Marcus's silver white blade descended. Ysolde saw it coming, tried to twist away—but the Clay Jinki held her attention just long enough before falling apart, becoming a pile of sand. Justice's edge bit deep into her pale side, golden Solar energy erupting through the wound like bottled sunlight.

  Ysolde's scream held no seduction now. More dark ichor fountained from the wound as she tore herself free from the Clay Jinki's broken remains, stumbling backward with one hand pressed against her ribs. For the first time, Marcus saw fear in those orange, cinder-like eyes.

  Jabari's bolt took her through the shoulder, moon-enhanced and perfect. She staggered.

  "You..." she hissed. "What is your name—"

  Another bolt from Jabari. Waist this time. Ysolde fell to one knee.

  The enthralled men collapsed like puppets with cut strings, Fuuka's Corpse Gorgers standing over them in eerie silence. Whatever psychic hold Ysolde maintained had broken under the assault.

  "I am Marcus Thorne. Stalwart of the Zorian Covenant." Marcus declared triumphantly as he advanced, shield steady, Justice dripping with corrupted blood that sizzled against blessed steel. "Remember that as I send you back to the Great Void Beyond in Zori's holy name!"

  But Ysolde was already moving.

  Not toward them but away. Crawling on four, into the shadows at the depot's far end, moving with desperate speed despite her wounds. Toward a maintenance tunnel that Marcus could've sworn hadn't been there ten seconds ago.

  "Doesn't even move like a human!" Jabari raised Oya. "She's—"

  The tunnel entrance sealed. Metal flowed like water, organic growths knitting with inorganic matter in a display of Fenris mutant ability that made no sense. One second there was an escape route. The next, solid organic wall, sickly and disgusting.

  Marcus reached it, pressed his hand against the handle of his sword, then slashed at the organic wall. Nothing. Completely sealed.

  "Shango's schlong," Jabari breathed. He lowered Oya, hands trembling slightly. "We had her. We actually had her. For a good minute or two, that is."

  "We drove her off." Marcus turned, taking sight of the chamber. Six men lay unconscious, chests rising and falling. Alive. Saveable, maybe, if they could get medical attention fast enough. "And saved six souls from corruption. That's victory enough."

  Fuuka's Corpse Gorgers dissolved into violet mist, retreating through her Spirit Lantern's violet portal, back to whatever foul planet or moon had spawned them. The witch approached one of the unconscious men, knelt, pressed two fingers against his neck. Her expression remained unreadable.

  "Pulse is weak but steady," she reported. "They'll need hospitalization. Radi-Mon pheromones at this concentration..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Some of them may never fully recover their minds."

  Marcus knelt beside the nearest man—couldn't be older than twenty-five, with dark hair and a wedding ring on his left hand. Someone's husband. Someone's son. Now just another victim of Fenris corruption.

  "Zori the True Mother, our Sole Savior," Marcus murmured, fingers touching the small amber-hued cross embedded in his Nucleus Watch's casing. "Accept this sinner's soul should he pass. Guide him back to righteousness if he survives. Let not corruption claim what is yours."

  He looked up, found Jabari watching him with an expression caught between respect and discomfort. The West African man opened his mouth, closed it, then finally said: "You actually believe that helps."

  Not a question. An observation.

  "I know it does."

  "Right." Jabari ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. "Well. We worked well together, I'll give you that. Your shield technique..." He gestured vaguely. "That's proper tanking, friend. My father would've approved."

  "You're a skilled marksman," Marcus admitted. The words came harder than they should—acknowledging competence in someone who didn't share his faith felt like betrayal, somehow. "Your bolts found their mark when it mattered."

  Movement. One of the six men stirred—the one Marcus had prayed over. His eyes opened, unfocused, pupils still blown wide from whatever pheromones Ysolde had pumped into the air. Mid-forties, Imperial features with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, the kind of handsomeness that probably turned heads in better circumstances. Right now he looked wrecked: dark hair plastered to his skull with sweat, skin flushed and marked with what looked like hickeys covering his neck and chest. His manhood still stood erect somehow, slick with dried fluids.

  The man gasped for air, chest heaving. Looked around the depot with wild eyes. Saw Marcus standing over him in full Covenant armor, Justice sheathed at his hip.

  Something shifted in the man's expression. Not relief. Not gratitude.

  "It… it's over?" The man's voice came hoarse, raw. "You… you ended it?"

