The buggy jolted violently as it navigated the jagged terrain of Redrock Hills. Jax clung to the metal box, his knuckles white, as his world began to tilt. His breathing came in shallow, ragged hitches. Deep within his marrow, the Metallic Poison had begun its cruel work, corroding his Lithium veins.
His vision fractured into a blur of light and shadow; every sound—the groan of the axle, the wind's howl—warped into a terrifying hallucination. The world was no longer solid.
"Rick, fast! We have to reach Ferrum!" Jax gasped, his voice thin and brittle. "I... I'm not feeling okay."
Rick glanced back, his expression tight with a tension that bordered on panic. "Hang on, Jax. Just hang on."
Minutes felt like hours before the iron spires of Ferrum pierced the horizon. They raced toward the Brownout District, the buggy skidding to a halt before a weathered workshop. A heavy steel door stood barred, marked with a faded caution sign.
"Rick, carry him!" Yuna barked, snatching the metal box as Rick hauled Jax's limp, failing body into his arms.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and scorched oil. Dallas, a master of the craft, was hunched over a workbench, welding the outer casing of a Small Modular Reactor . This unit was different—smaller, elegant, shaped like a polished silver hand capsule. Sparks showered around him, reflecting in the glow of his protective goggles.
"Halfway through my greatest invention," Dallas muttered, his voice gravelly. "The theory comes from a tropical Sela myth, but who says we shouldn't play with myths?"
He turned, the words dying in his throat as he saw Rick stumbling in with Jax's near-lifeless form. The heavy welding tools slipped from Dallas's grip, clattering loudly against the stone floor.
"What happened to him?" Dallas roared, rushing forward.
"I don't know," Yuna sobbed, her voice trembling. "When he returned from the train, he just... collapsed midway ."
"Quickly! On the table!" Dallas commanded, sweeping a mountain of spare parts onto the floor to make room.
Jax lay there, his skin a sickly, translucent grey—like a corpse reclaimed by the earth. His veins had begun to pulsate with an unnatural, necrotic purple hue, visible through his skin.
Dallas moved with clinical precision. He drew a vial of blood from Jax's arm and smeared it onto a glass slide. Sliding it under a high-powered microscope, he peered through the lens. His face turned to stone.
"Metallic Poison," he whispered, the words carrying the weight of a death sentence.
Rick's face drained of color. "Is it really that? Is it... is it fatal?"
Yuna looked between them, her eyes wide. "What is Metallic Poison? How bad can it be?"
Rick turned to her, his smile devoid of any warmth. "Bad? Yuna, it's a slow erasure of the soul."
"I heard of it once from a traveler," Dallas said, his eyes fixed on Jax's shuddering form. "A conductor friend of his contracted it. Even the high-ranking Medias of the capital couldn't save him. He lasted three days."
Dallas slammed his fist onto the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "This was my fault! I left him in that pit... I sent a boy to do a god's work."
"Can we save him?" Yuna pleaded.
Dallas's expression hardened. "It is my duty to try."
He hurried to a reinforced metal cabinet beneath his workbench. From a hidden compartment, he retrieved a small, bronzed case. Inside lay three shimmering glass tubes: one crimson, one sapphire, and one a brilliant, molten gold.
He took the golden vial, his hands surprisingly steady.
"What is that, Professor?" Yuna whispered.
"The blood of a high-ranking Thunder Beast," Dallas replied, his voice hushed with reverence. "It won't cure him—nothing can do that yet—but it will grant him borrowed time. It will buy us the window we need to find a permanent solution."