A NEW BEGINNING

“I don’t care where you came from. I care what you’ve got. And what’ll be left of you once I take it.”

– Herb, leader of the Breakers gang

Reng, on the road to The Hollow

The engine hummed in a low, monotonous tone as the vehicle ground over the uneven ground beneath its wheels. Every jolt, every bump from hidden rocks or potholes transferred directly into the cabin. Reng sat behind the wheel, focused on the road ahead, if it could even be called that. It was a tangle of worn tracks that disappeared into mud and reappeared in places where the harder, rocky subsoil resisted the rain.

Beside him, sprawled across the passenger seat, sat a man whose name Reng didn’t know. He had no reason to ask, because it wasn’t important. What mattered was that the man knew the way to The Hollow, a place where Reng was told he could sell the vehicle and get a new one, something less conspicuous. He knew there were plenty of such places across Raj. Scrappers were resourceful and could get their hands on just about anything. So why not a different ride, one that didn’t draw so much attention.

“Hey, buddy,” the deserter on the passenger seat began, stretching his legs up onto the dashboard. “Gotta say, you’ve got nerves of steel. I’m still shaking like a leaf after the mess down south. But you don’t seem like the kind of guy who gets scared, huh?”

Reng didn’t respond. He gripped the wheel tighter and kept his eyes on the windshield. His gaze was drawn to the jagged outcrops of rock silhouetted darkly against the rays of the setting sun.

“Straight ahead’s fine for now, but after that ridge we’ll need to change course,” the man continued casually, as if chatting with an old friend.

“The Hollow’s not the kind of oasis you can just stroll into. You’ve got to know the way. And I know the way,” he added with that brand of smug enthusiasm Reng already found annoying.

“Fine,” he replied curtly, returning his eyes to the path ahead.

“Come on, loosen up a little. We’ve still got a long ride ahead, but trust me, it’ll be worth it. You’re gonna be amazed.”

“How far is it?” Reng asked with a flicker of unease, not wanting to be stranded in the middle of nowhere.

“Far, but not as far as you think,” the deserter grinned, clearly noticing the quick glance Reng gave to the fuel gauge.

“You’ve never been there before, have you? Nah, didn’t think so. You wouldn’t be asking otherwise. Let me tell you something about this place. It’s a hole. But the kind I like to call a good hole, you know? A place where you can find everything you need. As long as you know who to talk to. And I do. Mikail runs the place. Bit of a weirdo, sure, but who isn’t these days, right? Out here in Raj, everyone’s a little messed up. And you, my friend, are the weirdest thing I’ve come across so far.”

Reng exhaled sharply through his nose, the closest thing to agreement he could muster. His passenger, of course, took it as an invitation to keep rambling.

“How about you tell me your name? Would make this all a lot easier,” he smirked, then continued without waiting for an answer. “I’m Kudo. At least that’s what the people who know me call me. My real name’s something else, but why bother. You go somewhere and ask for Kudo, people know who you mean. But try asking if they’ve seen some guy named Kudolin and they’ll stare at you like you poked them in the eye. Stupid name. My mom was a drunk, and that’s what came of it. So what about you? You really won’t tell me anything? It’s gonna be a long ride, buddy, and I hate silence.”

“Take your feet down,” Reng cut him off, nodding at the boots resting on the dashboard.

“Yeah yeah,” Kudo muttered to himself but complied. “You’re not making this easy, you know that? You already know my name and I want to know yours.”

Reng stayed silent. Instead, he shifted the gear stick down a notch to handle the steep climb that had appeared ahead. The engine sputtered but then caught itself, and the vehicle rattled its way to the top.

“Fine, be that way. But you know what? We could make a damn good team. I’m the brains, you’re the muscle. That could work.”

Reng drifted into thought for a moment. Kudo’s chatter was intrusive, but his voice lacked any real threat. He seemed more like someone genuinely trying to make a good impression but not knowing how. In a different situation, it might have amused Reng. Now it was just annoying.

“Maybe it’d be best if you stayed quiet,” he answered curtly.

“What?” Kudo turned toward him, clearly surprised he got any reply at all.

“There’s no team. You lead me to The Hollow, we make the deal you promised, and then I move on. Alone. You do whatever the hell you want.”

