The world changed at Floor 11.

  Elias had grown accustomed to the claustrophobic embrace of the Tower's tunnels—the narrow passages, the dripping walls, the constant press of organic matter closing in from all sides. But as he emerged from the transition corridor onto Floor 11, he found himself standing at the edge of something entirely different.

  The Scab Fields stretched before him like a wounded landscape frozen mid-healing.

  Vast plateaus of hardened, crusted tissue extended in every direction, their surfaces rough and uneven, colored in shades of dried blood—rusty browns, deep maroons, and occasional patches of almost-black where the scabbing had thickened over older wounds. The ground beneath his feet was solid, harder than anything he'd encountered in the Tower so far, with a texture like dried leather stretched over stone.

  "What the hell is this?" Mira breathed beside him, her voice carrying further than it should have in the sudden openness.

  Elias activated Blood-Sight, scanning the terrain. The usual network of blood vessels was sparser here, running deep beneath the hardened surface rather than visible in the walls. The scab layer acted as a barrier, a protective crust over whatever lived beneath.

  "It's like... a wound," he said slowly, the medical comparison coming naturally. "A massive wound that scabbed over. The Tower's healing itself, and we're walking on the scar tissue."

  Lira drifted beside him, her translucent form seeming more solid against the muted backdrop. She reached down to touch the ground, her ghostly fingers passing through the surface.

  "It's different here," she whispered. "Quieter. But not... not safe."

  The plateaus rose and fell in irregular waves, creating a landscape of hardened hills and valleys. Between them, deep crevices split the terrain—some narrow enough to step over, others wide enough to swallow a man whole. These cracks revealed glimpses of the wet, living tissue beneath the scab, red and pulsing faintly in the darkness below.

  Elias studied the crevices with clinical interest. They were natural weak points, places where the healing hadn't fully taken hold. They were also perfect hiding spots.

  "Watch your step," he warned. "Those cracks could go down dozens of meters. And if something lives in them..."

  "It could come up," Mira finished grimly.

  They moved forward cautiously, leaving the relative safety of the transition corridor behind. The air here was different too—drier, with a faint metallic taste that reminded Elias of old blood. The humidity that had plagued the lower floors was absent, replaced by a stillness that felt almost sterile.

  The bioluminescent organs that lit the tunnels were rare here, replaced by larger, more dispersed light sources embedded in the distant ceiling—if it could be called a ceiling. The space above them was vast, disappearing into darkness punctuated by occasional clusters of pale light. It felt less like being inside a creature and more like standing on an alien world.

  The openness was disorienting after so many floors of confined spaces. Elias found himself constantly scanning the horizon, looking for threats that could approach from any direction. In the tunnels, danger came from ahead or behind. Here, it could come from anywhere.

  "I don't like this," Mira muttered, echoing his thoughts. "Too exposed. No cover."

  She was right. The hardened plateaus offered little in the way of concealment. A few scattered formations rose from the surface—pillars of accumulated scar tissue, ridges where the scabbing had bunched and hardened—but nothing substantial enough to hide behind if they encountered a serious threat.

  The Siphoners would love this terrain, Elias realized. Open sightlines, limited escape routes, nowhere to run. If they controlled this area, any Climber crossing it would be easy prey.

  "We need to move fast," he said. "Find the transition to Floor 12 before nightfall. Or whatever passes for night here."

  They set out across the Scab Fields, their footsteps crunching softly on the hardened surface. The sound carried further than Elias liked, a constant announcement of their presence to anything listening.

  The landscape revealed its dangers slowly. What appeared to be solid ground sometimes gave way to thin patches of scabbing that cracked under their weight, revealing the wet tissue beneath. Elias learned to read the surface, identifying the darker, more stable areas from the lighter patches that indicated fresher, weaker healing.

  The crevices proved both obstacle and opportunity. Some contained pockets of moisture—condensation from the living tissue below—that they could collect in their containers. Others held small clusters of the blood-rich nodules that served as a food source, growing in the protected darkness where the scab hadn't fully sealed.

  But the crevices also held dangers.

  They were navigating around a particularly wide crack when Elias noticed something wrong. His Blood-Sight detected a faint signature—not in the crevice itself, but on the plateau surface ahead. The reading was strange, diffuse, spread across an area rather than concentrated in a single form.

  He held up his hand, signaling Mira to stop.

  "What is it?" she whispered.

  Elias studied the terrain ahead. The scab surface looked uniform, the same rusty-brown coloring as everywhere else. But through Blood-Sight, he could see something beneath—a network of blood vessels arranged in a pattern that didn't match the surrounding tissue.

  "There's something there," he said quietly. "Camouflaged. I can see its blood flow, but it's... dispersed. Like it's flattened itself against the surface."

  Mira's hand went to her knife. "How big?"

  Elias focused, trying to map the extent of the blood signature. "Three meters across, maybe more. It's—"

  The scab surface exploded.

