Another day broke over the wasteland, the harsh sun chasing away the shadows of a night that had felt endless.

Jax sat amidst the dissipating smoke of the bonfire, tallying his gains. The night had been chaotic, but profitable. He now held one hundred and thirty Tier 1 Cores in his inventory.

It was a small fortune, but it brought new worries. His secret—the Sentry Towers—couldn’t be hidden forever. And unlike a tent or a sleeping bag, his fortress was immovable. If he wanted to keep his base, he couldn’t just squat here. He needed legitimacy.

“How do I buy Sector 33?” he mused, rubbing his chin. “Or at least secure a long-term lease?”

Jax decided to head to Outpost 15. If there were answers, he’d find them there.

By the time the sun fully illuminated the canyon, Jax had disposed of the raiders’ bodies and organized his gear. He slung the looted Rifle over his shoulder. It was an intimidating prop, but practically empty—he’d scavenged every pocket on the corpses and only found five loose rounds.

He turned to the sleeping giant.

“Barney. Wake up.”

Jax patted Barnaby’s cheek, his voice firm.

The giant grunted, his eyelids fluttering open. He blinked confusedly at the sunlight, then at Jax.

“Huh? Bro… I just closed my eyes! How is it morning already?”

Jax sighed, shaking his head. “If I waited for you to wake up on your own, the opportunity would be long gone. Get up. I have to go out.”

Barney scrambled to a sitting position, panic flashing in his eyes. “You’re leaving? Bro, I promise I won’t sleep in anymore! Don’t go!”

“Relax, big guy. I’m not leaving for good,” Jax said, his tone softening. “We’re out of food. I’m heading to Outpost 15 to restock. What do you want to eat?”

Barney’s panic instantly evaporated, replaced by a dreamy, drooling grin.

“I want… roast chicken! And a big pork knuckle! And… and…”

“Stop dreaming,” Jax cut him off with a smirk. “We don’t have that kind of luxury, and Outpost 15 definitely doesn’t sell it. I’ll bring you back some flatbread. Now listen to me.”

Jax grabbed Barney’s shoulders, staring him in the eye.

“You are guarding the house. Do not run around. If you get hungry, eat the dry rations. If you get thirsty, drink water. But under no circumstances do you leave this platform. If anyone comes, stay hidden. If they try to climb up…” Jax mimed a shoving motion. “You push them off. Understand?”

Barney pouted, looking like a kicked puppy. “Bro, I want to go with you. It’s scary here alone.”

“No,” Jax said firmly. “It’s scorching hot out there, and this is our home now. Someone has to protect it. Remember what I told you?”

Barney sniffled, thinking hard. “Bro said… I’m an adult now. I have to act like a man.”

“Exactly. Real men protect their home. So no running around. Got it?”

“Oh. Okay.”

Jax gave him a few more specific instructions about the perimeter, then turned and hiked out of the valley.

Once he hit the main road, the solitude of the canyon vanished. The path to Outpost 15 was busy.

Scavengers, hunters, and refugees were all migrating toward the trade hub. After two days in the wilderness, supplies were running low. For those who had survived the Sandworm waves, their pockets were heavy with Cores, and they were eager to turn that crystal into comfort.

Jax kept his head down, listening to the chatter. He had never been to Outpost 15, but the gossip painted a clear picture.

It was essentially a shanty town—a condensed market where merchants, medics, and opportunists set up shop to fleece scavengers of their hard-earned money.

By noon, the heat was oppressive. Sweat soaked Jax’s shirt, making the dust stick to his skin.

“Outpost 15! We’re here!” someone shouted ahead.

Jax looked up. In the distance, rising out of the shimmering heat haze, was a cluster of tents and makeshift structures. It wasn’t large, but it was teeming with life.

The moment he stepped into the outpost, the smell hit him—the rich, savory scent of roasting meat.

His stomach gave a violent growl.

“Priorities,” Jax muttered. “Food first.”

He followed his nose to a crowded stall where skewers of meat sizzled over a charcoal grill.

“Boss,” Jax called out. “Two skewers of grilled Sandworm tenderloin. And don’t try to pass off the rotten stuff on me.”

