Liam's consciousness swam in a violent dizziness, his skull feeling as if it were being drilled by countless red-hot iron needles. The sharp shriek of tearing steam pierced his eardrums, adding to the chaos in his mind. Before his eyes rolled thick, rust-colored fog. The acrid stench of sulfur and corroding metal choked him, triggering a fit of ragged coughs. Each convulsion sent a searing pain shooting through his left arm—a deep, burning agony far worse than any ordinary injury. It felt as if his flesh were being eaten by acid, his very bones growing hot and numb.
He struggled to push himself up. His fingers touched something cold and rough—metal shavings, mixed with a sticky, slick wetness. Looking down, he saw his palm was covered in dark red blood, dripping between his fingers onto the uneven ground below, raising tiny puffs of rust dust. As his vision cleared, he saw he was surrounded by the wreckage of shattered machinery: twisted steel pipes, broken gears, and splintered metal plates lay scattered everywhere. Some fragments still smoldered, emitting thin trails of white smoke. Hissing steam, laced with sparks, traced brief, bright scars through the dense fog.
"Damn it... Where is this?" Liam rasped, his mind a muddled wreck. His last memory was of a rain-slicked highway at night, the blinding high beams of an out-of-control truck, the frantic spin of the steering wheel, the weightless terror of the rollover, and the deafening crash of metal. Those sensations were etched sharply into his senses, yet the scene before him bore no resemblance to a modern city.
There was no asphalt, no streetlights. Underfoot was packed black earth and solidified slag. In the distance, the vague outlines of black mountain ranges blurred in the thick haze. Beyond the sulfur and rust, the air carried the faint taste of volcanic ash. His clothes had changed, too. Gone was his casual wear, replaced by a coarse, stained work uniform riddled with holes and patches, the rough fabric chafing his skin.
But the most alarming thing was the pain in his left arm. It had grown so intense he could barely stand. Cold sweat rolled down his temples, dampening his hair. Gritting his teeth, he rolled up the left sleeve. What he saw made his pupils contract and his heart sink like a stone.
His once-healthy arm was now covered in dark brown, rust-like patterns, as if the limb were turning into corroded iron. The markings spread upward from his wrist, already past his elbow. In some places, the skin had cracked and peeled away, revealing blackish muscle fibers beneath, tangled like rusted wires. At the worst spot, he could glimpse pale bone, its surface also coated with a thin, sinister layer of rust.
"What... what is this?" A chill ran through him. He reached to touch the patterns, but the moment his fingers made contact, a sharp, needle-like pain stabbed into him. It felt as if something crawled up his fingertips and into his body. The rust patterns on his arm flashed with a brief, dark brown light, followed by an even more violent burning sensation, as if fire were racing through the veins in his arm, heading straight for his heart.
He grunted in pain, stumbling back two steps until his back hit a cold piece of wreckage. The metal's chill seeped through his work clothes but did nothing to ease the internal scorching heat. The rust patterns continued their frantic spread. In mere seconds, they crawled over his shoulder. He could hear the faint, sickening sound of his skin splitting, tiny metallic flakes falling from the cracks to land with soft clicks on the ground.
"The Rust-Corrosion Curse?" A foreign thought abruptly surfaced in his mind, rising from the nerve endings as if it were a memory ingrained in this very body. Liam froze. He could clearly perceive the information within this thought—the original owner of this body was an orphan on Rust Island, surviving by scavenging discarded machine parts. And on this island, a strange Rust-Corrosion Curse was rumored to exist. Those afflicted would gradually rust away, from skin to muscle to bone, eventually turning into a pile of corroded metallic dust. There was no cure, only a painful wait for death.
The original host had been afflicted by this curse. Last night, it had flared up violently. In his agony, he had stumbled and fallen into this scrapyard, never to wake again. And he, Liam from the modern world, had been reborn into this body after his car crash, inheriting this damned curse along with it.
"Reborn is one thing, but with a death sentence attached?" Liam felt a mix of fury and panic. His back was soaked with cold sweat. The corrosion on his left arm worsened; the skin on his shoulder had peeled off completely, revealing the ghastly, rust-stained shoulder blade beneath. The burning sensation, now reaching his heart through his bloodstream, made breathing difficult. His vision began to darken, consciousness fading.
