrown backward into the toxic sludge, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. The creature was on top of him in seconds, its fingers—long, jagged hooks of calcified bone—digging into his shoulders.
Kael thrashed, his needle-fingers stabbing blindly at the creature's translucent chest, but it felt like hitting wet clay. The Scrapper didn't feel pain. It only felt hunger.
"Get off!"
Kael's head hit a submerged pipe, a flash of white light blinding him. He felt the creature's weight shift, its moss-filled eyes inches from his face. It gripped his head, its fingers tightening around his skull with a strength that made his vision swim.
Then, with a violent shove, the Scrapper forced him down.
The Rust-River rushed over Kael's face—a warm, oily soup that tasted of salt and chemicals. He clawed at the creature's wrists, gasping for air and finding only toxic sludge. His lungs screamed, his heartbeat a frantic, dying rhythm in his ears.
The darkness of the river was absolute. And in that darkness, the Feral Scrapper held him under, waiting for the struggle to end.