After my parents died, my life didn't just drift off course—it went into a freefall.
The government tried to push me onto some relatives, but no one wanted a "burden." The excuses were always the same: "It's too hard to raise a kid right now." "We're already struggling."
So, they sent me to the only place left for the unwanted: Sector-19 Slum Colony.
Behind the shimmering neon skylines of Earth 99X exist thousands of these dark corners. Places where the glow of technology never reaches. Places where the AI police rarely venture. In Sector-19, there is only one rule that matters: Survive.
Heroes don't come here. Saviors don't look our way. In the slums, only two types of people survive—the strong and the ruthless.
I was neither. I was just a weak, broken boy.
The Law of the Gutters
The first few months were pure hell. The older gang boys made me their daily target. They'd steal my food. They'd beat me for no reason. Sometimes, they did it just for the entertainment.
I remember one afternoon vividly. They snatched my meager meal and threw it directly into the gutter. Then, they leaned in close and whispered:
"Pick it up... and eat."
I was starving. I hadn't eaten in three days. That was the day I learned a fundamental truth: In this world, respect isn't given. It has to be snatched.
But even then, I didn't become strong. I just cracked a little more on the inside.
The Myth of the Godblessed
People in Sector-19 talked about the Godblessed constantly. They were the elite—the ones chosen by the gods.
Occasionally, a Godblessed fighter would pass near the slum. They wore pristine clothes and carried gleaming weapons, followed by their loyal guild members. The neighborhood kids would stare in awe, calling them "heroes."
But I noticed something they didn't. Those "heroes" never stepped inside the slum. They never looked at us. To them, we didn't even exist. I realized then that heroes are a luxury for the rich sectors. For the slums? There is only silence.
The Night the Shadows Smiled
Everything changed on a night like any other. I was sitting near a crumbling building, my stomach aching from hunger and my body bruised from another "lesson" by the gangs. My mind held only one repetitive thought: I wish I was strong.
Suddenly, a deafening alarm tore through the air. Emergency sirens wailed, and the streets were bathed in the rhythmic pulse of red warning lights.
"ASURA ATTACK!" Panic erupted. People screamed, doors slammed shut, and feet pounded against the pavement. I tried to run too, but then I saw it.
A massive shadow detached itself from the darkness. A monster. Its skin was pitch-black, its eyes burned a demonic red, and its smile… it wasn't human. It was a Rakshasa.
The crowd froze in terror. Within seconds, the creature had slaughtered three people. Blood stained the asphalt, spreading like a dark shroud. I wanted to move, to scream, to hide—but my body was paralyzed.
The Rakshasa turned its gaze toward me. It began to walk, slow and deliberate, with a twisted excitement in its eyes. It had already decided: I was its next meal.
This is it, I thought. This is how I end.
And then, the air in front of me began to shimmer.
A black screen appeared out of thin air. An interface, like an invisible system sparking to life. On that screen, a single line of text flickered into existence:
SYSTEM INITIALIZING…
I didn't know it then, but my life was no longer mine. Something ancient, something incredibly dangerous, was watching me from the void.