The sun scorched the Papaya desert like a forge that never cooled. Its light hammered down upon the endless red sands until every grain shimmered with a brutal, unrelenting heat.
Waves of distortion rose from the dunes, as if the ground itself gasped for breath beneath that merciless blaze. The air hung thick and dry, and it carried the faint, acrid tang of oxidized metal from distant scrap piles.
Far out in that wasteland, where the horizon blurred into a haze of rust and regret, an old mound of iron hulked against the sky. Twisted beams and crumpled plates were layered atop one another in a haphazard tower that had long since surrendered to the elements.
Shadows pooled in the gaps between those corroded slabs. They were dark crevices where the wind whispered secrets no human ear could decipher.
Movement stirred in one such gap. It was subtle at first, like the twitch of a dying thing. Tiny rusted patches gleamed there, which were flecks of reddish-brown that quivered and merged with a wet, sucking sound.
Schlurp.
They fused into the shape of a lizard-like parasite no larger than a man's fist. Its body writhed from the iron's embrace, and scales of flaky corrosion glinted under the sun. Dark orange liquid oozed from its underside in viscous trails that sizzled faintly against the metal.
The creature crawled forward with jerky, deliberate motions.
Scritch-Scritch.
Its claws scraped across the rough surface. It paused at the edge of the mound to taste the air with a forked tongue that dripped more of that foul Rust. Then, with a sudden leap, it hurled itself toward an old steel drum that protruded from the sand like a forgotten sentinel. The drum was half-buried and pitted with age.
Thunk.
The parasite landed on the drum's rusted flank, and in that instant, it began to blend. Its edges softened and dissolved. The orange ooze spread like ink through water until the creature vanished entirely into the metal's skin, as if it had always belonged there. A perfect camouflage, a hidden predator waited for the touch of moisture or the hum of electricity to awaken.
The drum stood silent once more. It was just another relic in the graveyard of the world, while the desert wind sighed over it and carried away the last traces of its scent.
FZzzt.
A low rumble cut through that stillness. The sound grew into the whine of thrusters that echoed across the dunes.
Dust erupted in swirling clouds as a small group of human figures sliced through the expanse.
There were eight in all, and they were balanced precariously atop sleek hoverboards that skimmed the sand like skateboards with rear-mounted jets. These contraptions were pieced together from scavenged parts and powered by stabilized Rust Cores that hummed faintly beneath their decks.
They moved with practiced urgency and kicked up crimson plumes in their wake. The sun caught the edges of their gear in harsh glints.
Their pads and armor segments were molded from dense plastic alloys that offered protection against the bite of windblown debris or a scavenger's claw, though nothing was as unyielding as the forbidden steels of old. Goggles shielded their eyes from the glare with thick, tinted lenses. Cloths wrapped tight around their faces billowed like ragged sails in the hot gusts.
Weapons bristled from their forms. Rifles were held firmly in hand and swords were sheathed at hips or backs. Their pouches bulged with ammunition and tools that no true metal touched, for in this world of the Century of Oxidation, even the echo of iron could summon death.
Whoosh.
They cut through the sands in a tight V formation. The point was driven by a lean man whose posture spoke of unyielding command. His teammates knew him as Strider, a name he earned from years of leading raids across these unforgiving wastes.
Behind him rode Leik, a woman with a sharp jaw and eyes that missed nothing. Her hoverboard buzzed with a steady tone as she flanked his left.
Gustov lumbered at the rear of the left wing, where his bulk strained the board's balance.
Nicardo held the right tip, and his fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on his rifle's grip.
Harlan brought up the center-right, broad-shouldered and silent, with Tessa close on his flank. Her lithe frame was coiled like a spring, and her goggles were pushed up atop her cropped hair.
Kai, the youngest, darted at the left base while his eagerness was betrayed by erratic bursts from his thrusters.
Renn anchored the rear, and his keen gaze swept the horizons for unseen threats.
Strider leaned into a shallow turn. His board carved a smooth arc through the sand, and the group followed without breaking stride. Their voices carried over the whine of engines with the dry rasp of throats that were parched by weeks without true relief.
Nicardo twisted his head slightly, and his goggles fogged at the edges from the heat.
