The sky darkened, heralding the night''s arrival. Debris painted the landscape with devastation and chaos, while dust formed grayish clouds that hampered the collectors'' work. In a secluded corner, a young man barely nineteen years old struggled with his inability to fulfill his duties as a member of the Restoration Squad.


    —?Hurry up, kid! I don’t want to spend all night collecting monster guts —complained one of his companions, tossing a chunk of carcass into a container.


    Ren, despite his notable weakness compared to other “Users” —even among his Rank 0 peers— pushed himself to the limit to avoid being a burden. His optimism, though worn by criticism, still flickered in his gaze.


    —Leave him alone, Ayu. The kid’s trying —intervened Mark, leader of Section 11, adjusting his dust mask.


    —?Then he should try harder! —Ayu snapped—. It’s the same every day. I don’t even get why they accepted him into this damn Squad… weak as he is!


    Ayu’s voice faded into the creak of twisted metal, but his words, as always, lingered in the air. Ren clenched his fists, determined to prove that his place here —though earned slowly— wasn’t a mistake.


    —Hey, kid! —Mark called to Ren, who turned to see a faint smile on the leader’s weathered face, framed by a salt-and-pepper beard glowing under the dim light—. Ignore his nonsense. His wife doesn’t show him affection at home, so he vents his frustration here.


    The group’s laughter erupted like sparks in the dark: some chuckled openly, others hid smirks behind mud-stained gloves. Even the rubble’s groans seemed to join the brief camaraderie. But Ayu didn’t share the relief. His brow furrowed as if carved in stone, he stomped back over the rusted floorboards.


    The jab at his grumpy colleague, paired with Mark’s calm gaze and kindly wrinkles, reignited a sliver of Ren’s usual optimism. He straightened, as if the elder’s words had realigned his posture.


    —Organize the tools —Mark ordered, pointing to a metal cart laden with rusted instruments—. We’ll continue tomorrow.


    —Yes, sir —Ren replied firmly, nodding as he adjusted his gloves and wiped sweat from his brow.


    Time slipped like sand through fingers in that vast space, where the workers’ final laughs and murmurs had been swallowed by stillness hours prior. Now, only the hum of massive LED panels —casting cold, artificial light over metallic surfaces— kept Ren company. Shadows danced in corners like specters, stretching whenever he moved between piles of scattered materials and tools. Though his body screamed for rest —muscles taut as fraying ropes, hands trembling with cuts and bruises— his will burned like a forge.


    ?No choice… I have to become indispensable to them,? he thought, biting his cheek as he gripped a rusted pickaxe with a wooden handle.


    The words tangled in his mind, mingling with echoes of criticism he’d heard since his first day as a Collector. Every strike against basalt rock, every adjustment of reactor plates, defied those judgments. Cold sweat dripped down his back beneath his work suit. Still, he pressed on.


    ?I’ll be a burden,? he repeated, using tweezers to separate the entrails of a Crystal Shadow, its dark guts oozing like gelatin. The acrid stench of decomposing tissue blended with metallic monster blood, creating a nauseating symphony he ignored out of sheer stubbornness.


    ?I’ll finish this section alone. I’ll prove I’m capable.?


    Suddenly, a thunderous crash shook the walls of the nearest building, violent enough to rattle the metal beams supporting the warm lamps. Ren ducked instinctively. The silence that followed was thicker than the outer darkness, charged with an electricity that prickled his skin —then shattered by a second impact.


    The third boom echoed closer, as if the building’s heart had exploded. Ren held his breath, knuckles white around the pickaxe handle. The LED lights flickered, casting fractured shadows that writhed on walls. The air thickened with sudden cold, a viscous whisper crawling up his neck.


    Before he could turn, a dark mass loomed before him. The Crystal Shadow had no defined shape: a cluster of black fragments refracting light like obsidian shards, with blueish glints in its core. Its limbs —living silicon tentacles— pulsed with bioluminescence, and its "eyes," two light-absorbing slits, pinned him in place. The monster emitted a high-pitched whine, like glass scraping metal.


    Ren stumbled back, his heel catching on a pile of rusted pipes. He fell backward, still clutching the pickaxe. The Shadow lunged, tentacles spearing forward. He rolled aside just in time; crystal claws struck the ground, sparking. The smell of burnt metal filled the air.


