Professor Quibble didnt walk. He bounced. His round form moved with speed down the tunnel, humming a tuneless, off-key melody.
Trapped between the Level 70 lunatic and the green eyes of the Bone Reavers, Ethan, Lena, and Kai had no choice but to follow, Kai groaning as they half-dragged him.
The tunnel sloped downward, twisting into a echoing cavern.
Stalactites hung . But this wasn't natural. The walls were carved smooth, fitted with flickering, jury-rigged lights powered by geothermal vents humming below grated floors.
This was a lair.
"Home sweet hole!" Quibble announced, spreading his arms wide.
It was a mad scientist's junkyard crossed with a geode. Workbenches with tools, glowing crystals, and bizarre gadgets cobbled from pipes and pre-System tech.
But the strangest things were the rocks.
Dozens of them, ranging from pebble-sized to boulders taller than Ethan, were arranged around the cavern like an audience.
Some sat on crude stools. Others perched on shelves. Quibble beamed at them.
"Agnes! Bartholomew! Reginald! Look who followed me home! Guests! After so long!" He patted a large, mossy boulder affectionately. "Don't be shy, Reginald, say hello!"
Lena stared, her scanner whirring frantically, still showing [THREAT LEVEL: EXTREME].
"He's... talking to rocks."
"Rocks are excellent listeners," Quibble said cheerfully, turning to them. He gestured to a rough-hewn stone table piled with... more rocks. "Sustenance! Please, help yourselves! The quartz has a delightful crunch."
Ethan looked at the pile of ordinary-looking stones. Lena grimaced. "Uh... we're good. Thanks."
Quibble shrugged, picked up a lump of granite, and bit into it with a sharp CRACK. He chewed thoughtfully.
"Suit yourselves. More for Bartholomew later." He winked at a smaller, jagged rock.
Kai slumped against a workbench, face grey with pain. "Professor... way out? Please?"
Quibble paused mid-chew, his owlish eyes losing their sparkle for a moment. He swallowed the rock.
"Way out? Why ever would you want to leave? It's dreadfully noisy and bright up there. Full of... people." He shuddered delicately. "Down here, it's quiet. Predictable. Agnes understands me."
He patted the mossy boulder again.
"People took our friend," Ethan said, stepping forward, the crowbar still humming in his grip (65%).
"A powerful, dangerous woman. She has Zara. If we don't leave, she will come looking. With soldiers. With weapons. They'll tear this place apart looking for us. They won't care about Agnes or Bartholomew."
Quibble's wide smile vanished. His bushy mustache drooped. He looked around his cavern, his eyes lingering on his stone companions.
A deep sadness settled over his round face. "Rude. Very rude. I don't like fighting. Makes Reginald anxious." He gestured vaguely, and a section of the cavern wall rippled.
Rock flowed like liquid, forming a small, perfect statue of a sleeping cat before solidifying again. "See? Much nicer."
Lena gasped. "He controls rock. Direct matter manipulation." Her eyes darted to piles of gear shoved haphazardly in corners – plasma rifles next to rusted swords, high-level energy cells piled like trash beside cracked mana crystals. "And he collects... everything."
"Fascinating things!" Quibble perked up, pointing to a dusty shelf holding what looked like a dented teapot. "That whistles in G-minor when the vents sigh! And that!"
He indicated a tarnished Legion officer's helmet filled with glowing blue pebbles.
"Excellent for growing luminous lichen!"
"Professor," Ethan pressed, urgency sharpening his voice as Kai whimpered. "Zara. She's just a kid. Like the ones Vultura hurts. Like the ones Selene took her for. We need to help her. We need to leave."
Quibble sighed. He looked from Ethan's desperate face to Kai's pallor to Lena's fearful determination.
His gaze lingered on the crowbar. Then he shuffled over to a cluttered shelf, rummaged past geodes and clockwork birds, and pulled out a dusty, unlabeled bottle filled with viscous, shimmering purple liquid.
"Here," he said, offering it to Lena. "For the noisy one. Stops the ouchies. Mostly."
Lena hesitated, then snatched it. She uncorked it, sniffed cautiously. Her scanner beeped [UNKNOWN BIO-REGENERATIVE COMPOUND - EFFICACY 98.7%]. She didn't question it. She tipped half the bottle onto Kai's ruined leg.
The effect was instantaneous. The melted flesh knitted together with visible speed. Color flooded back into Kai's face. He gasped, sitting bolt upright, staring at his newly whole, if scarred, leg.
"Whoa."
Quibble offered the bottle to Ethan and Lena. "For the journey. Tastes like limestone dust. Bracing!"
They took small sips. A jolt of pure energy surged through Ethan, clearing the fog of pain and exhaustion (ENTROPY: 75%). Lena straightened, the courage returning to her eyes.
"Now," Quibble said, his voice losing its playful edge. He pointed a surprisingly delicate finger at Ethan's crowbar. "I like your stick. Resonates nicely with the deep hum. I want it."
Ethan's grip tightened instinctively. "This is... important."
