The low, sterile hum of the clinic's specialized recovery bay seemed to amplify the silence between Pulse and the doctor. She was mid-forties, severe in her clean white coat, but her eyes held the practiced calm of someone who routinely dealt with bodies pushed beyond breaking points.
"Definitely some minor internal injuries," the doctor stated, closing a scanner panel near his ribs. "Nothing major, it could definitely be healed in no time, especially with my power."
She approached Pulse, her expression purely clinical. She didn't ask what caused the damage; in this world, asking was often detrimental to the healing process. She extended a gloved hand and placed it precisely on his left arm, just above the elbow.
Pulse tensed, expecting a shot. Instead, the pressure was firm and invasive, yet focused. Underneath her touch, Pulse felt a sickening, profound lurch. It was not pain, but a deep, visceral rearrangement. He could feel something coursing through the doctor's fingertips, bypassing skin and muscle, diving straight into his interior. He experienced the sensation of his own organs, tissues, vessels shifting, knitting, and realigning themselves with brutal efficiency.
It felt like his body was being meticulously rebuilt from the inside out. The doctor's focus was absolute, her breath measured, and Pulse found himself clenching his jaw, riding the unsettling wave of internal movement.
After a sustained minute, she drew her hand back sharply, pulling the residual energy with her.
"You're good as new," she confirmed, peeling off the latex gloves with a swift, snapping sound.
Pulse let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He felt unnervingly perfect, his body vibrating with controlled energy, all signs of the preceding night's damage erased.
"Thanks, doc," Pulse managed, his voice slightly rough.
The doctor gave him a noncommittal nod as she sanitized her tools. "Yes. Since you don't want to say what exactly happened to you, I'll just recommend you to be careful. Or better yet, not doing it again on whatever you just did."
Pulse settled his dark armor over his already covered body. "I'll think of it, doc."
He then turned to Crystara, who was leaning against the examination table, her arms crossed, the crystal plating on her forearms reflecting the harsh clinic light.
"Sorry, Crystara," Pulse said, a hint of weariness in his tone. "I fucked up but I'm fine now."
Crystara pushed off the table, her scant attire offering a stark contrast to the severity of the room. "Well, the doc did say you're good as new. And believe me, if you were still limping, I'd be dragging your sorry ass out of here anyway. So, still wanna go tomorrow? Kharavel isn't exactly a convalescent home."
Pulse's eyes gleamed with renewed energy. "Definitely. I'll just need a solid night's rest."
The next morning, the clock hit 09:38 when Crystara's impatient fist hammered against the door of Pulse's room.
"If you're not ready on the dot of ten," her voice rang out, sharp and without patience, "I'll assume you're not fully healed, and I'll just head to Kharavel myself. I'm not spending another day without getting paid!"
"I'm going, calm the fuck down," Pulse called back, already dressed in his layered, dark operational suit.
He finished strapping his scabbard and went to the living room. Crystara was waiting, fiddling with a large, heavy caliber pistol that looked almost too large for her hand. But what caught Pulse's attention was the third person in the room.
It was a woman he didn't know personally, but he recognized her instantly from the brief, grim reports he'd caught whispered around the bureau. She was tall, built with a powerful, lean grace, and wore a practical, if slightly archaic, leather and mesh outfit. This was the one who had facilitated the extraction or relocation of Revara's parents.
"I didn't know we had a guest," Pulse remarked, stopping just inside the doorway.
Crystara glanced up, holstering the massive gun with a casual flick. "Oh, right. She's Skye. Skye, this is Pulse, the walking disaster area I told you about."
Skye smiled, a confident, slightly predatory curving of her lips. "Sup, Pulse. I'm Skye. I will also live with you guys from now on, especially when you guys are on the other worlds. I will be the one to keep an eye on Revara while both of you are gone."
Pulse extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Skye."
Skye took his hand, her grip surprisingly strong, yet controlled. "Likewise, Pulse. Gonna say, for a new recruit, you already done some serious big shit. Dealing with the higher-ups and with multiple awakened from the other bureaus? You're getting ahead of the curve, whether you like it or not." Skye laughed, a rich, knowing sound.
The trio spent the next hour eating a hurried, high-protein meal and preparing the supplies necessary for a multi-day subterranean expedition, high-density rations, coolant pads, and replacement parts for their armor.
By noon, the preparation was complete. Crystara led the way to the bureau's sub-level, where a shimmering portal of purple and green energy crackled impatiently. Pulse and Crystara immediately then stepped through the rift into the alien atmosphere of Kharavel.
Crystara and Pulse also then immediately boarded a streamlined, heavily armored jump ship, a transport they'd requisitioned the moment they arrived.
As the ship took off, cutting a path through the heavy atmosphere, Pulse settled into a jump seat across from Crystara.
"So," Pulse asked, looking at the two massive, long-barreled weapons stowed near her feet. "Your main weapon is actually big guns?"
Crystara checked the charge on a secondary energy pack. "My power already gives me strong and sharp weapons and armor, mostly for close range. But I need versatility, Pulse. My crystal projections are not exactly unlimited, most of the time I have to wait until I'm not exhausted anymore. Guns could definitely help me with long-distance enemies, saving my energy for the things that need to be shattered up close."
