The Cost of Survival

Prologue:

The Cost of Survival

**Year 2046**

Crescent Mountains

The air was heavy, thick with the iron tang of blood and the acrid scent of burned metal. Radon Sykes gritted his teeth, his hands trembling as they held fast to the jagged, icy edge of the Crescent Mountains of Baal. Below him, Karys dangled precariously, her armor shattered, her body limp but alive.

“Hold on!” Radon growled, the strain in his voice betraying the precariousness of his grip. His enhanced bionic arm, though powerful, twitched under the immense weight of both Karys and his failing body. Her right arm hung useless, her torso still smoldering from where the laser beam had torn through her, leaving an angry, raw wound that bled freely.

Karys’ breathing was shallow, her voice barely a whisper. “Radon… you need to let go.”

“Not a chance,” he snarled, his grip tightening. The jagged rock bit into his flesh, but the pain was secondary to the fear clawing at his chest. Above him, the fog swirled in ominous spirals, pierced only by the faint glow of **the Red Sun**, its radiation an ever-present threat to their hybrid bodies.

The celebration had been short-lived—too short. Victory had come and gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by the grim reality of war’s ceaseless grip. The cheers of his squad had barely begun to echo before the fog erupted with a mechanical buzz. A beam of light, swift and merciless, had ripped through Karys’ armor and left her dangling for her life.

Radon’s enhanced vision scanned the hazy terrain above, but the source of the beam was elusive, hidden within the swirling mist and chaos. He cursed under his breath. They had underestimated this terrain, this enemy.

Above them, Rylis, his last surviving squad mate, shouted over the chaos. “Radon! We’ve got movement below!”

Radon spared a glance downward. Through the dissipating fog, he caught glimpses of something slithering beneath the dark, murky waters of Lake Knysna. The shapes were massive, their reptilian bodies sleek and glinting with metal. **Hybrid machines**, grotesque fusions of organic tissue and alien technology, stirred beneath the surface, their glowing red optics scanning the cliffs for prey.

“They’re coming for us, Radon,” Karys rasped, her voice faint but resolute. “You need to go.”

“No.” His tone was sharp, final. “I don’t leave anyone behind.”

Rylis’ voice crackled through the comms. “Radon, we can’t hold this position much longer. The Fourth Rite is mobilizing—those cooling fans are clearing the fog. We’re sitting ducks up here!”

Radon ignored him, his focus entirely on Karys. She was slipping, her blood-slicked glove making it harder for him to hold on. “I’m not letting you fall,” he said, more to himself than to her.

But the fog was thinning, and with it came the ominous hum of machines. The Fourth Rite, towering bipedal constructs built for war, emerged from the mist. Their massive cooling fans sent waves of cold air cascading across the mountainside, scattering the fog and revealing their prey.

One of them raised a gleaming, articulated arm. The barrel of a plasma cannon began to glow with deadly energy.

“Radon, we have to move!” Rylis shouted. He opened fire on the advancing machines, his rifle’s rounds sparking off their reinforced exoskeletons. It was a losing battle, and they all knew it.

“B10-H83,” Karys murmured, her head lolling against her chest.

Radon froze. “What did you say?”

She forced her eyes open, her gaze unfocused. “The mineral... beneath the mountains. That’s why they’re here. They need it… need you.”

Her words sent a chill through him. The B10-H83 mineral—the same substance that had infected his body. It corroded his augmentations while keeping him alive. It was also the key to both their survival and their destruction. And now these machines wanted it. They wanted him.

“Radon!” Rylis yelled, his voice desperate. “Get her up or leave her! They’re targeting us!”

Radon’s mind raced. The laser beam that had struck Karys had come from the machines below. The Fourth Rite wasn’t here to finish the fight; they were here to hunt.

“Hold on, Karys,” he said again, his voice softer this time. He activated his bionic arm’s emergency reserve, the servos whining as they surged with energy. With a final, desperate heave, he pulled her upward, dragging her onto the ledge.

Karys gasped in pain, her blood pooling beneath her. “You’re… an idiot,” she managed, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome,” he muttered, already scanning their surroundings for an escape route.

The ground beneath them rumbled as The Fourth Rite advanced. The hybrid machines in the lake began to surface, their metallic scales gleaming under the sickly light of the Red Sun.

Radon keyed his comms. “Rylis, we need extraction. Now.”

“Negative,” Rylis replied. “The ships can’t get close enough with those things in the water. You’re gonna have to climb.”

Radon looked at Karys, then back at the towering cliffs above them. The path was treacherous, but it was their only option.

“Think you can climb?” he asked her.

She shook her head, her expression pained. “Not with this arm.”

Radon sighed; his shoulders heavy with the weight of their predicament. “Then I’ll carry you.”

Karys opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “Save your strength. We’ve got a long way to go.”

As he hoisted her onto his back, the rumble of the machines grew louder. The Fourth Rite was closing in, and the air was thick with the scent of ozone and death.

Radon’s grip tightened on the jagged rocks as he began the climb. Below them, the waters of Lake Knysna churned violently, the hybrid machines circling like predators scenting blood.

Above them, the Red Sun burned, its radiation searing their exposed flesh. And ahead of them, the path was steep, unforgiving, and lined with the specter of death.

But Radon didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

Because the war wasn’t over. Not yet.