The chill from the mountain spring spread through his left arm, easing the burning sensation of the rust patterns, though it didn't vanish completely. The dark brown lines still pulsed faintly beneath his skin, like rust-colored flames trapped in his flesh, ready to flare up the moment he let his guard down. Liam slumped on a mossy rock by the spring, his numerous wounds itching and stinging from the water. His tattered work clothes clung to him, soaked with blood, mud, and grime, feeling unbearably sticky. He wiped his face, hissing as his fingers brushed a cut on his cheek. His gaze fell on the mineral crystals at the bottom of the spring—they had a faint silvery sheen, similar to the ore from the volcanic veins. Perhaps they were the key to alleviating the curse.
He leaned over, pried out a few crystals, and clenched them in his palm. They were cold and rough. Crushing them, he applied the powder directly to the corroded skin of his left arm. The moment the powder made contact, the sizzling sound intensified, but the dark patterns actually seemed to fade slightly. The burning sensation lessened dramatically, and even the numbness in his arm diminished. "Finally found something that works, for now," Liam sighed in relief. He gathered more crystals, stuffing them into his pocket, then pushed himself up using the rock. His eyes scanned the surrounding Rustwood Forest.
There was still movement deep in the bushes. The pair of yellow eyes hadn't disappeared; they remained lurking in the shadows, not daring to approach recklessly. Liam tightened his grip on the half-finished revolver at his waist and picked up a sturdy branch to use as a makeshift crutch. He knew the companion of the young Rust-Beast wouldn't give up. Staying here meant inviting an ambush. He needed to find a hidden shelter quickly, a place to rest, tend his wounds, and improve his weapons.
From the original host's memories, there was an abandoned steam workshop to the west of the Rustwood, a relic from a past era. Its walls were made of heavy brick and stone, with reinforced metal shutters that could withstand beast attacks. It might even contain leftover mechanical parts and tools. Orienting himself, Liam headed west, leaning on the branch, deliberately lightening his steps, alert to every sound. The trees in the Rustwood were twisted and tangled, their bark gleaming with a rusty-brown sheen. Fine metal shards hung from the branches, clinking softly like tiny metal chimes when the wind blew—it was hard to tell if it was a natural sound or the approach of a predator.
After walking for roughly half an hour, a dilapidated workshop appeared ahead. Parts of its walls had collapsed, revealing the internal mechanical skeleton. The metal shutter was half-open, its surface covered in rust, but it remained firmly set in its frame, untouched by beasts. A spark of hope ignited in Liam. He quickened his pace. But as he neared the shutter, a low growl mixed with the screech of grinding metal came from inside the workshop.
He held his breath, pressing against the wall to listen. The growls were intermittent, like beasts fighting, accompanied by the dull thud of heavy impacts. Gripping his branch, Liam slowly pushed the half-open shutter wider. Dim light filtered through the gap. The interior was a mess: discarded machine tools, broken conveyor belts, and steam pipes lay strewn haphazardly across the floor. Some pipes still leaked slow, hissing plumes of white vapor. The air, thick with the smell of iron rust, also carried the rich, metallic scent of blood.
His eyes focused on the scene: a young Rust-Beast, similar in size to the one he'd killed before, was locked in combat with a fully grown Rust-Wolf. The wolf was covered in dark grey fur interspersed with tiny metal granules, its fangs glinting coldly. It had its jaws clamped deep into the young beast's neck. The Rust-Beast, in turn, raked its sharp claws against the wolf's abdomen. Sparks flew as metal scales met claws. A pool of dark red blood, mixed with wolf fur and metal fragments, had already gathered on the floor.
Both creatures were too engrossed in their fight to notice Liam at the entrance. Liam pulled back, his heart pounding. Either the young Rust-Beast or the adult Rust-Wolf alone would be a tough fight for him in his current state. But their struggle presented an opportunity. If he could let them weaken each other, he might gain another drop of Seething Beast Blood, or even acquire the wolf's hide and bones for making armor or tools.