The stall owner, a greasy man with soot-stained hands, beamed at him. “Don’t worry, kid! All my stock is fresh catch! From the look of you, you’ve been busy hunting these past two days, eh?”

Jax offered a tight, non-committal smile. He watched the man work, his eyes fixated not on the meat, but on the seasoning.

In the wasteland, Sandworm meat was a staple, but it reeked of ammonia and rot if not treated right. The secret was in the spice blend. Without strong spices to mask the gamey funk, the meat was barely edible.

The vendor slapped two skewers onto a tray. The fat rendered over the coals, sizzling and popping, releasing a cloud of mouth-watering aroma.

Jax handed over a hundred Credits. In The Sprawl, this would have been robbery—twenty credits max. But out here, supply and demand ruled. He didn’t haggle.

He took a bite, ignoring the scalding heat.

The meat was a bit tough, stringy like overcooked turkey, but the flavor…

Jax chewed thoughtfully. The ammonia stench was completely gone, replaced by a smoky, spicy kick. It tasted surprisingly like chicken breast.

“Not bad,” Jax nodded, finishing the first skewer in seconds. “Boss, how much for a bag of that spice mix?”

The vendor paused, then shook his head with a grin. “Sorry, kid. Family secret recipe. Not for sale. If you want to stock up, I sell pre-marinated meat by the bucket.”

He pointed to a grime-encrusted plastic barrel nearby.

Jax waved his hand. “Forget it. I just wanted the powder.”

He grabbed his second skewer and walked away, eating as he moved deeper into the market.

The main street was a chaotic tunnel of commerce. Blankets were spread on the ground displaying scavenged junk, water merchants shouted prices, and the air buzzed with the desperate energy of survival.

Jax bought a gallon of water from a quieter stall. “Hey, where’s the Guild Hub office?”

The merchant pointed toward a corrugated metal shack near the center. “Straight ahead, look for the flag.”

Jax nodded thanks and set off.

After a few minutes, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. The feeling of being watched was unmistakable.

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

A man was trailing him. He was thin, moving with a slinking, furtive gait. When their eyes met, the man didn’t look away; instead, he grinned, revealing a mouth full of rotting yellow teeth.

“Silas?” Jax frowned.

Seeing he was made, Silas swaggered over, his movements loose and arrogant.

“Haha! Been looking for you everywhere, Jax! Thought you might have bailed on us!”

“Why are you looking for me?” Jax asked, his hand drifting near the strap of his rifle. “It’s not time to return to the city yet.”

“Ahem, well, I heard some things…”

Silas glanced around at the crowded street. He leaned in, his breath smelling of decay. “Too many ears here. Let’s talk over there.”

He pointed to a quiet gap between two tents.

Jax narrowed his eyes but nodded. He followed Silas into the shade.

“Spit it out, Silas. What did you hear?”

Silas’s eyes flicked to the Rifle on Jax’s back, a knowing glint in his gaze.

“Word on the street is the Iron Spear Syndicate lost a five-man squad last night. And a rifle. They’re asking questions.”

Jax stiffened slightly. “How do you know that?”

Silas tapped his nose with a dirty finger. “I’m a Scout, Jax. It’s my job to know things. Nothing hides from me.” He grinned wider. “That gun looks mighty familiar. It belongs to them, doesn’t it?”

Jax didn’t flinch. “Yeah. I took it. They tried to rob me. I robbed them back.”

Silas stared at him, a flicker of genuine surprise breaking through his slimy veneer.

“Damn, brother. I didn’t think you had it in you. One of those five was an Enhancer, you know? Taking down a squad like that… you’re seriously skilled.”

He lowered his voice. “Iron Spear is investigating. You might want to keep that piece out of sight for a while.”

Jax nodded slowly. The warning seemed genuine, even if Silas was a snake. “I’ll handle it. Since your intel is so good, I have a question for you.”

“Ask away,” Silas said, leaning against a crate. “We’re in the same guild, after all.”

Jax looked him dead in the eye.

“I want to buy Sector 33. Or rent it. Do you know how I do that?”

Silas’s jaw dropped. He stared at Jax as if he had just grown a second head.