As the creature stalked the camp, it studied the group with cold, predatory intelligence.
Five of them.
Three sleeping.
Two awake.
From the safety of the dark, it watched as the small four-armed guard surrendered at last to exhaustion. Kestin's watch collapsed into shallow sleep.
The creature's gaze shifted to the object clutched tightly in Marek's arms.
Its prize.
A low growl stirred in its throat as it crept toward the firelight.
Then it stopped.
The tall chitinous one was rising again.
The creature withdrew instantly into the shadows.
Rist stretched his long limbs and scanned the darkness with his crystal eye.
"Boss?" he called. "Want me to check what it is?"
Marek considered the question, then shook his head.
"No. I need everyone here if something happens."
Rist shrugged and continued stretching, preparing to take the next watch. He dragged his left arm across the thick plates of chitin covering his torso, his hand reaching blindly past the large rock where the slaves had been huddled hours earlier.
Something snapped out of the dark.
Rist jerked his arm back as white-hot pain tore through his nervous system.
"AHHHHHH!"
He stared down in horror.
A chunk of his hand was gone.
Two of his three fingers had vanished completely, sheared away as if caught in a living press. Thick, dark blood poured down his arm and stained the pale chitin.
"AW, WHAT THE FUCK?! IT TOOK MY FUCKING FINGERS!"
The moment the flesh tore free, the creature bolted from camp at staggering, unnatural speed.
Everyone jolted awake.
For several heartbeats, no one moved. Every eye fixed on Rist's mangled hand as the same realization settled over the camp.
Whatever had done this was powerful enough to maim a Vyx in a heartbeat.
Kestin spun toward Marek.
"See?! I told you there was something big out there! That's what I saw!"
Marek did not look at the wound.
He stared down at the object clutched against his chest, greed and terror flickering in his eyes like a dying coal.
"We're using it."
The entire group froze.
They all understood what those words meant.
Rist clutched his arm, hissing in pain while the slaves hurried to wrap the stump in cloth.
"You sure you want to use that?" he asked through clenched teeth. "You know the ris—AH!"
He backhanded Evrin aside with his good hand.
"You little shit! That hurt!"
Kestin was already gathering the most valuable supplies, all four arms moving in a frantic blur.
"Don't bother, Rist," he muttered. "Once he makes up his mind, it's already too late."
Marek pointed his hook toward the darkness.
"Exactly." His voice trembled, though whether from fear or excitement was impossible to tell. "And the thing out there is supposed to be dead."
He clutched the object tighter.
"It's an Adaptic."
A heavy silence fell over the camp.
"Those vermin were supposed to be extinct," Marek spat.
Rist's crystal eye widened.
"Wait… isn't that the species people were whispering about a few years ago? The monsters from Dome Two? The ones that adapt to whatever they consume faster than almost anything alive?"
Marek slowly shook his head.
"No. This one is from Dome Three."
Rist went still. Even the slaves looked stunned.
Kestin packed faster.
"That isn't possible," Rist said. "Those things are weak unless they're part of a swarm."
Marek sat heavily, placed the prized object between his legs, and began digging into the dirt with his hands and mechanical hook.
Earth flew behind him in frantic sprays.
"It came from Dome Three with its Endurant," he muttered. "It should have died by now. Maybe it was one of the early-stage Husk members. Maybe even middle-stage."
He paused and glanced toward the darkness.
"Or it hatched from a dormant Husk egg. A higher-tier swarm member could have hidden one well enough. Humans and the rest hunted that species across Domes One through Three after the Endurant fell."
A grim severity settled across Marek's face as he looked at his wounded guard.
"But I guess… we missed one."
Marek dug in frantic silence. After several moments, he stopped and stared down at the dark pit he had carved into the earth.
Then he looked up at Kestin.
"Hand over the Blood Seed."
Kestin was gathering the last of the supplies, all four arms moving at once. Without thinking, he shoved one hand into his pack, pulled out the seed, and tossed it toward Marek.