"We've been burning daylight on this mission, boss. Are you certain that intel we intercepted was accurate? About that convoy from the Zinc Citadel?"
He paused to adjust his rifle's strap. The weapon's ceramic barrel glinted dully.
"We risked endangering our entire Biome just to get our electronics close enough to snag that message. And I think it was a bit too easy to pull off. The information could be a false lure to draw out poachers like us."
Strider kept his eyes fixed ahead. His gloved hands were steady on the board's edges as another dune rose to meet them.
"I'm well aware of that, Nicardo, but if there's even a slight chance the intel holds true, then we have to risk it. How long has it been since we've tasted anything close to fresh water? Weeks? Several months?
We can't go on drinking that sludge forever, even with UST purification. There's always the high risk of infection creeping in.
Besides, our Biome has so many growing children. If they're to grow strong and become competent fighters in this world, their tiny bodies will need the substance to build bones that don't crumble like rust."
Gustov wheezed a chuckle from the back. His hoverboard dipped under his weight while he patted the swell of his belly with one meaty hand.
"I agree with you there, Strider. My boy is almost at that age where he should learn to defend himself in this hell. If that cargo can help with that, then this is a risk we have to take."
Nicardo shot a glance over his shoulder, and his lips curled beneath the wrap of his scarf.
"Are you sure you're doing this for your brat, Gustov, and not for yourself? It never ceases to amaze me how you've got a gut like that in these times. What the hell are you eating? Air? The rest of us barely have enough meat on our bones, and you're swollen like a pig. You best be careful on this run. The Rusters might find you too appetizing to pass up."
Tessa leaned forward on her board. Her voice cut through with a wry edge as she matched Nicardo's pace.
"Nicardo's right. You're way too big. Is it really the air, or is it just genetics?"
Kai grinned behind his goggles. The expression twisted into something sharper as he called out.
"My guess is genetics."
Harlan grunted from his position. His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder over the thrusters.
"Or maybe he's sneaking off with extra rations."
Gustov patted his tummy again. The motion sent a ripple through his padded armor, and he feigned a wounded look that dissolved into a broad, sweat-slicked smile.
"Guys, stop joking around. My tummy is large because I haven't been eating that well. What is the name of that disease again? Gastenter... gastrominisis... no, gastra..."
Leik tilted her head toward him. Her voice was calm and precise as she recited the term without a break in her surf's rhythm. "Gastroparesis?"
Gustov nodded vigorously, and his chins wobbled with the effort.
"Yes, that's what I meant. That's why my gut is so big."
Leik arched an eyebrow beneath her goggles. "If that's true, then I have wings to fly."
The group erupted into laughter. It was a ragged chorus that rolled across the dunes like a brief storm.
Nicardo's bark was sharp and skeptical. Tessa's was light and biting. Kai's was a whoop of youthful glee, while Harlan's low rumble anchored it all. Even Renn cracked a rare smile from the rear. His board weaved slightly as the mirth shook him. Gustov clutched his sides and howled along. The sound turned their V into a momentarily ragged line, but Strider allowed it. In the face of the desert's endless hunger, such moments were the only water for the soul.
"Halt."
Strider raised a clenched fist high against the sky. The unit responded as one. They cut their thrusters with a collective whine that faded into silence, and their boards ground to a halt atop the crest of a towering dune.
Sand sifted down the far slope in lazy cascades. Below them stretched a graveyard of the old world. Scattered structures of warped metal scraps and skeletal frames of pre-collapse machines were half-swallowed by the red earth. It was a junkyard where the ghosts of industry rusted in eternal vigil.
Strider dismounted with fluid grace. His boots sank into the warm grit and he crouched at the edge, where he pointed down toward a specific hollow.
"Look there."
An armored vehicle lay overturned there like a slain beast. Its chassis gleamed with a faint blue tint amid the carnage. The back compartment was still sealed against the assault, though jagged tears marred the flanks where something ferocious had clawed for entry.
Renn pulled binoculars from a pouch at his belt and pressed them to his eyes with steady hands.
