Chapter Seven: An Offer

Pxis residence

Maggot's crown

Outer Pit

Pitland AKA "The Pit"

Continent of Zenithan

The neon haze of Maggot Crown flickered and pulsed like a dying heartbeat, casting fractured colors across the grime-streaked streets. The weight of freshly acquired Astral Coins pressed against my side, a tangible reminder that tonight had been a success.

No complications. No unnecessary interactions. Just the way I liked it. Now, I was heading home. Back to Pxis. The old bastard would probably have something sarcastic to say about my latest haul. Another lecture, another reminder—about caution, about staying off Cognis' radar, about not getting myself killed before I was strong enough to do what needed to be done.

I smirked. He was probably right. But I wasn't about to change. The reinforced security locks clunked and disengaged as I stepped into the one place in Maggot Crown that felt untouchable. A fortress, carved out of the filth, standing defiant against the slow decay that consumed everything around it.

This was Pxis' haven.

Outside, Maggot Crown was rot and ruined, ruled by Syndicates and ghosts of failed experiments. Inside, it was precision, order, and control—a stark contrast to the lawless sprawl beyond its walls. The hum of Astral-tech drones drifted through the space, flickering blue light reflecting off reinforced plating. They moved in their automated routines, tending to the systems that kept this place running—and tending to him.

"Took your damn time," Pxis muttered from his usual seat, voice rough with fatigue.

I stepped inside, shutting the locks behind me, my gaze flicking toward him. He looked worse. Even beneath the sharp glow of his monitors, I could see it. The paleness, the way his shoulders hunched just a little more each day, the way the machines that monitored his vitals blinked in slower, more ominous rhythms.

The sickness was winning. And even the drones—advanced as they were, built from scavenged Cognis tech and patched together with the brilliance only Pxis possessed—couldn't stop the inevitable. I tossed a bag of Astral Coins onto the table between us.

"Had business."

Pxis snorted, barely sparing the bag a glance before his eyes cut back to me, sharp despite his exhaustion.

"You stirring up trouble?"

I shrugged, leaning against the counter. "Not exactly."

His expression didn't change, but I knew he didn't buy it. He knew me too well. Knew that if I had crossed a line tonight, if something big had happened, I'd tell him when it mattered. He didn't push. Not tonight.

Instead, he leaned back, exhaling slowly, rubbing his temple as if the weight of just existing was getting heavier by the second. For a while, we just sat there. The quiet almost felt peaceful. Or at least, as peaceful as life in the Pit ever got.

The days blurred into a quiet rhythm—one that felt almost normal, even though neither of us pretended it was. I handled the outside world—contracts, trades, fighting for whatever scraps of power we needed to keep this place standing. Pxis handled the tech, the security, the intel—his mind was still as sharp as ever, even if his body was failing him. He never said it out loud, but I knew.

Every calibration he fine-tuned, every new line of code he uploaded into the drones, every adjustment he made to my gear—He was preparing. For when he wouldn't be here anymore. For when I would be alone. I hated that thought. So I did what I could. Kept him talking. Kept him moving. Kept him here.

Mornings in Maggot Crown were gray and toxic, the sky a perpetual smog-choked veil, but inside, it was lit by artificial light, humming with the quiet pulse of power conduits and old-world monitors. Pxis was always awake before me, hunched over his workstation, fingers flying across the console. No matter how sick he got, no matter how much his body slowed down, his mind never did.

Some mornings, he barely acknowledged me beyond a grunt, too deep in his work to care. Other times, he had something waiting for me—an upgrade, an encrypted data package, an offhanded remark about how I was still "too reckless for my own damn good." I'd grumble. He'd smirk. And just like that, the day would start.

Evenings were quieter. When the drone patrols had finished their sweeps, when the outer locks were sealed and the world outside faded into the constant hum of the city's underbelly, we settled into a familiar routine. I would handle whatever supplies we had brought in—ration packs, spare parts, black-market tech salvaged from deeper within the Pit. Pxis would lean back in his chair, watching, eyes calculating even when he was too damn tired to move.

"You keep hoarding gear like this, you're gonna need a bigger storage grid."

"That's your problem to figure out." He scoffed, shaking his head. "Brat."

Despite the sharp remarks, the sarcasm, and the constant lectures—I knew the truth. He was running out of time. Some nights, when I returned from a job, I found him asleep at his desk, his hand still resting on his last calculations, his body slumped against the cold metal frame.