  "Aye." Marcus couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips—saving souls warranted celebration. "You're safe now. What's your name, friend?"

  "Bo…Bo Ji." The man pushed himself up on trembling elbows, and Marcus saw tears forming in his eyes. Trauma response, probably. The mind breaking under strain. "My name is Bo Ji."

  Imperial name. Marcus filed that away: the Imperium's citizens sometimes ended up on Mars fleeing debt or dishonor in Mainland China. This Bo Ji seemed respectable enough, wedding ring glinting on his left hand. Someone's husband. Perhaps someone's father.

  "You're safe now, Bo." Marcus extended his hand, expecting the man to take it. "The creature that held you is gone. We'll get you medical attention, aye? Get you home to—"

  "FUCK YOU!"

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  The words hit Marcus like a gunshot. Bo Ji spat them upward, flecks of saliva striking Marcus's gauntlet. "WHY DID YOU MAKE IT END?!"

  Marcus's hand froze mid-extension. "I beg your pardon?"

  "FUCK ALL OF YOU!" Bo was shrieking now, voice cracking, tears streaming down his face. "That was the best sex I've ever had in my entire forty years! The only time I've felt anything in a decade! And you FUCKING RUINED IT!"

  The depot went silent except for Bo's ragged breathing.

  Marcus felt something cold settle in his gut. "Bo. You…" He lowered his hand slowly, confusion warring with rising horror. "…you were literally being violated by a Draug. A Radi-Mon. Do you understand what that—"

  "I understand perfectly." Bo wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing fluids across his cheek. His laugh came bitter. "I heard about Ysolde H?ggsson. The Elder Draug of the Fenris Horde, nesting here since November. Everyone in Dragon District knows if you're desperate enough, if you're done enough!…you can find her down here."

  "Done, huh?" Jabari crouched down, his expression shifting.

  "Done with life." Bo met his eyes without shame. "I planned this. Saved up enough credits for the autocab fare. Walked into these tunnels knowing exactly what I'd find. Threw myself at Ysolde's feet and begged her to take me as her supplicant."

  The word landed like a bomb.

  "A supplicant?" Marcus asked.

  "Day and night, me and the other five would be Ysolde's playthings." Bo's voice steadied. "Our seed feeds her, helps the Fenris create more Radi-Mons. Our bodies keep her satisfied, keep her from hunting topside. In exchange?" His smile was hideous. "The Draug lady feeds us. Keeps us nourished. We don't have to think. Don't have to work. Just sleep, eat, and fuck. Life was good."

  "You call that…good?" Marcus couldn't keep the revulsion from his voice.

  "The alternative is going back to my sick wife." Bo's expression went flat. "That pathetic idiot son of mine who can't hold a job. That run-down garbage shack in Silver Orchid they call home, where the oxygen subscription runs out twice a month and we eat protein paste flavored like cardboard! Working sixteen-hour shifts at some water reclamation plant for barely enough dollars to survive." He laughed again, hollow, broken. "At least down here, I got to turn my brain off. Feel good for once. Feel wanted."

  Jabari stood slowly. "So…you don't want to be saved."

  "Fuck no." Bo looked up at them both, and in his eyes Marcus saw something worse than madness. "My life was pathetic. Up there I'm just another slave to the corporate machine, another failure. Down here?" His hand moved to his groin, his manhood going flaccid. "I matter. Down here I'm used willingly. That's more purpose than I've had in twenty years."

  Marcus opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

  No words came.

  Somewhere behind them, Fuuka's soft laugh echoed through the chamber. She stood near the sealed tunnel entrance, Spirit Lantern hovering beside her shoulder as she examined an old maintenance terminal. The Worm Witch hadn't turned around, but Marcus heard the amusement in her voice.

  "Ara, Stalwart," she murmured. "Did they not teach you this in your Covenant training? Not everyone wants salvation." A pause. "There's so much for you to learn about the Seven Realms, hmm?"

  Marcus stared down at Bo Ji. At the wedding ring. At the dried fluids coating his body. At the expression of anguish at being rescued.

  His training said: This man is corrupted. A victim. You save victims.

  His instinct said: This man is damned. He chose damnation. He must be purged.

  His faith said: All souls can be redeemed. All corruption can be cleansed. You must try.

  "Get up," Marcus said finally, his voice hard as steel.

  "What?"

  "I said get up." Marcus grabbed Bo's arm, hauled him to his feet with strength the man couldn't resist. "You're coming with us. We're getting you medical attention, and then you're going home to your wife and son."

