The fever broke just before dawn.

Caleb lay flat on the thin mattress in Barracks 4. The rusted ceiling vent blew freezing air over his sweat-soaked uniform. The dark amber medicine had done its work. The torn artery in his neck was completely sealed. Thick, rigid tissue filled the gap where the monster’s bone-blade had struck.

The purple spirals along his lower ribs felt hot and tight. They pressed hard against the inside of his skin. Starvation scraped the bottom of his empty stomach. The violent caloric burn left his muscles hollow and exhausted, but the structural damage was gone.

He swung his legs over the edge of the metal frame. His boots hit the cold linoleum floor.

The bottom bunk across the narrow room remained empty.

A faded gray jacket hung over the footlocker, resting exactly where Rina had left it. She was still lying on a surgical table in the First Division compound. Medics were packing her shattered spine with medical foam.

Rank C meant better pay. It also meant an empty room.

Caleb dropped to his knees. He hauled the unmarked titanium crate out from under his bed. He popped the heavy metal latches and pushed the lid back.

The black phase-dagger rested inside the thick isolation foam. He grabbed the bone hilt. A deep, low hum vibrated against his palm. The weapon pulled a tiny fraction of heat right out of the air. It was a restricted corporate execution weapon, legally pushed through the Rank C sponsor channels by the Hacker. The military grid recognized it as a sanctioned gift.

His body did not care about the legal clearance.

The purple spirals on his ribs swelled. A searing heat flared behind his sternum. The parasite recognized the dense Kaiju bone forming the dagger’s core. It wanted to consume the weapon. The intense resonance pushed against his new dark-gray undersuit, drawing a massive spike of power from the lithium battery.

He shoved the dagger deep into the interior pocket of his canvas jacket. He needed an insulator.

Zipping the collar to his chin, he stepped out of the barracks. The concrete corridors of the Seventh Division buzzed with the early morning shift change. Recruits hauled heavy ammo crates toward the loading bays. Veterans drank black coffee from dented thermoses and checked their kinetic rifles.

Caleb kept his head down. He walked the far edge of the hall. Every step ground the bone hilt into his side. The parasite thrashed, demanding the raw biological material. He fought the cramp in his gut, keeping his boots moving.

He bypassed the mess hall. He bypassed the deployment yard entirely.

The heavy iron doors of the underground artisan sprawl appeared at the end of a flooded access tunnel. Pushing his weight against the rusted metal, Caleb slipped inside.

Ozone and burnt wire coated the air. Blue sparks rained down from a suspended engine block near the ceiling. Tali sat straddling a massive steel frame. She dragged a heavy blowtorch along a cracked joint. Killing the flame, she pushed her heavy welding mask up. Grease smudged her forehead. Stray pink hair escaped her zip-tie knot.

She blew a bubble with her gum. It popped loud over the ambient noise of the garage.

"The med-bay logged a ten-day medical hold on your file," Tali called out. She dropped her torch onto the workbench. "But the grid just updated your status to active duty for a perimeter sweep today. Somebody with heavy clearance is pushing you back into the dirt. Are my sensors intact?"

Caleb walked to the steel counter. "The weave held."

He reached inside his jacket, pulled the black dagger out, and set it on the scarred metal.

Tali stared at the weapon. Her jaw stopped chewing.

She grabbed a handheld scanner from her tool belt and passed the red laser over the bone hilt. The scanner chimed a clear, high-pitched confirmation tone. The small digital screen flashed a bright, steady green. Approved sponsor gear.

Tali threw the scanner onto the table.

"Get that out of my shop." She backed away, wiping her grease-stained hands on her coveralls. "Right now."

Caleb kept his hands off the weapon. "It passed the grid check. It is sanctioned."

"It is a Black-class corporate blade," Tali raised her voice, pointing a heavy wrench at the weapon. "The military cleared it because your billionaire ghost pushed the paperwork through the VIP sponsor channels. Your ghost can gift you whatever she wants. That does not mean my bypass can survive sitting next to it."

Caleb leaned his good shoulder against the metal counter. "The hilt is pulling power from my suit."

"Twelve thousand credits hit my ledger an hour ago," Tali said, her tone sharpening. "Anonymous routing. Your sponsor paid me to build a containment sheath before you even woke up."

"I need the gear insulated," Caleb pressed. He kept his voice flat and transactional. "I give you exclusive access to my combat data for the next three drops. You get live numbers on how the new suit handles the perimeter sweep."

Tali looked at the dagger. She weighed the raw danger of the hardware against the rare data payload.