I'd watch the slow rise and fall of his chest, listen to the soft, almost imperceptible beeping of his vitals monitoring system, and I would feel it— That quiet, creeping sense of loss waiting in the shadows. So I did what I could. Made sure he ate. Made sure the drones kept him stable. Made sure that, for whatever time he had left, he wasn't alone.The Unspoken Truth Neither of us said it. Neither of us acknowledged the inevitable.

But we both knew.

Pxis had given me everything—a place to stand, knowledge that no one else would have shared, and the tools I needed to survive in this world. He was the one who taught me everything there was to know about the Legacy families, the Upperworld, and how to take care of myself. He was the one who showed me the route to sneak into the Inner pits, a way unknown to Cognis or the Free Ranker association. I wouldn't have survived in Maggot Crown without him and soon…

I would have to survive without him One night, as I sat across from him, he eyed me over the rim of his cup, his expression unreadable.

"You've got more in you than this," he muttered. "So much more..."

I arched a brow. "More than what?"

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "More than just surviving. You're a smart boy, Ashlar, more special than I give you credit for. Always take care of yourself. Live your life the way you want, not what others want. Do your parents justice..." And then he dozed off.

I didn't respond. Because I wasn't sure why he was saying all those things. I didn't know much about Pxis's former life back in the Upper World. He didn't talk about my parents or himself, sticking to his secrets. All I knew was that he was once a Ranker for Cognis, and he had been a good one due to the wealth he owned. I wondered why he was telling me all those things. I wanted to ask, but I knew the damn old man would ignore me. I got up from my seat to take a look at his vital. His health was truly declined. Soon he would be gone and the world outside would keep moving—a cycle of violence, chaos, and endless power struggle. But here, in this fortified haven, in the fragile peace between battles and survival, we had something else. For now, we endured. For now, we still had time. And until that time ran out— I would keep fighting. For him. For the life he had given me.

The drones whirred softly as they assisted me in guiding Pxis back to his room, their mechanical limbs moving with an efficiency that almost felt too precise, too clinical—as if trying to mask the reality of what I already knew. He barely protested, exhaustion winning over his usual stubbornness.

His breathing was steady but slow, his movements sluggish as I eased him onto the cot. The dim blue glow of the medical interface hovered above, cycling through his vitals, dosage levels, and organ efficiency reports—all reminders that no matter how much we reinforced this place, and built up its walls, time would not be kind to him.

"Don't drink all the beer," Pxis muttered as I adjusted the blanket over him.

I smirked. "No promises."

His usual sharp retort never came—just a low exhale as his eyes fluttered shut. The drones moved in, recalibrating, monitoring, and keeping him stable. I lingered for a moment longer, then turned away, silencing the part of me that wanted to stay.

The hiss of the beer can opening was the only sound in the quiet living room. A simple thing, cold against my fingers, the carbonation fizzing lightly as I took a slow sip. It was cheap—barely worth the name—but the burn down my throat was welcome.

Settling into the old, reinforced chair, I leaned back and let my eyes flicker across the PSYstreams, the holographic news feeds shifting and updating in real-time.

The Upper World. Neon skylines. Gilded towers. Perfectly maintained streets. The world of privilege that had cast aside people like me—like Pxis—without a second thought. The scrolling headlines played out the usual cycle of corporate power shifts, Legacy family disputes, and carefully curated propaganda.

Horizon Initiative secures new Cognis contract—expansion into the Inner Pit expected.

Esper Prodigy Laertes Voss to compete in Ascendant Trials—psychic supremacy at stake.

Syndicate tensions rise in Outer Districts—Cognis enforcers tighten security measures.

Same game, the same players. I had seen these stories before. The Legacy families securing more power, Cognis tightening its grip, the so-called "Elite" Espers parading their strength while pretending the rest of us didn't exist.

I took another sip, my fingers tapping idly against the armrest. The distance between their world and mine felt vast. But that distance wouldn't last forever. Because one day, I wouldn't be watching from the shadows anymore. One day, I'd be in the headlines too. And when that day came—

The Upper World would have no choice but to acknowledge me. I leaned back, letting my head rest against the edge of the couch, eyes half-lidded, mind drifting between the weight of the present and the shadow of what was to come.