"I can't believe it's actually here. Just look at that blue tint. That's definitely a rover from the Zinc Citadel, the elite's fortress up north, which is walled in Adamantine that the Rust can't touch. But what of the convoy that should have been accompanying them? Did they divert from course, or have the Rusters already eaten them alive?"
Tessa knelt beside him. She shaded her goggles against the glare while she peered down without aid.
"Most likely they're already dead. But more importantly..."
She trailed off. Her breath caught as she scanned the shadows around the wreck.
"Those are Decayers down there. I've spotted about five of them so far. They're dog-sized scavengers pieced from jagged scrap and twisted muscle, the kind that hunt in packs and chew through concrete like it's dried fruit. With our current squad and gear, we should be able to take them and retrieve the cargo."
Strider nodded once. His gaze was unblinking on the frenzy below, where the Decayers prowled with guttural snarls that carried faintly on the wind.
They were creatures born of the Rust's curse, their forms a blasphemous fusion of infected flesh and corroded iron that were drawn inexorably to the hum of life or the promise of moisture.
"That's true, but we still have to be careful. They might not be alone. Other Rusters could be lurking in the scrap and waiting for the noise to pull them in. Everyone, check your ammo. Get your UST rounds locked and loaded."
"Roger that."
The unit moved with efficient ritual. Magazines slid free from rifles with soft clicks. Thumbs traced the casings which were loaded with Universal Stabilization Treatment. It was the rare, powdery solvent that neutralized Rust particles on contact and was worth its weight in survival itself.
Harlan racked his slide with a metallic sound that twisted his mouth into a grimace, for even treated alloys carried risk.
Ka-chunk.
Nicardo slapped his mag home. Tessa tested her bolt. Kai fumbled his briefly before Renn steadied him with a quiet nod.
Leik's movements were as precise as a blade's edge when she chambered a round last, while Gustov grunted under the rifle's unfamiliar weight on his frame.
Strider's voice cut the tension like a wire.
"Everyone good to go?"
The chorus came back firm. It was laced with the grit of shared resolve.
"We are good to go."
Strider turned to Leik. His eyes met hers through the tinted lenses, and he nodded. It was a silent pact forged in the heat's haze. Then he barked the orders, and his voice rose over the dune's whisper.
"Nicardo, Harlan, Tessa, with me. We'll lay down cover fire and draw those Rusters' attention. Leik, Gustov, Kai, you three secure the cargo from the back. Renn, you keep watch on the perimeter and alert us to anything else stirring. Once we engage, the noise is bound to attract more, even in daylight. Rusters hate the sun, but hunger overrides that quick enough."
Each named figure absorbed their role in a heartbeat. Nicardo's jaw set grim. Harlan hefted his rifle like an extension of his arm. Tessa cracked her knuckles with a predatory grin. Leik exchanged a quick glance with Gustov and Kai, and her expression steeled them both. Renn melted back a step, with binoculars already raised anew.
Thrusters reignited with a chorus of high-pitched whines. The unit surged forward. Their boards carved swift paths down the dune's face in a controlled avalanche of sand and speed.
They fanned out around the battered rover like wolves that circle prey. The air thickened with the metallic reek of Rust and the faint, oily tang of their weapons.
The Decayers tore at the vehicle with savage abandon. Their scrap-forged bodies slammed against the chassis in relentless bids to breach the rear.
Thud-crunch.
Jagged maws gnashed at the seams. This left dents like bruised flesh and small holes that wept where acidic drool bubbled and hissed. The front doors hung in twisted ruin. They were ripped free to expose the driver's corpse, a husk of desiccated meat and bone. His eyes were milky voids that stared at the empty sky, and his uniform's blue tint was faded to a mocking gray. Something in the back drew the beasts with unholy fervor. It was a scent or a pulse they craved beyond reason.
"Grrrr…"
One Decayer reeled back. Its haunches coiled like rusted springs. Muscles of fused wire and tendon bunched for another ram. But before it could lunge, a bullet cracked through the air.
BAM!
It struck the Decayer's skull and tore off chunks of scrap-flesh in a spray of orange ichor that arced through the sunlight. The report echoed sharp and final. More shots followed in rapid staccato from Strider's team as they crested the junkyard's edge.
Crack-crack-crack.
