The emergency klaxon’s shriek clawed at Zariya’s ears, each pulse a hammer blow against the reinforced durasteel of the quad’s inner dome. Toxic blight, thick and viscous, pressed like grease against the barrier field. The air inside Drill Quad Gamma, now a swirling funnel of green-black fumes, tasted like sour copper. Her Vanguard squad, Unit 7, were already gone, their panicked shouts echoing as they scrambled through the emergency portal, abandoning her to face the breach alone. “Wait! We can’t just—” Zariya had roared, reaching for the last retreating helmet, but the portal shimmered shut, leaving her isolated within the sickening haze. Cowards. Her fingers clamped onto her twin vibro-daggers, the blades humming an uneven tone. Before her, a mountain of weeping stone and twisted biomass coalesced from the haze. The archivist texts called it a Dolorous Colossus, its bulk nearly scraping the quad’s domed ceiling. Its four thick arms, tipped with spikes of hardened sludge, quivered, and from the hollows of its head, a mournful, guttural keen escaped, rattling the deck plates. Each sob sent vibrations through the floor, making her teeth ache. One colossal arm, thick as a skiff, slowly raised. The claws, dripping with raw, corrosive rot, stretched towards her. Zariya dug her boots into the plating. Her training, her elite rank, her scores—none of it held against an entity of this scale. She set her stance, waiting for the split-second parry. Then, a soft, almost domestic *thump*. Standing between her and the looming claw was Fennik, the lowest-ranked cleaner. He clutched an ordinary straw broom in one hand, its bristles narrow against the backdrop of the brute. Perched on his shoulder, Bix sat chewing a stray thread, dark eyes half-shut. “Fennik? What are you doing down here?” Zariya blurted, her grip slipping on her hilt. He looked completely unarmored, thin linen hanging loose around his frame. The colossus swung its limb downward, not with the speed of an apex hunter, but with a sluggish heave. The blow struck Fennik squarely. The plate under his heels cracked from the transfer of weight, yet he did not yield an inch. But when she looked, he was still standing there, completely unharmed. The creature's muck-encrusted fingers had simply bounced. There was not even a tear in his gray smock. The air around him refracted light like hot asphalt, nothing more. Bix let out an indifferent chitter. Fennik looked up at the giant's crag-like face with mild concern. “Oh, dear. You seem quite distressed, don’t you?” he murmured, as if addressing a stray pup. He raised his broom and swept the foul gunk caked along the lower fingertips, brushing the flakes away onto the tile. [Empathy Milestone Achieved!] [Connection Forged: Weeping Behemoth (Juvenile) – Miasma Affinity 100%] [Infinite Durability Multiplier: Current Value — Undefined. Value Locked. Additional Growth: 0%] The monster paused, its entire body trembling. Its mournful keen subsided into low rumbles. As Fennik swept, the muck-drenched knuckles began to soften, shedding their caustic crust. He spoke in a low, soothing voice, too quiet for Zariya to fully discern, but the monster seemed to understand every word. “It’s alright,” Fennik said softly. “You’re not bad. You’re just hurting. And misunderstood. That grime isn’t part of you, is it? It’s just stuck to your hide.” He reached out his bare hand and patted the smoothing slate hide. The entity shuddered, its silhouette condensing inward as excess bulk sloughed off like loose dirt. The wails dwindled to small snuffles. Within seconds, the titan contracted to the size of an ordinary mastiff, its slate skin damp and polished, nuzzling against Fennik’s calf. Zariya stared, her mind struggling to reconcile what she was seeing. The breach target was now an affectionate hound of shale, rubbing its snout against the custodian's trousers. Fennik scratched behind its ears, while Bix gave a tiny yawn. With a soft *hiss*, the containment boundary around Drill Quad Gamma dissolved into gray vapor. The emergency klaxon sputtered and died. Headmaster Ostrom’s voice returned to the speakers, smooth and measured: “The S-Rank Miasma breach has been contained. All clear personnel may return to normal duties.” But before Zariya could even process the sudden normalcy, the whirring sound of news drones filled the newly clear air. Three sleek, black-and-silver units, emblazoned with the Zenith Bastion media crest, swooped in through the now open quad entrance. Their optical lenses glowed crimson, locking onto Fennik and the docile stone hound at his boots. A projected banner scrolled across a luminescent display cast from the lead unit, painting the tiles in blue glare: `S-RANK BREACH CONTAINED BY FORBIDDEN ARTS! JANITOR ALLEGEDLY WIELDS DEMONIC MIND-CONTROL!` The media ticker below flashed, scrolling frantically: `UNAUTHORIZED CLASS ABILITY DETECTED! NEW THREAT TO OSTRANA?` `ZENITH BASTION JANITOR: DEMON LORD OR ACCIDENTAL HERO?` Fennik looked up at the drones, his gentle smile fading into a bewildered frown. The little shale hound pressed closer to his shin, hiding its snout against his canvas hem. He had only cleaned up an aching stray, and now the broadcast called him an enemy of the Bastion.

Sweeping the Mourning Fracture