"So is Agnes," Quibble countered, patting the boulder. "And Bartholomew. And quiet. You want to leave? Fine. Leave the stick. A trade." His eyes, usually wide and manic, held a sudden, unnerving expresssion. "Fair's fair."
Ethan looked at Lena. She gave a tiny, reluctant nod. Kai flexed his healed leg, his expression grim.
They needed out. Now. The crowbar was powerful, but it wasn't Zara. Reluctantly, heart aching for the connection to Mama Knox, Ethan held out the crowbar.
Quibble took it with surprising reverence. He stroked the fused veins of gold-scorch energy.
"Oh, yes. Much potential here. Agnes will appreciate the harmonics." He turned and placed it gently on the mossy boulder.
Then he bustled over to another pile of junk. He dug past broken drones and tangled wires, muttering to himself. "Ah! Yes! This will do!" He pulled out an object and tossed it to Ethan.
It was a gauntlet. But unlike anything Ethan had seen. Made of a dark, non-reflective metal that seemed to drink the light. It felt
cold and heavy in his hands.
Intricate, almost organic patterns were etched into its surface, converging on a circular socket in the palm that looked like a miniature black hole.
[ITEM: VOID STAR GAUNTLET - CLASSIFICATION: ???]
[MATERIAL: NULL-ORE/ENTROPIC ALLOY]
[PRIMARY FUNCTION: ENTROPY FOCUS/AMPLIFICATION]
[SYNERGY DETECTED: ENTROPY SOVEREIGN - POTENTIAL UNLOCK: 0.01%]
"Fascinating little thing," Quibble said, watching Ethan's awed expression. "Pulls the noisy bits right out of the world. Focuses them. Makes bigger booms. Or quieter . Your choice! Needs a bit of... oomph to wake it up properly, though." He tapped his temple. "Deep hum stuff."
Ethan slid the gauntlet onto his right hand. It molded to his form instantly, cold but not uncomfortable.
A faint vibration resonated up his arm, syncing with the Perpetual Core in his leg.
"Thank you, Professor," Ethan said,
"Think nothing of it!" Quibble beamed, his good humor returning. "Now, off you pop! Can't have Agnes getting jealous of all the chatter." He clapped his hands twice, sharply.
From the darkness near the cavern entrance, three figures detached themselves. Reavers.
These were smaller, smoother, shaped vaguely formed entirely of polished, dark basalt.
"Give my new friends a lift, won't you?" Quibble instructed the Weavers. "Up top. The quiet way."
One Weaver padded silently to Ethan, another to Lena, the third to Kai. They crouched low. Hesitantly, the three climbed onto the surprisingly warm stone backs.
"Hold tight!" Quibble chirped. "And do visit! If you find anything that whistles in G-minor!"
The Stone Weavers didn't run. They flowed. One moment they were in the cavern, the next they were streaking down a side tunnel Ethan hadn't even noticed, moving faster than thought.
Rock walls blurred past.
They didn't follow the tunnels; they moved through the earth. Walls melted open before them like water and sealed shut behind. They plunged downwards, then surged upwards in a dizzying, rush.
Suddenly, blinding sunlight. Fresh, air thick with the scent of salt. The Weavers burst upwards from the ground landing with soft thuds on cracked asphalt.
Then they were gone, melting back into the earth as if they'd never been, leaving Ethan, Lena, and Kai standing stunned.
Apocalyptic Florida.
sunshine and beaches. They stood on what was once a highway, now buckled and split by enormous roots and sinkholes.
Rusted cars – convertibles with palm trees growing through them, RVs on their sides spilling mildewed.
Furniture – littered the landscape. Beyond, the skeletons remains of towering beachfront condos leaned against each other, draped in thick, grey vines.
The ocean was a sullen, greasy brown visible between crumbling buildings.
The air buzzed with huge, mutated insects.
Lena activated her scanner, face pale.
"Location confirmed. East Coast. Formerly Miami Beach vicinity. We are... approximately 30,000 kilometers from the Scrap Pile." The sheer distance was staggering.
The relentless sun, was sinking towards the horizon, painting the area in long, ominous darkness . Dusk was coming fast.
Before the reality of their displacement could sink in, a new sound cut through the stillness the roar of engines. Not solar skiffs. Not high-tech.
Around the corner of the shattered highway, a convoy roared into view.
Bikers.
Dozens of them. Riding monstrous, cobbled-together machines – part motorcycle, part armored dune buggy, festooned with spikes, scrap metal, and bones.
They wore scavenged leathers, painted with crude, savage symbols. Their faces were scarred, eyes hard and predatory.
They spotted the trio instantly.
The lead biker, a hulking man with a mohawk of fused metal spikes and a belt of human finger bones, pointed a spiked club directly at them.
A roar went up from the pack ..
They accelerated, kicking up plumes of grey dust, closing the distance with terrifying speed.
Ethan clenched his fist inside the cold, metal of the Void Star Gauntlet. It hummed faintly.
Lena raised her sparking cannon-arm, face set in grim determination.
Kai crouched, phase-dagger flickering in his hand, healed leg coiled.
The Stone Weavers were gone. Quibble was miles below. Selene was a continent away with Zara. And death was roaring towards them on roaring engines, painted with bones.