The only thing cheaper than a life in the Outer Settlement was the air it breathed—thick with the smog of industry and the faint, metallic tang of fear. Kael knew this truth in the marrow of his bones, in the constant, hollow ache behind his navel that even the grey nutrient paste couldn't fill.
He was on his knees, not in supplication, but in labor. The floor of the protein vat chamber was cold and slick with a film of unidentifiable sludge. His hands, wrapped in fraying rags, sorted through a tangle of cables, his movements mechanical. This was his life: a symphony of grinding machinery, dripping water, and the distant, mocking laughter of Hunters from the world above. They had Levels. They had Points. They had futures.
He had calluses and a deepening sense of oblivion.
A flicker of movement in the periphery. A Glitch-Rat, no larger than his hand, darted from behind a coolant pipe. Its form was a stuttering silhouette of corrupted data and matted fur, one eye a steady, sickly green. It paused, sniffing the air, a creature of pure, base instinct. Survival.
Kael felt a kinship with it he didn't want to acknowledge.
For three years, since the System had draped its blue screens over reality, he had been Level 1. A single, pathetic Point in Strength from a goblin he'd barely helped kill. It was a relic of a day of panic, a trophy of his own inadequacy. That single Point allowed him to carry heavier loads, to work longer hours. It had cemented his place here, in the pits.
The rat scurried again, and Kael's hand closed around the electro-prod beside him. The weapon was little more than a metal stick with a cracked battery pack, but its charge was enough for vermin.
He didn't move. He just watched. This was the true grind, the one that came before any system, any power. The grind of existence. The endless, soul-crushing repetition of a life that mattered to no one.
The rat, emboldened by his stillness, ventured closer, its nose twitching as it sniffed at a damp patch on the floor.
This is it, Kael thought, the bitterness a familiar taste in his mouth. My greatest adversary. My destiny.
With a sigh that came from the very depths of his weariness, he moved. It wasn't a heroic lunge, but a tired, calculated motion. He rose, his joints protesting, and took one slow step, then another, cutting off the rat's retreat.
The creature froze, sensing the threat. Its green eye locked with his. There was no malice there, only a primal fear. The same fear Kael felt every day.
He raised the prod.
For a moment, he hesitated. What was the point? Squashing one rat in an ocean of filth? It was a metaphor for his entire life.
Anger, hot and sudden, flared in his chest. Not at the rat, but at everything. The System that had ignored him. The Settlement that used him. The future that had forgotten him.
He brought the prod down.
It wasn't graceful. The rat shrieked, a burst of static that was cut short as the charge coursed through its small body. It convulsed, its form glitching violently, and then dissolved. Not into blood and bone, but into a handful of fading, emerald-green motes of light that winked out of existence.
Silence returned, heavier than before.
Kael stood, breathing heavily, though the effort had been minimal. The emptiness inside him yawned wider. This is what I've been reduced to.
Then, it happened.
A sensation, like a needle of ice, pressed directly into the core of his mind. He flinched, his hand flying to his temple. Behind his eyes, text erupted. Not the cool, impersonal blue of the universal System, but a vibrant, living, molten gold.
| Threat Neutralized: Glitch-Rat |
| Proficiency Detected: Survival Instinct |
| Proficiency Points +1 |
| Grinder's Paradox Activated. |
| Total for [Survival Instinct]: 1/100 |
Kael stumbled back, his boots slipping in the muck. He crashed against the cold metal of a fermentation tank, the impact jarring him. He blinked, shook his head, but the golden text remained, shimmering at the edge of his vision. It felt… personal. Intimate. A secret whispered only to him.
Grinder's Paradox?
His heart, which had beat so sluggishly moments before, began to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird. This wasn't the System. This was something else. Something… his.
The number 1/100 burned in his mind. It was a question. A promise. A verdict.
He looked down at the spot where the rat had vanished. Then at his hands, still clutching the cheap, rusted prod. The grime, the fatigue, the despair—it was all still there. But now, there was a crack in the monochrome of his world, and through it poured a searing, golden light.
A slow, disbelieving breath escaped his lips, misting in the chilled air of the chamber.
The grind had a name now.
And he had just taken the first, trembling step.