“Father truly oversteps. To think he’d deploy an… un-affiliate… for a Gutter-Stalker hunt. Have our own forces grown so utterly incompetent?” Lady Sera Volkov, the Magnate’s only daughter, clicked a disdainful tongue. Her voice, usually a honed instrument of social grace, held a brittle edge. She wore not the elegant, reinforced gowns of the Chronarium but a practical, form-fitting synth-mesh tunic and reinforced trousers, gear far better suited for the harsh realities beyond Ironfall’s walls. She glanced at Kaelan, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. “I’m not criticizing our guest,” she clarified, a dismissive wave of her hand. “Just remarking on Father’s excessive fussiness.” “Calling the Magnate ‘fussy’ in front of outsiders, noona, don’t you think that’s rather… uncouth?” Standing beside her, Lord Valerius Volkov, the Magnate’s nephew, offered a low, barbed retort. His tailored combat-weave uniform seemed to shimmer with its own smugness. A spark of familial animosity ignited between them, brief but sharp, before Valerius turned his polished attention to Kaelan. “Our paths haven’t crossed formally, have they? I am Valerius Baltas. An honor, I’m sure.” He extended a gloved hand, more a formality than an invitation. “Likewise,” Kaelan replied, the word flat. His hand met Valerius’s, the contact brief and cool. Past the bickering cousins, Kaelan observed the twelve Hegemony Enforcers. Their dull iron plating absorbed the morning’s weak light, their faces etched with a tension that the Volkovs clearly lacked. Unlike their nonchalant superiors, these men understood the stakes. They were marching into the Rust Wastes to confront an unknown horror, one that had already devoured an entire patrol without leaving a single survivor. Moments later, the small company moved through the sprawling industrial district toward the Northern Gate. Residents, their faces smudged with soot, knelt and bowed their heads as the Volkovs passed. Only the uniformed City Watch – men and women in lighter, blue-grey synth-weave, bearing stun-batons and basic pulse-carbines – remained standing, their gazes lowered but not quite prostrated. They maintained order within the city’s grim confines, but against a Gutter-Stalker, they would be less than useless. Kaelan felt a familiar pang of disgust; to the elite, the lives of these working-class guards were utterly expendable. Leaving the massive, clanking gates behind, they ventured onto a ferro-crete artery. It was a crumbling testament to the Old Hegemony, cracked and choked with rust-weed. Ten days had passed since the Gutter-Stalker attacks began, and the road lay deserted, a haunting silence broken only by their heavy boots and the distant whine of industrial machinery from Ironfall City. “Just want this over with,” Sera muttered, kicking a slag-pebble that skittered across the ferro-crete. “Back to my workshop.” Trailing slightly behind her, Kaelan kept his gaze fixed on the grim landscape. Valerius approached, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Vance, do you, by any chance, harbor… an interest in my cousin?” “No,” Kaelan stated immediately, his reply curt. Sera had, in their brief encounters, exhibited a peculiar brand of playful provocation. Never serious, more like an entitled child testing boundaries. Yet Kaelan found no allure in her brashness, her frivolous confidence. Marrying into such a family, binding himself to their twisted ambition, was an unthinkable sacrifice. Not even the Magnate’s forbidden archive could justify that. “Excellent.” Valerius’s lips curved into a thin, satisfied smile. His relief was palpable, though Kaelan neither understood nor cared for its root. --- About an hour passed in the oppressive silence of the Rust Wastes. Then, amidst the skeletal, rust-choked trees, they found it: a twisted cargo crawler, its reinforced plating peeled back like tinfoil, splattered with congealed, sickly green ichor. Nearby, several torn synth-mesh uniforms lay scattered, soaked in the same viscous fluid. Evidence of an attack, recent and brutal. “Was it the Stalker?” Sera asked, her voice hushed for once. “Undoubtedly. No other patrols have been dispatched north,” Valerius confirmed, kicking at a loose piece of wreckage. “Must have come down from deeper within the Wastes.” Kaelan knelt, examining the mangled crawler. The ichor, though coagulated, still gave off a faint, acrid tang. Not overwhelming, meaning the attack had occurred only a few hours prior. The shredded uniforms suggested razor-sharp talons or mandibles. On a warped section of the crawler’s hull, a grotesque imprint – a splayed, multi-jointed claw, far too large for any known beast, yet eerily precise. Five main digits, ending in what looked like hooked points. He recognized the pattern. He’d seen it