He knew he couldn't afford to collapse. If he lost consciousness now, he might never wake again. The dangers of Rust Island went beyond the curse. From the original host's memories, this scrapyard was home to many hungry beasts, not to mention packs of Gear-Rats—swarming rodents with razor-sharp teeth that fed on metal and could reduce a living creature to bones in under a minute.
Clenching his jaw, Liam mustered all his strength to stay upright, his eyes darting across the surrounding wreckage. He needed to find something to alleviate the curse, even just to suppress it temporarily, long enough to escape this dangerous place. The original host's memories vaguely mentioned that the volcanic veins at the island's center held ores that could temporarily inhibit the corrosion. But the volcanoes were too far; reaching them now was impossible.
His only other hope was an energy-infused Mechanical Core. The energy surge might temporarily stabilize the curse. His gaze fell on a half-shattered core lying near a broken steam pipe. Its housing was dark metal, scarred with scratches and rust. A crack on its surface slowly oozed a faint blue energy fluid. Where the droplets hit the ground, they instantly dissolved the rust dust, fizzing with tiny bubbles.
"That's it!" A spark of hope ignited in Liam's eyes. Fighting the agony in his left arm, he staggered toward the core. Every step sent jolts of pain through the bones in his arm, as if they were breaking. Flakes of rusted skin kept falling, making soft, scraping sounds. The burning intensified, his vision swam, and his steps grew increasingly unsteady.
When he was just a few steps from the core, a series of faint, rapid click-clacking sounds emerged from the surrounding wreckage, like countless tiny gears turning. Liam's heart lurched. He stopped dead,警惕地 (warily) looking toward the source of the noise.
From within the thick fog, countless pairs of small red eyes lit up, dense and numerous, peering out from gaps in the machinery and holes in the pipes, gleaming with greedy malice. Then, rodent-like creatures the size of a man's palm emerged. Their bodies were covered in thin metallic shells etched with fine gear-like patterns. Their sharp teeth gleamed like polished steel, and their claws left tiny scratches on the metal wreckage as they moved. These were Gear-Rats, one of the most common dangers on Rust Island.
More and more Gear-Rats appeared, swiftly forming a dark, seething mass, surrounding Liam in a semicircle. Their red eyes fixed on him, and low, threatening hisses rumbled in their throats as they assessed their prey.
Liam's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. The curse was still active; he could barely stand. Now, surrounded by so many Gear-Rats, he had no strength to fight back. The original host's memories showed scenes of people besieged by just a dozen of these creatures, stripped to bare bones in less than thirty seconds. The swarm before him numbered at least a hundred.
"Get back!" Liam forced himself to raise his good right arm, waving it threateningly, trying to scare them off. But the Gear-Rats weren't frightened. If anything, the movement provoked them. The ones in front leaped forward, lunging for his calves. Their sharp teeth tore through the coarse fabric of his pants instantly, and when they made contact with his skin, a sharp, stabbing pain followed.
Liam cried out in pain, kicking away the rats that had latched on. But more surged forward. Some attacked his limbs, others climbed the wreckage to get onto his body, their teeth constantly gnawing at his clothes and skin. The stinging pain spread across his body, blood flowing from the wounds, dripping to the ground. The scent of blood seemed to intoxicate the Gear-Rats, driving them into a greater frenzy. Their hissing grew louder, the circle tightening.
The corrosion had now spread to his chest. From the split skin, what oozed out wasn't just blood, but a blackish fluid mixed with rust. The burning in his heart was so intense he felt suffocated. His consciousness began to waver, the figures of the Gear-Rats blurring before his eyes.
"No... I can't die here..." Images flashed in Liam's mind—the blinding headlights of the crash, his family and friends from his old world. A powerful will to survive surged from the depths of his heart, propping up his fading consciousness. Gritting his teeth against the overwhelming pain, he lunged desperately for the Mechanical Core, slamming his left hand directly onto the oozing crack.
The faint blue energy fluid coated his hand instantly. Upon contact with the corroded skin, it reacted violently, sizzling like acid on metal. An excruciating pain, sharper than the curse's burn, shot from his hand. Liam convulsed, his body curling on the ground, but he held onto the core with a death grip, refusing to let go.
The energy fluid seeped into his body through the rust patterns, clashing with the curse's power inside him. It felt like two fires warring within his veins. The agony brought cold sweat, his teeth ground audibly, and he bit his lip until blood trickled down his chin.
