Symbiote Sovereign

Chapter 5: The First Symbiote

The "Gene-Archive" was less a library and more a morgue.

Rows of stasis tanks lined the walls, each containing a dormant bioweapon suspended in nutrient gel. The air was frigid, kept at absolute zero to prevent the specimens from waking up and eating each other.

"Initiates, choose your Partner," the Quartermaster barked, his voice metallic. "You have ten minutes. Grade C recipients are limited to the Low-Tier section. Do not touch the red tanks unless you want to lose a hand."

Vane walked past the display cases. His eyes scanned the creatures with the boredom of a veteran shopper.

*Iron-Skin Beetle. Durable, but metabolically expensive.*

*Acid-Spit Larva. Good range, but useless against armor.*

*Fear-Moth. Psychological warfare. Too niche.*

He knew exactly what he was looking for.

In his past life, he had chosen the Moonlight Gu—the standard combat organism of the Clan. It was versatile, long-ranged, and evolved well.

He stopped in front of a tank containing a small, translucent arachnid. It looked like a tick made of pale blue glass, its legs twitching rhythmically.

**The Lunite Shard-Tick.**

"Tier 1 Combat Symbiote," the display read. "Capabilities: Photon blade projection. Diet: Moonlight radiance and mammalian blood."

Vane placed his hand on the glass. The tick reacted instantly, scuttling towards his heat signature.

"I'll take this one," Vane said.

The Quartermaster sneered. "Standard choice. Boring. But at least it won't eat your brain while you sleep. Place your Ether Heart against the port to initiate transfer."

Vane opened his robe. The bio-port on his chest—the interface to his Ether Core—hissed as it connected to the tank.

*Hiss—Click.*

The tick was flushed out of the tank and into the tube. It crawled rapidly, burrowing into Vane's flesh with a squelching sound.

Vane didn't flinch. He felt the cold, alien presence invade his nervous system, linking up with his spinal column.

*Pain.* Sharp, electric pain. And then... power.

A faint blue crescent glowed on his palm.

"Welcome home," Vane whispered.

Nearby, other initiates were screaming as their symbiotes bit them. Some were crying. Vane watched them with detachment.

The Shard-Tick was weak. Common. Mass-produced.

But in the hands of a Tier 6 Warlord, even a rusty knife could s*******r a god.

He looked at his palm, willing the Ether to flow. The blue light intensified, forming a razor-sharp edge of hard light.

*In my past life, it took me a month to master the Lunite s***h. This time...*

He flicked his wrist.

*Zzt!*

A beam of blue light shot out, slicing a steel railing ten feet away. The cut was clean, smoking slightly.

"Hey! No weapon discharge in the Archive!" The Quartermaster yelled, reaching for his stun baton.

Vane lowered his hand, the light fading instantly.

"Apologies," he said, his voice flat. "It misfired."

The Quartermaster paused, looking at the clean cut on the steel. Then he looked at Vane's calm, dead eyes. A shiver went down his spine. That wasn't a misfire. That was perfect control.

"Just... get out," the Quartermaster grunted. "Next!"

Vane turned to leave, the tick pulsing softly in his chest.

One step closer to the throne.