Kudo shrugged as if to say it didn’t really matter to him. “Yeah, sure. Just saying, out here they’ll eat you alive before you get a chance to say good morning. Better to have someone watching your back. But what do I know about your plans, right?”

The engine growled and Reng focused once more on the rocky terrain ahead. The landscape was getting tougher. The road had completely vanished, replaced by tracks left behind long ago. The only sounds in the cabin were the steady hum of the motor and the occasional thump of scattered rocks hitting the undercarriage. To Reng’s surprise, Kudo actually obeyed and stayed quiet until the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned a dull shade of grey.

Reng stopped the vehicle on a flatter stretch and shut off the engine.

“We sleep here,” he announced without further explanation.

“Well,” Kudo mumbled as he got out and looked around the dusty landscape. “Not exactly a hotel, but we could sleep inside the vehicle. That’d definitely be safer.”

Reng opened the trunk in silence and dug through what the other deserters had left behind. He found a blanket, pulled it out, and tossed it at Kudo.

“I’m sleeping in the vehicle. You’re out here.”

“What? You’re not serious,” the deserter whined.

“I’m not stupid enough to let you slit my throat in my sleep,” Reng shot back, clearly not about to budge.

“Something out here’ll eat me,” Kudo persisted, but found no pity in Reng’s eyes.

“Then try screaming loud enough to wake me.”

With that, Reng climbed into the vehicle and locked himself in, making sure he could sleep without being disturbed. For a while he listened to Kudo’s angry swearing and even the dull thump as he kicked the side of the car. Then through the fogged-up window, he saw his silhouette curl up in the blanket and lie down beside the vehicle, close enough to rouse him quickly in case of danger.

But Reng had already closed his eyes, and before long, he had sunk into a deep sleep.

***

The next day they continued, and the cabin was filled with irritated silence. Kudo clearly hadn’t yet gotten over having to spend the night on the cold ground, so he was less friendly today, and therefore also less pushy. Reng didn’t mind in the slightest. They moved through the unforgiving landscape, following a rutted path, when an unnamed settlement appeared in their way. At first, Reng thought they had reached their destination, but Kudo only shook his head.

“No one lives here anymore,” he scoffed, and Reng realized he wasn’t looking at a place to live, but at its remains.

He might have just driven past it, but something told him he needed to see this with his own eyes. So he cut the engine.

“Why are we stopping?” Kudo asked as he reached for a half-empty bottle of water. He looked at Reng, then at the crumbling buildings ahead. “This place isn’t... well, you know what, there’s nothing left here. Anything worth taking is long gone, trust me.”

Reng stayed silent and got out of the vehicle. The emptiness of the settlement welcomed them with open arms. The air smelled of mildew and decay. In the distance, something creaked, maybe a rusted sheet of metal on a rooftop, maybe just the wind playing with the wreckage.

“Hey, seriously. Why did we stop here?” Kudo took a sip and put the bottle back in place, but by then he could only watch Reng’s back as he walked away without waiting, slowly heading toward the first of the ruins.

This place was dead. Not because its people had left. They were still here, their souls clinging to what had once been their home and had become their grave. The past screamed at him. Shards of pottery lay scattered on the ground, torn scraps of fabric. In one of the houses stood a table, buried under layers of dust, and beside it, a toppled chair.

Step by step, Reng moved deeper into the settlement.

“This really is a bad place,” Kudo muttered as he got out and reluctantly caught up with him. “Gives me the creeps.”

“There’s no one here,” Reng dismissed his concern, though he understood it all too well. This place bore the marks of a bloody past.

He slowly approached one of the houses. The door had been smashed open, the frame warped. On the floor lay the remains of an elder who had likely served as the home’s protector. From the clean hole in the bleached skull, it was clear he had been shot once and left where he fell. He wasn’t the only one. In another room lay the remains of the family that had lived there. Reng could tell that whoever had done this had been merciless, not even the children had been spared. No one had buried them. They had been left behind, forgotten, missed by no one.

“This is... seriously fucked up,” Kudo murmured, staying a few steps behind, then turned away in disgust. “Sure, bad things happen all around us, but this... I don’t get it. Killing men I can understand, they’ll fight back. But women and kids? That makes no sense. They threw away a fortune. They’d be worth something on the market.”

“Because this wasn’t just looting,” Reng replied quietly, not taking his eyes off the dead.

