It was a wolf, but it made the others look like malnourished pups. It stood four feet at the shoulder, a mountain of corded muscle and mana-fused bone. Its fur wasn't just matted, it was a living ecosystem of bioluminescent blue moss that pulsed in time with the engine, feeding on the leaking energy. A jagged sheet of heavy steel plating, the hull of some forgotten starship, was fused directly to its skull, covering half its face like a crude, knightly helmet. One eye was a milky void, the other was a burning orb of pale blue light.

  The Alpha didn't growl. It didn't posture. It didn't waste energy on a warning.

  It launched itself at him.

  There was no time for strategy. No time to summon a swarm from the depths. No time to be a Sovereign.

  Mike threw his arms up, instinct taking over where logic failed. The impact was like being hit by a freight train. The air left his lungs in a harsh, involuntary bark as he was slammed backward. He hit the muck and slid, the massive weight of the Alpha crushing him into the slurry of plastic and rust.

  Jaws the size of bear traps snapped inches from his face, the sound of the teeth meeting like two slabs of stone colliding. Hot, rancid saliva dripped onto his cheek, smelling of ancient rot and the metallic tang of old blood. The pressure was immense, Mike felt the chitin plates on his forearms groan and begin to spider-web with cracks.

  [ Alert: Physical Trauma Detected. Health Critical. ]

  The cold, tactical part of his brain, the part that listened to Valerius, vanished. The Hunger roared back, loud and violent, screaming for survival.

  "Get... off... me!" Mike roared, the sound tearing at his throat.

  He didn't reach for his tools. He reached inside, into the flickering blue static of his own biology.

  [ Skill Activated: Adrenaline Glands ]

  [ Skill Activated: Mirror Alpha ]

  Time seemed to stutter and then slow to a crawl. The world turned a sharp, high-contrast grey. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird, pumping a toxic cocktail of combat stimulants and raw mana into his blood.

  He felt the connection to Grim snap into place, the [Mirror Alpha] skill bridging the gap between them. He felt Grim’s strength flood into his own frame, the density of the rat’s mutant muscle fibers layering over his own. Mike's arms bulged, the veins standing out like black cords against his pale skin.

  The Alpha lunged down again, aiming to rip his throat out in a single, crushing bite.

  Mike didn't dodge. He couldn't. Instead, he reached up. He caught the beast’s lower jaw with his left hand and its upper jaw with his right, his fingers digging into the gaps between the metal-shard teeth.

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  The struggle was visceral. He could feel the immense power of the monster's neck muscles, the sheer weight of its mana-enhanced frame trying to grind him into the dirt. But he wasn't just Mike the scavenger anymore. He was a conduit for the apex of his pack.

  Mike snarled, his vision going black at the edges as he pushed back. His muscles screamed, the fibers tearing and knitting themselves back together in real-time under the influence of the System. The steel plate on the wolf’s skull ground against Mike’s own chitinous knuckles, a sound like a shovel scraping across a tombstone.

  "Now," Mike hissed through grit teeth.

  From the shadow of his left sleeve, a slender, iridescent shape uncoiled. The Venom-Striker, a mutated serpent with scales the color of a shimmering oil slick, didn't need a verbal command. It felt Mike’s desperation through the [Neural Tether]. It slithered over his wrist, its body cold and dry against his feverish skin, and launched itself with the speed of a snapping whip.

  The snake’s fangs, two inches of hollow, needle-sharp bone, sank deep into the Alpha’s exposed, pulsing tongue. The beast’s eyes widened. A muffled, gurgling howl died in its throat as the concentrated neurotoxin hit its system.

  The effect was instantaneous. The Alpha’s massive body shuddered, a ripple of paralysis cascading through its nervous system like an electrical short. The crushing pressure on Mike’s chest vanished as the wolf’s muscles turned to lead. It slumped forward, its dead weight pinning Mike deeper into the trash, but the lethal tension was gone.

  Mike didn't stop. He couldn't afford to. The [Hunger] was a white-hot coal in his stomach, and the [Adrenaline Glands] were beginning to redline his heart. He shifted his grip, releasing the jaws and slamming his right hand against the wolf’s neck, just below the fused steel plating.

  With a wet, tearing sound, a three-inch calcified bone barb erupted from the underside of Mike’s wrist, [Venom Strike]. He drove the spike upward, threading it between the wolf’s vertebrae and into the base of its brain. The Alpha gave one final, violent twitch, a reflex of its dying mana, and then went still.

  Mike lay there for a moment, chest heaving, the blue interface flickering warnings in his peripheral vision.

  [ Alert: Adrenaline Crash Imminent. ]

  He shoved the heavy carcass off him, his arms trembling with the effort. He stood up, dripping with the Alpha’s mana-tainted blood and the corrosive slime of the Heap. He looked down at the dead monster, then at the glowing engine pulsing in the center of the clearing.

  The Venom-Striker retreated back into his sleeve, its task done. Grim limped over, his scarred eyes fixed on the fallen Alpha. There was no jealousy in the rat’s gaze, only a low, subsonic whine of respect vibrating in his chest.

  "Eat," Mike commanded, his voice a ghost of a rasp. "We both need the strength."

  He looked at his hands. The chitin was cracked, leaking a pale, milky fluid, but beneath the pain, he felt the resonance of the Mana Core. It was calling to the chip in his chest, a siren song of stability and power.

  He reached out and touched the core. The blue light flared, washing over his scarred face, illuminating the monster he was becoming.

  "The engine is ours, Valerius," Mike whispered.

  "Indeed," the System replied, its voice devoid of the static that had plagued it moments before. It sounded clearer, more present, and infinitely more dangerous. "Now, Michael, let us begin the real work."

  Mike stood in the center of the cavern, surrounded by the corpses of the pack, the glowing core reflecting in his dark eyes. He wasn't just surviving anymore. He was claiming the throne of the Heap, one bloody piece of scrap at a time.