  Bo struggled, but Marcus's strength held. "You can't make me—"

  "I can and I will." Marcus looked at Jabari. "Help me with the others. We're bringing all six topside."

  "Even if they don't want to go?" Jabari's question was gentle, but pointed.

  "Especially if they don't want to go." Marcus's jaw set. "They're not thinking clearly. The pheromones clouded their judgment. Once they're clean, fed proper food and breathing proper air, they'll see reason."

  Marcus looked at the other five men, still unconscious on the depot floor.

  His Nucleus Watch displayed something:

  [Current Objective: High-Grade Zephyrium Recovery - $50,000 AD]

  [Status: Path Blocked - Alternative Routes Available]

  [Estimated Time to Reroute: 2-3 hours]

  A few hours he could spend chasing metal and money. Or hours ensuring these men made it home alive.

  "Right then." Marcus released Bo Ji, who crumpled back to the floor like a puppet with cut strings. "We're taking them topside."

  "That'll take time." Jabari glanced at the sealed tunnel, then back at Marcus. "Also, the bounty?"

  "The bounty can wait." Marcus moved to the nearest unconscious man, checking his pulse. Steady. "Or someone else can claim it."

  "It's fifty thousand Atomic Dollars, brother." Jabari's voice held no judgment, just honesty. "That's more than most people on Mars make in a year. You'd just…walk away from that?"

  "I'd walk away from a million if Zori wills." Marcus straightened, meeting Jabari's eyes. "Money's not all that matters. There's no active bounty for rescuing missing persons, aye. No reward for dragging six corrupted fools back to their families. Doesn't mean it's not worth doing."

  Jabari studied him for a long moment. "You really believe that."

  "I know it." Marcus gestured at Bo Ji, still weeping on the floor. "These men ran from their lives because their lives were hard. I understand that impulse—Zori knows I do. But understanding doesn't make it right."

  Jabari was quiet for several seconds. "And what does your Covenant training say?"

  Marcus looked up and allowed himself a small, grim smile. "Delivering these lost souls back to their families, back to their suffering but dutiful lives, making them live responsibly—that's worth more than any bounty. Doing what's right."

  "Quite touching, ne."

  Both men turned. Fuuka still stood at the terminal, her fingers dancing across its cracked display with unexpected familiarity.

  "Fuuka," Marcus said carefully. "We're moving out. Taking these men to Opera District. There's a Covenant clinic that'll—"

  "Mmm, yes, I heard." She didn't look away from the screen. "You've chosen what you believe. I'm sure Zori is most pleased with your sacrifice."

  Marcus's jaw tightened at her tone. "You're welcome to join us. Six men is a lot to carry, and your...creatures…might help."

  "I decline." Simple. Final. She tapped something on the terminal, and data scrolled past too fast for Marcus to read. "I have other matters down here. The Warrens hold secrets for those who know where to look."

  "It's dangerous alone," Jabari pointed out.

  "How kind of you to worry." Fuuka's smile was barely visible. "But I suspect I'll manage." Finally she turned, and her almond-shaped eyes settled on Marcus with amusement. "Besides, someone could ensure dear Ysolde doesn't return while you're playing shepherd to flock. I'll ensure your rescue isn't interrupted."

  Offer? Dismissal?

  Marcus wanted to argue. Fuuka's presence unnerved him still, but he'd seen what her summons could do.

  "Fine." He brushed dried blood off his gauntlets. "But if you die down here, I'm not explaining it to whoever cares about you."

  "Ara, but no one ever does." She turned back to the terminal. "Try not to drop any of your precious cargo."

  Marcus exchanged a glance with Jabari, sighing. "That's witches for you."

  Together they moved to the unconscious men. Five still sleeping, one—Bo Ji—awake and weeping. Marcus grabbed the nearest and hauled him over his shoulder.

  Jabari took another, grunting, but his tone turned light. "After we get these bastards to the clinic...want dinner? Because honestly, if I'm going to help you drag six men over the Moor for zero dollar, I figure you at least owe me a meal."

  Marcus laughed, a short, sharp one.

  "Aye, we'll call an autocab for this task," he said. "Dinner at the Slumbering Mantis after. An Imperial inn it may be, Shazmeen makes proper Yorkshire pudding. You're welcome to join me. To break bread, as they say." He paused, adjusting his grip on the unconscious man. "Suffice to say, my treat."