The sun in the Silver District wasn't real, but it felt flawless.
It poured through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the Valerius estate, warm and golden, sliding across white marble floors polished so clean they reflected the sky. The air carried the scent of jasmine from the climate-controlled gardens outside. Even the breeze was engineered.
Kaelen sat at the long breakfast table, turning a polished silver spoon in his hand. His reflection warped in the curved metal—clean, composed, obedient. His uniform was pressed to perfection. The Valerius crest gleamed at his collar.
In one hour, he would deploy for his first tour in the Sinkhole.
"Eat, Kaelen."
His mother didn't look up. She scrolled through architectural projections hovering above her tablet—blueprints for a new east wing. Glass balconies. Imported stone.
"You'll need strength for the frontier."
"It's not the frontier, Mom." His voice stayed quiet. Careful. "It's a reclamation zone. We're clearing waste for the Company."
His father set down his porcelain cup. The sound cracked across the marble like a warning shot.
"That 'waste' powers this district," Marcus Valerius said. "It funds this house. Your education. Your name. The Vanguard is an honor. Try not to embarrass us with moral confusion."
Across the table, Julian leaned back in his chair. Relaxed. Perfect. Already altered by the Refined Serum—the stable version. The expensive one. He looked carved from stone.
"Don't worry, Father," Julian said, smirking. "Kaelen will find his spine once he smells the rot. Or he won't." He took a slow sip of juice. "Either way, the insurance payout covers the investment."
Their mother laughed. Light. Polite. Practiced.
Kaelen's stomach tightened. Only Mia didn't laugh. She sat at the far end of the table, too small for the oversized chair. In her hands, she held a scrap of blue fabric, stitched crooked at the edges. When no one was watching, she slid it across the table.
"For luck," she whispered.
Kaelen tucked the charm inside his jacket, over his heart. "I'll bring it back," he said.
An hour later, the elevator dropped three thousand feet. The Silver District disappeared above him. With every level, the air changed. Clean jasmine gave way to filtered steel. Then oil. Then sulfur.
By the time the doors opened, the sky was gone. Sinkhole Base stretched out before him—floodlights and towers of scrap stacked like grave markers. Captain Miller stood at the ramp of Transport 7, a cigarette glowing between his fingers. He looked Kaelen up and down—the pristine armor, the untouched boots.
"Valerius," Miller said. "The donors."
"Yes, sir."
"They told me to keep you alive." He flicked ash onto the steel floor. "Said you were sensitive. Load up. Sector 9. Company wants it clean."
The transport hit the ground in Sector 9 with a bone-jarring thud. The ramp dropped, vomiting the squad into a red haze of radioactive dust.
"Check your sectors," Miller's voice crackled. "If the thermals show a signature, you burn it. No hesitation."
Kaelen kicked in the door of a scrap-metal shanty. He swept the room with his barrel, looking for the monsters he'd been promised. He found a woman. She was kneeling on the dirt, shielding two children. They weren't snarling. They were just people, shivering in the dark.
Kaelen lowered his rifle. "Captain, there's a mistake. These aren't mutations. They're civilians."
A long silence followed on the comms. Then Miller's voice dropped to a cold crawl. "Check your HUD again, Sergeant. The Company flags them as 'Tainted.' Tainted means a mutation. Now, do your job and sterilize the room."
"I'm not a butcher," Kaelen said, stepping back into the street.
The squad was already waiting. They weren't looking at the shanty; they were looking at him.
"I knew it," Miller sighed. "A bad investment."
The blow came from behind. A rifle butt slammed into the base of Kaelen's skull. He hit the red dirt, his vision swimming in static. He felt hands grabbing his armor, dragging him toward the Black Vent—a mile-deep throat of violet radiation leaking from the planet's core.
"Your parents already signed the death benefits, Kaelen," Miller whispered as they reached the edge. "Go be useful for once."
Miller's boot hit his chest.
He didn't scream while he was falling. He screamed when he understood.
He landed a hundred feet down on a shelf of jagged obsidian. His spine snapped. His ribs turned to splinters. He lay there in the dark, dying, as the radiation began to peel the skin from his face.
Deep inside his bone marrow, the Survivor Serum finally felt the threat.
It didn't fix his bones. It replaced them.
Kaelen felt his skeleton reset with a dry, stony crunch. A matte-black shell began to crawl over his skin, sealing his bleeding muscles behind a casing of volcanic glass.
The human died on that ledge.
What stood up wasn't