Then the knock came.

A single, sharp rap against the reinforced door. I tensed immediately. No one came here. No one. This place—Pxis' haven, our sanctuary—was off the grid, fortified, untouchable to outsiders. The only people who crossed this threshold were me and Pxis, and even then, I always made sure no one followed. So for someone to stand outside now—knocking—meant one of two things:

A mistake. Or a problem.

My body moved before I could think, instincts kicking in like a well-rehearsed response to danger. My hand hovered near my side, brushing against the spot where my Astral Blade would be if I needed it. The security panel flickered to life. I checked the external cameras—

And froze.

Her.

A woman stood outside.

Tall. Poised. Unshaken.

She wore a sleek black Cognis operative uniform, its reinforced plating barely visible beneath the form-fitting material. A uniform that meant authority, precision—and danger.

Even through the grainy monitor, I could see it. The sharpness of her gaze. The confidence in the way she stood. The undeniable beauty. My fingers twitched slightly. Shit. I knew who she was. Every Ranker in the first layer of the Inner pit knew who she was. 

Captain Rowena Lucius.

Cognis Ranker. A High-level Ranker of the first layer. Dangerous. She was the woman from the Pit. The one who had led the squad during the fight over the Spirit Beast. The one who had watched me—not just as an enemy or an obstacle, but with something else in her eyes.

And now she was standing outside Pxis' door. My mind ran through possibilities in an instant. Had Cognis tracked me here? Did she come alone? How much did she know? Was this a warning? A test? A recruitment? A kill order? A slow, steady exhale left my lips as I forced myself to relax. I couldn't let her see hesitation. I unlocked the door.

The reinforced steel slid open with a mechanical hiss, and for the first time—

I stood face-to-face with Rowena outside of battle. And I hated how off-balance I felt. She was just as striking in person—tall, graceful, exuding an effortless kind of authority. The kind of presence that made lesser people shrink back. Not me. Her silver hair was pulled back, not a strand out of place, her uniform hugging her frame like it had been tailored with ruthless precision.

And those eyes.

Cold. Calculating. Assessing. Not just looking at me—looking through me. She smiled slightly, just enough to be unsettling. Not warm, not friendly. Just enough to say, I know something you don't.

"Ash," she said smoothly, her voice carrying an air of quiet control. I blinked. She knew my name. That wasn't good.

"You have the wrong place," I said flatly, already reaching for the door panel. I didn't hesitate. Whatever this was, I wasn't interested. She didn't move. Not until I went to close the door. Her hand shot out—fast, controlled, efficient—catching the reinforced edge before it could slide shut. I felt it immediately. There was strength in that grip. Not Esper energy, not psychic force—just raw, unshakable physicality.

I stilled. She wasn't even using her abilities, and yet the way she stopped the door so effortlessly, the way her fingers barely flexed against the steel— I could tell. She was stronger than she looked. Stronger than most people would assume.

Her eyes met mine. Unflinching.

"We need to talk," she said.

I met her gaze, unyielding. And for just a second, something flickered beneath her expression. A pull. Something indescribable in the way she looked at me. Something that made my skin crawl. Something calculating. Something possessive. Like she had already decided something about me before I had even opened the door. I didn't like this. I didn't like her. But more than that—I didn't like what she might already know. And I sure as hell didn't like how my pulse had quickened when she said my name.

That reaction wasn't acceptable. Not to me. I exhaled sharply, forcing the tension out of my muscles.

"Fine," I muttered. "But we do this outside."

A neutral location. No advantage. No risks.

She tilted her head slightly—not surprised, not displeased. Just… accepting.

"Good idea," she said smoothly, stepping back as I locked the door behind me.

The neon lights overhead flickered and buzzed, painting fractured glows across the cracked pavement, their shifting colors bleeding into the thick shadows of the alleyway. The scent of oil, rust, and ozone clung to the air—so deeply ingrained in Maggot Crown's decayed veins that it had become just another part of its rotting identity. This was a place where secrets were made, where deals and betrayals bled into one another, and where people disappeared without a whisper.

It was the perfect place for a conversation like this. Rowena stopped a few paces away from me, arms crossed, her gaze sharp—assessing, calculating, waiting.

"You're surprisingly cooperative," she mused. I didn't answer. My focus was on something else entirely—

She had called me by name. That was a problem.

