After scoping his Neural Matrix, Orren’s mind raced to another quick way to juice up his strength: better gear—new weapons, new edge. He was still swinging a basic laser blade, standard-issue Green-tier crap. A high-end Red-tier laser sword? That’d kick his combat juice up a whole damn notch.
Weapons came in tiers, same as skills: Green, Red, Purple, Gold. Orren’s standard gear was Green-tier, bottom of the barrel. Red-tier weapons? Those bad boys ran 200,000 credits and change. Problem was, Orren’s wallet was down to a measly 100,000 credits. No way he could afford that shit.
“For a regular slum-rat, 100,000 credits lasts years. But for a warrior climbing the ranks? It’s pocket lint.”
With his Neural Data points half-spent and his credits tapped out, Orren felt like a broke-ass drifter all over again. Right then, he linked up with Kern. The guy had sorted his housing paperwork, and they shot the shit for a bit.
But mid-chat, Orren’s Neural Chip buzzed hard, his social feed lighting up with a priority ping: “Orren, get your ass to my office, now.” The message came from a grizzled, bearded middle-aged bastard—Captain Buck, the hardass enforcer running Precinct 32, his direct boss.
“Captain Buck, what’s the deal?” Orren replied.
“Just get here.” The reply was curt, no bullshit.
Orren’s brow creased, but he’d only been gone a hot minute, so he hauled ass back to the precinct. Stepping inside, the vibe hit him like a gut punch. Something was seriously fucked. The usually rowdy precinct was dead silent, quieter than a void-drift graveyard. Kyle and the other bootlickers hunched at their desks, heads down, not daring to breathe. When Kyle spotted Orren, he shot a frantic wink, his face pale with terror.
What the hell was going on?
Orren’s gut twisted, a bad feeling crawling up his spine. His eyes locked on Captain Buck’s office door.
Next second—BOOM! A burly figure smashed through the office door, hurled out like a ragdoll. Captain Buck, bloodied and groaning. Buck was Spark lv2, no slouch. And someone just tossed him like garbage.
Orren peered into the office, and his blood ran cold. A grotesque Void Kraken squatted inside, its slimy tentacles coiled around a mangled corpse. The dead officer’s limbs were torn apart, guts spilling across the floor, blood pooling in slick, crimson puddles. The beast’s maw chomped through bone and flesh, wet crunching echoes filling the room as ichor dripped from its jagged teeth.
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“Orren, heard you gave away my damn housing deed as a fucking gift?” The Kraken spat human words, its voice a guttural rasp.
Orren stared at the bastard squid, shock mixing with grim realization. This thing moved fast—too fast. Was someone in the precinct feeding it intel? Shit, he wasn’t the only one playing both sides with these void-spawned freaks.
The Kraken’s Neural Matrix profile flashed in Orren’s vision:
Neural Matrix: Enemy Scan
Warning: Voidspawn Detected - Neural Energy Signature Confirmed
Status:
? Name: Void Kraken
? Class: Low-Tier lv5
? Level: Threat Level 3
Attributes: Unknown. (No prior kills of this species, unable to retrieve precise base data.)
Skills: Unknown
Spark lv5, Threat Level 3. Just as bad as the rumors. Orren didn’t know if he could take it, but fuck it—he’d try.
“Orren, you dumbass fuck, what did you do to our deal with Mr. Kraken? Look how pissed you’ve made him!” Captain Buck roared, clutching his chest, ribs cracked, pain twisting his face into a grimace.
The Kraken let out a sinister chuckle, its tentacles twitching. “Orren, you’re usually the obedient little bitch, so compliant. Why pull this stupid stunt? If you don’t give me a satisfying explanation, you’re not walking out of this precinct alive.”
The Kraken was a greedy son of a bitch, always chasing credits. This rant was just a shakedown for a payout. The housing deed? It didn’t give a shit about that. It just wanted an excuse to extort more cash. That was the Kraken’s real game.
Orren saw through the slimy fucker’s act. But he wasn’t about to kiss its ass. You want credits? I’m fucking broke too, asshole! Hell, if he could gut this Kraken, how many credits would it drop? Unlike Orren’s void-bugs, which only coughed up Neural Data recovery items, this Kraken was deep in human society, hoarding wealth. Killing it could net him a million credits, maybe millions. Even with some assets auto-wiping on death, the Kraken’s real wealth was probably closer to tens of millions.
“My bad, Mr. Kraken. I fucked up your business, cost you profits. How about this—I’ve got a compensation plan that’ll make you real happy.”
“Spit it out!” The Kraken waved its tentacles, eyes glinting with smug greed. It knew humans were weak, stupid—easy to squeeze for credits with a little pressure.
But Orren’s next words froze it, then sent it into a raging fury. “My plan’s simple, you goddamn squid freak. You killed our officer, so leave your sorry life as compensation!” Orren spat, his voice cold as void-ice.
“What the fuck did you say?!” Before the Kraken could respond, Buck’s face went ghost-white, bellowing in panic. He thought Orren had lost his damn mind, dooming the whole precinct.
The Kraken, stunned for a split second, roared, “I fucking hate being called a squid!” Sure, it looked like an octopus, but it was a voidspawn, not some pathetic water-dwelling critter. That “squid” jab cut deep, and it despised it.
