The transition from the Processing Sector to the Residential District wasn't marked by a gate, but by a smell.
The industrial ozone and machine oil faded, replaced by the heavy, humid stench of unwashed bodies, frying synthetic meat, and open sewage.
Aryan kept his head down, the brim of his stolen cap pulled low. He walked with a slight limp—partly real, partly an act to sell the image of an exhausted maintenance worker ending a double shift.
He reached the Internal Checkpoint.
A bored drone hovered at eye level, its red scanner sweeping over the crowd of workers moving between sectors.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Aryan's heart hammered against his bruised ribs. If the system cross-referenced the ID card with bio-metrics, he was dead. If the drone noticed the bloodstains under the grease on his coveralls, he was dead.
He stepped forward. The red laser hit his chest, reading the stolen card clipped to his belt.
[ ID VERIFIED: WORKER 449-L ]
[ ACCESS: LEVEL 1 (MAINTENANCE) ]
[ STATUS: SHIFT ENDED ]
The drone buzzed and floated aside.
Aryan didn't exhale. He didn't smile. He just kept walking, matching the trudging pace of the laborers around him.
'See?' The King whispered, his voice sounding like a ghost in the back of Aryan's mind. 'Identity is fragile. You put on a card, you wear a uniform, and suddenly... you are someone else. Humans are easily programmed.'
Aryan ignored him. He stepped through the heavy plastic curtains and entered Sector-Z: The Dregs.
If the Outpost was a machine, this was the waste bin.
Thousands of metal shacks were stacked on top of each other like a chaotic favela, reaching up toward the colony's reinforced ceiling. Neon signs buzzed in Hindi, English, and Chinese, advertising cheap thrills: "1-HOUR SLEEP CAPSULE - 2 CREDITS", "DREAM-STIMS", "FRESH RAT-SKEWERS".
The noise was deafening. Music, shouting, crying, and the constant hum of the ventilation fans.
Aryan moved through the crowded alleyways. He saw F-Rank hunters selling damaged monster parts for pennies. He saw beggars with limbs missing—likely "crops" who had been rejected by the Farm but hadn't died yet.
He needed three things: Information, Money, and Sleep.
He had the stolen dagger, the Beast Core (too valuable to show here), the Codex, and the small vial of Blue Antidote he had looted from the skeleton in the cave.
"Credits first," Aryan muttered.
He couldn't use the dead worker's credits—that would leave a digital trail. He needed cash.
He found a small, grimy stall tucked between a noodle shop and a brothel. The sign read: "JUNK & SALVAGE - NO QUESTIONS."
The owner was a withered old man with a mechanical eye that whirred as it focused on Aryan.
"Buying or selling, grease-monkey?" the man rasped.
Aryan placed the small vial of blue liquid on the counter.
"Found it in a vent," Aryan said, keeping his voice rough. "Standard Colony Antidote. Seal is intact."
The man picked it up, squinting at the liquid. "Old packaging. Expired?"
"Potent," Aryan corrected. "Better than the watered-down trash the Guild sells."
The man sniffed it. He grunted. "50 Credits."
"It's worth 200," Aryan countered.
"50," the man repeated, tapping a rusted pistol on the counter. "Or you can drink it yourself."
Aryan looked at the pistol. Then at the man's neck.
'Taking it is free,' The King suggested efficiently. 'Stab the hand. Take the gun. Take the register.'
No, Aryan thought. Too much noise.
"60," Aryan said. "And you tell me where I can find a quiet place to sleep. Not a Guild hotel. Somewhere private."
The man stared at him for a second, then slid a dirty credit chip across the counter. "60. Go to 'The Hive' on Level 4. Ask for Mama K. Tell her the One-Eyed Rat sent you."
Aryan took the chip. [ +60 Credits ]
It wasn't much, but it was enough to vanish for a night.
He took the vial back? No, the man snatched the vial. Transaction complete.
Aryan walked deeper into the slums. He bought a hood to cover his face (10 Credits) and a bottle of clean water (5 Credits).
He reached The Hive.
It lived up to its name. It was a massive, honeycomb-like structure of rusted metal capsules. It smelled of disinfectant and old sweat.
Mama K was a large woman with four arms—likely a mutation or a cheap bio-mod. She took 20 Credits and gave him a keycard.
"Capsule 404," she grunted. "Funny number for a lost boy. No fighting. No screaming. If you die in your sleep, we keep your boots."
"Understood," Aryan said.
He found his capsule. It was barely a coffin. Just a mattress, a light, and a locking door.
He climbed in and locked the seal.
Clank.
Finally. Silence.
Aryan let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding for hours. He leaned his head against the cold metal wall.
He was safe? No. He was hidden.
He pulled out The Kingfall Codex.
Under the harsh light of the capsule, the leather looked even older. He flipped past the warning pages to the next entry.
Entry 4:
"The Markets are watched. The Guilds control the flow of Cores to keep F-Ranks weak. If you want to sell high-grade loot without being marked for 'harvest', do not go to the Guild Exchange. Go to the Grey-Walkers. Look for the sign of the Broken Scale."
Aryan memorized the symbol: A weighing scale with one side snapped off.
"The Broken Scale," he whispered. "That's my target for tomorrow."
He closed the book. His eyes were heavy. The exhaustion was pulling him under.
But sleeping here was dangerous.
"System," he whispered. "Wake me if the door seal is compromised."
[ ALARM SET ]
Aryan closed his eyes.
Immediately, the darkness wasn't empty.
He wasn't in the capsule anymore.
He was standing in a vast, empty throne room made of black obsidian. The ceiling was the cosmos, swirling with dying stars.
And on the throne, sitting casually with a leg crossed over the other, was a figure.
It looked like Aryan. But older. Scarred.
And wearing a crown that seemed to be bleeding.
The figure didn't speak. It just pointed a finger at Aryan.
And then, the floor beneath Aryan turned into a sea of blood.
"GASP!"
Aryan woke up violently, smashing his head against the capsule ceiling.
"Haah... haah..."
He touched his face. Cold sweat.
[ Control Stability: 89% ]
It hadn't dropped. But the nightmare was vivid. The King wasn't just a voice anymore. He was invading the subconscious.
Aryan looked at the time on the capsule's display.
06:00 AM.
He had slept for four hours.
Outside, the slums were waking up. He could hear the heavy thud of machinery starting. The "Farm" was opening for business.
Aryan sat up, his eyes cold and focused. The fear from the nightmare was gone, replaced by the logic of the day.
Today, he had to sell the Level 3 Beast Core.
Today, he had to buy power.
And today, he had to start building his own kingdom in the shadows.
He unlocked the capsule.
[ Quest: THE SHADOW MARKET ]
[ Objective: Locate the 'Broken Scale' Merchant ]
[ Difficulty: B-Rank ]
Aryan smirked, clutching the dagger in his belt.
"Time to go shopping."