"You know who I am," I said, my voice flat, controlled. "That's a problem."

"For you, maybe."

I exhaled slowly, keeping my expression impassive. She was enjoying this.

I needed to flip the balance before she got too comfortable.

"What do you want?"

She smiled slightly, something intrigued yet unreadable in her expression.

"I want to make you an offer," she said simply. "But before that, I want to confirm something first."

She took a slow, deliberate step forward, closing the space between us in a way that felt too controlled, too intentional. I didn't move.

"You're a Deviant, aren't you?"

I blinked. What?

"What?" I repeated aloud, caught off guard for the first time. She tilted her head slightly, watching me too closely like she was waiting for my reaction to give me away.

"You don't have any Astral energy," she said, voice smooth, laced with quiet confidence. "You don't resonate with the psychic field. But you move like an Apex Esper—like something beyond human." She took another step, eyes gleaming under the dim alley light.

"So tell me, Ash." Her voice dropped slightly, a thread of intrigue curling through her tone. "What are you?" My mind raced. She thought I was a Deviant—one of the rare anomalies born with superhuman abilities instead of psychic powers. She was wrong. I wasn't a Deviant. I had psychic abilities. I could feel them, sealed deep within me, locked away by my system. It wasn't my natural body that made me what I was. It was the system. The upgrades. The forced evolution. Something beyond Deviancy. Something unnatural. But how the hell was I supposed to explain that? Would it be better to let her believe her theory?

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I shifted my weight, arms crossing in a way that made it look like I was considering her words—even though my mind was already miles ahead, looking for an out.

"Let's say I am," I said carefully. "Why does that matter to you?" Her gaze flickered—like she had been expecting that answer.

"Because it means you're already breaking the rules."

My jaw tightened.

"Rules?" I said.

She took another step forward, moving effortlessly into my space, forcing me to hold my ground.

"You're not registered with Cognis," Rowena said. Another step. Close enough now that I could see the subtle shift of her pupils—dilating just slightly, measuring every microreaction I made.

"You're not a true member of the Free Ranker Association either."

I stiffened.

"If I could find you," she murmured, "that means others will be able to, too."

Shit. I had gone out of my way to stay off the radar. To avoid drawing attention from people like her. And yet, she had found me anyway. How? I didn't let my discomfort show. I couldn't afford to. I kept my tone flat, neutral, unreadable.

"So what's your angle, Rowena?"

Her lips curled into a small smile—sharp, knowing, and something dangerously close to predatory.

"I want you to join me."

I narrowed my eyes.

"What?" I stuttered in confusion. That was not what I had been expecting. Her voice was smooth and confident—like this was already a foregone conclusion.

"I have my team," she said, tilting her head slightly. "A vassal force under my control. I need strong fighters." She let that sink in for a moment. Let the weight of the offer settle between us like bait left hanging on a hook. Her silver eyes locked onto mine, and for the first time, I saw something else flicker behind them. Something more than just calculation or intrigue. Something possessive.

"Think hard and consider what I'm truly offering." She said. "I'm offering you the chance to change your life. Perhaps give it the meaning it's lacking,"

Something unspoken hung in the air between us. I wasn't sure what it was. Ambition? Curiosity? Obsession? But whatever it was—

It made my pulse tick faster than I liked. She's serious. And worse? A part of me was tempted. Why not? A position under a Legacy Family's vassal force would put me closer to the people I needed to take down. It would give me resources, intel, and protection. It would also put me in their pocket, in their control. I didn't answer right away. I was still thinking. Calculating.

Then—

Something changed. A sound. Distant. Dull. Then another. A deep, rumbling boom. Followed by a sharp, vibrating tremor in the air. Instinct snapped into place immediately.

I turned my head, listening. Rowena's gaze flicked toward the skyline—alert, poised, immediately shifting gears from a predator to a tactician. Another tremor. Louder this time. Closer. The neon signs above us shuddered slightly, their light flickering in sync with whatever was causing the disturbance.

Then—

A far-off explosion.

The echo rolled through Maggot Crown like a slow-building wave, rattling metal scaffolding and sending a few distant alarms blaring to life. Rowena's head snapped to the side at the same time as me. Then, the realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

Pxis' residence.

The security alarms flared to life in the distance, and my mind instantly snapped to one terrifying conclusion. We were under attack.