Theon's journey toward civilization became a test of endurance and survival. Taking refuge atop trees to avoid wandering zombies and refraining from making fires that might attract unwanted attention.
Whenever Theon would try to circulate the Lu in his meridians like he remembered the [Momentus Flow Art] did, not only would he be supremely unsuccessful, it would also attract hordes of zombies, so he quickly gave up on using the technique.
The nights were filled with the eerie sounds of creatures he couldn't recognize. His thin bulletproof clothing became a second skin, providing warmth if not protection, as he traversed the unfamiliar landscape.
And it wasn't long until Theon ran into extraterrestrial creatures.
The creatures moved through the mist like living stained glass—towering quadrupeds with crystalline exoskeletons roamed the forest, emitting soft pulses of bioluminescent light. Each footfall produced a harmonic chime as their diamond-hard hooves kissed the earth, leaving no prints in the bioluminescent moss. When they turned their massive heads, faceted eyes caught the starlight and fractured it, casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the trees.
Though, Theon was not deceived by their ethereal appearance in the slightest. To survive in such a ferocious environment they would no doubt have unfathomable strength. And soon enough, his suspicions were proven to be correct as a horde of zombies approached the herd.
A crystalline hoof struck—not with a thud, but a pure, bell-like tone that vibrated through Theon's teeth. The first zombie's skull shattered like rotten fruit, black ichor freezing where it splashed across the creature's iridescent legs. Theon watched, transfixed, as frost spread from each impact point, the zombies slowing as their necrotic flesh crystallized mid-lunge.
By the battle's end, the clearing glittered grotesquely—a garden of frozen carnage where the victors fed with methodical precision. Their jagged molars ground bone and frozen flesh alike, the sounds like glaciers calving. Theon watched their meal with clinical detachment, his mind already cataloguing options.
'Even though I am preserving as much food as I can, I will eventually run out. It's important to find a source of food as soon as possible, after all I don't know how long I will be on this planet for.'
He approached one of the less mangled corpses while keeping out the sights of the quadrupeds, knife already in hand. Rigor mortis had frozen the limbs at grotesque angles, making extraction difficult. Theon's blade sawed through a forearm's frozen tissue, revealing blackened muscle fibers laced with violet tendrils.
Necrotic tissue. Advanced decomposition. Even if he cooked the meat thoroughly, those violet strands suggested something far worse than ordinary rot. The creatures might have evolved to process these toxins, but his Spectran biology had no such adaptations.
Theon wiped his blade clean on the corpse's rags. He knew he could live for a long time without food, but he did not know if he could live for any amount of time if the zombie flesh was toxic.
Though the possible food and water sources were not the primary gains of this scrap, those lied elsewhere - the shards of the quadrupeds' crystal exoskeletons glittering amidst the carnage.
These pieces weren't as a result of the zombies, the undead could barely lay a scratch on the exoskeletons. These fragments were a result of the creatures clashing with each other and the environment. For a material reminiscent of crystal, the exoskeleton pieces were quite light and unbelievably strong…light and strong enough to use as armor.
Working quickly, he lashed the largest pieces to his forearms with strips of zombie cloth, reinforcing his damaged gear. Moving on, he selected two forearm-length shards with natural curvature, grinding their edges against each other in controlled strokes - the shards needed some work before they would be usable. His old blades had long gone notched and dull and could not last much longer. Smaller shards went into his pockets for future arrowheads or blade reinforcements.
Tracking the herd led him to a shallow basin where groundwater pooled between twisted roots. Though Theon would have loved to have filled his flask, for the same reason he decided against using the zombie flesh as food, he chose not to. He also refrained from washing himself, choosing to instead embrace the foul smell of nature for any slim chances of decreasing his chances of getting seen or smelled by any creatures.
The landscape grew stranger as he progressed: mountains with tunnel-like perforations that whistled in the wind, crevices so narrow they seemed cut by a giant's knife. But Theon's stride never faltered. His body had learned this world's rhythms - when to move silently, where to step to avoid crumbling stone, which sounds to watch out for.
Then came the city.
The outer wall's ruins stretched like a corpse's grin, its shattered gates revealing a barren wasteland beyond. Wind howled through skeletal structures, carrying the stench of ancient decay and the distant moans of the undead. Theon's boots kicked up clouds of fine, glittering dust—pulverized crystal mixed with centuries of dirt. Nothing lived here. Nothing of value remained.
The second layer's archway brought a semblance of life back to the city's veins. Blackened blast marks radiated from reinforced doors that had ultimately failed. Beyond them, dilapidated buildings leaned against each other like drunken survivors. Though, what lay inside of the abodes had long since decayed, without a trace of the people that once inhabited them.
But the third layer... here, it was here that the city's corpse wore its finest pieces.
The third layer unfolded with an air of faded grandeur, and a palpable atmosphere of pomposity. Gold leaf still clung to marble columns in cancerous patches, towers of violet crystal stood unnaturally intact, their razor-edged geometries mocking the decay around them. At the district's heart stood the remains of what must have been a palace, its vaulted arches now jagged teeth against the twilight sky. Almost all of its outer layers were decayed and destroyed, it was a regal relic that had weathered the storm, emanating an air of authority and mystery.
Theon cautiously moved through the outer ring of the third sector, avoiding houses that sounded like they had multiple zombies. His search yielded little - just another confirmation that luxury makes poor survival goods. But then he saw it.
An intact four-poster bed.
In a second-floor attic, its mahogany frame miraculously preserved while the staircase below had rotted away decades ago. Theon's breath hitched. After weeks of sleeping in trees and corpse-strewn ruins, this was a throne.
He scaled the wall with silent efficiency, fingers finding space in the ornamental stonework. A final vault through the broken window - and there it stood. The moth-eaten velvet hangings might as well have been royal silks. The stained mattress looked like a cloud. Theon didn't care that the bedframe groaned ominously under his weight, or that something had died in the corner long ago. He'd slept in worse during Veritas black ops, his comfort didn't matter.
And the most important part - no roof access, no nearby ledges, windows too narrow for anything larger than a rat. His body could finally achieve rest and he had a reliable base that zombies couldn't reach!
A perfect safehouse. Not just for tonight - this could serve as his operational base in this hellscape.
Though Theon could survive without sleep for weeks at a time, after a week without sleep performance degradation would become critical. And though he theoretically wasn't anywhere near his limit, his current state went beyond that. For the last four days he hadn't been able to get genuine sleep, just minimal recharging sessions, and he had been pushing himself significantly beyond his physical and mental limit consistently since having been whisked away from Spectra to wherever he was now.
Reaction time down 22%. Cognitive speed reduced by approximately…..
The numbers blurred as his knees struck the mattress, barely catching a glimpse of the star-studded night sky from a hole in the ceiling before immediately losing consciousness.