  The creature that erupted from the ground was unlike anything Elias had encountered. It had been lying flat against the plateau, its body compressed and colored to match the surrounding terrain perfectly. Now it rose to its full height—a nightmarish fusion of crustacean and reptile, with a segmented body covered in hardened plates that mimicked the scab surface exactly.

  A Scab Stalker.

  It moved with terrifying speed, its six limbs carrying it across the terrain in a skittering rush. Its head was flat and wide, dominated by sensory pits rather than true eyes, and its mouth was a vertical slit lined with serrated edges designed for shearing flesh.

  "Run!" Elias shouted, but it was already too late.

  The Stalker wasn't alone.

  Two more erupted from the surface on their flanks, their camouflage breaking as they lunged toward the group. They'd walked into an ambush, the creatures positioned to cut off any retreat.

  Elias activated Cardiac Overclock.

  The world slowed as his heart rate tripled, his perception sharpening, his reflexes accelerating beyond normal human limits. He felt the familiar burn in his chest, the cost of the ability draining his vitality, but the enhanced speed was worth it.

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  He dodged the first Stalker's lunge, its serrated limbs slicing through the air where he'd been standing. His spear came up in a fluid motion, guided by Blood-Sight to the creature's vulnerable points—the joints between its armored plates, where blood vessels clustered.

  The spear punched through, and the Stalker shrieked—a high, keening sound that echoed across the open terrain.

  "Mira, on your left!" Elias shouted, his enhanced perception tracking all three creatures simultaneously.

  Mira spun, her knife flashing as she parried a Stalker's claw. But she was slower than Elias, lacking the Circuit-enhanced reflexes, and the creature was faster than she'd anticipated.

  The second claw caught her across the side.

  Mira screamed—a sound Elias had never heard from her before, raw and agonized. She stumbled back, blood already spreading across her shirt, her hand pressed against the wound.

  No.

  Elias's training took over. He couldn't help her if he was dead. He had to neutralize the threats first.

  The Cardiac Overclock was still active, his heart pounding dangerously fast. He had seconds left before the effect wore off and the vitality cost caught up with him.

  He moved.

  The first Stalker was still reeling from his initial strike. Elias drove his spear deeper, twisting, finding the major vessel that fed its central body. Blood sprayed—thin and yellowish, not human but still registering to his enhanced sight.

  The creature collapsed.

  Harvested Blood: +0.4 L

  He didn't stop to process the notification. The second Stalker—the one that had wounded Mira—was turning back toward her, sensing the blood, drawn by the scent of injury.

  Elias intercepted it, his enhanced speed carrying him across the distance in a heartbeat. His spear caught it in the sensory cluster, the improvised strike based on instinct rather than anatomical knowledge. But it worked—the creature reared back, disoriented, its camouflage flickering as its biology struggled to compensate.

  Mira, despite her wound, seized the opportunity. Her knife found the gap between its plates, driving deep into what passed for its throat.

  The Stalker gurgled and fell.

  Harvested Blood: +0.6 L

  One left.

  The third Stalker had circled around, positioning itself between them and the nearest crevice. It was more cautious than its companions, having witnessed their deaths. Its body shifted, the surface coloration flickering as it prepared to either attack or flee.

  Elias's Cardiac Overclock expired.

  The crash was brutal. His heart rate plummeted from triple to normal in an instant, leaving him dizzy, his muscles screaming in protest. His vitality had dropped significantly—he could feel the weakness settling into his bones.

  Vitality: 82/100

  But the Stalker didn't know that.

  Elias forced himself to stand tall, to project strength he didn't feel. His spear came up, bloody and ready.

  "Come on," he growled.

  The Stalker hesitated. Its companions were dead. Its ambush had failed. The prey was more dangerous than expected.

  It fled.

  The creature's body flattened, its camouflage activating as it pressed itself against the scab surface. Within seconds, it had vanished, indistinguishable from the terrain around it.

  Elias didn't pursue. He had more pressing concerns.

  "Mira."

  She was on her knees, both hands pressed against her side, blood seeping between her fingers. Her face was pale, her breathing rapid and shallow—signs of shock setting in.

  "It's fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Just a scratch."

  "Bullshit." Elias was already moving, pulling out his medical kit. "Let me see."

  He guided her down onto her back, gently moving her hands away from the wound. The Stalker's claws had torn through her shirt and the tissue beneath, leaving three parallel gashes across her ribs. The wounds were deep but not fatal—no major organs hit, no arterial bleeding—but they needed immediate treatment.

  "Lira," Elias said, his voice calm despite the urgency. "Watch for more of them. Tell me if anything approaches."

  "Yes, Papa." The ghostly girl drifted to the edge of the plateau, her eyes scanning the terrain.

  Elias activated Cardiac Overclock again.

  The world sharpened. His heart raced. His hands—which had been trembling slightly from adrenaline and exhaustion—steadied completely, becoming precise instruments guided by enhanced reflexes.

  He worked quickly, the Circuit converting what would have been minutes of careful work into seconds of perfect efficiency. Clean the wounds—irrigation with their precious water supply. Assess the damage—no bone involvement, muscle lacerations but no complete tears. Close the worst of the bleeding—pressure, then careful suturing with the limited supplies in his kit.

