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Chapter 4: The Wastes Welcome You
The cart's door slammed open with a screech, and a gust of dry, foul wind poured in. Heat—unnatural and metallic—rushed over Ethan's face like a furnace. It wasn't just hot. It felt wrong, like even the air wanted them dead.
"Out, now!" barked a soldier.
The flukes stumbled onto cracked black earth under a red, hazy sky. Dust bit at their eyes and clung to their skin like ash. In the distance, ruins dotted the horizon—half-sunken towers, broken walls, a collapsed bridge leading nowhere.
And in the middle of it all stood a fortress: dark, rusted, alive with smoke and screams.
Fort Virellon.
> [New Zone: Wasteland Labor Camp — Fort Virellon]
[System Sync Status: Weak. Etherium flow unstable.]
[Environmental Influence: Suppressed by ambient corruption.]
Ethan's knees wobbled as the soldiers herded them through iron gates. Inside, the smell of rot and sweat was overwhelming. Starved men with chains on their ankles worked in pits or slumped in corners. Some stared. Others didn't even bother.
Then came the voice.
"Line them up."
And then came him.
The Overseer.
He walked into view like a blade in human form. Shaved head. Deep scars down both arms. Black eyes—fully black, no whites, no mercy.
"You are not people," he said coldly. "You are tools. If a tool breaks, we discard it. If it squeals, we gag it. If it bites, we cut out its tongue."
His words weren't shouted. They were whispered with the confidence of a man who had already broken hundreds.
Ethan stood stiff, barely breathing. The Overseer moved down the line, inspecting the new arrivals.
When he reached Ren, he stopped.
He tilted Ren's chin up with two fingers. "This one's cute. Has the kind of face that doesn't last long here. How did you escape the grasps of those perverts?" he said while smirking like he was amused.
Ren looked away, trembling.
Ethan's hands curled into fists. Rage crawled up his spine.
> [Threat Detected: Overseer]
[Compatibility: 3%. Status: Sadist. Anti-Etherium conditioning. Conversion: Not advised.]
"…Not advised?" Ethan muttered under his breath. "Or impossible?"
> [Clarifying: Conversion is theoretically possible. However, resistance exceeds current host capacity. Attempt would fail.]
Ethan swallowed. "So if I was stronger…"
> [Influence would rise proportionally. All beings have a threshold.]
Ethan's eyes locked on the Overseer's scarred back as he moved on.
So he's not immune… just out of reach. For now.
> [Correct.]
The realization both chilled and tempted him.
Even this monster…?
"Chain them," the Overseer ordered. "They start in the pits tomorrow. Dig until your fingers bleed, or your lungs give out. We don't care which comes first."
The guards moved quickly, dragging them into a rusted courtyard filled with holding cages. Chains were locked to ankles. The gates slammed shut with cruel efficiency.
Ethan sat in the corner of a cell, breathing through his mouth to avoid the stench.
> [Conversion Progress: 17% — Subject: Ren Arlow]
[Passive Trait Unlocked: Aura of Comfort — weak targets feel calmer near host.]
Ren settled near him without a word, unconsciously leaning just close enough to feel the edge of the warmth the system now emitted.
Ethan didn't push him away.
> [New Compatible Subject Detected: Worker #18 — Compatibility: 42%. Status: Isolated. Depressed.]
Outside the bars, another young man scrubbed bloody tools by himself. He didn't look up once.
Even here, Ethan thought, the system is scanning. Calculating. Waiting.
He clenched his fists.
If I'm going to live… I need to grow. Not just stronger. Smarter. I need to understand this world, this system—and then decide what kind of man I want to become.
But deep down, he already knew.
He didn't want to be a victim anymore.
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