Symbiote Sovereign

Chapter 7: The Alchemist's Tomb

The "Flower Wine Sector" was a myth. A ghost story told to new recruits about a bio-hacker who tried to create a new breed of narcotic Symbiotes and got purged by the Clan.

But Vane knew the truth. The Alchemist hadn't been purged. He had hidden himself in the old hydroponics bay, wounded and dying, leaving behind his legacy.

Vane crawled through the ventilation shaft, the smell of ethanol growing stronger.

*Sector 4-B. Maintenance Hatch 7.*

He found it. A rusted grate hidden behind a cluster of steam pipes.

He kicked the grate open and dropped down.

He landed in a lush, artificial jungle.

Bioluminescent vines covered the walls. Giant, synthetic orchids pulsed with soft pink light. The air was thick with pollen and the sweet, rotting scent of fermentation.

"A perfect ecosystem for fungal-based Symbiotes," Vane observed.

He pushed through the vegetation, his bio-mesh boots crushing the delicate, glowing flowers.

In the center of the room, seated against a massive nutrient tank, was a skeleton.

The Alchemist.

His bones were stained pink, fused with the vines that had grown through his ribcage. In his lap sat a data-pad, its screen long dead.

But Vane wasn't interested in the data. He was interested in the Alchemist's stomach.

In the original timeline, Vane had found the Liquor Worm inside a jar of wine. But in this world, the Alchemist was a radical evolutionist. He believed the best storage container was the human body.

Vane knelt before the skeleton. He drew a scalpel from his belt.

"Forgive the intrusion, Senior," Vane whispered. "Your research will not go to waste."

He cut through the desiccated layers of skin and muscle covering the abdominal cavity.

There was no blood, only dried, powdery resin.

Inside the stomach cavity, nestled among the ribs, was a glowing, amber sac.

Vane carefully sliced the sac open.

A burst of alcoholic vapor hissed out. Inside, curled up like a shrimp, lay a fat, white slug. It had a pair of tiny, black eyes and emitted a smell that made Vane's head spin with intoxication.

**The Fermented Gene-Slug.**

"Rank 1 Support Symbiote," Vane recited its stats from memory. "Ability: Refines Ether quality. Can convert Tier 1 Ether into Tier 2 Equivalent."

For a C-Grade host like Vane, this was the Holy Grail. It would allow him to fight on par with B-Grade, or even A-Grade opponents in terms of energy density.

The slug twitched, sensing the fresh air.

Vane didn't hesitate. He grabbed the slug and pressed it against his own chest port.

"Eat," he commanded.

The slug bit into his flesh. It didn't hurt like the Shard-Tick. Instead, a warm, numbing sensation spread through his chest, like drinking a shot of strong whiskey.

The "Metabolic Debt" signal from the Shard-Tick suddenly quieted down. The Gene-Slug was already working, breaking down the raw Ether in Vane's blood and refining it into a higher-octane fuel.

Vane stood up, the pink light of the synthetic orchids reflecting in his eyes.

He had the g*n (Shard-Tick). Now he had the Fuel (Gene-Slug).

All that was left... was a Target.