When the Inkforce Pollution first descended upon the world, Talon had barely managed to survive the bizarre mutation that swept through his body. His transformation had been violent, painful, and utterly beyond his control.
His arms had swollen with grotesquely dense muscles, their size increasing until they looked almost inhuman. Beneath his skin, the blood flowing through his thick veins had undergone an even more extraordinary transformation, mixing with an unknown energy and becoming a molten, lava-like substance.
This strange liquid energy coursed through the twisted, larva-like veins running along his massive arms, glowing with a terrifying orange light.
The first time it happened, Talon had genuinely believed that his arms were about to explode.
The sensation was unbearable, like molten metal being forced through a network of narrow pipes. Every pulse sent waves of scorching agony through his limbs, while the energy within his veins surged violently, seemingly determined to tear its way out of his body.
His veins glowed like rivers of molten metal beneath his skin. The ground beneath his feet gradually blackened and scorched, while the surrounding air grew unbearably hot. Moisture evaporated almost instantly, releasing clouds of white steam that billowed around him.
Even the air itself appeared to warp beneath the sheer intensity of the heat radiating from his body.
It was a terrifying manifestation of power, but at the time, Talon had possessed neither the knowledge nor the control necessary to understand what was happening to him.
Things became even worse when he first attempted to compress the strange energy for practical use.
The moment he tried forcing the volatile substance to gather within his right forearm, the pressure nearly caused the limb to rupture.
Fine fractures spread across his skin as his flesh began tearing under the immense internal pressure. The energy resisted his control, compressing unevenly before violently rebounding against his own body.
The resulting backlash left him in excruciating pain.
That experience taught him a lesson he would never forget.
His ability was dangerous, not merely because of the destruction it could inflict upon his enemies, but because, without proper control, it could just as easily destroy him.
Over the years that followed, Talon devoted himself to understanding and mastering his mutation.
Through repeated experimentation, painful failures, and countless close calls, he gradually learned how to control the liquid-like energy flowing through his veins. Eventually, he developed a technique that allowed him to compress it and channel it toward his palms, concentrating its destructive potential into a form he could deliberately manipulate.
By then, he had discovered that the energy could be controlled in several distinct states.
The first was the stable state.
In this condition, the compressed energy remained relatively calm and controllable. Talon could circulate it through his limbs to reinforce his physical strength, increase the force of his strikes, and improve his overall fighting ability. It was the most practical state for prolonged combat, allowing him to enhance his body without immediately unleashing the energy's full destructive potential.
The second was the unstable state.
Unlike the stable form, this state was deliberately maintained at the edge of its limits. The compressed energy became increasingly volatile, accumulating destructive force that could be released in a devastating explosion.
It was far more dangerous, but its destructive potential was correspondingly greater.
The third was the vibrational state.
Rather than focusing primarily on reinforcement or explosive release, Talon manipulated the energy's oscillations, allowing him to produce violent vibrations capable of inflicting devastating damage during close combat.
Each state served a different purpose, and learning when to use them had become an essential part of his fighting style.
However, the most terrifying application of his ability was neither ordinary reinforcement nor a conventional explosion.
It was Implosion.
After years of experimentation, Talon had learned how to inject his compressed energy into an opponent at the precise moment his fist or palm made contact with their body.
The process required careful control and precise timing. Instead of releasing the energy outward, he forced it past the point of impact and into the target's body, where its destructive effects could unfold internally.
What followed was a horrifying form of inward collapse.
The molten, larva-like energy invaded the opponent's tissues, unleashing its destructive force from within. Organs ruptured beneath the sudden pressure and intense heat. Bones fractured and collapsed inward, while blood vessels burst as the surrounding tissues were subjected to catastrophic internal damage.
Rather than scattering destruction across the battlefield, the attack concentrated its violence inside the victim's body, turning even a seemingly ordinary punch into a potentially lethal strike.
To an outsider, the attack might appear deceptively simple, like a fist landing, or a palm making contact. There might be little more than a brief flash of orange light beneath the skin.
Then the victim's body would immediately begin to collapse from within.
For an opponent unfortunate enough to receive a direct hit, the result was often instantaneous death, assuming their body was even strong enough to remain intact long enough for the attack to take effect.
