The transition from "Divine Prisoner" to "Homeless Immigrant" happened faster than I could blink.
The guards didn't walk me out; they practically threw me out. I tumbled through a glowing energy-gate and landed face-first on a pavement that was definitely not made of shimmering marble. This ground was cracked, stained with something purple, and vibrated with the constant hum of a thousand machines.
"Thirty cycles, Human!" one of the guards yelled as the gate hissed shut behind me. "Try not to get eaten before the first one ends. It'll save us the paperwork!"
I scrambled to my feet, dusting off my torn school blazer. "Yeah? Well, your palace has terrible room service anyway!" I shouted back at the blank wall.
My bravado lasted exactly three seconds. Then I turned around and saw where I was.
If the Ordeal of Justice was the penthouse of the universe, this was the basement. I was standing in the Lower Districts. The sky above wasn't gold anymore—it was a bruised shade of neon violet, choked with smog and the criss-crossing shadows of massive pipes.
Giant holographic signs hovered over narrow alleyways, screaming in a dozen different languages. The "Heroic" people I saw earlier were gone. Here, the people wore rusted armor, ragged cloaks, and expressions that said they'd sell their own mother for a drop of Pulse-energy.
I checked my pocket. The broken mirror was still there, but it felt cold now, as if it had exhausted itself in the courtroom.
Growl.
My stomach let out a sound like a dying engine. I hadn't eaten since... actually, I couldn't remember the last time I had a full meal in Tokyo. But the hunger here felt different. It felt sharper.
I started walking, trying to look like I knew where I was going. Every being I passed—from four-armed thugs to small, rodent-like creatures in mechanical suits—stopped to look at the glowing bar above my head.
[ STATUS: TRASH ]
[ TIME REMAINING: 29 CYCLES, 23 HOURS ]
"Hey, look at that," a raspy voice chuckled from a dark corner. "A fresh Null. And a human, too. Rare meat."
I stiffened, my heart racing. I needed to find a way to hide that 'Trash' tag, and I needed to find it fast. I ducked into a side street, hoping to find a place to hide, but I walked straight into a wall of muscle.
Actually, it wasn't a wall. It was a person. Or at least, it had two legs. It was a girl, about my age, wearing a vest covered in pockets and goggles pushed up onto a mess of oil-stained hair. She was currently hovering over a pile of scrap metal, holding a wrench that looked like it could crack a skull.
"Watch it, Null," she snapped without looking up. "Unless you want to be spare parts for this generator."
I stepped back, raising my hands. "Sorry! I'm just... new. Really new."
She finally looked at me, her eyes narrowing behind her goggles. She looked at my status bar, then at my dirty sneakers.
"New? You're a miracle," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're that kid from the Ordeal. The one Maga stood up for."
She stood up, wiping grease on her pants. "I'm Kael. And if you want to survive your first hour in the Slums, you'd better come with me. The 'Collectors' are already sniffing your trail."
I followed Kael through a maze of steam-filled alleys until we reached a heavy iron door. Inside, the place was a tavern, but it looked more like a junkyard with a bar. It was filled with beings of all shapes—some with extra limbs, others with skin like rusted iron—all sitting around eating, laughing, and talking.
The moment I stepped in, the noise died down. Then, the gawking started. It wasn't pity I saw in their eyes; it was mockery. The dream of Aethryx was fading fast, replaced by a cold, hard reality.
I sat at a corner table, trying to shrink into my seat. An old man at the next table, with a long white beard and mustaches that reached his chest, leaned over. He smelled like ozone and old beer.
"We heard your ass is about to be beaten, Human," he wheezed.
The whole tavern erupted in laughter.
"I still have thirty days," I snapped, my face heating up. "I can prove myself."
For a second, the room went silent. Then, they burst into even louder laughter, some of them slapping the tables.
"What can a loser like you do here?" the old man asked, wiping a tear from his eye. "We've been here for thousands of years, kid. We've fought, bled, and scavenged, and we're still stuck in the dirt. What makes a 'Trash' like you think he can climb the Star-Floors?"
Kael arrived then, sliding a dish in front of me. I wasn't sure what it was—it looked like glowing blue moss mixed with something that was still twitching—but I was too hungry to care. I ate it. I promised myself right then that I would never, ever talk about the taste again.
Kael sat across from me, watching me struggle with the food. "You want to live, right?"
I nodded vigorously. Well, who doesn't want to live? I thought.
"Then you need a team," Kael said, leaning in.
"A team?" I questioned, my mouth still half-full of blue moss.
"Yeah. Alone, these guys will eat you raw. You need people to depend on so you can power up. In Aethryx, your 'Value' grows faster when you share the load of the grind."
I looked at her, suspicious. "And why are you helping me? Do you have a soft spot for 'Trash' humans?"
Kael let out a sharp, dry laugh. "Heh. Don't flatter yourself, Null. Nobody here does anything for free. I'm helping you because I want something in return."
She tapped her wrench against the table. "I want the Sword of Nartha. It's a legendary blade that appears as a reward once a human reaches Level 10 and completes the first trial. The metal it's made of is incredibly rare—valuable enough to get me out of this dump forever."
She grinned, but her eyes remained cold. "I'm an engineer. I need that metal. So, I'm going to help you level up just so I can get my hands on that sword. How you survive the leveling part? Well... that's on you."
I looked at the "Trash" bar floating above my head. It felt heavier than before. "So I'm an investment?"
"Exactly," Kael said, standing up. "And since you're currently worth zero, we have a lot of work to do. Finish your moss. Tomorrow, we go to the Pit."
I looked down at my empty plate. I came here looking for a miracle, and I found a mechanic who wanted to use me as a loot-farmer.
Fine, I thought, gripping the broken mirror in my pocket. If being an 'investment' keeps me alive for thirty days, I'll be the best damn investment she's ever made.