"Smart," Pulse murmured, running the tip of his finger along the hilt of his sword, subtly increasing the micro-vibrations just to feel the familiar thrum. "I definitely have to find more ways about my powers. It feels like I'm barely scratching the surface of what my vibration can do."
Crystara looked at him, her eyes intense. There was a moment of hesitation, a rare breach in her usual swagger, but she quickly masked it with resolve.
"Look, Pulse," she began, leaning forward, lowering her voice. "If you could use your powers on me, somehow manipulate my resonant core, and make me reach new heights... I will definitely serve under you. I will follow any of your commands. Anything you want."
Pulse stared at her, caught off guard by the bluntness and the radical nature of the offer. Her eyes, usually full of mockery, were now earnest, driven by a raw, naked desire for power. The implication of "serving" under him, given the charged atmosphere between them was far more than military subordination.
Pulse giggled faintly, masking his sudden spike in nervousness. "Sure, I would definitely love to help you but there's no need for that serving and shit. But I'm still not sure about my powers forcing the resonant core of others to expand. It's too dangerous, too invasive."
Crystara's smirk returned, but it was sharper now. "After hours of waiting in this cage, we should start dropping now. I already informed the pilot."
The ship shuddered, signaling their final approach. Crystara decided where to land, an open, desolate field riddled with craters. They gathered their gear, tightened their harnesses, and jumped, parachuting down into the alien grime.
They landed softly in the sulfurous dust. Pulse immediately asked, "Where are we headed? I thought we needed a known access point for the deeper caves."
Crystara dismantled her parachute rig and let the material blow away in the alien breeze. "Nothing known. This area is mostly unexplored, especially the cave labyrinths underground, therefore less picked clean."
"Oh, yeah, right, I remembered," Pulse said, clipping a compact flashlight to his belt. "Most of the truly dangerous, high-value monsters of Kharavel are underground, feeding off the planet's thermal energy."
"Exactly," Crystara confirmed. "That's why there are so many caves and fissures in this world. Let's go. I want to find a rare material, one a lot more rare than the stuff we found last time. Something that will actually make us rich."
"So, we are going deeper?"
"That's right," she affirmed, her excitement palpable. "To the bottom of the rot."
They walked for less than twenty minutes before they actually bumped into a cave. The ground had split open in a massive, jagged tear, forming a cavern entrance that plunged steeply into the rock face. It looked less like a cave and more like a stairway toward hell, the shadows swallowing the ambient light.
"Well, that was quick," Crystara said, delighted. "Let's go. I'm quite excited since we actually found a cave this early."
She immediately walked toward the edge and began her descent, her silhouette swallowed by the massive maw in the earth.
Pulse followed after her, drawing his sword. The blade hummed with a low, barely perceptible vibration, ready for anything.
As they ventured further down, the air grew thick and heavy with mineral dust. Pulse started to see small, pale crystal-like materials jutting from the mossy rock walls. He grabbed one of the smaller shards and asked Crystara if they were worth anything.
Crystara, already a few yards ahead, didn't even glance back. "Absolutely nothing. They're common mineral deposits, don't waste your time on them."
Pulse ignored her. He held the crystal in his hand, feeling its brittle structure, and then focused his power. He used his vibration ability on the crystal, increasing the frequency until the material began to groan audibly, then started to crackle and generate smoke. Pulse flicked the crystal with his thumb while maintaining the intense, focused vibration.
The crystal shot forward like a railgun projectile, hitting the far cavern wall with a sharp thwack that was immediately followed by the sound of pulverized rock raining down.
Crystara stopped and turned, her eyes wide with impressed disbelief. "You just kept finding ways about your powers, huh? Turning trash into a bullet. That's clever."
She walked back to him, her steps confident, the light catching the smooth, hard curve of her crystal-infused shoulders. She put her hand on his armored forearm, her touch surprisingly deliberate.
"How about you also help me, Pulse?" she whispered, the darkness lending a heavy intimacy to her voice. "Maybe use that power to make my core bigger. You want to experiment? Experiment with me."
Pulse felt a cold dread mix with a burning curiosity. "It's dangerous, Crystara. If I mess with the core's resonance, I could shatter you. Permanently."
Crystara gripped his arm tighter, her face inches from his, her intensity overpowering the darkness. "What we are doing right now is dangerous. We both risk being ripped limb from limb by something that hasn't seen sunlight in a thousand years, just to get cash. Taking a risk with your power to get stronger is no different. It's what being Awakened is."
She was right, but this was a different tier of risk. This was surgical, internal.
"But that risk is all on me," Pulse argued, fighting the urge to pull away from her magnetic focus. "If anything bad happened to you, if I caused permanent damage it will be on me. I'd have to live with that."
Crystara's gaze softened slightly, transitioning from fierce demand to trusting allure. It was a weapon she rarely deployed.
"But I trust you, Pulse," she said, her voice dropping to a seductive murmur. She trailed her fingers up his armored arm, the pads cool against the hard material. "I will take the risk just to get powerful, to be better, to be stronger. I know you understand that drive. I know you understand me."