Imagine fighting a physically enhanced monster whose every punch and palm strike carried more than just tremendous physical force. Each blow also delivered the potential for internal annihilation.
That was what made Talon's ability so dangerous in close combat. His opponents could strengthen their muscles, reinforce their bones, or develop tougher skin, yet none of those advantages necessarily guaranteed protection against an attack specifically designed to unleash its destructive force from within the body.
Of course, mastering Implosion had taken years, and the ability came with its own limitations. The larva-like energy still demanded precise control, and careless manipulation could expose Talon to the same dangerous backlash he had experienced during his early experiments.
Nevertheless, through years of painful experimentation, he had gradually transformed what was once a terrifying mutation into a weapon he could wield with considerable confidence.
His physical strength and durability had also undergone continuous reconstruction and reinforcement through the influence of this dangerous energy. His muscles, bones, and other bodily structures were constantly being subjected to immense internal pressure, gradually adapting and becoming stronger to withstand the strain.
However, despite all these improvements, his ability remained extremely dangerous.
If the energy wasn't properly controlled and compressed, the implosive force could reverse upon activation, unleashing its destructive pressure inside his own arms and potentially destroying them from within.
It was a risk he could never afford to overlook.
From the moment his ability awakened, Talon had embarked on a relentless period of hunting and experimentation. Mutants, Abominations, and practically anything capable of providing him with an opportunity to test or refine his ability had become potential prey.
He had spent countless days pushing himself beyond his limits, refining his control through pain, repeated failures, and near-catastrophic accidents.
That had been his life for years.
At least, until he eventually encountered Malcolm's group.
That was when things began to change.
Rather than continuing to survive solely through hunting and killing, Talon began working as a scavenger under Malcolm's rule. He gathered resources, supplied valuable materials, and earned Blood Coins in return.
He then invested a considerable portion of those earnings into strengthening his arms, using the Blood Coins to gradually improve their durability layer by layer.
His primary focus was reinforcing his bone density, strengthening his muscle fibres, and improving the resistance of his tissues to the tremendous pressure generated by his larva-like energy.
It was a costly investment, but one he considered absolutely necessary.
After all, the greatest weakness of his ability wasn't its destructive potential. It was the possibility that the very power he relied upon could turn against him.
He needed his arms to become strong enough to withstand the implosive backlash.
And after years of continuous reinforcement, he had finally achieved considerable results.
His forearms were no longer ordinary human flesh. They had become exceptionally durable conduits, specially adapted to contain and withstand the catastrophic internal pressures generated by his ability.
Even when he wasn't actively using his powers, faint heat continued to radiate from them, much like the warmth escaping from a pair of sealed reactors concealed beneath human skin.
His energy density was already terrifyingly high. There was little reason to pursue further increases, especially when he hadn't even fully mastered the amount of energy he currently possessed.
For Talon, learning to use what he already had was far more important than accumulating even more power.
Having finished recalling his past experiences, he slowly opened his eyes.
His gaze immediately settled on the bloody remains lying beneath him.
Looking at the gruesome mess he had created, the corners of his mouth gradually curled into a disturbing smile.
He loved this feeling.
The intoxicating sensation of absolute control, of imposing his will upon another person regardless of their wishes or resistance, was something he found difficult to describe.
And then there was the sensation produced by his ability itself.
The thought of bones collapsing, organs rupturing, and flesh being destroyed from within filled him with a twisted sense of satisfaction. It was an intoxicating pleasure, almost like an addictive drug that continually tempted him to experience it again.
For a while, he simply stood there, staring perversely at the bloodied remains.
Eventually, he turned around and began making his way out of the gloomy, abandoned building.
---
Meanwhile, back with the group, Veronica glanced at Steven, her expression revealing a hint of surprise.
Although she understood why he had prevented the earlier confrontation, she couldn't help inwardly scoffing at his decision.
After all, if a fight had actually broken out between Brant and that wiry-looking mutant who had fled earlier, she firmly believed Brant would have handled the situation without much difficulty.
In fact, even before receiving that miraculous serum, Brant would probably have been more than capable of dealing with someone like Gillian.
So why had Steven bothered intervening?
Veronica didn't voice her thoughts, however. She merely observed Steven for a moment before turning her attention elsewhere.
Steven, who had also noticed her surprised expression, chose to ignore it.