But a miracle happened simultaneously. As the energy fluid infused him, the spreading rust patterns on his left arm gradually halted. The dark brown glow dimmed. The burning pain in his chest lessened. Though his consciousness remained hazy, it no longer teetered on the brink of total oblivion.
The Gear-Rats were all over him now, their teeth sinking into his back and legs, soaking his clothes with blood. But Liam ignored them for the moment. He could feel the energy within the Mechanical Core depleting rapidly; the blue fluid was nearly drained. Once it ran out, the curse would flare up again, and death would be inevitable.
He had to find a weapon before the energy was gone. His eyes scanned the wreckage frantically, landing on a broken piston rod not far away. It was about a meter long, solid metal, its surface rusted but still sturdy. The heavy piston head at one end would make a decent club.
But his body was pinned under a swarm of Gear-Rats; getting up was impossible. Their teeth had already pierced the skin on his back, reaching muscle. The pain made him shiver. He could feel his life force ebbing away, blood pouring from his wounds, pooling on the ground amidst fragments of the rats' metallic shells.
"Now or never!" Liam roared. With a burst of strength, he pushed himself up with his right arm, while simultaneously pressing the last of the energy fluid from the core deep into his body with his left hand. Energy and curse collided once more. The violent pain made his vision go black, and he almost collapsed again. But using the brief clarity the pain granted, he kicked off several rats from his body and stumbled toward the piston rod.
The Gear-Rats, seeing this, lunged for his ankles. Sharp teeth sank deep, tearing open a wound that reached the bone. Blood gushed out. Liam grunted in agony, his step faltering, but he kept going, his fingers closing around the broken piston rod.
The rod was incredibly heavy, weighing at least several dozen pounds. Liam couldn't lift it with one hand. He had to grip it in the middle with both hands, using his body weight to swing it in a wide arc at the surrounding rats.
THUMP! The rod smashed into several Gear-Rats. The sound of metal hitting metal echoed loudly. The rats' shells shattered instantly, internal gears scattering everywhere. Black blood splattered, sizzling on the ground. The struck rats died on the spot, twitching briefly before lying still.
The surrounding rats were momentarily stunned by this show of force. They paused their attack, retreating a few steps. A flicker of fear showed in their red eyes, and they emitted low hisses, no longer daring to charge recklessly.
Liam panted heavily, his hands tightly gripping the piston rod, arms trembling from the effort. The wounds on his back, legs, and ankle still bled freely. The corrosion on his left arm, though suppressed, still throbbed with pain. His strength was fading fast; every breath seared his lungs.
But he didn't dare relax. He stared intently at the surrounding Gear-Rats, the piston rod held horizontally before him as a crude barrier. He knew this was only a temporary reprieve. Once they recovered their nerve, they would swarm again. In his current state, he wouldn't last long.
The Mechanical Core was completely drained, its housing cold. The last of the blue fluid was gone. Though the rust patterns hadn't spread further, they began to feel hot again, as if poised to flare up at any moment. He had to get out of this scrapyard, find a safe place, and then figure out how to find something to suppress the curse.
Watching the rats warily, Liam slowly shuffled toward the edge of the scrapyard. The Gear-Rats followed at a distance, their red eyes fixed on him, hisses continuously rumbling in their throats, but they never closed in to attack.
After about ten minutes, the fog ahead began to thin. He could vaguely make out a dense forest of black trees ahead. The trees had twisted branches, their bark resembling rusted metal with a dark brown sheen. This was the Rustwood Forest, common on the island. While dangerous, it was safer than the scrapyard, and might contain water and wild fruits to restore his strength.
A flicker of relief sparked in Liam's heart. He quickened his pace toward the woods. But just as he was about to step into the tree line, the Gear-Rats behind him let out a series of sharp, piercing hisses, as if provoked. They surged forward, attacking with renewed frenzy.
Liam's heart jumped. He spun around, swinging the piston rod two-handed at the oncoming tide. THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Several rats at the forefront were smashed to pieces, black blood splattering everywhere. But more kept coming from behind, their numbers greater, their assault more frantic than before.
"What's happening?" Confusion struck Liam, but there was no time to ponder. He could only keep swinging the rod, fending off the attacks. The piston rod was immensely heavy. After a few swings, his arms ached, his strength draining faster. The wound on his back tore open again, blood streaming down, soaking his pants.
