The air was dry and thick with dust as Ely walked back toward the rundown block he called home. His bag clinked faintly with the weight of the scrap he'd just traded to Garran. A good day, all things considered—ten thousand Zentals heavier in his pouch and the warm afterglow of Garran's grunted approval still fresh in his thoughts.
But his peace didn't last. Just as he turned onto the narrow passage of Kervel Street, he heard it—shouts, a scuffle, the unmistakable thud of a body hitting metal.
Ely's steps slowed.
He edged forward, slipping between two half-collapsed stalls, and peered around the corner. Three men, all clad in patchy leather jackets with crimson stitching, stood in a loose triangle. A small boy—couldn't be older than ten—was huddled behind a broken bin, bruises fresh across his cheek. Another child, a girl with tangled hair and a torn shirt, was pinned to the wall, trembling as one of the men shouted threats in her face.
West Road Gang.
Ely recognized their insignia immediately: a red flame stitched crudely onto their sleeves. They were one of the major gangs in the Lower Sector, known for brutal recruitment methods and rumored child trafficking. His jaw tightened.
The gangs ran the Lower Sector in shadows and alleys. The West Road Gang ruled with fear and muscle, often abducting children and forcing them into servitude. The Ash Claw were known for their secrecy—information brokers, extortionists, blackmailers—dangerous in their own silent way. Then there was Black Ember, a tech-theft syndicate that dealt in illegal cybernetics and hacked military gear. The last major group was the Dawn Rats, smaller but different. More lenient, some even said they protected their neighborhood from the worst of the other gangs. Ely had never trusted any of them, but he knew survival often depended on picking the lesser evil.
His mind flashed back to something Kex had said just a week ago: "The West Road Gang's been snatching more kids lately. Real quiet-like. It's getting worse."
Ely clenched his fists. This wasn't his fight. He had bigger plans. He couldn't afford to get caught up in random street trouble—not now. Not with his path to the army slowly taking shape.
But then the boy let out a short, pained cry.
Ely sighed.
"Dammit, Kex," he muttered. "You just had to be right."
He stepped into the alley, hands loose at his sides, calm but confident.
"Let them go."
The gang members turned. One of them—a lanky man with a jagged scar running from his temple to his jaw—grinned. "Well, look who it is. Little Ely Zoan. Haven't seen you bleed in a while."
"Still looking for your balls, Scar?" Ely shot back calmly. "Might want to check under all that attitude."
The other two gang members chuckled, but they were circling now.
"You sure you want to play hero, Zoan?" Scar's tone dipped. "This ain't your business."
Ely glanced at the girl, still pressed to the wall. Her eyes locked with his—terrified, but hopeful.
He took a step forward. "You're in my sector. That makes it my business."
Scar didn't wait. He lunged first, a pipe swinging toward Ely's ribs.
Ely moved like wind. Smooth, fast, precise. No formal martial arts training, no fancy moves—just instinct honed from years of surviving the streets. He ducked, twisted, and drove his elbow into Scar's gut. The man staggered. Ely followed up with a knee to the face.
Another thug came in from behind. Ely spun and caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting until something cracked. The man screamed and dropped. The third tried to tackle him, but Ely shifted his weight, grabbing the man's shoulder and flipping him over his hip onto the broken pavement.
It was over in seconds.
Scar groaned on the ground, blood trickling from his nose. Ely looked at them, his green eyes cold.
"If I catch you grabbing kids again, I won't stop at a few broken bones."
He turned to the children. "Go. Now."
They didn't hesitate. They ran down the alley, disappearing into the smoke and shadows.
Ely stood there for a moment, breathing slowly. His fists still trembled—not from fear, but from the adrenaline of battle. He didn't enjoy fighting, but he never ran.
As he resumed his walk home, his mind whirled with the idea that had begun forming during the fight.
"What if I leave in secret?" he thought. "Let the army pull me out without drawing attention. But only if I can get Kex and Nora under Garran's care… or maybe the Dawn Rats. They'd be safer, at least."
He knew the streets. He knew the gangs. If he was going to leave them behind, he had to leave a shield behind too.
The stars above glittered faintly between the smoke clouds.
One step closer, Ely thought. One step closer to the stars.