Their boards skidded to broadsides that sprayed sand in defensive arcs.
The Decayers whirled as one. Their sensor-pits, which were crude eyes of corroded glass, flared with magnetic rage. Guttural howls split the air in a chorus that vibrated through the ground.
Grrrraaah.
Strider's voice boomed over the din. It was as steady as the desert's pulse.
"Keep firing. Pin them down!"
Bullets whined and bit. The UST-laced rounds bloomed in white blooms on impact, which ate at the creatures' hides like a purifying fire.
The pack charged, and their legs churned sand into frenzied clouds.
Strider's unit held their ground at first, then retreated in measured drifts. Their boards angled backward while their triggers stayed depressed.
Harlan's shots boomed heavy. Each one punched divots into a Decayer's flank. Tessa picked her targets with surgical pops and shattered a limb that skittered away like a broken toy. Nicardo cursed under his breath as one round grazed wide, but he corrected and felled the beast with a follow-up to its core.
Strider signaled with a sharp wave. His free hand flashed toward the rover.
"Now. Go for the cargo!"
Leik's trio peeled off in a tight loop. Their thrusters flared as they rounded the wreck's blind side.
Gustov leaped from his board first. His boots thudded into the sand with a puff of dust, and he dashed to the trunk alongside Kai, who skidded his hoverboard to a halt and followed suit.
Leik dismounted last. Her landing was silent and sure. The three converged on the dented rear with tools in hand. They held pry bars of treated ceramic.
Kai grunted as he wedged his bar into a seam and heaved. Veins bulged in his neck.
"Damn, this thing is fastened shut. I thought those Rusters would have softened it for us."
Gustov braced his bulk against the rover's side. His pry bar bent slightly under the strain. Sweat beaded on his brow and traced salty paths down his wrapped face.
"What do you expect, Kai? This is Adamantine. It is as rigid as the Citadel's walls themselves, the only crystal that repels the Rust outright. No wonder the beasts are frenzying over it."
Leik spared a quick glance toward Strider's group, where gunfire cracked in a relentless rhythm and the Decayers' howls twisted into pained yips. Then she turned back to Gustov and Kai, who yanked futilely at the trunk. Their efforts only yielded faint creaks from protesting hinges. The door held fast, as unyielding as the grave.
Frustration etched lines across Kai's young face while Gustov wheezed from the exertion.
Leik's command sliced through their grunts.
"Step aside."
They obeyed without question. They backed away as she unslung the Chainblade from her back. It was a hefty two-handed weapon forged from corrosion-resistant alloys, and its edge was a loop of serrated chain coiled around a ceramic core. She gripped it firm in both hands. The weight was familiar as an old scar. She pulled back the lever at its hilt with a decisive snick. The internal motor thrummed to life, powered by a dormant Rust Core that whirred softly within. The chain began to rotate as oil pumped from a reservoir to coat the links in a slick, protective sheen.
Whirr-clank.
Friction built swiftly. The blade began to glow a cherry-red that cast flickering shadows on the sand, and heat radiated in waves that warped the air.
She swung it toward the trunk. The glowing edge bit into the Adamantine. The sound was a grating shriek that set teeth on edge and sparked cascades of brilliant white embers.
Shrieeeeeek.
Kai and Gustov shielded their eyes with upraised arms. The acrid scent of burning metal mingled with the oil's sharp bite, while Leik carved a deliberate arc. The Chainblade's thermal fury melted through the seal layer by stubborn layer.
That hellish whine drew a lone Decayer from the pack. Its head snapped toward the sound like a compass to north. The beast strayed. Its scrap limbs pounded the sand in a charging lope that kicked up debris, and its maw gaped to reveal fangs of twisted rebar that dripped orange Rust.
Strider spotted the deviation amid his own barrage. His rifle bucked as he shifted his aim low.
"Legs. Take the legs!"
Bullets cracked into the creature's joints. They shattered struts of corroded bone and slowed its charge to a lurching hobble, but the distraction cost him dearly.
