Aaditya's every step sent jagged bolts of pain through his leg. His left foot dragged like deadweight, and his right arm hung numb, the crusted gash on his shoulder throbbing in time with his heartbeat. The Human Shelter loomed ahead—a patchwork of stone huts and rusted metal, smoke curling from chimneys into Velmoda's bruised-purple sky.
He limped into the outskirts, passing blacksmiths hammering jagged blades and vendors peddling leathery strips of alien meat. His bloodied clothes drew sidelong glances, but no one intervened. Here, survival was a solo sport.
A weathered woman sat behind a stall cluttered with herb jars, their labels scrawled in smudged ink:
PAINKILLERS – HEALING MIX – SCAR REDUCERS
OmniCoins Only. No Sympathy. No Refunds.
Aaditya fished out his two OmniCoins—thick discs stamped with Earth's insignia. The officer who'd handed them over had sneered, "Try not to die before you spend these, Lucky Trash."
He dropped the coins onto her mat.
The vendor squinted at him, her gaze lingering on the jagged claw marks raking his neck. "Seen worse," she lied, tossing him a clay pouch. "Drink a third. Burns like a plasma torch—means it's working."
As Aaditya turned, a gaunt teenager snatched the coins from the mat and bolted.
"Hey—!" Aaditya lurched forward, but pain spiked through his knee, buckling him to the dirt. The thief vanished into the crowd, laughter trailing behind.
The vendor snorted. "Welcome to Velmoda, rookie."
Gritting his teeth, Aaditya slumped onto the steps behind her stall and tore open the pouch. The sludge inside reeked of burnt hair. He gagged but forced it down. Fire erupted in his chest, dulling the pain to a bearable ache.
"You're lucky," the woman said, nodding at his scars. "Most newbies don't last long enough to get robbed."
"Lucky's my middle name," he muttered, massaging his stiffening leg.
She leaned closer, voice dropping. "Those claw marks… Seen 'em once before. Some fool thought he could take a Vajra Sher. Vidborn-Class. Got himself shredded." Her eyes narrowed. "You fought a Murkling and look like this?"
Aaditya's jaw tightened. The memory flashed—electric claws, the Vajra Sher's roar shaking the ground. He'd barely escaped with his life.
The vendor tossed him a smaller pouch. "On the house. For the laugh."
"What's this?"
"Something to make your next fight interesting." She smirked. "If you live."
Before he could ask, she shooed him off. "Scram. You're scaring customers."
He limped away, clutching the mystery pouch. The shelter buzzed around him—haggling over weapons, kids chasing six-legged pests—but his mind stuck on her words. Vajra Sher. Vidborn-Class. If a Second Tier beast could near-kill him, what hope did he have against the monsters ahead?
In his quarters, he collapsed onto the cot, staring at the ceiling. The medicine's heat pulsed in his veins, but his ribs still screamed. His sister's voice flickered—"You'll come back, right?"—before he buried it deep.
He pulled out the empty vial that had held the Murkling's Core-Embedded Vital Stone. Three percent. Three damn percent.
But as his fingers brushed the mystery pouch, his scars prickled—a static hum beneath his skin, like Velmoda itself was whispering.
Maybe luck wasn't all he had.