Just as he was about to be overwhelmed, a deep, menacing roar erupted from within the Rustwood Forest. It was powerful and savage, carrying immense threat, instantly drowning out the hissing of the rats.
Hearing the roar, the Gear-Rats attacking Liam froze in sheer terror. They stopped, looking toward the source of the sound, their red eyes filled with panic. Then, they turned and fled headlong back into the depths of the scrapyard, vanishing into the thick fog in an instant, leaving behind only the corpses of their fallen and scattered metal fragments.
Liam stood panting, still gripping the rod, his gaze fixed warily deep into the Rustwood. From the direction of the roar, the fog slowly parted, and a large, imposing figure emerged from the trees.
It was a massive beast, leonine in shape but far more ferocious. Its body was covered in dark brown metallic scales etched with fine gear-like patterns. Its limbs were thick and powerful, its claws like sharpened steel blades. A single, curved metallic horn, stained with rust yet still menacing, sprouted from its head. Its yellow eyes locked onto Liam, a low, hostile growl rumbling in its throat.
"A young Rust-Beast?" Liam's pupils contracted. In the original host's memories, the rulers of Rust Island were the adult Rust-Beasts, like Ragnarok. Even their young were incredibly powerful—their metallic scales impervious to blades, their claws capable of shredding steel. An ordinary human stood no chance.
Now, the young Rust-Beast paced toward him, its yellow eyes gleaming with predatory hunger, clearly seeing him as prey. Liam's heart sank to new depths. Just escaped the Gear-Rats, only to face a Rust-Beast. In his current state, resistance was futile.
The rust patterns on his left arm grew hot again, the dark brown glow flickering faintly, as if stimulated by the beast's presence. The curse was stirring once more. Liam could feel his energy draining rapidly, the pain from his wounds intensifying, his body growing weaker by the second. He barely had the strength to hold the piston rod, let alone swing it.
The young beast drew closer. Its deep growls vibrated in his ears, the very ground trembling slightly. It suddenly accelerated, lunging at Liam, its sharp claws swiping toward his chest with a whistling sound. If they connected, they would surely tear a gaping hole in his torso.
Liam's eyes widened. He tried to dodge on instinct, but his movements were too sluggish. The wound on his ankle flared with pain, causing him to stumble. The claws still grazed his shoulder, shredding the work cloth and carving three deep gashes down to the bone. Blood sprayed out.
Agony clouded Liam's vision. Gritting his teeth, mustering the very last dregs of his strength, he swung the piston rod with both hands, aiming for the beast's flank. The rod whistled through the air, striking the metallic scales with a loud crash and a shower of sparks.
But the beast's scales were tremendously hard. The rod merely left a shallow scratch, causing no real harm. Enraged by the impact, the beast roared in fury, spun around, and whipped its thick, powerful tail toward Liam.
Liam had no time to evade. The tail struck his back squarely, sending him flying like a ragdoll. He landed hard on the ground, the impact tearing his back wounds wider. Blood poured out. He grunted, spitting a mouthful of blood that mixed with the stains already on the earth.
The piston rod flew from his grasp, landing meters away. Liam lay on the ground, wracked with pain, unable to rise. His consciousness began to fade. The rust patterns had reached his heart; the burning was so intense he could scarcely breathe. The young Rust-Beast's form grew blurry before his eyes.
The beast paced closer, its yellow eyes gleaming with cruelty, intent on tearing him apart and devouring him. Lying there, watching death approach, a wave of despair washed over Liam. Was this it? Reborn only to die here?
Just then, a warmth spread from his chest. It came from a small, gear-shaped pendant he'd found around his neck after waking—a trinket the original host had scavenged and worn close. Now, the pendant grew hot, emitting a faint red glow that shone through his work clothes, illuminating his chest. It seemed to resonate with the rust patterns on his arm.
A faint, warm current flowed from the pendant into his body through the skin of his chest, easing some of the curse's burning agony and sharpening his awareness slightly. Liam was stunned. He never imagined this inconspicuous pendant held such power.
The young Rust-Beast reached him, lifting a claw to smash his skull. As the claw descended, the pendant's glow suddenly intensified. A red light enveloped Liam's body, while the rust patterns on his arm also flared brightly. Dark brown and red light intertwined, forming a strange, shimmering barrier.