He leaned against the wall behind the shutter, quietly observing the fight inside. The Rust-Wolf attacked with ferocious speed, each bite aimed at a vital spot. Though slightly larger, the young Rust-Beast was gradually losing ground. The wound on its neck deepened, blood dripping steadily. Its roars grew weaker. Several of its metal scales had been torn away, revealing bleeding flesh beneath. The Rust-Wolf, aside from a few gashes on its belly, seemed relatively unharmed. Its attacks grew more intense. With a final surge of power, it pinned the young beast to the floor and drove its fangs deep into its neck.
The young Rust-Beast let out a final, piercing shriek, its limbs twitching in a death throe before going limp, the yellow light fading from its eyes. The Rust-Wolf shook the blood from its muzzle and was about to start feeding when it suddenly turned its head towards the entrance. Its crimson eyes locked onto Liam, a low, threatening growl rumbling in its throat. The wounds on its belly still seeped blood, but it did nothing to diminish its ferocity.
Discovered! Liam's heart clenched. He tightened his grip on the branch, ready to retreat, but the Rust-Wolf was already charging. Its speed was breathtaking. It covered the distance in a blur, fangs aimed directly at his throat. Liam threw himself sideways in a hurried dodge. The wolf's fangs grazed his shoulder, tearing a large rent in his work clothes and leaving a bleeding gash. Sharp pain flared instantly.
He stumbled back, crashing into the wall behind him, the branch falling from his hand. The Rust-Wolf landed and spun around, leaping at him again. This time, Liam had no room to evade. He could only raise his arms, desperately grabbing the wolf's forelegs. The creature's weight slammed into him, driving him down. The wolf's fangs were mere centimeters from his face, its hot, rank breath washing over him.
They were locked in a stalemate. Liam gritted his teeth, muscles straining as he held the wolf back. The lingering energy from the Seething Beast Blood flared within him, granting a burst of strength that just barely kept the beast at bay. But the Rust-Wolf's power exceeded his expectations. It pressed down relentlessly. His arms began to ache, his strength fading fast. The rust patterns on his chest grew hot again, a dark brown glow flickering faintly. The curse was being agitated by the struggle.
"Can't lose!" Liam roared. He brought his knee up sharply, driving it hard into the wound on the wolf's belly. The wolf yelped in pain, its pressure easing for a crucial second. Liam seized the chance, shoving the beast back and turning to sprint towards the machine tools inside the workshop.
The Rust-Wolf recovered quickly and gave chase, its snarls growing more vicious.
Lying beside a machine tool was a broken piston rod, thicker and heavier than his previous one, its piston head intact and gleaming with a cold, hard light—like a natural sledgehammer. Liam dove for it, grabbed the rod, and turned to face the charging wolf.
The wolf was upon him. He didn't dodge. Gripping the piston rod with both hands, he swung it with all his might at the wolf's head. CRACK! The heavy metal connected solidly. The wolf grunted, staggering back several steps, the fur and flesh on its head a bloody mess. But it didn't fall. Its crimson eyes blazing with madness, it lunged again.
"Again!" Liam gritted his teeth, ignoring the screaming pain in his arms, and swung the piston rod once more, this time aiming for the wounded belly. The strike was true. The rod smashed into the injury, driving deep. The wolf was thrown to the ground with a heavy thud that shook the floor. Dark red blood gushed out around the rod. The wolf's legs twitched spasmodically a few times before it lay still.
Gasping for breath, Liam released the piston rod and collapsed onto the floor, drenched in cold sweat. His arms felt like lead, too heavy to lift. The rust patterns on his chest had receded significantly. The last dregs of the Seething Beast Blood's energy were finally spent, leaving only a faint numbness. After resting for a few minutes, he pushed himself up and walked over to the young Rust-Beast's carcass. It hadn't been further damaged in the fight with the wolf; perhaps he could still extract the Seething Beast Blood.
He knelt, examining the body. The neck wound was deep but hadn't reached the core. Last time, the blood pearl had seeped from the wounds and coalesced. Perhaps it would happen again. Liam waited for about ten minutes. Sure enough, the carcass began to glow faintly. Dark red blood seeped from the neck wound, pooling on the ground and slowly coalescing into a glistening pearl of blood, hovering above the body, emitting a familiar faint red light and the same unique energy as before.