“Yeah, clearly not. But then why do it?”

“Because it was an order.”

“An order?” Kudo froze, thinking it over, and his face twisted with discomfort. “You were there, weren’t you?”

Reng stopped. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes dark, holding only the faintest trace of humanity.

“Maybe,” he answered simply.

Kudo swallowed hard and pulled his jacket tighter around himself. “This place... this was done by alters? Like you?”

Reng didn’t answer. Instead, he moved on to another pile of wreckage, finding a similar scene to the last.

“We killed them,” Reng said unexpectedly, and a few long-buried memories flickered in his mind. Mobzar had buried them deep so no modificant would have to live with what they had done. But Nonon had made sure his would rise again. It felt like yesterday. Screaming, crying, begging. The air thick with the stench of burning, the heat licking at his face as flames devoured the living and the dead alike. He felt sick. He had to shut his eyes and take a deep breath. He wiped sweat from his forehead, triggered by the wave of stress that hit him.

“They were punishing those who had contact with the Scavengers,” he turned to Kudo, who froze at the sight of his expression. “It was meant to be a warning, a threat. An attempt to turn people against them. But all they achieved was the death of too many innocents. And in the end, they gained nothing.”

“Do you know that? Or are you just guessing?”

“I know,” Reng’s gaze returned to the wreckage. “Because that’s exactly what I used to do. Many times. Maybe I was even here… I don’t know… it all blends together… there were too many.”

The silence between them was broken only by the wind, lifting dust and traces of ash.

“Well, that’s something,” Kudo scratched the back of his neck and let out a short, awkward laugh. “You know, I’m not exactly squeaky clean either. On the front lines, things got messed up sometimes and people ended up doing stuff they’re not proud of now. Maybe we didn’t wipe out entire settlements, but… well, everyone does something now and then they wish they could take back. Whether it’s because of orders or just… trying to survive.”

Reng inhaled, then exhaled heavily. “Forget it. Nobody cares anymore, because Fate has settled it all in the end. The modificants burned along with those they killed in the name of the Beacon. The circle is closed.”

“But you survived,” Kudo pointed out the obvious.

“And is that a good thing?” Reng asked darkly, and for a moment, the silence between them grew even heavier.

“Look, I’ll admit, this is maybe a bit much for me,” the deserter confessed at last, trying to shake off the hopelessness hanging in the air. “How about we call it, get back in the vehicle and pretend we were never here?”

Reng looked at him thoughtfully, then glanced up at the sky. Heavy clouds were gathering again, promising more rain.

“You’re right, we’re wasting time,” he said and started walking back toward the vehicle.

Kudo followed him, much quieter than usual. The look on his face showed that he might be starting to regret the idea of traveling with an alter. He watched Reng’s back for a while and grimaced.

“No wonder they let them burn,” he muttered under his breath, not realizing Reng could hear him.

There was no response.

Reng just got back into the vehicle and gripped the steering wheel tightly, as if holding himself together.

Then he drove off, without looking back.

***

The Hollow wasn’t the kind of place that invited visitors or lured in passersby.

Not even close.

Quite the opposite, in fact, because just as Reng had expected, it was originally a makeshift hideout, a smuggler’s camp tucked into a natural hollow, just as its name suggested. That made it well hidden from the eyes of the uninitiated. What started out as temporary had since become permanent, a well-known pattern across the Raj.

As Reng and Kudo approached The Hollow, ten large shipping containers came into view, rusted and peeling, stacked by the locals into a rough perimeter wall. The makeshift barrier offered some protection from the harsh winds and from whatever predators might prowl the area. One container had a shredded piece of cloth hanging from its side, maybe once a flag, now just a rag flapping in the wind.

There was only one entrance, guarded by two armed men. One held an old rifle, the other a heavy club, both ready to turn away trouble. When Reng pulled up slowly, he saw them watching the vehicle closely, clearly ready to raise the alarm. He stopped, and the air around them seemed to thicken with tension.

Kudo immediately jumped out, waved energetically and yelled, “It’s me, boys! Easy now! I’m back!”

The guards exchanged surprised glances, but to Reng’s relief, they lowered their weapons.

