The crater of the Sea of Ships dawned with a gray mist that seemed to rise from the metal wreckage, embracing every fallen ship and rusted structure. Derek adjusted his backpack, where the box he had delivered days ago still held a special place in his mind. It wasn't its physical weight that worried him, but the sense of responsibility that had settled in his chest since crossing the first line: a world where every mistake could be fatal.
David started the bike without a word, and Derek held onto his back. This time they weren't heading for a routine transport job; there was a new package, bigger, heavier, and with a warning that had put them on alert: "Watch for active sensors. No second chances." The warning wasn't exaggerated: the Company watched every move, and the criminal network didn't hesitate to eliminate those who messed up.
As they advanced along the broken highway leading to the crater, Derek surprised himself by observing David's movements: the way his hands gripped the handlebars, how his eyes scanned the road and structures on both sides, calculating every shadow and every corner where someone could be watching. The admiration he felt for him wasn't that of a common friend: there was something in the way David moved, in his calm and control, that made him want to imitate him and be close to him at the same time. Derek closed his eyes for a moment against his back and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face.
They reached the drop point, a warehouse almost invisible among towers of scrap and collapsed ships. There was no one in sight, just the echo of their boots on the metallic grass mixed with dust and forgotten tool remnants. David got off first and checked every corner, every shadow. Derek followed carefully, the box in his hands, feeling that every step resonated too loudly.
"Remember," whispered David, "don't look to the sides, don't talk to anyone. Just drop and exit."
Derek nodded, but he couldn't help getting distracted for a moment by a blue glint among the remains of a fallen ship. It was small, barely a shine in the darkness, but something in his instinct told him it wasn't a coincidence. He had to ignore it. He turned his head toward David, but the young man was completely focused on the path, evaluating escape routes.
They reached the drop point, and Derek extended the box. But just as the contact took the package, a metallic noise made Derek move too fast, tripping over a piece of structure. The bump caused the package to hit the ground. David reacted immediately, shoving him to the side and raising his hand to cover him, but it wasn't enough: a sensor near them blinked, signaling that someone was watching.
"Shit!" said Derek, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. "I'm sorry..."
David looked at him, eyes fixed and hard. For a moment, Derek felt he couldn't hold the gaze. There were no shouts, no verbal punishment; just heavy breathing and a few seconds of silence that made him understand that this mistake could cost them dearly. The contact recovered the box, the sensor stopped blinking, and in an instant that seemed eternal, everything went back to normal. David said nothing, just leaned down, pulled Derek up, and pointed the way back.
As they walked back to the bike, Derek noticed David was worried, tense, and something about the way he looked at him made him feel a mix of guilt and strange relief: they were still alive. But fear had settled deeper than before. Derek's first mistake wasn't just a slip-up; it was a reminder that the Sea of Ships does not forgive.
When they finally started the bike and returned to a safer point, David spoke:
"There are things you can't learn with theory. What you saw today is just the beginning. Every move is paid for, every careless act leaves a mark."
Derek nodded, aware that the world that had once seemed like a game was now closer to devouring him. But it wasn't all just death and risk: among the wreckage and rumors, something new was beginning to circulate. A mysterious substance, dark in color and with properties everyone wanted, had leaked into the city streets.
The other seekers murmured about it: "It hit the black market," "it's expensive but gets people hooked," "only a few get it before it disappears." Derek heard these conversations while David silently negotiated with a contact for another job. The name of the substance wasn't clear yet, only the rumor and intrigue it was starting to generate.
"What is that?" asked Derek, pointing to a small package someone else was leaving at an exchange point.
David shrugged, with just enough of a smile not to alarm him too much:
"Someone is already selling it in the city. For now, it only moves between certain contacts. But soon... it could be our next job."
Derek remained silent, thinking about the amount of things he still didn't understand, the weight of mistakes, the surveillance of the Company, and the possibility that he and David would end up involved in something much bigger than a simple job.
And as the crater of the Sea of Ships disappeared behind the mist of the night, Derek understood that the world he had inherited wasn't just testing him... it was molding him.