    —?Get away! —he shouted, more from instinct than courage.


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    The creature pivoted, its body reshaping in a flow of shadows and edges. Ren scrambled up, spotting the nearest tool: a drained plasma torch abandoned near the viscera container. Without thinking, he grabbed it with his free hand and hit the switch. Nothing. The battery was dead.


    The Shadow advanced. Sweating, Ren grasped at panic-fueled clarity: the gelatinous guts he’d separated earlier glowed to his left, still in their container. He recalled the field manual:"Crystal Shadows are sensitive to their own decomposing organic tissue…"


    In a sharp motion, he hurled the container at the monster. Glass shattered against its core, black viscera splattering everywhere. The creature shrieked, writhing as its acidic entrails corroded its surface. Seizing the distraction, Ren leaped forward —then fled in the opposite direction.


    He didn’t get far. Just meters ahead, his legs buckled —clearly defeated by exhaustion—. The pickaxe, still clutched for some reason, clattered a meter away, embedding itself in the ground like fate’s cruel joke.


    Ren gasped for air, his chest a furnace of stabbing flames, trembling arms struggling to lift him. But a creeping chill froze his blood as he noticed a second figure rising from the jagged shadows. This new monster advanced methodically, its "armor" of crystal screeching like shattered glass under pressure. Unlike the chaotic Shadows, this one had defined structure: broad shoulders, angular torso, a humanoid silhouette warped into nightmare. Beneath its translucent helmet, two violet slits glowed, fixed on him. Ren noticed something unsettling: its armor plates overlapped like perfectly carved scales, as if designed by someone —or something—.


    —What the hell…? —he muttered, scrambling back. His hands found the rusted pickaxe’s handle, but the creature didn’t attack. It only watched, tilting its head as if studying prey.


    A deep hum emanated from its armor, followed by a distorted voice slicing the air:


    —It can’t be you —the monster raised an arm, a crystal stake sprouting from its palm, sharpening into a lethal spike—. I’ll kill you anyway.


    Ren shuddered. The words weren’t in any language, yet he understood them, as if the sound seeped directly into his mind.


    The boy stood defiantly, the rusted pickaxe trembling in his hands like a bastion of fragile courage. The second monster remained still, its crystalline silhouette frozen under flickering light. But before he could react, a searing pain tore through his torso —so abrupt he thought he’d tripped.


    His breath hitched. Warm wetness bloomed beneath his work suit. He looked down slowly, as if time had fractured. There, protruding from his abdomen, a black crystal tentacle glinted under LEDs, coated in viscous dark fluid dripping with a stickyplop. Its razor edges had shredded fabric and flesh with brutal precision, leaving a fist-sized hole. The wound’s edges pulsed, stained crimson mixed with the monster’s black ooze.


    The pain came later, like an avalanche. A burn climbing from pelvis to chest, paired with paralyzing cold spreading through his veins. Ren opened his mouth to scream, but only a choked whimper escaped. His lungs filled with metallic tang, blood gushing from his lips, hot and thick.


    The tentacle twisted inside him, crystal shards scraping bone and organs. He felt something tear, as if his guts were being yanked out. His legs gave way, but the appendage kept him upright, dangling like a broken puppet. The Crystal Shadow behind him emitted a triumphant buzz, its other tentacles thrashing like drunken serpents.


    With a jerk, the creature retracted the tentacle. The sound of flesh separating was wet, obscene. Ren collapsed to his knees, hands instinctively pressing the wound, but blood seeped through his fingers, pooling bright red on the floor. Pain was a living entity, devouring him from within. Each heartbeat sent agony rippling like spinning blades in his gut.


    The second monster strode toward him, steps crunching glass. Ren looked up, vision blurred by tears and sweat. The humanoid creature tilted its head, as if appraising his suffering.


    —Too easy —its distorted voice muttered.


    The crystal sword arced downward, its edge gleaming under artificial light. Ren closed his eyes, resigned… but death didn’t come. Instead, blinding radiance engulfed the area. Everything turned void and silent —no pain, no sound, only a faint, distorted female voice echoing in the distance.


    User Level: 0…


    User System Rebooting…


    Reassigning User Level…


    Unable to Assign New Level…


    Anomaly Detected…


    Reconfiguring Parameters…


    User Level: Unknown…