Another Decayer, sleek and opportunistic, coiled from the flank and pounced. Its bulk slammed into Strider with bone-jarring force. He blocked instinctively with his rifle's stock. The ceramic frame crunched under the impact, and the beast's jaws snapped inches from his face. Its hot breath reeked of decay as thick globs of liquid Rust splattered across his goggles and cheek. The acidic burn seared him immediately. It was a fiery itch that promised infection if it was left unchecked.
"Boss!"
Harlan surged forward on his board. He abandoned his line to close the gap and swung the butt of his rifle in a wide arc that connected with the Decayer's skull.
Thwack.
The blow sent it tumbling into the sand with a yelp. Without pause, he yanked a small canister from his belt, where oil sloshed inside, and hurled it at the writhing form. The canister burst on impact and drenched the beast in black slickness. Harlan fired a single shot into the puddle.
Crack.
The shot ignited a bloom of orange flame that engulfed the Decayer in a roaring whoosh. Its howls turned to muffled shrieks as the oil suffocated its parasitic core.
Harlan extended a hand to Strider and hauled him upright amid the smoke.
"You alright, boss?"
Strider nodded curtly. He was already digging into a pouch at his thigh for a vial of white UST powder. He uncapped it with his teeth and splashed the dust across his face in a hasty cloud. The solvent fizzed on contact with the drool to neutralize the threat, which left his skin raw but untainted.
He scanned the nearby fray, where Tessa and Nicardo had felled their own assailants with precise bursts. The Decayers' cores were exposed and smoldering. Relief flickered in his chest as he remembered the stray that charged Leik's position. He whipped his gaze to the rover. There, Gustov had met the threat head-on. He had used his pry bar as a club to cave in the beast's flank before it could close. The creature was now a twitching heap beside the trunk.
Strider exhaled slowly. The knot in his gut eased just a fraction.
Leik's Chainblade completed its circuit at last. The shriek died to a low hiss as the trunk's door sagged open on mangled hinges.
A cascade of cans tumbled free immediately. They were tuna-sized cylinders of sealed Plastinium, pre-collapse relics etched with faded labels for W-H2O. This was the hermetically pure water that burned Rusters like acid and served as currency second only to UST dust. They clattered and rolled across the sand in a gleaming pile. They crowded at the trio's feet like spilled treasure from a myth.
Eyes widened behind goggles. Breaths caught in parched throats. Kai dropped to his knees first. He scooped one up to trace the label with reverent fingers, while Gustov let out a low whistle that turned to a disbelieving laugh.
Leik stared at the hoard. Her Chainblade still hummed faintly in her grip, and its red glow cast bloody highlights on the cans' surfaces.
She felt the weight of it. "It's actually here. That intel we intercepted was right after all."
Kai popped the seal on one experimentally. The hiss of escaping pressure drew a collective inhale, and he tilted it back for a cautious sip. Pure, cool liquid slid down his throat, untouched by the world's taint. His body burst with a bright radiance and his face split into a grin that bared teeth yellowed by scarcity.
"By the dunes. Real water. No sludge, no grit. I feel like I have the strength for ten men! So refreshing!"
Gustov gathered an armful. He cradled the cans against his chest like newborn babes. His smile was broad and salivating, and drool gathered at the corner of his mouth despite the wraps.
"Jackpot. Our Biome's kids are gonna drink like kings tonight."
They celebrated in that stolen breath. They clapped shoulders, and whoops echoed over the gunfire's dying echoes.
They were fools drunk on the promise of survival, until Leik straightened and waved toward Strider's approaching forms.
"Strider! Over here. You have to see this rare find!"
"Coming."
Strider's unit converged. Their boards ground to halts amid the smoldering Decayer husks. Their rifles were lowered but their eyes were alight with the same feral hunger. Before they could close the distance, the ground rumbled. It was a deep, subterranean growl that built from a tremor to a quake. It shook loose pebbles and toppled a nearby scrap tower with a distant crash. Boards bucked beneath them.
Harlan was forced to stomp his thrusters for balance, while Tessa staggered and caught herself on Nicardo's arm.
Kai yelped, and cans slipped from his grasp. "Swarm? More Decayers inbound?"
Renn's voice cracked from his perch atop a rusted girder. His binoculars were forgotten as he cupped hands to his mouth.
