“Karauro, respond! What the hell? It was dead! The core isn’t intact anymore!” Nera shouted.

  “Maverick, talk to me.”

  “He’s alive,” Maverick answered.

  The leech just lurched in place, no glow, no movement.

  “Uh… shouldn’t we get him? It’s not doing anything,” Roy muttered.

  Everything inside radiated a pulsating purple glow. Karauro slipped deeper into the worm's insides, the wet pink flesh slick beneath him. A larger tentacle hooked his leg while smaller ones slithered away like vines, dragging him into an open chamber.

  A shiver ran through him as he pushed himself off the meat floor.

  A red cocoon hung from strings of ichor. Veins twisted over dead Grievers, draining them of what they once were.

  The voice returned, soft yet threatening.

  “Let’s have a good look at you.” The tentacle tightened on his legs, pulling him closer.

  A patch of flesh was missing ahead, revealing an eye staring back at him—human, irises burning red.

  The decaying mass collapsed into ichor, revealing a figure standing there, feeding on the remains.

  A woman. Long black hair slid down a bare, pale body streaked with Ichor.

  Her long black claws scraped against his helmet, sending the world spinning.

  “Why haven’t you killed me yet?” he muttered.

  She tilted her head, a claw resting on her chin as if weighing the thought. “Why? Do you want to die? Normally I’d devour someone like you. Like a black widow, but…” Her pale skin flowed with Ichor, a shifting contrast.

  Karauro’s arms were bound by a tentacle, the creature coiling around him like a serpent, strong enough to pin him.

  Her hands glided over his helmet. With a soft hiss, it unlocked.

  Red eyes studied his face—young, afraid, but not shattered.

  The tentacles lowered him and loosened their grip. She paused, deciding.

  Karauro tightened his hold on the knife strapped to his arm and stepped in. The blade gleamed, but he kept quiet, avoiding any bravado.

  His mind lingered on Nera—her posture, her silence. He mimicked it.

  The woman spun. Her claw cut through the air, colliding with his knife. A fist shot up from beneath, but she slipped aside, caught in a brief, testing beat.

  “My, my… so you’re the reason this beast was thrown off. Adorable. If only you’d reached your true potential,” she purred.

  He wiped ichor from the blade onto his gauntlet like Nera did. “I’m not here to chat or hear your nonsense. Make it quick, or I’ll figure out how to make you bleed.”

  She laughed, clutching her stomach. “Too cute. I’ll play along. I’ll even reward you—if you can scratch me.”

  Something in him burned. This time he didn’t lunge blindly. He scanned the chamber, inhaled, steadied.

  With a blast from his leg thrusters he leapt, misjudged, and tumbled past her, rolling along the meat-slick floor as he tossed five EDP nades into her path.

  “New toy, huh?” she huffed, charging.

  His knife met her claw; he drove it upward, snapping one Ichor talon. He kicked off, using his thrusters to snatch the broken Ichor blade before retreating.

  Her eyes narrowed. His movements were erratic, jagged. Unpredictable.

  “Mm. You’ll make an interesting host,” she said, licking her lips.

  Karauro remained quiet, reclaiming his helmet from the earlier assault. In one swift motion, he placed it on his head, emanating a dull red glow.

  When she lunged again, Ichor claws reaching, he pressed his back to the wall of flesh.

  He triggered the thermal plasma—a gift from Taron—and hacked downward, carving a thick flap of meat and throwing it up to throw off her weight. Her claws ripped through where he’d been as he cut away the fragments she’d left buried.

  She didn’t flinch, simply sprouted new claws.

  Karauro grabbed the pistol Riven had forced into his kit. He fired at one of the EDP nades. A violent red arc leapt out, latching onto her. The air filled with the stink of burnt flesh and singed hair.

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  Before the arc faded, he drove forward at max thruster speed. Her crimson eyes locked onto him, skin burned yet knitting even as he closed. She slashed; his knife bounced off her. He let the momentum roll into a punch, steel-wrapped fist crashing into her cheek and driving her back a few steps.

  He stood there panting, muscles shaking with adrenaline. This wasn’t a fight he could win. Survival was all he had.

  “Ah, now that’s new. A small thing like you—” she started.

  Karauro was already running, sprinting through the flesh tunnel, leaving her mid-sentence.

  “Oh no, I’m not done with you yet!” Her heels slicked with ichor, she launched after him.

  Her momentum lined up perfectly with his path. He resisted the urge to look back. Freeze and you die, Nera’s voice echoed.

  He gambled. He triggered his kinetic gloves, an energy burst hurling him forward. He barely kept his feet under him on the slick floor.

  He stole a quick glance.

  What the—!

  Red eyes gleamed just inches away, a wide smile etched across her face. Before he could react, her claws vanished, reshaping into a bend that hooked around his neck, yanking him into her grasp.

  They shot forward together, racing past pink and green walls until the night sky opened above them.

  Exo-suits anchored the leech with cables, pinning it across the ruins.

  Unit 7 stood ready to climb it. The carcass loomed before them, dark and silent, no light in its plates.

  “Uh… something just came out of its mouth,” Roy said.

  Nera’s cyber-optics zoomed in on two shapes falling from the sky.

  A thunderous impact shook the ruins, a roar echoing off broken stone. Dust curled up in a thick wave.