The moment it left his hand, Marek's eyes widened in horror.
"YOU DUMBASS!"
He threw himself aside, scraping through the dirt with his human hands and mechanical hook as the seed struck the ground inches from where he had been kneeling.
"YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME!"
Kestin froze. All four ears pinned back against his head.
"Oh shit, sorry, Boss. I forgot about the blood in Blood Seed…"
Marek stared at the object lying in the dirt, his chest heaving.
"You four-armed hazard of a vulk!"
Carefully, very carefully, he picked up the Blood Seed and placed it in the hole. He buried it halfway, leaving part of it exposed to the night air.
The visible portion resembled a sharp, jagged shard. It pulsed with a faint, rhythmic crimson glow.
Rist watched from nearby, his injured hand wrapped in a thick bundle of blood-stained bandages.
"So why don't we just kill it?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure the three of us could take that thing."
Marek ignored him at first, patting the dirt around the pulsing seed with meticulous care.
"You idiot. We can't kill it now. It just took a bite out of you."
He looked up at the towering creature, expression grim.
"Do you understand how tough your chitin is?"
Rist shrugged.
"Well, yeah. But it only took part of my hand. No big deal. It'll grow back in a day or two."
Marek's face twisted in disgust.
"No. You're not thinking."
He pointed a trembling finger toward the darkness where the creature lurked.
"That thing evolves faster than almost anything in Dome One."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"And guess what, genius? It just swallowed a chunk of your hand."
He stared into the night, eyes reflecting the seed's bloody pulse.
"Imagine what insane traits it's going to grow from a meal like that."
Marek stared at the pulsing Blood Seed, his eyes darting toward the black horizon where the Adaptic lurked.
"Rist," he barked. "Over here. Now."
The wounded Vyx lumbered forward, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the ground. He looked down at the glowing shard half-buried in the dirt.
"What's the plan, Boss? We baiting it with this thing?"
"It's a call for help," Marek hissed, his hook clicking. "Not an escape. A one-way door from the Batch's hideout to us. But it's thirsty. It won't open without tribute."
Rist's crystal eye flicked toward the two slaves huddled near the fire, trembling beneath the weight of their chains.
"Then use the runts," he said. "Their blood is thin, but they've got enough to spare. Why waste mine?"
Marek seized Rist's bandaged arm and squeezed the fresh wound.
Rist winced, a hiss of air escaping through his mouth plates.
"Because we don't have time!" Marek roared, face inches from the Vyx's shielded skull. "The Adaptic is changing out there. Every second we waste arguing about whose blood is pure enough, that thing is growing another layer of armor, another set of claws, or some new horror we don't have a name for. Slave blood is too weak for a jump this far. It would sputter out before the gate formed. Yours is rich. Dense. Thick with the strength of your kind."
He jabbed a finger toward the pulsing shard.
"You're Husk-rank, but you're still a Vyx. Big body. Strong blood. It might hold long enough for a couple of Husk-ranks to step through. Maybe two Primals if Dezcrin forces it cleanly from his side. That's it."
Rist looked at his mangled hand, then back at the pulsing seed.
He knew Marek was right.
But the thought of feeding a half-buried shard with his own life-force made his skin crawl.
"Hurry," Marek snapped, shoving him toward the hole. "The seed is set if we don't activate it now, we're serving ourselves up as a four-course meal."
Rist knelt beside the hole. Slowly, he unwound the blood-soaked bandages from his ruined hand.
Dark, viscous fluid dripped onto the crimson surface.
The Blood Seed drank.
Far beyond the reach of the firelight, the creature was changing.
Its body rippled and cracked as dense plates of chitin, stolen from the Vyx's essence, erupted through its skin and hardened across its frame. Above its natural eyes, a new crystal eye began to form at the front of its skull, blue and hexagonal, glimmering with stolen sight.
All of its eyes focused on one thing.
The only thing that mattered.
Its prize.