trial

Seeing the tension in the room, Randel decided not to escalate the situation. After exchanging a few words, he dismissed the surrounding gang members and led the smuggler to his office, instructing him to wait. Some time later, Abel saw his companion emerge from the office, more battered than he had been during their entire journey here. With a weak smile, the man walked past Abel without a word, merely gesturing toward the door as if to indicate that Abel was being summoned.

Abel stood before the massive doors leading to the lair of the chem-baron Randel. For the first time in a long while, he found himself in a place where the walls weren't covered in grime and toxic slime. The room he was led into was a striking contrast: despite its obvious luxury, the air was thick with chemical fumes, and the floor faintly glowed with neon lights, hinting that even the floors were embedded with mechanisms. The dim light of the lamps illuminated the figures of people stationed along the walls, but Abel could feel that even beyond the visible perimeter, far more dangerous individuals were studying him.

In the center of the room, seated in a massive chair, Randel watched him with a predatory grin. The baron was a middle-aged man with a face scarred by countless battles and a mechanical eye that occasionally glowed with a dull green light. His arm, clearly enhanced by chem-tech, tapped rhythmically on the armrest.

"I must admit, you've intrigued me," he finally spoke, his voice deep, raspy, and laced with an underlying threat. "Surviving the mines… saving my people… defeating mutants that usually cause nothing but trouble. That's worth noting, especially considering your… age."

Abel remained silent. He knew this man would never say directly what he wanted, but if he was here, it meant Randel already had something in mind for him.

"However, survival is one thing. Usefulness is another," the baron continued, leaning forward. "So, let's see just how valuable you really are."

He snapped his fingers, and a massive figure emerged from the shadows. Bald, with metal implants on his arms and thick chemical tubes embedded in his neck, his skin looked like stone, riddled with the marks of numerous surgeries.

"Meet Krom," Randel smirked. "If you want to make a deal, prove you're not just a lucky survivor."

Abel didn't even have time to speak before Krom moved forward. The air whistled as a massive fist swung toward him, but Abel dodged at the last moment. The blow struck the floor, leaving a dent in the metal.

Fighting this monster head-on would be suicide. Abel quickly retreated, analyzing his opponent's movements.

Krom was slow, but each of his strikes carried devastating force. Relying on his agility, Abel circled around him like a shadow, trying to find a weak spot. His claws, sharp and deadly, scratched Krom's skin, each time drawing blood, but the giant seemed unfazed. His body, saturated with chemicals and enhanced by implants, was like forged steel. Every time Abel cut into his muscles, his claws only sank a few centimeters into the flesh, merely enraging his opponent, who appeared not to notice his wounds and continued to attack.

"You're too predictable," Krom growled, his voice low and raspy, mixed with strange gurgling sounds coming from his chemically altered body. "You scurry around like a rat, but sooner or later, I'll catch you."

Abel felt his breathing grow heavier. He knew he couldn't afford a single mistake. One hit, and he'd be crushed. But despite his graceful movements, they were too obvious for an experienced fighter like Krom, who seemed to anticipate every step, every jump. Then, in one moment, as Abel tried to attack from the side, Krom suddenly turned and struck.

Abel managed to block the blow with his arm, but the force was so immense that he was sent flying into the wall. Pain surged through his body like a fiery wave. His arm went numb, and a lingering throbbing pain began where the strike had landed. Even with the block, he couldn't fully absorb the impact. The difference in size and strength was too great.

"What's the matter, little rat? Giving up?" Krom sneered, slowly approaching. His dull, lifeless eyes looked at Abel with contempt.

But Abel wasn't about to surrender. He knew that in a direct fight, the best he could hope for was a draw. His only way out was to use his hidden abilities. Gathering his strength, he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes glowing brighter in the dim light. He removed the mask from his protective suit, and at that moment, the room began to fill with a white mist.

