Planet Velmora, a world of metal skies and dying light, revolved around cities that scraped the edges of clouds. Among them, the megacity of Nexora stood tallest. It glittered with ambition, authority, and wealth, a vertical empire where the elite floated above and the forgotten drowned below.
In the highest districts, marble balconies overlooked holographic gardens. In the depths, however, the slums—known as "The Nest"—were stacked with rusted steel, synthetic waste, and broken people. There were no birds in The Nest. Only ghosts in flesh.
Auron Vell stepped around a leaking coolant pipe, pulling his soaked delivery uniform tight against his body. His boots, scavenged from a recycling bin, squished with every step. Rain poured from broken gutters, carrying garbage down the narrow alley. Above him, hover-billboards hummed with flickering ads: "Upgrade Your Genetics Today!" and "Success Is Only a Class Away."
Auron didn't look up. His eyes stayed on the street, watching for open grates and stray rats. The delivery bag on his back held only emptiness now. The last package had been dropped off ten blocks back—no tip, no thanks, just a door slammed in his face. Still, he was lucky to have work. Most slumborn didn't.
He reached the crumbling stairwell leading to home. Climbing it was like ascending the ribs of a dead titan. Each step groaned beneath his weight. He reached the fourth floor and tapped a rusted panel beside a door made of scrap metal and plastic sheets. It hissed open with a reluctant creak.
A blur of motion and warmth collided with him.
"Brother!"
Riva, his seven-year-old sister, wrapped her thin arms around him. Her breathing mask clicked softly with each breath. Wires ran from the mask to a cracked battery unit strapped to her waist. She wore a secondhand sweater two sizes too big and socks patched with string.
Auron smiled and hugged her back. Her warmth cut through the cold like sunlight. "I'm home," he whispered.
"You're late. I waited!"
"Sorry, Riva. Got stuck at the checkpoint. The drones were scanning everyone again."
She pulled him inside. The single-room shelter barely had space to stretch. A mattress on the floor, a small foldable table, and a dented heater were all they owned. In one corner, their mother stirred something in a metal pot over a blue flame. Her hair was tied back, her face thin, eyes red from lack of sleep.
"Welcome back, Auron," she said without turning. "There's soup."
"Thanks, Ma."
He sat down beside Riva, who held up a wrinkled drawing. "Look! I made our dream house. It has five rooms and a roof garden!"
Auron took the paper gently. Stick figures stood under a bright yellow sun, beside a tall house with flowers drawn in shaky lines. He swallowed the knot in his throat. "It's beautiful."
He ate in silence while Riva talked about her day—about the old android downstairs who told her jokes, about the birds she imagined seeing from storybooks. The soup was watery and flavorless, but he finished every drop.
Later, after tucking Riva into bed and helping his mother set up the air filter for the night, Auron climbed to the roof.
The air was thick with pollution. Distant sirens echoed across the district. Above, the elite towers sparkled like frozen lightning. He could see the dome lights from the central bank district, where billionaires lived in gravity-stabilized mansions and drank purified wine, with accounts stacked in trillions of dollars.
He took off his watch and stared at the blank screen. It was dead, like everything else he owned.
"Why was I born down here?" he murmured.
"What did we do wrong?"
A gust of wind carried the scent of ozone and burnt plastic. Somewhere, a generator exploded and alarms went off. Nothing unusual.
Then, without warning, his watch sparked. A flicker of blue light danced across the broken screen. He blinked and sat up.
A ripple shimmered in the air above his wrist. Then, from nothing, a floating screen appeared. Transparent, glowing, humming with energy.
Words formed in midair:
Initializing...
Host identified: Auron Vell Slumborn Status: Confirmed Emotional Drive: Protective Personality: High Resilience, Moral Core Stable Welcome to: Sovereign Protocol System v1.0
Auron stared, frozen. "What... what is this?"
The screen pulsed.
You seek change. The system answers. Your directive has been set. Protect: Riva Vell Status: Sister. Age 7. Medical condition: Critical. Prognosis: 11 months.
His heart twisted. The system even knew that.
A new line appeared:
Initiating First Opportunity...
Objective: Confront Zarik Reman (Sector Academy). Deliver one public strike. Location: Cafeteria Courtyard. Reward: $25,000 | Physical Enhancement I | System Access Tier 1
Zarik.
That name alone boiled Auron's blood.
Zarik was a first-class student from the Upper Zone. The son of an administrator. Wealthy, arrogant, untouchable. Last month, he had humiliated Auron in front of half the class, calling Riva a "street rat parasite." Teachers did nothing. No one dared.
And now… this?
Auron looked at the glowing panel, then down at his fists. They trembled.
He turned his gaze toward the street below, to the lines of dying buildings and flickering lights.
Then he looked back to the room beneath him—where his sister slept, lungs rattling softly with every breath.
He didn't know if this system was real. He didn't understand where it came from.
But he knew one thing.
This was a door.
And he was ready to walk through it.
He reached forward and pressed his hand to the screen.
The interface absorbed into his palm, vanishing like mist. A current of energy surged through his body, subtle but electric.
Auron stood up. Taller, somehow. Steadier.
He looked up at the towers.
"You spit on people like me," he whispered. "You ignored us, broke us. But I'm done waiting."
A gust of wind caught the torn edge of his jacket as he turned.
"This time, I rise."