The teleportation back to the lab was a blur of white noise and disorientation.
Russell stumbled out of the booth, collapsing to his knees on the cool, pristine floor, gasping for the lab's thick, clean air.
The scent of ozone and metal never smelled so good.
Salvador emerged behind him, slamming a fist on the console.
The booth powered down with a final, angry hum.
He ripped his helmet off-his face pale, not from the transfer, but from pure, undiluted fear.
He rounded on Russell, who was still shaking on the floor.
"You have five seconds to give me one good reason I shouldn't lock you in your dorm room for the next decade," Salvador snarled, his voice low and dangerous.
Russell looked up, the image of the Hollow's dripping maw still seared into his vision.
But alongside the terror was something else:
A razor-sharp clarity.
He had never felt more alive.
"You asked me what I wanted. Now I know. I really want this."
"This isn't a game, Russell! This is Titan! When you step into that world, there is no return to a normal life. Not until you give up, or..."
He trailed off, the unspoken words-or you die-hanging in the air.
"I know," Russell said, pushing himself to his feet.
His legs felt like jelly, but his voice was steady.
"I saw it. I felt it. And I'm still standing here. I promise you, Uncle Sal. I will be good. I will listen. And I will stay alive."
Salvador studied his nephew's face.
He saw the residual fear, but beneath it...
a determination he'd never seen before.
It was the same stubborn set of the jaw his brother-Russell's father-had.
He let out a long, weary sigh, the anger draining away, replaced by grim resignation.
"Alright," he said, his shoulders slumping.
"If you're determined to walk this path, you'll do it with your eyes open. First, you need to understand that everything you think you know about combat is wrong. Titan doesn't play by our rules."
---
He led Russell to a holotable, pulling up a schematic of the moon.
"The atmosphere, the intense magnetic fields, the unique mineral composition of the crust... it creates a massive localized dampening field. Energy weapons are useless. Plasma rifles overheat and explode. Railguns misfire. Even advanced targeting systems fail. Nothing high-tech works reliably for long."
The image shifted, showing shadowy figures battling the grotesque Hollows.
But they weren't using lasers.
They wielded massive, reinforced swords, powerful compound bows firing specialized bolts, and brutal-looking spears with energy-dampening tips.
"The Hunters," Salvador continued, his voice becoming that of a lecturer, "hunt like their ancient ancestors. With muscle, steel, and instinct. It's close-quarters, brutal, and unforgiving. Your first and only priority when you arrive is to find the main Martian Hunter HQ, 'The Crucible.' It's a fortified bastion built into the ice caves. It's the only safe haven on that rock. Everyone there is either a Hunter or supports them. You find it, you get your bearings, you get geared up."
---
The hologram zoomed in on the enemy-the Hollows.
They were a terrifyingly diverse array of bio-mechanical nightmares, all sharing a pallid, almost translucent carapace and glowing, vacant eyes.
"These are the Hollows. We don't know where they came from, only that they're tied to Titan's core. They're versatile, adaptive, and they are divided into four ranks, each deadlier than the last."
Salvador pointed as the hologram highlighted different types:
"Grunt-Class: The most common. Fast, numerous, all claws and teeth. They hunt in packs. They're the test.
Stalker-Class: Larger, smarter. They can camouflage, set ambushes. They have a ranged bio-spike attack.
Juggernaut-Class: Massive. Heavily armored. They are living battering rams. You don't fight them head-on. You outsmart them or you die.
And the Apex-Class: Rare. Intelligent. They are the pack leaders, each with a unique, devastating ability. They are the reason veteran Hunters die."
---
He shut off the hologram and looked Russell dead in the eye.
"This is what you want? To fight monsters with a sword on a moon that wants you dead, for a cause nobody back here understands?"
Russell looked from the now-dark table to the determined, worried face of his uncle.
He thought of Juliet.
Of his mother.
Of his boring, safe life.
He took a deep breath.
"Yes. It is."