Just as the blood pearl was about to fully form, heavy, thudding footsteps echoed from outside the workshop, accompanied by the sound of scraping metal. Something large was approaching. Liam's heart sank. He reached for the blood pearl, but the footsteps drew rapidly closer, reaching the entrance in moments. A massive figure now blocked the doorway—an adult Rust-Beast!
This beast was far larger than the young ones, standing a full two meters tall. Its body was encased in thick, dark brown metallic scales etched with intricate gear-like patterns. Its limbs were pillars of muscle, its claws like polished steel blades. A single, thick, curved metallic horn, stained with rust yet undeniably menacing, sprouted from its head. Its yellow eyes burned with a palpable killing intent as it fixed its gaze on Liam, a deep, threatening growl rumbling in its chest. Clearly, it had come for its offspring.
An adult Rust-Beast was on a completely different level from the young ones. The original host's memories held that even the island's Beastman tribes hesitated to provoke them. Their scales turned blades, their horns pierced metal. Ordinary weapons were useless. Liam's heart plummeted. All he had was a heavy piston rod; his unfinished revolver was still useless. He stood no chance.
The beast roared and charged, its speed dwarfing the Rust-Wolf's, its horn aimed straight for Liam's chest. Liam barely managed to throw himself aside. The beast's horn slammed into the machine tool behind him, shattering it instantly and sending metal shrapnel flying. Liam grabbed the piston rod from the floor and swung it at the beast's back. The rod connected with the scales with a deafening CLANG, but the scales were utterly unscathed. The recoil sent numbing pain shooting up Liam's arms, splitting the skin on his palms. Blood dripped from his fingers.
Enraged, the beast spun and whipped its thick tail at him. Liam had no time to dodge. The tail struck him squarely, sending him flying like a discarded doll. He smashed into the wall, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs. He spat a mouthful of blood. Several ribs felt cracked. Agony turned his vision black. The piston rod clattered from his grasp.
The adult Rust-Beast paced towards him, its yellow eyes filled with cruel intent, ready to tear him apart. Liam lay on the ground, wracked with pain, unable to rise. His consciousness began to fade. The rust patterns on his left arm spread once more, the burning sensation so intense he felt suffocated. But as he looked at the hovering Seething Beast Blood pearl nearby, a wave of fierce defiance surged within him. If he could get that blood, he might suppress the curse, maybe even gain more strength—a chance to live.
Gritting his teeth against the agony, he began to crawl towards the blood pearl. Every movement tore at the wounds on his chest, fresh blood staining the ground beneath him. Seeing this, the beast quickened its pace, raising a claw to swipe down at his back. The sharp claws whistled through the air; a direct hit would surely gut him.
At this critical moment, the hovering Seething Beast Blood pearl suddenly flared with intense red light. It shot towards Liam and merged into his chest. A powerful, warm current flooded through him, rapidly easing the crippling pain. His lost strength returned in an instant. The rust patterns on his left arm receded visibly, even more thoroughly than before, pulling back to his wrist. His skin slowly regained its normal color, leaving only faint traces.
Moreover, a raw, surging power flooded through him. The muscles in his arms corded and swelled. His senses sharpened further; he could clearly hear the beast's heartbeat, even predict its movements. Liam surged to his feet, snatched up the piston rod, his eyes now sharp and fierce, all trace of panic gone.
The adult Rust-Beast, seeing his sudden recovery, paused in surprise, then charged again. This time, Liam didn't dodge. He gripped the piston rod and charged to meet it. Just as the beast's horn was about to impale him, he sidestepped with explosive speed and simultaneously swung the rod in a high arc, aiming for the beast's eye—the only vulnerable spot not protected by metal scales.
The piston rod, fueled by this savage strength, smashed into the beast's left eye with a sickening CRUNCH. The eye burst, yellow fluid and blood spraying out. The beast let out an earsplitting roar of agony, its body convulsing violently. It thrashed wildly, its claws demolishing the surrounding mechanical wreckage.
Liam seized the opportunity. He swung the rod again, aiming for the right eye. The beast tried to dodge, but the rod still caught the corner of its eye, blinding it completely. Now disoriented, it flailed its claws wildly, its roars becoming increasingly desperate and unfocused.
