The moment Sohan stepped outside, reality hit him harder than any memory.
The air was a thick, suffocating weight heavy with dust, acrid smoke, and a sharp metallic tang he couldn't quite identify. Above, the sky was a bruised, dull grey, almost entirely obscured by towering structures of rusted steel and patched metal that seemed to be stacked endlessly upon one another.
This wasn't just poverty. This was survival stripped down to its most skeletal form.
Narrow alleys branched out in every direction like a concrete labyrinth, barely wide enough for two grown men to pass shoulder-to-shoulder. Water dark and stagnant dripped from rusted pipes overhead, and exposed wires hissed occasionally, sending sparks into the gloom.
People moved through the haze like shadows: thin, tired, and hollowed out by the city. No one laughed. No one smiled. Every pair of eyes that met his was sharp with suspicion, watching for a weakness to exploit.
Sohan stepped forward, his weak legs trembling as they adjusted to the unfamiliar weight of this new body.
So this is how he lived…
The boy's memories surfaced in jagged fragments. No parents. No home worth the name. No protection. Just a cycle of scavenged scraps, dangerous odd jobs, and a constant, low level hum of fear that never truly left the back of his throat.
"Oi. You're still alive?"
A rough, gravelly voice shattered his focus. Sohan turned to see a bulky man leaning against a crumbling wall, chewing on something with lazy indifference. His eyes were cold and calculating.
"I thought you'd die yesterday," the man said, a smirk playing on his lips. "Would've made things easier."
Sohan didn't reply immediately. He simply observed, his mind working behind a mask of calm.
"Lost your tongue? Or just scared?" the man challenged, stepping into the light.
"Neither," Sohan said. His voice was quiet, but steady.
The man's smirk widened into a grin. "Not bad. At least you've got some spirit left in those bones. Name's Kadar. I run things around here."
Sohan didn't need a further explanation. He knew the type Kadar was the king of this particular corner of the dirt, the one who decided who ate and who starved.
Kadar's gaze swept over him like a merchant inspecting damaged goods. "You owe for staying here. Nothing's free in the slums."
"I don't have anything," Sohan replied.
"Then you work."
"For what?"
Kadar chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "Food. Water. And maybe I let you keep breathing. There's a scrap run today. Go with them. Bring back something useful, and you eat."
Refusal wasn't an option. Not yet.
A group of five men gathered at the end of the alley. They were older and broader than Sohan, their faces mapped with the scars of a violent life. One of them glanced at Sohan and scoffed, spitting into the dirt. "He's coming? He'll just slow us down."
"Then leave him behind if he can't keep up," Kadar replied, already turning away.
The group set out into the deeper sections of the slums, where the world became even more broken. They passed collapsed buildings and burned-out husks of machinery. Sohan could feel eyes watching them from the shadows predators waiting for one of them to stumble.
This place… even before the Sanctuaries, it's already a battlefield.
After nearly an hour of trekking through the debris, they reached a partially destroyed warehouse. "This is it," the leader grunted. "Search for old tech, copper, components. Anything with value. Don't be picky."
Sohan entered cautiously, his heart hammering against his ribs. The building creaked with every step, and thick dust coated everything. He picked through the rubble, his stomach tightening with a hunger that felt less like discomfort and more like a physical wound.
Then, a faint glint caught his eye near a collapsed partition. Sohan moved toward it, brushing aside heavy debris until he found a small metallic device. It was damaged, but the internal components looked intact.
"Oi! What did you find?"
One of the men had noticed. Before Sohan could react, the man stepped over and snatched the device from his hand.
"Scrap," Sohan said, his grip tightening for a split second before he let go.
The man inspected it and smirked. "Hm. Not bad. I'll be taking this."
Sohan said nothing. He didn't accept the theft, but he understood the cold logic of the slums. He was too weak to fight back for now.
"Next time, be faster," the man added casually, pocketing the find.
By the time they returned, the sun a pale, sickly orb was fading behind the pollution. Kadar was waiting.
"Well?"
The others handed over their hauls. When it was Sohan's turn, he stood empty-handed.
"Nothing?" Kadar asked, raising an eyebrow.
"He found something," one of the scavengers laughed. "But he lost it."
Kadar looked at Sohan for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he tossed a small piece of dry, stale bread at Sohan's feet. "Take it. You worked barely. Don't expect kindness twice."
Sohan picked up the bread. It was hard and tasted like dust, but it was fuel. He returned to his room in silence, sitting on the floor as he stared at the remaining crust.
"This world…" He took a bite, his jaw tight. "…is worse than I imagined."
But as the distant sirens echoed through the night, he remembered the true path to power. The Sanctuaries. The gateways to evolution.
His eyes hardened, reflecting the dim light of the city.
"To survive here is luck," he whispered to the shadows. "To rise… requires power."