“Well I’ll be damned. Thought you were dead!” one of them shouted, slapping his chest in a hearty greeting, while the other leaned forward to peer through the windshield. He gestured for Reng to shut off the engine. Reng obeyed and slowly raised his hands, not wanting to provoke any trouble. He knew that in places like this, paranoia came standard.

“And who’s this you’re dragging along?” the guard grumbled. Kudō’s driver clearly didn’t inspire trust at first glance.

“Trade! What else, just trade,” Kudo grinned without missing a beat. “Trust me, Mikail’s gonna be thrilled.”

The guards hesitated for a moment, but Kudo’s boldness won them over. He signaled for Reng to follow him.

Reng stepped out. His instincts screamed at him to stay alert, and he wanted to reach for his weapon, but he left it in the vehicle. He didn’t want to come across as a threat. Not yet.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. A mix of metal, oil, grime, and sweat, thick and heavy, clinging to The Hollow like a lid on a pot. The locals resembled shadows more than people, curious but careful to stay just out of sight. The camp itself was small and chaotic, full of scrap salvaged from across the Reach, hoarded for future trade. It definitely wasn’t the kind of place he wanted to stay any longer than necessary.

“Mikail!” Kudo called out enthusiastically, arms wide open as he headed toward the man shuffling toward them.

Kudo had warned Reng beforehand, but even so, nothing could have prepared him for what Mikail actually looked like.

His body was twisted by lamarie, a disease most children didn’t survive. Those unfortunate enough to make it through were usually left dependent on others for the rest of their lives. Yet Mikail had done the impossible. He survived, and now he was the boss of the Hollow, even though he looked like someone pieced together from broken bones and old skin. One eye was squinted shut, the other looked nearly blind. His missing leg was replaced by a crutch made from scrap metal, which creaked with every step. And yet, there was something in him that caught Reng’s attention. An unbreakable will, an authority that had to be fought for. Otherwise he would’ve wasted away on the fringes of society, or died of hunger somewhere in the dust.

“Kudo! Well I’ll be damned. I didn’t think we’d ever see you again. When they took you, we figured it was the end,” Mikail shouted and pulled Kudo in for a firm embrace.

“Tell me about it. I thought I was finished too. But look at me now! Alive, well, and I even brought someone with me.”

Kudo waved at Reng, who was still hesitating whether to even come closer.

“This here is a real, bona fide Alter. And unsurprisingly, he’s here for business.”

Mikail gave Reng a long, measuring look. His mouth pulled into a thin line.

“I imagined you lot bigger. More terrifying. You just look... odd,” he finally said.

“Says the man who looks like he got half-digested by a leerd,” Reng shot back instantly.

The silence that followed was sharp and immediate.

Kudo’s face froze, clearly trying to process the insult delivered with such cold precision. But instead of anger, Mikail burst into laughter. A harsh, guttural sound, like rusted metal grinding.

“A funny one, I’ll give you that,” he muttered at last. “If you’re half as sharp as your tongue, I get why people talk about Alters the way they do.”

He drove his metal crutch into the ground for better balance.

“Alright, modificant. Kudo vouches for you, and I trust him. If you’ve got business, let’s hear it. But let me be clear, trade isn’t about friendship. It’s about what you lay on the table.”

Reng didn’t waste time. He unloaded everything from the vehicle that he no longer cared about, leftovers from the deserters, and arranged it all on a makeshift table of planks set across two rusting barrels.

By then, the camp residents had started gathering, curious about what the outsider was offering. Reng felt their eyes on him—curious, mistrustful whispers carried behind his back. He tried to ignore it, but the feeling was there all the same. Something he hadn’t felt before.

Absolute alienation.

Before the Beacon, people like this wouldn’t have looked at him twice. Just a young guy trying to make a deal. But that was no longer the case.

Now he was an Alter.

Dressed in dark armor, with neural implants at the base of his skull he couldn’t hide.

It was impossible to avoid attention now.

“So what have we got here?” Mikail leaned on his metal crutch, eyes flicking over the spread with a crooked smirk.

He opened one of the crates and went through it carefully. When he closed it again, he pulled a face.

“Don’t get me wrong, this’ll sell. Won’t take long. But I figured an Alter might bring something more... exciting. Looks like I was wrong.”

“That’s not all,” Reng said, nodding toward the parked vehicle. “The main thing is that. I want to trade the truck.”