in fragments of forgotten lore within the Chronarium, disguised as ancient carvings. “A Gutter-Stalker,” Kaelan confirmed, his voice low. “A Class Seven predator.” “Class Seven? Are you certain?” Valerius stepped closer, a flicker of unease crossing his face. “The Magnate said Class Five, at most.” “Its signature matches historical records,” Kaelan said, allowing the lie to slip easily. The truth was, his skin still prickled with the residual tremor from the beast’s passing. He’d felt the specific disruption in the telluric currents, a signature his own abilities recognized. “This creature would have returned to cover. Its trail should be discernible.” “Tracking… not my forte,” Sera admitted, tapping her wrist-mounted plasma emitter. “Valerius, you?” “My focus is on direct application of kinetic force,” Valerius replied smoothly. “Perhaps one of the Enforcers…” “I can attempt to locate it.” Kaelan stepped forward, his gaze sweeping the blighted landscape. Sera’s eyes widened. “Oh? Do you possess a specialized augmetic for that, guest?” “I’ve simply developed a heightened sense of observation, Lady Volkov,” Kaelan said, a calm mask over his true intent. He closed his eyes for a split second, allowing his senses to expand. The acrid tang of the ichor intensified, but beneath it, he felt faint vibrations in the ground, a subtle warmth radiating from a specific direction, a disturbance in the very earth that hinted at a massive, recent passage. His geothermic senses translated these into a clear path. “This way.” Following Kaelan’s lead, the party veered sharply off the ferro-crete, pushing into the deeper Rust Wastes. The ground grew uneven, choked with twisted metal husks of long-dead flora. A lack of proper path mattered little; the Volkovs moved with an augmented grace, while even the Enforcers, in their heavy armor, could cover several meters in a single, powerful stride. Thirty minutes of relentless tracking brought them to a sluggish, rust-colored stream. A group of skitter-vermin, their chitinous shells glinting, scattered into the murky depths at their approach. “The trail ends here,” Kaelan observed, his gaze sweeping the water. The telluric disturbances ceased abruptly at the bank. “It washed itself clean.” “A mere beast performing such a cunning act to evade pursuit?” Valerius scoffed, his face incredulous. “Perhaps it simply wished to cleanse itself,” Kaelan offered, drawing on a tidbit from his forbidden books. Some higher-order fauna exhibited complex behaviors. He mentally released the finer focus of his telluric sense, shifting his attention. Just then, a potent, almost chemical, stench hit his restored olfactory senses. A hot, sulfuric breath. He spun around, eyes locking onto a pair of enormous, multi-faceted golden eyes glaring from the undergrowth. “Behind us!” Kaelan yelled. A guttural shriek, like grinding metal, tore through the air. A massive Gutter-Stalker, easily two meters at the shoulder, burst from a thicket of twisted metal trees. Its segmented, armored hide was the color of oxidised iron, its limbs disproportionately large, ending in those hooked talons. It began to hurl fistfuls of jagged slag-chunks toward them, each projectile propelled with terrifying force, whistling through the air with a faint, localized humming. “Aaaagh!” “Dodge!” Several Enforcers were struck, their armor denting with sickening thuds, sending them sprawling. Kaelan, having reacted instantly to his own warning, leapt aside, feeling the ground vibrate from a near miss. As he turned, a wave of cold fury washed over him. Sera and Valerius had each shoved an Enforcer forward, using the men as living shields against the incoming barrage. “U-ugh, my arm…” one groaning Enforcer whimpered, blood seeping from his helm. “Attack!” Sera shrieked, her face twisted in rage, kicking the injured Enforcer aside. The remaining eight uninjured Enforcers, their faces grim, drew their vibro-blades and pulse-lances, charging the monstrosity. But the Gutter-Stalker let out another ear-splitting screech. Before the Enforcers could close the distance, it blurred into the thicket, leaping between the skeletal trees with impossible speed, a streak of metallic grey. Its massive body moved like a whisper of wind, leaving the heavily armored Enforcers no hope of pursuit. As the creature fled, a single, sharp slag-pebble whizzed after it. It was Kaelan’s throw, disguised. A flicker of telluric energy, a precise, internal tremor, had focused within the stone, granting it impossible velocity and kinetic impact. The pebble arced, curving around a gnarled metal tree, and struck the Gutter-Stalker’s segmented flank with a sharp *CRACK*. The beast screamed, a high-pitched whine, its powerful legs giving out as it tumbled to the ground, writhing as if its internal supports