The mist poured from his mouth with every breath, spreading through the room at an incredible speed. It was thick, almost tangible, and carried a strange chemical odor. Krom slowed his pace, his eyes watering, his movements becoming sluggish, as if he were swimming through water. The poison in the mist was taking effect.

"What the hell is this?" Krom muttered, trying to shake off the numbness. But his body no longer obeyed. He staggered like a drunk, his arms dropped, and his breathing became heavy and labored.

Seizing the moment, Abel approached him from behind. His claws gleamed again in the dim light, but now he knew where to strike. He climbed onto Krom's back like a predator onto its prey, ready to tear out the chemical tubes that fueled his body. At that moment, Randel's voice rang out.

"Enough!" his voice boomed with authority. "The fight is over."

Abel froze, his claws still poised to strike. He slowly climbed down from Krom, who, swaying, dropped to his knees. After Abel put his mask back on, the mist in the room began to dissipate, seeping through the doors that one of Randel's subordinates had obligingly opened. Yet, tension still hung in the air.

Randel, sitting in his chair, looked at Abel with newfound interest. He took a gas mask from one of his subordinates and put it on himself.

"Not bad," he said, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of tension. "You've proven you can be useful. But remember, I don't tolerate failures. If you disappoint me, your fate will be far worse than Krom's."

Abel silently nodded, feeling the pain in his arm begin to subside. He understood that he had just crossed a threshold into something greater than mere survival. But he also knew that in this world, there was no room for weakness. If he wanted to survive, he would have to play by Randel's rules.

Randel leaned back in his chair, his mechanical eye flickering with a green light, staring at Abel as if expecting something. Abel simply met the chem-baron's gaze in silence. After a long minute, Randel laughed, a low, hollow sound like an echo from the depths of the underground, and a cold, calculating smirk spread across his face.

"Well then," he said, resting his hand on his chin. "You really know how to surprise. I've seen many strange creatures in this world, but you… you're special. You don't just survive; it's like you're swimming upstream in the murky, poisonous river we call home."

Abel, still feeling the pain in his arm and a slight weakness from the fight, stood before Randel, trying not to show his fatigue. He realized he had overestimated his strength. The fight with Krom had shown him that in this world, there were those who were stronger, craftier, and more dangerous. But he also knew he had something that could pique Randel's interest.

"I'm ready to make a deal," Abel said, his voice steady but with a hint of humility. "I'll work for you. In exchange for resources, information, and possibly access to some of your technologies. Your labs, your knowledge… they could help me become stronger. And my abilities…" he paused, his glowing eyes glancing at Krom, who was still recovering, "could be useful for tasks others can't handle."

Randel thought for a moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. Then he nodded, as if making a decision.

"Very well," he said. "You'll get what you're asking for. But remember: I don't tolerate failures. If you want to prove your worth, you'll have to complete your first assignment. And it won't be easy."

Abel tensed but nodded, ready to listen.

"There's been… a disturbance in one of my labs," Randel continued, his voice growing colder. "A couple of useless fools who thought they were smarter than they are decided to play with things they don't understand. Now the lab is filled with their mistakes. I need you to go there and clean up the mess. Bring me what they were trying to create. If they're still alive… deal with them too."

Abel felt a chill run down his spine. He understood that this task would test not only his strength but also his wits. A lab filled with mistakes… that could mean anything: mutants, chemical traps, or something even worse.

"I'll do it," he said firmly, though doubts gnawed at him inside.

Randel smirked.

"Good. The lab is in the lower zone, on the seventh line. My people will meet you there and guide you to the location. But remember: if you fail, I won't waste resources to save you. You either return with what I need, or you stay there forever."

Abel nodded, knowing he had no better option at the moment. He turned to leave, but Randel's voice stopped him.

"One more thing," the baron added, his voice quieter but no less threatening. "Don't think you can deceive me. I always know who serves me and who's just trying to survive. Don't make me regret giving you this chance."