The tunnels leading towards the Old Industrial Sector devolved rapidly from merely neglected to actively hostile. Gone were the relatively stable, arched thoroughfares of the main sewer system; here, conduits twisted like tortured intestines, floors buckled underfoot, and the very air felt heavy, corrosive. Rhys led them through a labyrinth born of decaying infrastructure, each step a calculated risk.
His Echo Sense was their primary guide, stretched thin, constantly probing the path ahead. He learned to read the subtle groans of stressed plasteel, the tell-tale energy signature of volatile chemical sludge pooling in collapsed sections below rickety walkways, the pockets of heavier-than-air toxic gas lurking in low spots. More than once, a precisely aimed puff of Air Weaving, testing the air quality around a blind corner, saved them from walking into an invisible cloud of suffocating fumes that left his senses reeling even from a distance.
Boulder moved behind him, his quiet presence a reassurance. His physical strength proved invaluable, clearing pathways blocked by fallen girders or wedging his pry bar to stabilize crumbling sections just long enough for them to pass. The journey was agonizingly slow, measured not in kilometers but in meters of safe passage secured.
Compounding the difficulty was the drain on their resources. The water purification tablets struggled against the chemical taint in the seepage they collected, leaving the water tasting metallic and foul. Their nutrient paste supply dwindled with alarming speed, reduced to meager half-rations to extend their duration. Worst of all was the Aether environment. It was atrocious. Thick, cloying energies permeated the area – the residue of ancient industrial processes, radiation leaks, biological decay – forming a chaotic soup almost impossible to filter. Rhys found that absorbing even small amounts left him feeling nauseous, his Aether Pool tainted with jarring dissonance that required significant effort and precious energy just to purify back to a usable state. His recovery slowed to a crawl; meaningful cultivation practice was impossible here.
The lack of usable ambient Aether forced a critical reassessment. They couldn't rely on absorption to sustain themselves or fuel Rhys's abilities indefinitely. They needed tangible resources. Materials. Specifically, catalysts.
Rhys found his thoughts circling back obsessively to Kaelen's body refinement techniques. The Meridian Dredging, even aided by the Starfall Ore Dust, had only targeted specific pathways. His organs, boosted by the Crimson Root, felt stronger, but the overall integration was incomplete. He knew, instinctively, that his physical body remained the primary bottleneck preventing him from accessing deeper levels of Aetherium Weaving. Attempting more complex Weaving or higher stages of Attunement without completing the foundation felt like inviting disaster – Qi deviation, Echo Sickness, the very imbalance Kaelen and the fragmented clue had warned against.
Moonpetal Dew. Crimson Root Powder. Starfall Ore Dust. He had the latter two, their efficacy proven. The Starfall Ore had come from the foundry – a place of high energy. Kaelen had implied the others had specific affinities too – Crimson Root perhaps tied to vital energies or organic processes, Moonpetal Dew… the name suggested something botanical, perhaps nocturnal, tied to specific life forms or environments.
He recalled Kaelen's description of Starfall Ore Dust – residue from forging or plasma containment. Could this industrial wasteland, despite its hazards, hold similar high-energy facilities? It was a long shot, but better than wandering aimlessly.
"Boulder," Rhys said during a brief rest in a less contaminated alcove, his voice raspy from the bad air. "We need to change focus. Finding a safe spot isn't enough if I can't cultivate. We need materials. Specifically, catalysts." He explained his reasoning, the bottleneck his body represented, the proven effectiveness of the Starfall Ore. "Kaelen mentioned Starfall Ore forms in high-energy places. This sector... it was industrial. Power generation, advanced manufacturing. We need to actively search for ruins like that. Forget shelter for now, prioritize scavenging for catalyst ingredients."
Boulder absorbed this shift in strategy without comment, merely checking the edge of his pry bar. Survival dictated adaptation.
Their search pattern changed. Rhys began using his Echo Sense less for hazard detection and more for seeking specific energy signatures – residual heat, unusual metallic resonances, lingering traces of contained plasma or high-voltage fields. It was like searching for a specific frequency amidst overwhelming static.
Their directed search led them deeper into a particularly hazardous zone filled with skeletal factory buildings and tangled pipe networks. As they navigated a narrow gantry overlooking a vat of iridescent chemical sludge, movement flickered below. A pack of creatures – low-slung, quadrupedal, with fur matted over metallic plates seemingly fused to their bodies – sniffed the air, drawn by their scent. 'Scrappers', Rhys had heard them called, mutated scavengers obsessed with metal.
Six of them looked up, emitting low, guttural growls, their eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. Direct combat was out of the question; they looked fast and vicious. Rhys reacted instantly. Identifying a pile of fine, powdery chemical residue clinging to a nearby rusted hopper, he gathered a small amount of Aether, focusing on a sharp, directed gust of Air Weaving.
Fwoosh!
The gust hit the powder pile, sending a cloud of acrid, irritating dust billowing down towards the Scrappers. The creatures yelped, recoiling, sneezing violently, rubbing at their eyes. The distraction was enough. Rhys and Boulder scrambled across the gantry and disappeared into another crumbling structure before the momentarily blinded creatures could recover. It was a small victory, highlighting Rhys's reliance on indirect methods and environmental manipulation, but also underscoring their vulnerability.
Days blurred into a monotonous cycle of cautious movement, hazardous environments, and dwindling supplies. Hope began to fray. Just as Rhys considered suggesting they pull back, try a different sector entirely, his Echo Sense latched onto something new. Ahead, perhaps half a kilometer through the tangled wreckage, stood a colossal structure, partially collapsed but still immense. And emanating from its core were faint, unusual energy signatures – a swirling mix of residual heat, the sharp tang of ozone suggesting powerful air manipulation, and a deep, rhythmic metallic resonance unlike the pervasive rust. It felt… powerful. Controlled, once.
Rhys pointed, hope flickering anew. "There. That ruin. The energy… it feels different. Like a foundry, maybe? Or a wind tunnel? High energy, air manipulation…" Could this be a place where Starfall Ore, or perhaps something related to Air Weaving, might be found? He mentally tagged the structure, recalling fragmented pre-Sundering schematics he'd glimpsed: Whisperwind Test Facility? It was their best lead yet.