Faint hissing and bubbling noise. Chemical smells that never fade.
In one direction, for what appeared to be endless, was a sea of chemicals with twisting shades of orange and green. Dotting it were metal sheets, pipes, and containers marked after being scavenged.
And in the other?
A smog-covered city, separated into districts by rivers of toxins and piled wastage. And barely visible through the smog, a towering citadel with blinking lights, carved and built out of a mountainside. This mountain range stretched endlessly into the distance both ways, with peaks that couldn't be seen from the Chemical Sea nor the elevated city.
The sun rose from behind the mountains. It illuminated the vapors rising from the sea in the far distance until it finally crested the peaks. A third of the day is lost before the city ever sees the sun.
For some, however, they would never see the light.
In the depths of the city, or perhaps the citadel, made of metal and flickering dim lights, wails echo through chambers. The walls are lined with prison bars, and babies are lined up across a table.
A man walks down the row, feeding each one an unknown substance with a small spoon. Most babies glow a strong shade of blue. The ones that don't, a shadowed man puts them onto a cold, metallic cart.
High-pitched squealing echoes as the cart is driven away. Some men and women pass by, grabbing a few babies and signing documents. Later, a few more.
And more, and more, until there are only three left.
The gruff man who arrives to pick them up signs off on some documents. In return, a different shadowed man wearing a longer tunic hands him a metal card with three smaller ones.
"Ration card issuance, fifteen years. Low class. Swap these small cards out every six months for the next five years. Once every year after that until they are fifteen."
"And if they don't survive?" the gruff man asks.
"Your ration card will be revoked. At least two must survive."
"My business is dangerous. The mortality rate is high."
"This has been acknowledged. It is why you may still receive extra ration cards and coin should you scavenge any high-value relics or materials from the Chemical Sea."
"With what time?" he snorts. "I won't be able to scavenge taking care of these three."
The shadowed man points at his ration card. He signs off a few things on his clipboard.
"I should note, Mr. Fenrik, should all three have another 'tragic accident', future rations and profits shall permanently be halved."
Growling, Fenrik grabs the man by the scruff. Several lights ignite around them, but his snarling gaze remains fixed on this man who looks unfazed. After a brief moment, Fenrik exhales sharply and lets go.
Without speaking, Fenrik loads the three babies into a sheet metal basket.
"Feel honored, Fenrik. You have children to pass your skills onto. You may become the legendary tutor of students who discover ancient relics!"
Fenrik snorts and doesn't look back as the metal sheet basket, with metal handles, squeals and swings haphazardly at his side.
Connected by a metal pier, Fenrik returns to his home. A grungy-looking home made of metal and a large intake and exhaust fan turning slowly. A small, metallic boat tied off beside it. It doesn't matter what it is, everything complains when it is forced to move.
His door squeals, the floor groans, and the fan noisily rotates. A thin foam acts as a filter between the interior and the fan. The air smells only mildly cleaner, and it needs to be replaced soon.
The metal basket clunks onto the metal table, and the babies jerk. Their crying has been non-stop, and Fenrik sighs. He lays on the bed, trying to ignore their incessant crying.
"Damn it," Fenrik curses.
His teeth crack and his jaw clenches as, one by one, he feeds them a liquid from a bottle supplied by the city. One by one, they are fed, but they still scream.
"AGH! I only need to keep two alive!" Fenrik growls.
Grabbing one of the babies at random, he slams open his door and steps over to the pier's edge holding it.
It hovers in the air above the bubbling toxins, screaming and writhing in his grasp. Fenrik stands frozen, holding it, breathing heavily through his nose as his glare alternates between the baby and the chemical sea.
Fenrik closes his eyes, grip loosening, before slowly retracting his arms.
"Lucky little bastard."
The baby continues to scream and Fenrik exhales with frustration. He stares at it for several minutes before heading back inside, not catching it briefly glowing a bright blue color that quickly fades.
The one who he almost killed, Fenrik named Noland.
And so, as time passed, each baby received their names. He tries to go out scavenging with them when a large bubble expands and pops near his boat. It sprays the basket, and some of it makes it inside.
One of the babies shakes violently, its finger crackling as the chemical turns it bubbly and inflamed. Fenrik is forced to cut it off and, after sealing it with a small magical flame from his fingertip, returns home.
With a dark and guilty expression, Fenrik stares at the baby still crying and shaking in his arms. His teeth crack, looking across at the Chemical Sea.
A small, red jade floats across the filmy surface, attracting Fenrik's attention. Setting the baby down, a weak magical wind pulls the tiny gem closer, and with a glove, he plucks it from the chemical waters.
He cleans it and locks it between threads as a necklace. Jade, the name of the little lady who lost her finger, and with a red jade now belonging to her.
The last child? Fenrik named him Lucky.
It would be several years before Fenrik returned to the Chemical Sea searching for relics. But with three children, his expeditions never went out as far as they did before. His solo adventures had come to an end.