She chewed her gum, doing the math.

Tali snatched the dagger off the table. She carried it to the back of the shop and dropped it onto a lead-lined plating station. "Take your jacket off. Give me the harness."

Caleb unzipped his coat. He unclasped the heavy canvas Break-Tab harness and laid it on the workbench. He stood in the cold garage wearing only the dark-gray undersuit. The tight fabric compressed his ribs, keeping the raised purple spirals completely hidden from view.

Tali pulled a spool of dense lead-weaved shielding from a rusted drawer. She worked fast, stripping the canvas interior of the harness with a utility knife. She wove a thick grid of insulating mesh behind the left kidney pocket, soldering the connections tight.

"The sheath is not hiding the dagger," Tali explained. She wiped sweat from her chin with the back of her wrist. "It is insulating it. The bone core is talking to whatever is behind your sternum, and my gear is stuck between them."

She picked up a thick black diagnostic cable.

"Plug in. I need to test the load."

Caleb grabbed the cable. He slotted the brass connector into the suit plug near his collarbone.

Tali hit a switch on her main terminal. A wall of green data scrolled across her monitor, tracking the flow of electricity through the modified suit.

She watched the screen.

The green numbers turned yellow.

The yellow numbers turned a stark, violent red.

Tali dropped her wrench. It hit the floorboards with a heavy clang.

"Mercer," Tali whispered.

Caleb gripped the edge of the table. "Did the mesh fail?"

"The mesh is fine," Tali said. She stepped closer to the screen. She traced a jagged red spike on the graph with her bare finger. "The bypass is failing."

Caleb looked at the monitor. He lacked the engineering background to read the complex code. He understood a collapsing line.

"I wired the Power Isolation Shunt to hide the massive drain in your chest," Tali said. She turned to face him. The transactional arrogance was completely gone, replaced by genuine technical horror. "It intercepts the feedback loop so your body stops eating the suit’s battery. But the draw just spiked. It doubled since yesterday."

Caleb stared at his own chest. The parasite had consumed the Hacker’s black-market medicine to seal his artery. It was growing.

"Can you reinforce the wiring?" Caleb asked.

"I used heavy-duty ceramic fuses," Tali shot back. "There is nothing stronger. Whatever is sitting behind your sternum is pulling thousands of watts just to exist. The bypass is operating at ninety-eight percent capacity. If that biological draw increases by two more percent, the shunt melts entirely."

"What happens if it melts."

"If the bypass melts, the grid does not flag the dagger," Tali explained, her voice tight. "It flags you."

The reality of the threat anchored Caleb’s boots to the floor. The Defense Force algorithms would register him as a walking monster core. Every automated turret on the base would lock onto his chest and turn him into ash.

Caleb pulled the diagnostic cable out of his port. He grabbed the modified canvas harness and threw it over his shoulders.

"How long do I have?" Caleb asked. He fastened the heavy clasps over his ribs, securing the ceramic plates in place.

"If you stay out of combat? Maybe a week." Tali crossed her arms, rubbing her elbows to ward off a chill. "If you drop into a combat zone and force that thing inside you to heal another major wound? The bypass blows immediately."

He grabbed the black dagger from the lead station and slid it into the new insulated pocket on the harness. The deep, agonizing pull in his chest vanished completely. The mesh worked. The weapon was silent.

"Don’t tell anyone about the numbers," Caleb said.

"I don’t snitch on paying clients," Tali muttered. She picked her wrench back up from the floorboards. "But I don’t build gear for dead men either. Fix your hardware, scrubber. I can’t hide that kind of math forever."

Caleb walked out of the shop.

The heavy iron doors slammed shut behind him. The air in the access tunnel felt suffocating. He carried a restricted execution dagger against his kidney and a biological time bomb behind his sternum.

A sharp crackle of static popped in his right ear.

His wrist module lit up. Vibrant purple code wiped the blue military screen, illuminating the dark corridor.

[UNKNOWN USER: The mechanic is smart. But her toys are fragile.]

Caleb stopped walking. He stared at the glowing text.

[UNKNOWN USER: You outgrew the cage. The parasite needs more fuel to stabilize. We need to feed you something bigger. Be ready for the perimeter sweep today. The real test begins.]

The purple code dissolved. The screen went black.

Caleb rested his bruised shoulder against the damp concrete wall. He dragged oxygen through his teeth. The family debt was paid, but the survival margins were shrinking down to nothing. The Hacker was waiting for the bypass to blow.