His mind was occupied by something entirely different.
Ever since witnessing the astonishing transformation Brant had undergone after receiving the serum, his thoughts had become increasingly chaotic.
The improvement had been far beyond his expectations.
Brant's physical strength, speed, overall power control, and even his ability to regulate his emotions had all undergone noticeable improvements.
And the most astonishing part was that all of this had come from just a single injection.
What would happen if someone were to receive multiple doses?
Steven couldn't help wondering.
What if he managed to obtain five doses? Or perhaps ten?
Just how powerful would someone become after stacking that many enhancements?
Could he reach a level where even someone like Marcus would have to take him seriously?
The thought alone made his imagination run wild.
He pictured himself obtaining the serum's complete formula, producing as many doses as he desired, and continuously strengthening himself until he reached a level of power that few could challenge.
And if he eventually managed to acquire an Armament of his own, he could establish an independent Sanctuary, rule over countless survivors, and become a king whose name others would worship.
A faint glimmer appeared in his eyes.
For a brief moment, the possibilities seemed almost limitless.
However, Steven quickly realized that his thoughts were becoming dangerously greedy.
He subtly glanced toward One, who was walking nearby, before forcing himself to suppress those growing desires.
He couldn't afford to reveal what was going through his mind, especially not in front of the others.
Taking a quiet breath, he restored his usual composed expression and continued walking as though nothing had happened.
He made certain that none of his companions noticed his unusual behavior.
---
The group continued moving toward the central region of the settlement.
As they walked, they occasionally glanced around, observing the buildings, the residents, and the general arrangement of the settlement. They also made subtle attempts to communicate their intention of settling down, casually approaching a few mutant civilians and making inquiries about the local arrangements.
After all, despite their considerable strength, they couldn't simply stroll into someone else's territory, behave arrogantly, and expect to be welcomed with open arms or immediately provided with accommodation.
That would be foolish.
A Sanctuary was not an ordinary settlement where anyone could simply claim an empty building and begin living in it. There were rules, procedures, and, most importantly, people responsible for deciding who was permitted to settle within its boundaries.
Without understanding those arrangements, acting recklessly could easily lead to unnecessary trouble.
And in a place like this, unnecessary trouble could quickly become fatal.
Therefore, the group continued deeper into the settlement, taking their time to observe their surroundings and gather information.
However, as they progressed, they gradually noticed something unusual.
The deeper they ventured into the settlement, the heavier the atmosphere seemed to become.
There was an unmistakable sense of tension hanging in the air.
The settlement appeared strangely alive, almost as though it possessed a heartbeat of its own. Yet there was nothing comforting about that feeling. Beneath the constant movement and activity of its inhabitants lurked an underlying sense of unease.
The sounds of daily life drifted through the narrow streets.
Somewhere nearby, a mutant coughed violently, the rough sound echoing between the buildings. Metal objects clanged against the ground as someone hurriedly moved equipment. Voices rose and fell amid the constant movement of people, while the smell of smoke gradually became thicker as they approached the settlement's inner districts.
Everyone seemed occupied with something.
Some carried supplies, others transported weapons or materials, while a few gathered in small groups to discuss matters that the newcomers couldn't quite make out.
Despite all the activity, however, there was something unsettling about the atmosphere.
Then, suddenly,
A loud wail tore through the settlement.
It was high-pitched, raw, and filled with unmistakable terror.
The sound cut through the surrounding noise like a blade, silencing several nearby conversations and drawing the attention of everyone within earshot.
For a brief moment, the settlement seemed to pause.
Then, almost instinctively, nearby mutant humans began turning toward the source of the scream.
Some slowed their movements, while others abandoned whatever they had been doing and hurried in that direction.
Curiosity, rather than genuine concern, was what drew most of them.
After all, in a place where suffering and death were commonplace, the misfortune of another person rarely inspired much sympathy. More often than not, it simply provided an opportunity for entertainment or an interesting distraction from the monotony of survival.
Steven's group exchanged brief glances.
Nobody immediately spoke, but their intentions were clear.
Since so many people were heading in that direction, there was little reason for them to remain behind.
With a shared curiosity about what had happened, they changed their course and followed the gathering crowd toward the source of the wail.
Whatever had caused such a terrified scream, they were about to find out.