Genetic Awakening: My Genes Evolve Infinitely!

Chapter 192: Expedition Preparation

The inspection took most of the morning. By the end, Rohan’s pack had been transformed into something compact, balanced, and, according to Maerin, "less likely to betray you."

He was not sure packs could betray people.

Then he remembered the world he was on and decided not to challenge the concept.

On the fifth evening, Veska gathered the expedition team in a small room near the eastern wall to explain the storm readings.

Veska was old enough that no one seemed willing to guess her age aloud. Her hair was white, her skin dark and creased, and her eyes had a faint milky sheen that made Rohan wonder how well she saw ordinary things. Yet when she looked at the sky, everyone listened.

She spread several thin metal plates across the table. Each was marked with scratches, ash stains, and small embedded chips of silver.

"The eastern route will be ugly but passable," she said.

Rohan waited for someone to ask what ugly meant.

No one did.

He raised a hand slightly.

Veska looked at him.

"Yes, ash-child?"

Rohan blinked.

Liora coughed into her scarf.

"Ash-child?"

"You are young, strange, and always covered in ash. Do not distract me."

"I wanted to know what ugly means in this context."

"It means the sky will not kill us immediately, the ground will only attempt it in familiar ways, and the wind will be rude."

Rohan nodded slowly.

"I regret asking."

"You should. Now listen."

Veska pointed to the first plate.

"A mild skyglass pulse passed three nights ago, which means the northern air is still charged. That should draw stormlings away from the lower eastern flats, but it may wake glassmaws along the old hull ridges. The ash tide cycle is uneven. We may see a shallow tide on the second day, possibly third if the wind stalls. If the lower clouds turn green, we shelter immediately. If they turn white, we cover all exposed metal. If they turn black and stop moving, we run to the nearest hardstone and pray to whatever still listens."

Rohan looked at Maerin.

"She says these things so calmly."

Maerin did not look amused. "That is because panic does not improve weather."

Veska slapped the table with a thin pointer.

"I am not finished. The wreck field has been restless. I saw three silver returns from the old ribs last month."

Jorren’s expression darkened.

Liora shifted in her seat.

Rohan leaned forward. "What is a silver return?"

Veska looked at him for a long moment.

"It is when old ship metal remembers lightning."

"That is poetic but not clear."

"It means energy moves through buried wreckage when the sky pulses. Sometimes it flashes harmlessly. Sometimes it wakes dead machines. Sometimes it cooks anyone standing on the wrong plate."

Rohan sat back.

"That was clearer. Horrible, but clearer."

"We will not enter the central wreck field," Maerin said, addressing the whole team but clearly including him. "The expedition route takes us along the southern debris edge only. We mark salvage, collect what is safe, and continue to the furnace salt flats. No one wanders. No one follows lights. No one opens sealed compartments. If you hear voices from inside the wreckage, you report it immediately and do not answer."

Rohan stared at her.

Several people avoided his eyes.

"You all cannot keep saying things like that and expecting me to remain calm," he said.

Liora’s voice was gentle this time. "The old wreck does strange things. Some are mechanical. Some are environmental. Some are harder to explain. People who answer voices tend not to come back as themselves, if they come back at all."

Rohan looked down at the map plates.

The old wreck field suddenly felt less like an opportunity and more like a grave that had learned tricks.

Still, he could not stop his curiosity.

The ship was the origin of all this. The first disaster. The first cage. Somewhere under centuries of ash and salvage, there might be records that explained how humans had crossed into this star system, what they had been carrying, why the ship crashed, and whether the merchants knew more than they claimed.

He needed that information.

But for the first time, he understood Maerin’s warning more fully.

Wanting answers did not make the place less dangerous.

The sixth day arrived under a low violet sky and thin silver clouds.

Veyrhold gathered before dawn.

Not all of it, but enough that the eastern gate felt crowded. Families stood along the inner wall with wrapped bundles and farewell cups. Children hovered behind adults, trying to look brave and failing in different ways. The expedition packs were lined near the gate, each marked with return charms, tally tags, and ash-house seals.

Rohan stood slightly apart while Maerin gave final instructions to the shield hands.

He wore Veyrhold ash-cloth over his usual repaired clothing, layered tight at the wrists and throat.

Iri’s stabilising wrap circled his left forearm beneath the sleeve. Pell’s return charm hung from his belt pouch, its tiny rings clicking softly whenever he moved. Hestia’s spear rested against his shoulder, dark and clean, its blade catching faint silver light from the gate lenses.

He had thought he would feel restless.

Instead, he felt heavy.

Not afraid, though fear was there. Fear had become a practical companion over the last four months, unpleasant but useful when kept on a leash. What weighed on him now was the sight of people saying goodbye without calling it goodbye.

Veyrhold did not dramatise departures.

No one wailed at the gate. No one clung to hunters and begged them not to go. That would have been cruel. Everyone knew the expedition was necessary. Everyone knew fear could follow someone beyond the walls if given too much shape.

So they gave food.

They adjusted straps.

They touched foreheads briefly.

They said ordinary things with extraordinary care.

"Do not forget to tighten your mask before the second ridge."

"Bring back furnace salt if the flats are safe."

"Tell Veska not to pretend she can carry her own pack if her knee locks."

"Come back hungry."

That last one appeared often.

Come back hungry.

It meant come back alive enough to eat.