Only now did Mikail’s single eye flash with interest.

“That’s a generous offer. And what do you want for it?”

“A new vehicle,” Reng answered plainly. “Something discreet. Reliable. No faults.”

The locals murmured among themselves, eyes darting between Reng and Mikail. Tension built in the air.

Mikail tapped his chin in thought.

“Something discreet? We don’t have that here. I’ll pay you for the junk on the table, and for the truck... we’ll figure something out. How about supplies and a woman for your pleasure? Got a young one, untouched. Been saving her, but I’d trade her for that truck.”

Reng’s face darkened. He waved the offer off with a sharp motion, ignoring the uncomfortable murmurs around them.

“Kudo promised me a vehicle. Either you deliver, or I pack everything back up and try somewhere else.”

Mikail shifted in place for a moment. It was clear he was hesitating. He clearly wanted the vehicle, but maybe he couldn't or wouldn't pay Reng’s price.

“What about Ressi? Couldn’t he be convinced?” Kudo chimed in, and even though Reng had no idea who that was, Mikail gave a thoughtful nod.

“He owes me. Might be able to pay it off this way. Might. But I can’t promise anything until I talk to him.”

“And when will you talk to him?” Reng asked impatiently.

He had hoped they would just shake hands and be done with it, but it seemed like people here had all the time in the world. Even when it came to trade.

“That depends. Ressi lives in Kanice. That’s about half a day from here. But they could find you what you need. You’ll have to take me with you though. Ressi doesn’t talk to just anyone. But if you give me everything you’ve got on that table, I’ll make sure you get a proper deal.”

Reng sighed. Nothing was ever simple. Another trip was waiting for him, and this time with another eccentric passenger aboard. Still, he nodded his agreement. But before he could turn to leave, one of the locals stepped closer. Reng was stopped by the man’s serious expression and the bottle he held in his hand. It was filled with a dark liquid that reeked even from several steps away.

“To bless and seal the deal,” the man boomed, first offering it to Mikail, who took a hearty swig and smacked his lips with satisfaction before handing the bottle to Reng.

“Drink” he urged, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Reng accepted the bottle hesitantly and gave it a sniff. The smell alone felt like it scorched every membrane in his body. His eyes watered immediately, but he didn’t want to cause trouble, so he took a light sip. The instant the liquid touched his tongue, his body reacted on pure instinct and he spat it all out onto the ground. He wiped his mouth with disgust and had no intention of repeating the experience.

The people around them grumbled in disapproval. Some laughed at his reaction, but most looked offended.

“Not good enough for you?” someone called from the crowd.

“Enough” Mikail shouted and waved his hand to quiet the people around them. He turned to Reng and narrowed his eyes. “Here in the Hollow we have our ways and traditions. Refusing a drink is seen as refusing to seal the deal. People will see you as untrustworthy.”

“Maybe I’d drink it if it wasn’t more weapon than liquor” Reng replied for the second time, triggering more grumbling.

Mikail was silent for a while, clearly weighing how to handle the situation, then finally raised his voice so everyone could hear him.

“Life out here is not for the weak. The drink matches the people.”

The crowd murmured their agreement. Mikail had just told them they were stronger than the Alter, and they liked the sound of that. Reng wasn’t about to argue. He placed the bottle next to the goods he was offering in exchange for Mikail’s trip to Kanice and considered the matter settled.

“I guess we don’t need to worry about you questioning my word later” Mikail said with a dry tone.

Reng nodded. “Exactly. Give me the vehicle and you’ll never hear from me again.”

He could feel the locals’ eyes burning into his back. It was clear he hadn’t won them over. When he reached the vehicle, a tightness stirred in his gut. Not from failure but from the realization that here, in the middle of nowhere, among society’s lowest, he was still seen as something even further beneath. A Modificant. An Alter. A strange creature not even the filthy Hollow wanted as their own.

“So we’re settled then” came Mikail’s raspy but satisfied voice behind him. “We leave now. Ressi will know what to do with you.”

Reng gave a short nod and got behind the wheel. Kudo helped Mikail into the vehicle and then sat back beside Reng.

As they drove off, the unhappy muttering of the locals faded behind them. In the rearview mirror, the rusted containers of the Hollow slowly disappeared from sight and Reng had no choice but to once again fix his gaze on the road ahead.