The beast's claw struck the barrier with a screech of grinding metal. The claw was thrown back. The beast let out a pained shriek, stumbling back several steps, its yellow eyes wide with shock and fear.
Seizing the chance, Liam struggled to push himself up, looking down at the pendant on his chest. The red light still pulsed, the warm stream continuously flowing into him, restoring a fraction of his strength. The corrosion on his left arm stabilized, for now.
"What... what is this thing?" Confusion filled him, but there was no time to investigate. Though repelled, the young Rust-Beast wasn't retreating. A vicious glint returned to its eyes. It charged again, this time not with its claws, but lowering its head to thrust its metallic horn directly at Liam's chest.
Liam clenched his jaw, throwing himself sideways. The horn struck the ground where he'd just been, gouging a deep crater and sending rock fragments flying. He used the moment to grab the nearby piston rod, gripping it tightly with both hands, and swung it at the beast's back.
This time, the red light from the pendant traveled down his arm, enveloping the piston rod. The metal grew searing hot. CRACK! The rod slammed into the beast's back. The metallic scales shattered instantly. Red blood gushed from the wound. The beast roared in agony, stumbling forward before crashing heavily to the ground.
Liam, thrown off balance by the recoil, staggered back, his arms screaming in protest. But he didn't stop. Pressing his advantage, he rushed forward and brought the piston rod down with all his might onto the beast's head.
THUD! Another solid impact. The beast's skull crumpled under the blow, its horn snapping off. Red blood and brain matter splattered the ground. Its body convulsed a few times, then lay still, the yellow light fading from its eyes.
Gasping for breath, Liam looked at the dead beast, his legs giving way as he sat down hard, the piston rod dropping beside him. He was covered in wounds, bleeding profusely. The rust patterns on his left arm, though stable, still felt unnaturally warm. The glow from the pendant on his chest faded, returning to normal, though it retained a trace of warmth.
Suddenly, the carcass of the young Rust-Beast began to glow. A pale red liquid seeped from its wounds, coalescing into a single, glistening drop of blood that hovered in the air. It emitted a faint red light and radiated a strange, potent energy.
The drop of blood drifted slowly toward Liam, settling in his palm. The moment it touched his skin, it melted into his body. A powerful, warm current flooded through him, spreading to every extremity. The pain from his wounds rapidly subsided. His lost strength returned swiftly. The rust patterns on his left arm actually began to recede, the dark brown glow fading, revealing the slowly healing skin beneath.
"This is... Seething Beast Blood?" Liam was astonished. The original host's memories held whispers of a special blood within Rust-Beasts, called Seething Beast Blood. It contained immense energy, could enhance one's physique, and even temporarily suppress the Rust-Corrosion Curse. It was one of the most precious things on Rust Island. He never expected that killing a young Rust-Beast would grant him a drop.
The energy of the Seething Beast Blood flowed through him, mending his wounds, enhancing his constitution. The rust patterns had receded to his elbow, the burning sensation completely gone. His body felt lighter, the previous exhaustion and weakness swept away.
Liam pushed himself to his feet, testing his limbs. A dull ache persisted in his wounds, but they no longer held him back. His gaze fell upon the beast's carcass, and a wave of grim relief washed over him. Without the pendant's intervention, without that final, desperate drop of Seething Beast Blood, he would undoubtedly be dead.
The thick fog continued to dissipate. Sunlight broke through the clouds, falling upon the land of Rust Island, chasing away some of its eerie atmosphere. Liam looked toward the distant Rustwood Forest, then back at the surrounding scrapyard. A firm resolve solidified within him. He would survive on this dangerous island. He would find a way to lift the Rust-Corrosion Curse, uncover the truth behind his rebirth, and learn the secrets of the pendant on his chest.
He picked up the piston rod from the ground. Tempered by the Seething Beast Blood and the pendant's light, its surface rust had flaked away, revealing a dark, gleaming metal beneath. It felt harder, heavier, more substantial in his grip, a solid and reassuring weight.
Slinging the piston rod over his shoulder, Liam walked toward the Rustwood Forest. He knew the road ahead remained fraught with danger. The curse could flare up again at any moment. Stronger beasts and unknown perils lurked on the island. But he was no longer afraid. Having faced death and survived, his eyes held a new, sharp determination. The cycle of iron and blood had begun. His path of steel and resolve was now underway.