"Now!" Liam bellowed, putting every ounce of his remaining strength into a final swing, aiming the piston rod at the beast's neck. The scales there were relatively thinner. Learning from the young beast's death, he targeted a gap between the plates. The rod struck true, piercing deep into the beast's throat. Dark red blood gushed out around the metal.
The beast issued one last, despairing roar before its massive body slowly went limp and crashed to the floor. Its legs twitched a few final times before it lay still, the yellow light extinguished from its eyes.
Liam let go of the piston rod and slumped to the ground, breathing in ragged gasps, his body drenched in sweat. The raw, surging power within him gradually subsided, leaving only a lingering warmth. The rust patterns on his left arm had completely vanished, leaving only a faint dark brown mark on his wrist. The curse was thoroughly suppressed, granting him at least a few days of respite.
He rested for a long time before finally pushing himself up and walking over to the adult beast's carcass. The Seething Beast Blood within an adult was far more potent than in a young one. Perhaps he could extract more, maybe even use it to forge a better weapon. But as he knelt down, he saw the carcass begin to glow faintly. Dark red blood seeped from the neck wound, but instead of coalescing, it simply flowed onto the black earth of the workshop floor, soaking in. Only a single, small pearl of blood remained, hovering above the body, its red glow weak.
Liam reached out and absorbed this pearl. The warm flow spread through him again. This energy was gentler than the previous bursts but felt more enduring. It not only reinforced the suppression of the curse but also granted him another slight increase in strength. "Seems extracting the full Seething Beast Blood from an adult requires a special method," Liam muttered to himself, temporarily setting aside the mystery. Right now, securing the workshop, creating a safe base, and finishing that revolver were his top priorities to face the dangers ahead.
He walked to the back of the workshop, found an intact inner door, and closed it. He barricaded the entrance with broken pipes, creating a temporary defensive line. Then, he began searching the workshop for mechanical parts and tools. His luck held. He found a rusty wrench, a hammer, a few rolls of intact wire, and—in a drawer of the machine tool—several intact revolver cartridges, precisely the caliber his unfinished revolver needed.
With tools and ammunition, completing the revolver became straightforward. Liam sat by the machine tool, using the wrench to file and adjust the cylinder and spring until it rotated smoothly. He reinforced the grip with wire to prevent it from coming loose. After over two hours of work, the half-finished revolver was finally complete. Though its body was still rust-streaked, it was solid and functional. Loading a cartridge, he tested the trigger; it pulled smoothly. The barrel was clear.
He aimed the completed steam revolver at the carcass of a Gear-Rat on the floor and pulled the trigger. BANG! The report echoed loudly in the enclosed space. The bullet tore through the carcass and embedded itself deeply in the far wall. "Finally, a proper weapon," Liam breathed, relieved. He tucked the revolver into his belt. He then set about clearing the workshop of the dead beasts, dragging the young Rust-Beast and the Rust-Wolf outside to bury them, preventing their scent from attracting more predators.
By the time he finished, the sky was darkening. Beastly roars echoed from the Rustwood, but inside the workshop, it was strangely quiet. Liam leaned against a machine tool, chewing on some sour, barely edible wild fruit he'd foraged earlier. It staved off the hunger. Looking out the window at the deepening dusk, he knew this was only the beginning of his survival on Rust Island. More dangers lay ahead: the Rust-Corrosion Curse, packs of beasts, unknown enemies. Every step would be like walking on thin ice. But his hand tightened around the steam revolver at his hip, his gaze firm. No matter how difficult the path, he would survive. He would break this cycle of iron and blood.
Deep in the night, the workshop was silent save for the faint hiss of steam from leaky pipes. Liam, sleeping lightly in a corner, was jolted awake by a faint metallic scraping sound coming from outside the workshop. It sounded like someone—or something—was trying to force the main shutter. Instantly alert, his hand closed around the grip of his steam revolver. He crept to the inner door, peering through a crack into the darkness outside. Several shadowy figures were gathered around the shutter, seemingly attempting to pry it open. And on the distant sea, under the moonlight, the silhouette of a black airship grew steadily clearer.