had fractured. “Die, you wretched thing!” Sera screamed, extending her arm. A wrist-mounted plasma emitter flared, spitting a searing beam of superheated energy. It coalesced into a serpent-like form, thick as a power conduit, biting into the writhing Stalker. The creature incinerated instantly, its metallic hide melting, and a dozen meters of the surrounding Rust Wastes erupted in scorched earth and vaporized flora. The speed and destructive scale of the attack dwarfed anything Kaelan had ever witnessed, a stark display of House Volkov’s “Plasma-Kinetic” augmentation. ‘So, that’s their power,’ Kaelan thought, the raw might of it both terrifying and cold. Generating a localized heat blast was something even a novice technomancer could achieve, but against the Volkov’s focused, engineered devastation, it was nothing. Following Sera’s display, Valerius conjured over a dozen shimmering kinetic bolts from his own gauntlets, raining down on the already smoldering corpse, reducing the Gutter-Stalker to a pile of slag and ash. The hunting party let out a collective sigh of relief. “Ancestors, those rocks gave me chills for a moment,” Sera exhaled, a hand pressed to her chest. “Were you frightened, noona?” Valerius teased, a smirk playing on his lips. “Quiet, you. You were the one who whimpered like a broken automaton…” “I did not!” While the two Volkovs bickered, Kaelan moved to check on the injured Enforcers. “Ugh, my arm… I think it’s snapped,” one groaned, gripping his elbow. “This one’s head is split open. What’s to be done?” another Enforcer called out, pointing to a dazed comrade. “Here, apply this coagulant paste,” Kaelan instructed, producing a small field-kit. Miraculously, none had died, though the ones used as shields by the Volkovs were in the worst state—cracked helmets, fractured limbs. Kaelan’s jaw tightened. Even with their enhanced physiology, the Volkovs had prioritized their own flawless skin over the lives of their subordinates. It was a brutal reaffirmation of his mother’s grim lessons: to the Hegemony elite, the common man was simply another cog, easily replaced. Valerius, noticing Kaelan’s intense gaze, asked with feigned concern, “Hmm? Something amiss, Vance?” “Nothing,” Kaelan mumbled, turning away, but the subtle contempt in his eyes lingered, sharp and unseen. Just then, Sera waved Kaelan over, her previous annoyance replaced by an eager glint. “More importantly, guest, quickly! Time to absorb the resonance!” “Yes.” The three of them stood side by side next to the half-burnt, smoking remains of the Gutter-Stalker. They extended their arms, activating small, wrist-mounted siphon-modules. A familiar pale green glow emanated from the creature’s cooling slag-heap, a residual bio-kinetic energy, and seeped into their devices. Kaelan felt a strange, thrilling rush as his module activated, his body absorbing the raw essence. He quickly suppressed the urge to truly embrace it, to let his *own* power drink deep. He checked his internal metrics. The surge he gained from the Gutter-Stalker’s remains was stronger than that from a lesser scavenger, but less potent than the rare ferrous-slugs found in deep mining shafts. Considering the creature’s immense power, it was astonishing how much each of them seemed to gain. ‘The resonance doesn’t diminish, even when shared,’ Kaelan realized, remembering fragmented notes on Hegemony “absorption protocols.” Up to four individuals could extract the full amount of bio-kinetic energy without dilution. This explained the typical four-person elite hunting parties. Of course, they would never include an Enforcer, further cementing the chasm between the classes. “Ah, I’ve reached my threshold.” Sera sighed, deactivating her module. “As have I,” Valerius echoed. Pale green light began to leak from their devices, dispersing into the acrid air. This was the “dispersion” process; once an individual reached their innate capacity for bio-kinetic enhancement, only a fraction could be utilized, the rest simply bled away. Kaelan felt the envious gazes of the Volkovs on him as his own module continued to draw in the remaining green light, absorbing every last molecule of the creature’s latent energy, a deceptive façade for the true power that hummed beneath his skin. --- On the journey back to Ironfall City, Sera and Valerius recounted the battle with exaggerated flair, bragging about their heroic prowess, conveniently omitting their use of the Enforcers as living shields. Kaelan walked in silence, the hum of raw telluric energy in his bones a constant reminder of the volatile secret he carried. Their vanity and callousness were a bitter taste, reinforcing his deep-seated fear of what the Hegemony truly valued, and what it would do to eradicate anything it couldn't control.

Echoes in the Rust Wastes