  Vitality: 77/100

  The Overclock expired again, and Elias swayed, catching himself before he fell. But the work was done. Mira's wounds were closed, bandaged, stabilized.

  "You need to rest," he said, his voice rough. "No movement for at least an hour. Ideally more."

  Mira looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "We can't stay here. In the open."

  "I know." Elias scanned the terrain, searching for options. "Lira, do you see anywhere we could shelter? A cave, a deep crevice, anything with cover?"

  The ghostly girl pointed toward a ridge perhaps two hundred meters away. "There's a dark place there, Papa. The ground dips down and there's a... a roof? Like a little cave."

  Elias helped Mira to her feet, taking most of her weight as they moved toward Lira's discovery. The girl led them to a hidden alcove—a section where the scab tissue had folded over itself during the healing process, creating a natural overhang. The space beneath was cramped but protected, invisible from more than a few meters away.

  They settled into the shelter, Mira lying on her uninjured side, Elias sitting with his back against the curved wall. Lira drifted near the entrance, keeping watch.

  The exhaustion hit Elias all at once. Two uses of Cardiac Overclock in quick succession, the stress of the ambush, the surgery—his body was demanding rest.

  Vitality: 77/100

  Blood: 2.4 L

  Soul Integrity: 95.8%

  Lira's integrity was still declining. He'd need to perform another transfusion soon, push it back above 96%. But for now, they needed to survive.

  "You saved my life."

  Mira's voice was quiet, stripped of its usual cynicism.

  Elias looked at her. "You would have done the same."

  "Maybe." She shifted slightly, wincing at the pull on her wounds. "Maybe not. I'm not... I'm not good at this. The partnership thing. The trusting people thing."

  "Neither am I."

  She laughed, a short, pained sound. "You're a doctor. You help people for a living."

  "I help patients," Elias corrected. "That's different. Patients are... controlled. Predictable. You help them, they get better or they don't, and then they leave. It's transactional." He paused. "This is different."

  "How?"

  He considered the question. How was it different? He'd treated dozens of wounds in his career, hundreds of patients. Why did this feel more significant?

  "Because you're not a patient," he said finally. "You're a partner. And I need you alive not because it's my job, but because I can't do this alone."

  Mira was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was softer than he'd ever heard it.

  "Thank you, Elias. For not leaving me."

  "I wouldn't."

  "I know." She closed her eyes. "That's what scares me."

  They rested in the shelter as the light from the distant ceiling dimmed, signaling the Tower's approximation of night. Elias kept watch while Mira slept, monitoring her breathing, checking her bandages, ensuring the bleeding didn't restart.

  Lira drifted closer, her ghostly form settling beside him.

  "Papa?"

  "Yes, sweetheart?"

  "I can feel something new." Her voice was puzzled, uncertain. "Since we came to the Fields. I can... I can sense things. Warm things. Through the walls."

  Elias turned to look at her. "What do you mean?"

  "I don't know how to explain it." She pressed her translucent hand against the scab overhang. "There's... warmth. Living things make warmth. And I can feel it now, even when I can't see them." She paused. "Like blood, but different. Not inside the body—around it."

  A new ability. The Tower had changed Lira just as it had changed him, the Foundling evolving in ways they hadn't anticipated.

  "Can you feel the Stalkers? The ones that attacked us?"

  Lira concentrated, her form flickering slightly. "No. They're cold, I think. Or... they hide their warmth? Like they hide everything else."

  Cold-blooded, perhaps. Or some other adaptation that allowed their camouflage to extend beyond the visual.

  "Can you feel anything else? Anything nearby?"

  Lira was quiet for a moment, her attention directed outward, beyond the shelter walls.

  Then she stiffened.

  "Papa."

  The fear in her voice made Elias reach for his spear.

  "What is it?"

  "Something's coming." Her eyes were wide, her form flickering with agitation. "Something warm. Bigger than the Stalkers. Much bigger." She pointed toward the north, where the scab plateaus stretched toward the distant transition to Floor 12.

  "It's moving slowly, but it's coming this way. And there are... there are smaller warm things around it. Lots of them."

  Elias moved to the edge of the shelter, peering out into the darkness. His Blood-Sight revealed nothing—whatever Lira sensed was still beyond its range.

  But she could feel it. Her new ability extending further than his sight, detecting warmth through the walls, through the terrain, through the darkness.

  Something big was approaching. Something with an escort.

  Mira stirred behind him, roused by the tension. "What's happening?"

  "We have company coming," Elias said grimly. "Something Lira can sense but I can't see yet."

  "How far?"

  "I don't know." He looked at his daughter's ghost, at the fear written across her translucent features. "But it's coming for us. And we're not going anywhere fast with your injuries."

  Mira pushed herself up, grimacing, reaching for her knife. "Then we get ready."

  They waited in the darkness, the Scab Fields stretching around them, as something warm approached through the night.