  As the fog thinned, a slender silhouette stepped into the floodlights from the Exo-suits.

  Pale skin glowed against the haze, black hair whipping in the wind. Piercing red eyes cut through to Karauro, hanging from her grip. One arm held him aloft with casual strength.

  "Ah, looks like we have an audience," she whispered near his visor.

  Karauro twisted, snatching his knife and driving it toward her torso. Her free hand caught the blade. Blood hit the concrete. Ichor seeped after it as she slid the steel free and flicked it aside.

  “Your reward,” she said. “You scratched me once—now twice. Quite intriguing for something so small and feisty.” She could feel the hate pressing in from all sides.

  She drew him closer, one arm tightening across his throat—not enough to knock him out, enough to keep him pinned. His hands strained uselessly against her grip.

  Nera pushed herself past her usual limit. Her cybernetic blade blurred as she lunged. The Ichor woman tried to block, but heat seared through the claw, severing it.

  New claws shot out like swords, stabbing wild. Nera raised her arm, deflecting, and fired controlled bursts from her pistol.

  A wall of Ichor erupted from the woman’s feet, swallowing the rounds. It hardened, then shattered like black glass, shards raining with the spent shells.

  A leg tore out of the splinters and slammed into Nera’s stomach. She flew back, boots skidding, but she twisted and landed on her feet like a cat.

  The woman smiled, pleased with the new distance.

  Bullets cut across from every angle, but Karauro stayed calm. His suit caught and deflected the stray rounds.

  When the smoke cleared again, an Ichor dome enclosed her and Karauro. Nera’s visor dimmed as she tore it off, eyes locking onto him through the dark shell.

  Maintaining the dome without lifting her hands, the woman brushed her fingers over Karauro’s helmet, feeling for the latch. With a hiss it popped free, and she tossed it aside.

  He fought weakly. In desperation, he bit her arm. His teeth met hardened Ichor, sending a sharp sting through his jaw.

  “Name’s Val. Val Sahara,” she said. “You earned that one with the first scratch. As for the second reward…” She tilted her head as more rounds hammered the dome, barely chipping it before it healed.

  Nera’s teeth clenched as she met Karauro’s gaze. Fear flickered there, but he stayed alert, still looking for any opening, like a cornered rat.

  Without warning, Val’s hand slid to his jaw, gripping his face as she leaned in before he could pull away.

  Her lips were ice against his. Something cold and alive coiled down his throat.

  Val’s crimson eyes flared as she stared at Nera.

  Karauro’s body screamed. His arms went slack. Cold spread across his chest.

  Her voice echoed inside his skull. “What do we have here? I was right. You possess it—the right to it.”

  She pushed deeper—until sharp pain flared in her mouth. He’d bitten her tongue.

  Val jerked back with a small, startled hiss.

  As she studied him, a flicker of orange bled into his brown eyes.

  He sagged against her, eyes shutting as he slid down into her chest, half-held, half-folded into Ichor.

  “So young,” she whispered.

  The dome moved with her as she walked toward Nera. Gunfire cut off when Argos raised a fist. Nera held herself in place as Val knelt and set Karauro on the ground with unsettling care.

  “It was nice meeting you, boy. Hope to see you again soon,” Val said, amused.

  Inside, Nera burned, wanting nothing more than to tear her apart. But Val had already turned away. The dome thickened under her palm, swallowing her shape as it warped and then faded from sight.

  Silence snapped back into chaos. Medics sprinted toward the wounded.

  Nera hooked Karauro's arm over her shoulders. Roy rushed in on the other side, propping him up.

  "YOU ARE WEAK," a voice in his head jolted him awake. He shoved himself off the two, dropped to his knees, and heaved, vomiting bile and black ichor.

  Nera knelt beside him, her hand reaching toward his shoulders. Karauro flinched, leaning away from her touch.

  "Sorry, I’m not sure if I’m infected." He muttered, wiping his mouth with his arm.

  "That's not how it typically goes," she said with a soft laugh, avoiding any further contact. A sharp sting hit her heart at his response.

  Karauro sensed her pain, even if she masked it. He leaned in slightly, accepting it. She didn’t resist and helped him up. Roy held him up again, and Argos nodded at the boy.

  “Secure the parameters. We can’t have any mites or other pests straggling about.”

  “We leave once, we’re sure. Back to Spine.”

  Roy supported him as they crossed the ramp, Argos’ commands still resonating in the hangar. Everyone took off their armor, with Karauro being the last after checking in with Whren at the med-bay.

  Inside, a strip of polished metal caught his eye. For a second, his reflection stared back—brown eyes rimmed with a thin orange ring, bleeding softly into the iris.

  Nera lingered longer than usual in the shack of gears where they stored the suits, pretending to double-check his Nexon readouts. Her gaze kept dragging back to him.

  Karauro blinked, hearing Nera move toward him and swept his hair over his eyes.

  The cold in his chest coiled tighter.

  “EXCEED BEING A WRETCHED WORM!” A whisper crawled into his mind.

  He said nothing and walked with her to the doorway of the shack.

  "You sure you're okay?" she asked.

  He responded with an odd smile, his eyes closed as he faced her. Just as he turned his head away, he opened them again.