Eater Blade: Grinding in Apocalypse-Chapter 54: LEVEL 2 HIGH EATER: THE DIGGER.

Hours passed. The two boys finally slept. The night stayed quiet, just Savier’s gross little chuckles fading as sleep smothered him, and the wind scraping across the beams overhead.

Dancer stayed perched on the far beam, perfectly still except for the way her nose twitched now and then, tasting the scents riding the wet wind. Her clawed foot tapped once, twice — then froze.

Something moved below.

At first it was just a smear of black shifting between junk heaps and twisted bus frames. But Dancer’s head snapped toward it, eyes narrowing, pupils thinning to sharp slits. A low rumble built in her chest, a voiceless growl vibrating through her bones.

And she waited, predator still, as the shadow below kept crawling closer.

Johnquis’s eyes snapped open. The hairs on his neck stood up, he felt it too, whatever Dancer had caught. He lifted Savier’s heavy arm off his chest and sat up. Savier barely grunted, rolling over with a dumb, blissful grin plastered to his face.

Johnquis followed Dancer’s stare. The world below seemed empty but then he saw it. Hunched back, scuttling sideways like a crab that forgot how legs work. Its shoulders jerked with every motion, scraping clawed hands through mounds of torn luggage and rusted vending carts.

"Shit..."

Johnquis spat a quiet curse. He flicked a glance at Dancer, who had already dropped from her beam, landing in a low crouch on a concrete ledge. Her heel-blade hissed out of her feet with that wet metal click, glinting in the half-moon glow.

Savier, meanwhile, snored like a hog drunk on blood packs, oblivious to everything.

Johnquis crept closer to the exposed ledge, bracing a hand on the cracked rebar. He squinted at the thing below — the Eater, if you could call it that, looked more like a man digging through trash. Its back was hunched wrong, arms too long, fingers raking through the heaps like it was searching for treasure.

He narrowed his eyes, willing his pupils to adjust, pulling every scrap of moonlight into focus. He steadied his breath, watching how the thing crawled — the angles of its spine, the length of its arms. It didn’t move like a common Scav. It was methodical. Careful.

It kept scraping its claws through the garbage piles, pawing aside old luggage, rummaging through rusted vending machine guts. Every so often, it’d pull out a chunk of metal or a strip of wire and slip it into a loose flap of flesh at its side like it was stashing loot.

"A Scrapper...?" Johnquis muttered. "No... back’s too thick. Arms too long..."

The thing shifted again, shuffling sideways until the half-moon broke through the cloud cover and caught its whole shape. Johnquis sucked in a quiet breath.

The half-moon broke through the clouds, catching its shape full-on. Johnquis drew in a slow breath.

Its skin was waxy, mud-colored, stretched tight over muscle and bone. The whole back and arms crusted in dirt and rock. Jaws small, but its forelimbs were massive — more like shovels with claws than hands. Its eyes are small, cloudy, barely open.

A flicker ran through Johnquis’s eye, the iris caught the classification:

[HIGH EATER]

[CLASS: Digger]

[LEVEL: 2]

[FEED POINTS: +1000]

His jaw clenched. "Digger... shit. Not a Scrapper, Digger Class. Which means—"

Behind him, Savier made a choking snore, then jolted upright like a corpse on bad wiring. "Huh — wha — Johnkiss? Why’s your ass off my pillow? What’re you two doing, huh?"

His voice cracked across the roof like a thrown bottle. Dancer’s head snapped around to glare, fangs bared in silence.

Down below, the Digger froze mid-rummage. Its milky eyes flicked up, sensing the tremor in the beams, catching the movement on the ledge and for a heartbeat, it looked like some scolded kid caught stealing lunch.

Then it bolted.

The thing hunched even lower, skittered through the half-drowned station yard. Its claws clacked over rusted bus frames, scraps of metal scraping its thick forearms, legs pumping hard. It scurried sideways at first, then broke into a full run, bounding over rusted bus frames, scraps of luggage flying in its wake. It didn’t roar. It didn’t fight. It just ran like hell — like a street rat with pockets full of stolen food.

But it was... slow.

"Goddamn it, Savier!" Johnquis shouted. "Nice job. You scared off the bonus feed point."

Savier, still half-warm from sleep, rubbed his gritty eyes with the heel of his palm.

"Bonus feed point? Do you mean—"

"Yeah. A Digger Class." Johnquis’ grin was wolfish in the broken moonlight. "Slow, weak, dumb as shit but worth a thousand points. It can’t even swing back right if you catch it quick. Free payout."

Savier’s bleary squint snapped wide, hunger flashing in his eyes. "A thousand?!"

Johnquis just nodded, chain hook flicking loose at his hip. "Hell yeah. If we’re quick."

"Fucking yeah!"

Savier didn’t even wait. He stomped down the creaking beam they’d been perched on, boots slamming metal.

"This bonus feed count is mine! First one to gut that crab gets the full haul!"

"Then move, snackzilla!" Johnquis snarled back.

Savier whooped, launching himself off the ledge. He hooked a dangling scaffold pole on the way down, swinging with that ragged batwing cape snapping open behind him. His boots smashed onto the cracked platform below, jarring rust and dust into the cold air.

Johnquis dropped behind him, graceful as a blade. He hit the same platform at a sprint. Both of them bounded over old tram rails and concrete barriers, racing the Digger’s crooked crawl.

Below, the Digger lurched sideways behind a collapsed bus frame, claws scraping through the undercarriage. It didn’t roar or fight, it just skulked like some trash thief trying to outrun the butcher’s cleaver.

"BLADECALL!"

Savier barked, grinning like a wild dog. His right arm twitched — the Eater stone in his hand flared, then sank under his skin. Veins crawled up his arm, pulsing that sick violet color. His gun-blade burst out with a wet snap.

"This bonus feed count is mine!"

He flicked it into gun mode, sighted down the barrel at the Digger scrambling away, its screech a wet, grating noise that made his teeth itch.

BANG!

Savier fired —

But the Digger pivoted sharp, dropping flat to its belly like a giant bug. It scuttled under the bus frame, claws throwing sparks off the concrete. Then it vanished up through a rusted floor panel, using the bus’s hollow shell like a barricade.

"Little shit’s using cover!" Savier snarled, fangs bared. His bullet cracked against metal, sending sparks raining down the bus hood.

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