Moans and gasps echoed from every direction. The headquarters of the Crucible of Carnal Desire, styled like a palace, was a garden of depravity where lust and desire intertwined.

  Prostitutes spread their legs to lure men, swarms of fly-like men buzzing around a single woman—humans drenched in sexual fervor were no different from beasts. No, beasts were purer, driven by raw survival instinct, far more honest than this. Danan’s cheek twitched at the distinctive stench of debauchery, his grip tightening on his assault rifle as he navigated a corridor bathed in monochrome and vibrant neon.

  His eyes felt like they were going mad. Not just his eyes—his brain reeled under the disorienting rays of hypnotic lighting. Let his guard down for a moment, and he’d become one of the lunatics lost in reckless indulgence, heedless of place or time. Clenching his teeth, Danan averted his gaze from the men and women devouring each other. “Head to the second floor, the room at the end of the corridor. That’s where the target is. You okay, Danan?” Lils’ voice came through the comms, pulling his focus.

  “It’s the worst. The main street of the pleasure district was better than this,” he muttered.

  “No surprise there. You’re in the heart of the Crucible of Carnal Desire—Aeshma’s stronghold. It’d be weirder if you kept your sanity.”

  Right, Danan nodded, exhaling the air trapped in his lungs.

  The palace’s odor reminded him of the sweet rot permeating the pleasure district. A lascivious poison that paralyzed rational thought and drove people to madness. Danan suspected the source was a gaseous narcotic, one that erased guilt, banished hesitation, and enslaved people to instinct. Likely a heroin-based psychoactive powder mixed with a rare floral extract—something only the Crucible, with its ties to the mid-level city or ample funds, could procure. Even without connections, the Crucible’s wealth from selling sex and bodies could buy it in bulk from the Parade of the Dead.

  Either way… Danan smashed the back of a man’s head with his mechanical arm as he prepared to inject a bluish-purple narcotic, snatching his ID card and stripping parts from his gas mask to upgrade his own.

  He couldn’t take the mask itself. Once, he’d killed a Crucible member and taken their mask and gear, only to find the filter soaked in liquid narcotics instead of toxin neutralizers. Had he used it, he’d have joined the ranks of the broken—addicts. The man’s mask, now fully contaminated, lay beside his blood-oozing skull, his brain atrophied to twice the normal rate.

  Without a mirror, Danan swapped the mask parts with practiced ease and bolted up the stairs, ducking into the shadow of a wall. Chains dragged, soft skin scraped against black tiles. A heavy mechanical hum echoed through the corridor as a boy or girl, bound by an explosive collar and steeped in despair, caught sight of Danan.

  Track marks layered their arm, their pale skin tinged reddish-purple, their right eye unfocused, face marred with bruises. Teeth extracted, a swollen belly disproportionate to a thin chest—the girl stumbled, reaching for Danan. Her head exploded in a shower of gore as the collar activated. Blood sprayed from her severed neck, and a machine gripping the chains of the other youths forcibly extracted the fetus from her womb, tossing it into an artificial uterus.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  The girl, still clinging to sanity and intent on escape, had been deemed a risk and executed. Her child would be raised in the artificial womb, destined to live as a prostitute or gigolo in the pleasure district. Even if she’d survived, her viable organs would’ve been harvested at death’s door, cleaned, and sold. Live or die, it was hell—survival here meant becoming one of the broken. Glancing at her corpse, Danan ambushed a Crucible member responding to a disposal request, snapping his arm and pinning him to the floor.

  “Where’s Aeshma’s room?”

  “…”

  “Talk, or—”

  The man’s eyes rolled wildly, locking onto Danan as he exhaled hotly, writhing. “Harder… Step on me harder! Give me the pain, that intense pleasure!”

  “Aeshma’s—”

  “More! Break my bones! Please, I beg you! Crush my organs, I don’t care!”

  Deploying a blade from his mechanical arm, Danan severed the man’s neck, blood splattering. Kicking the corpse down the stairs, he nodded at Lils’ voice. “Avoid fighting if you can. Talking to these lunatics is pointless.”

  The Crucible’s denizens were beyond reason. Even if a rare few could be reasoned with, their constant drug use turned them into Aeshma-worshipping madmen within a week. Pain was pleasure, lust was absolute—a soul’s proof, they believed, selling everyone for everyone’s sake.

  “Danan,” Nephthys’ voice chimed.

  “What?”

  “Analysis of airborne narcotic components complete. Shall I synthesize an antidote?”

  “You can do that?”

  “Using bio-fused metal in your body, Lumina’s cellular mutation and serum effects can produce it.”

  “Risks?”

  “Using Lumina will affect combat and exploration efficiency, similar to ruins operations.”

  “Do it.”

  “Understood. Initiating antidote synthesis.”

  Bio-fused metal enveloped his mechanical arm, forming an antidote synthesis device. “Ten minutes until completion,” Nephthys announced, and Danan nodded slightly.

  “Hey! Shift change!” a man’s voice called. Danan slashed his throat with a blade, stabbed his heart with Helles, and tackled a startled woman, stabbing her face repeatedly before sprinting down the corridor.

  The less-addled Crucible members noticed the disturbance and raised the alarm. No time to dawdle. Pushing open the door at the corridor’s end, Danan saw a white-clad girl and asked Lils, “Is that the target?”

  “Looks like it. The nano-GPS is pinging strongly. Describe her.”

  “Pale skin, long-sleeved white dress, sitting on a bed with her eyes closed. Surrounded by… expensive furnishings.”

  “Hold on, I’ll confirm with the client.”

  “Make it quick.”

  “Got it.” Lils cut the connection. Danan locked the door, barricading it with a sofa and cabinets.

  If a firefight broke out, this makeshift wall would collapse. He’d have to end it before then. Turning his back to the girl, rifle raised, she spoke, her voice laced with confusion. “Um, it’s a bit early for dinner, don’t you think? Why are you in such a rush?”

  “Orders from the Parade of the Dead. I’m here to bring you back.”

  “From my brother’s company? Well, I was asked by one of his colleagues to mediate a discussion…”

  “Company? Don’t be ridiculous. The Parade of the Dead runs the commercial district.”

  The girl tilted her head, eyes still closed, offering a smile tinged with politeness and confusion.

  “…Oh, perhaps you’re my escort? Sorry, but could you tell them I can’t leave until my brother’s colleague arrives?”

  “I’m not your errand boy. I’m here for the job, nothing more. Don’t get it twisted.”

  “Even so… But I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”

  “Don’t lie.”

  “It’s not a lie. You were with that white-haired girl, Eve, weren’t you?”

  At those words, Danan’s rifle snapped up, aimed at her forehead.