Marco's group wandered for hours, taking in the sights. Since their goal was to lay low for a while, they needed to integrate as quickly as possible with the people living in the settlement.
By the time they finished observing, streets that had once been deserted were showing signs of cautious activity.
Mutants emerged from their homes with fearful expressions, shuffling about as if every step outside carried the risk of instant death.
Steven, towering over most at nearly two meters, with his muscular frame and blackened veins glowing faintly beneath his skin, glanced at One.
He subtly gestured, hinting that the boy should gather information from the locals. One, looking harmless and unthreatening, could likely speak to the fearful survivors without causing alarm.
One's curiosity sparked. He scanned the scattered houses and noticed a family of three cautiously moving through their home.
Their faces were tense, eyes darting constantly. He approached carefully, maintaining a friendly expression with just a hint of caution.
The family consisted of:
A tall man, 1.7 meters, muscular but lean, face weathered and wary.
A thin, average-looking woman, her beauty muted by dirt and ragged clothing, around a 5/10 on any typical scale, though her sharp eyes betrayed survival instincts honed by fear.
A teenage girl, roughly sixteen, small and hesitant, trying to stay unnoticed.
Their clothes were dirty and rugged, a clear sign of constant survival in a hostile world.
As One approached, the father stiffened immediately, barking a command to stop a meter away. Both mother and daughter fell silent, their expressions guarded. The family clearly understood the rules of survival—though weak, they had mastered at least the basics.
One, keeping his friendly smile, explained calmly:
"I'm new here. I want to understand the rules of this sanctuary. I don't want to accidentally do something that gets me killed."
The father's eyes narrowed. After a long moment, he spoke in a low, cautious tone:
"Rules? You want to live here, you listen. Weakness is punished. The Heat Emperor is god here, and he's a god who hates weakness."
One tilted his head slightly, curious. The father continued, gesturing subtly toward the settlement.
"Every family, every group, every temporary pairings—you survive by providing abomination heads. Stronger abominations mean higher standing. Doesn't matter how you get them—kill them yourself, steal them, or snatch them from others. Just bring them. Weekly. Miss a week… and you lose your right to live here, you become the heat Emperor's property."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"Some people can't take down the abominations themselves. That's where the scavengers come in. They hunt the abominations for you—collect the heads for your family. You pay them in blood coins."
One's eyes flicked slightly. He already understood the mechanics of blood coins from prior observations of mutants—how the essence of one's own blood could be compressed into coins, usable to strengthen certain abilities. Only a small amount of essence could be converted weekly, leaving the user exhausted and limiting the coin's potency.
"Blood essence can't be forced," the father added quietly. "It only works if willingly compressed by the mutant using their own powers. No one can cheat that."
One nodded subtly, keeping his expression neutral. He inwardly noted how familiar this system felt—it aligned with his nature, capable of absorbing Inkforce regardless of distance. His abilities remained hidden from the others, and he intended to keep them that way.
The father continued, lowering his voice as though sharing a dangerous secret:
"You need to understand something about the sanctuary. They do not protect you from abominations. The ARMAMENT inside merely clear the surrounding polluted Inkforce, which prevents the monsters from getting stronger in that area. Once an abomination steps inside a sanctuary, it loses the empowerment it gains from the scattered Inkforce outside. That makes them uncomfortable, weak, or unwilling to venture further—but it does not stop them completely. Any monster can still enter if it wants to."
He let the warning sink in.
"The only true protector in this place is the Heat Emperor himself. Everyone knows it. That is why even with constant death, the rules are obeyed. You live by providing heads, you live by blood coins… because without the Heat Emperor, the sanctuary is nothing but empty houses and fragile illusions, The stronger the abomination taken down and presented to the heat Emperor, the more protection and benefits you get."
One's eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the rules, but he didn't reveal his deeper understanding.
Marco, walking several paces behind, didn't need to hear the explanation. He had already sensed the settlement's structure from his mechanical heart's core pulse. To him, the rules were irrelevant unless they interfered with their survival.
The boy simply stored the information internally, noting every system, every weak point, and every expectation. For the first time, he had a clear understanding of the social and survival hierarchy of the sanctuary.
Even in a place ruled by a powerhouse like the Heat Emperor, survival demanded cunning, careful observation, and submission to brutal efficiency. And One had already proven, unknowingly, that he existed outside most of the rules.