The "Soot-Markets" were merely the surface layer of Vesper's desperation. To find the true outcasts—the ones who lived between the gears of the High Houses—Ronan had to descend even further.
He moved through the Lower Tiers, his charcoal-grey scribe's robes acting as a shroud. He kept his head bowed, mimicking the rhythmic, hacking cough of the "Lung-Rotted," a common affliction for the Level 1 laborers. Behind his copper mask, his Thermal Vision scanned the alleyways. He wasn't looking for heat signatures this time; he was looking for cold spots.
The Sovereign Guilds—often called Scavenger Guilds by the authorities—operated in the "Heat-Sinks," areas where massive steam-condensers pulled the warmth out of the air to power the upper estates. These zones were freezing, filled with frost-etched brass and silent, blue-glowing crystals.
He found the entrance to the "Grey-Valve" district through a series of coded markings etched into the soot of a ventilation shaft: a symbol of a broken chain fused with a piston.
"Who's tracking?"
The voice came from a pile of discarded boiler insulation. A figure emerged, clad in heavy, padded furs reinforced with plates of "Scrap-Shocker" metal. The figure held a Pressure-Flail, the steam-vents on the weapon hissing with a ready charge.
"Scribe-Unit 742," Ronan said, his voice flat. "I'm looking for the 'Void-Walkers'. I heard they have a map of the Silent Peak."
The guard narrowed his eyes. "Scribes don't look for the Peak. Scribes look for ink-wells. You smell like a Vein-Seeker who's trying too hard to play the part of a Spark."
Ronan didn't move. He allowed a fraction of the amber-violet light in his veins to flare, just enough to be visible through the gaps in his sleeve. "I'm a man who's tired of recording the history of people who want to turn me into a battery. Take me to your Master-Scavenger."
The guard hesitated, then gestured with his flail. "Keep your hands where I can see the heat."
Ronan was led through pressurized airlocks into a massive cavern—the Guild's headquarters. A central boiler powered by a cracked Miasma-Core provided a dim, violet light. At the center sat a woman with skin like obsidian and eyes that glowed with a steady, lunar-blue. She was a Lithos-Born.
[SPECIES: LITHOS-BORN (OBSIDIAN-SKIN)]
[RANK: LEVEL 3 - MARROW-BINDER]
"I am Kaelen," she said. "Why should I help a scribe commit suicide?"
"Because I know what's at the top," Ronan said. "I have the Architect resonance. I can open the Gateways. You have the gear, and I have the key."
The mention of the "Origin World" made the room go silent. Kaelen leaned back. "The Peak is five hundred miles through 'Red-Tusk' territory. You'd die the moment you stepped into the high-altitude fog. Your lungs aren't ready."
"Then help me get ready," Ronan said. "I need the requirements for Level 3. I need to bind my marrow."
Kaelen chuckled. "Marrow-binding requires a Lunar-Glass catalyst and Aether-Lead. If you want to be one of us, you start by cleaning the Miasma-Filters. We'll see if your resonance can handle the filth first."
Ronan was led to a small, iron-walled cubicle. As he sat on the hard cot, his system flickered, displaying his current progress. He stared at the numbers, interpreting them through his own lens.
Sixty-five percent... up to seventy-two, Ronan thought, watching the gold text shimmer in his vision. I get it now. This percentage isn't just "experience." It's how much of this world I've actually digested.
He realized the progression followed a simple internal logic:
Physical Stress: By surviving the 120°C heat in the Steam-Guts, his body "learned" to hold the Vein-Seeker rank under pressure.
Knowledge as Power: Decoding the Archive maps and learning about Project Silas gave the Chimera system the "keys" it needed to unlock more of his potential.
Materials: He had hit a wall at 72% because his body was physically missing the "fuel" for the next jump. Without the Lunar-Glass and Aether-Lead Kaelen mentioned, he couldn't reach 100%.
It's a sync-rate, he mused. The more I uncover the world's secrets and push my limits, the more the Architect system allows me to evolve. I'm not just getting stronger; I'm becoming more 'compatible' with the Blight.
[LEVEL 2 PROGRESS: 72%]
[STATUS: STAGNANT - CATALYST REQUIRED]
Ronan closed his eyes. He had the knowledge. Now, he just needed the bone-deep materials to survive the next descent.