I cleared the security checkpoint. The scanner swept over my ID, flashing a reluctant green light.
[ ACCESS GRANTED: MAINTENANCE LEVEL 1 ]
I stepped through the blast doors and into the belly of the beast.
The noise hit me first—a wall of sound. Massive pistons the size of houses churned overhead, driving the intake fans. The air was hot, smelling of ozone, burning grease, and that spicy, metallic tang of raw Aether.
It was a factory floor, but vertical. Catwalks spiraled up into the darkness, clinging to the sides of the massive glowing core that ran through the center of the tower like a spinal cord.
I froze for a second, looking at the chaos. Where the hell am I supposed to go?
"Varhian!"
A voice shouted over the din.
I spun around, my hand twitching toward a pocket that held no knife.
Gerg, an older man with deep laugh lines and arms scarred from Aether burns, jogged toward me. He didn't slow down. He walked right up to me and clapped a heavy, calloused hand on my shoulder.
"You made it," Gerg shouted, his face breaking into a relieved grin. "Damn it, kid, I was worried. Thought the 'rot' finally got you."
I went rigid.
A violent, cold spike of aggression shot through me. My hand jerked, muscles locking up with the sudden, overwhelming urge to snap the wrist holding my shoulder. I didn't know why, but the contact felt like a violation that required blood.
I fought the reflex, forcing my muscles to unlock before I did something I couldn't undo.
I looked at Gerg's face. There was no malice. Just genuine, stupid concern. He's a friend, I realized, forcing my pulse to slow down. Or at least, he thinks he is.
I slumped my shoulders slightly, letting my eyelids droop. I leaned away from him, rubbing my face with a shaky hand.
"I'm... fine," I rasped, making sure my voice cracked. "Rough couple of days."
Gerg's smile faded, replaced by a knowing, pitying look. "The Stim-9 again?"
I just looked at the floor and let the silence do the lying for me.
Varhian's reputation as a junkie was pathetic, but right now, it was the perfect camouflage.
Gerg sighed, shaking his head. "Kid, you're killing yourself. Shift started ten minutes ago. Foreman Krell is on the warpath."
He squeezed my shoulder one last time before letting go. "Come on. I kept your station clear. Figured you'd need the credits."
Bingo. He was leading the way.
I fell into step behind him. "Thanks, Gerg. My head is still... foggy. Might need you to shout if I drift off."
"We're on the secondary intake valves today. Don't worry, I'll handle the heavy flow. You just keep the pressure stable."
Secondary intake valves. Stable pressure. I filed the information away.
We climbed the first flight of stairs, the heat rising with every step.
"So," I said, trying to sound casual as I fished for more intel. "How bad is the load today?"
Gerg laughed, a dry, rattling sound. "Worse. The Count is hosting a gala tonight. He's pulling double the usual Aether for his light show. The core is screaming. We're gonna earn our pay today, Varhian."
The Count. I looked up at the glowing blue core pulsating in the center of the tower. A Soul Architect was burning enough energy to impress his guests, while down here, men were grateful for the chance to soak up the toxic runoff.
"Double the load," I repeated dryly. "Lucky us."
"Just another Tuesday in paradise," Gerg said, stepping off the stairs onto a narrow metal platform.
He pointed to a station overlooking the core. A manual control wheel and a flickering holographic monitor waited there.
"There she is," Gerg said. "Station 4. Try not to blow us up."
I stepped up to the console.
It was a mess of rusted steel and high-tech projection. I put my hand on the wheel. It was hot. It vibrated violently against my palm.
Okay, I thought, staring at the numbers. Input. Output. Balance. Consequences.
"Heads up!" Gerg shouted from the next station over. "Here comes the first wave! The Gala just kicked off!"
The blue core light suddenly flared white. The floor beneath the grate lurched. My display flashed red.
[ DEMAND SPIKE DETECTED ]
[ PRESSURE: 1,400... 1,500... ]
The pipe groaned. The vibration in the wheel turned savage.
"Open it up!" Gerg yelled, hauling on his own wheel. "Feed the beast, Varhian! Don't let it back up!"
I gripped the wheel. My weak arms shook instantly. The atrophy from the Stim-9 abuse was real. The pipe fought me, the pressure acting like a giant hand holding the valve shut.
I didn't try to out-muscle it. I gritted my teeth, planted my magnetic boots wide for leverage, and threw my body weight into the turn.
Creak.
The wheel moved.
I watched the hologram. As the valve opened, the pressure number stabilized.
[ FLOW: 95% ]
[ PRESSURE: 1,350 PSI (STABLE) ]
I exhaled, sweat stinging my eyes.
It wasn't just physical exertion. The Aether rushing through the open valve leaked, filling the air with radioactive steam. My skin prickled. A metallic taste filled my mouth.
"Good hold!" Gerg shouted, giving me a thumbs up. "Keep it there! We just need to survive the opening toasts!"
I didn't wave back. I locked my focus on that hologram.
For the next hour, I became part of the machine. The demand fluctuated wildly. Every time the pressure spiked, I crushed it. Every time the flow dipped, I fixed it. My arms screamed, and the Aether felt like fine glass shards in my lungs, but I didn't stop. I was conquering the valve.
Finally, the core dimmed back to a steady blue pulse. The numbers on my screen turned from orange to green.
[ FLOW: STEADY ]
[ CYCLE COMPLETE ]
I let go of the wheel. My hands were cramped into claws.
Gerg walked over, wiping his face. He looked exhausted.
"Rough start," Gerg wheezed, leaning next to me. "But you handled it."
"Something like that," I said, reaching for the water pouch on my belt.
I looked up at the ceiling. "Hope they enjoyed their toast," I muttered.
Gerg chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. "They always do, kid. They always do."
I looked back at the dark, humming machinery surrounding us.
One hour down. Eleven to go.
I stared at the glowing numbers on my screen. The numbers that dictated my life.
5.5 Soul Strength. F-Grade Knight.
If I stayed here, this machine would eat me alive, turning my body to dust just to keep the lights on for a party I wasn't invited to.
I gripped the railing.
Not for long.
I checked the time.
Phase one: Survive the shift.
Phase two: Find the 0.02%.
I watched the numbers tick. And I waited.