"No. Worse! Corroder on the rise! A massive presence is shifting beneath the sand and approaching fast. It's crashing over old containers and debris like they're nothing!"
The dune to the east erupted in a geyser of red. Ancient hulks of machinery tumbled free as the beast barreled nearer. Its passage was a serpentine bulge that warped the surface toward them with terrifying speed.
Strider's face hardened. Calculations flashed behind his goggles, and he yelled across the gap.
"Leik, hurry and pocket all the valuable cans! We'll delay the Corroder for now. Get loaded and move!"
He wheeled his board opposite the rover. His thrusters flared as he led his fire team in retreat. He took out a small radio device and turned it on. He drew the unseen horror with the bait of the electrical signal.
RUMBLE!
The bulge veered sharply and pursued the lure.
Leik cursed under her breath at the sight. Strider's self-imposed peril burned in her gut like bad rations.
"Gustov, Kai, quickly! Load the cans into the backpacks, every last one!"
"On it!"
Frantic motion seized them. Packs were unzipped with sounds that seemed thunderous now. Cans were shoved inside in a rattling frenzy. The weight of the W-H2O bowed their shoulders and strained the straps.
As Leik scraped the final few from the truck, her fingers brushed something yielding beneath. It was a body, wedged half in the trunk's shadow.
"There's a body?"
"Get it out."
Gustov hauled it free with a grunt. He revealed a man clad in true Adamantine armor. Blue crystal plates gleamed unmarred by Rust, and a sheathed sword was heavy at his belt.
Gustov pressed fingers to the man's neck where a pulse fluttered, weak but steady.
"He's alive. Unconscious, but breathing."
Kai knelt beside them. His eyes darted to the growing rumble.
"What do we do with him? Strider's tied up. The decision's yours, Leik."
Leik pondered it swiftly. Greed warred with caution in her mind. Saving this Citadel stray could invite a viper into their nest, with questions and reprisals that trailed like shadows. But abandoning that armor, or stripping it here amid the quake, felt like spitting on fortune's face.
The rumble swelled. A boom shook loose more debris, and her resolve hardened.
"We take him. Strap him to my hoverboard. Now. We can't leave that gear behind, and the gods know we might need a fighter like him if he wakes up grateful."
They lashed him secure with cargo straps. His form was limp across Leik's deck, while the rover's belly groaned under the Corroder's nearing fury.
Across the yard, Strider's team plunged into hell's maw. The sand exploded upward in a whoosh of grit and steam, and the Corroder surfaced at last.
It was a humungous beetle-crab abomination. Its carapace was a mosaic of tank-thick plates fused with throbbing veins of iron blood. A massive red Rust Core pulsed with electric fury in its forehead like a baleful third eye.
The creature towered over them, easily thrice a man's height. Its mandibles clacked with a hunger that heralded biome-shattering destruction. Acidic sludge was already beading at its joints to drip and sizzle on the sand.
Snap-snap.
Strider killed his radio with a flick. The device's hum died as he strapped his rifle across his back. It was useless now against such a hide. He met the eyes of Nicardo, Harlan, and Tessa. Their faces were pale masks in the monster's shadow.
"Guns are worthless here. For a Ruster like this, we need the Chainblades. Up close, or we're scrap."
They drew as one. Their weapons unlimbered from harnesses with the sound of ceramic on leather. Harlan's was a broad claymore model that dwarfed his grip. Tessa's was a lithe dagger-length for swift strikes. Nicardo's was a balanced shortsword that trembled faintly in his hand. Strider's own blade hummed to life last. Oil slicked its chain as the motor whirred, and heat bloomed red along the edge.
Strider tapped the dial on his hilt, where the needle hovered green for now.
"Watch your Rust-Inhibitor Gauges close. That thing secretes acidic sludge. It melts standard armor and weapons instantly, and we're not geared like the elite. Stay mobile, hit the joints, and don't let it pin you."
"Roger!"
The team heeded him. Their motors ignited in a symphony of whirrs that drew the Corroder's core-flare brighter.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
They dashed outward in a scattering arc like ants before a mammoth. Their blades glowed with defiance as they circled the god of corrosion, while the desert's heart pounded war beneath their feet.