Asher sauntered through the slums in a red cloak, hood covering his dark eyes, alongside Zya Freymond who walked a trifle slower, in preparation for an ambush or overt assault. After all, she had overheard the malicious words of many dwellers concerning the infamous spawn.
The slums had many structures packed closely together: every centimetre of land was significant. The majority of the houses were made of wood and very loosely put together. If there were storms, not a single structure would linger.
But, of course, there were no storms possible within this dungeon.
There were thousands of people in the slums. Which was why it was crucial that upward expansion was possible for many properties. The few stone structures were inhabited houses that also served as foundations for wooden houses built atop.
This innovation led to tall, embryonic buildings, that were deemed promising in maximising the little expanse of this dungeon floor, though unstable. Additionally, this accommodated the dense population.
Almost every corner, around every turn, there was someone, doing something.
Overpopulation was a monumental, socioeconomic issue here even though the average lifespan was of merely twenty-nine years. Twenty-nine was considered old and certainly looked old, given that The Void accelerated the ageing of every living thing and this issue was increasingly exacerbated as it continued to rise from Floor 907.
Overpopulation was seen as the only viable solution to potential extinction. The people did not want to die out. They wanted to increase their odds of survival. They wanted to increase the efforts at ascension.
However, the one group responsible for ascension movements was often frowned upon. No other thing bred more controversy than The Conqueror's Regime.
It is a money-grab, they're dictators, they're bullies, they're murderers, they're devils, they don't care for our people: some things said about the Conqueror's Regime and its members at Level 906.
That was why countless eyes were fixed on Asher in the red cloak and Zya who wore none but was still easily recognized. Most stares were brimmed with hatred, few were driven by hope. Hope at the sight of the red cloak.
"There are so many people," Asher said as they paced through the town.
"Yes, I know …" Zya said. "Keep moving, don't draw attention to yourself.
"I don't think red is helping," Asher said.
"That's fine," Zya said softly, "there's a slim chance you'd be viewed as a Conqueror however … especially if we happen to encounter one. Everyone knows the Conquerors."
Asher watched as people stared at Zya instead of him. "I take it that you're quite popular as well."
"Not as popular as you are," she said, "I'm new to the regime. However, I've made myself a bit infamous prior to my recruitment. So you're not wrong."
"Right."
"Come on, it's on this left."
Zya took a left and Asher pursued. They threaded through two close homes, walked past a staring man who did not want to move out of their path, and stopped in front of a two-storey building.
The building had a front balcony, and quite surprisingly, glass: something only the luxurious had. Although the house had two floors, the base house was not made of concrete but rather sturdy polished wood to curb rotting.
"Right here, Asher," Zya said, "we've made it. Now," she smirked, "how skillful are you at climbing?"
Asher grimaced. "Climbing?"
"Ahh," Zya said, "I doubt a newborn could climb. Come on, then, I will give you a lift up." She cupped her hands and bent her back, facing Asher.
Asher walked toward her, put his bare foot into her cupped hands, and used her shoulders as support to his hands to reach the balcony railing. He clambered up the railing and dusted off his hands, slowly looking ahead through an opened door.
Through the door, a boy walked into sight and froze in his tracks.
Asher waved. "Hey."
The boy quickly ran toward a table, picked up his bow and arrow and made his way back to the door, with aim set at Asher. "Daren't move, spawn!"
Asher raised both hands. "I … come in peace."
"Your trickery won't fool me again," he pulled the arrow back harder against the string, "the others will get here once we make a commotion. You won't get away with whatever you schemed!" He's here to kill me after I tried to kill him at the void pool — I shouldn't have volunteered to protect the captain! he thought.
Asher took a step forward. "Hey, I'm not here to—"
The boy released the string and the arrow pitched through the air with great force and stuck into Asher's shoulder.
Asher groaned, throwing his body to the right of the door, out of the boy's reach.
The boy pulled a next arrow from his quiver, pulled his string harder than before, moving to the left of the door while still inside the house, where he could Asher see around the corner.
He furrowed his brows and released the arrow. Zya slid in front of the arrow's trajectory. She slashed her sword. The arrow split into two and fell on the floor with a soft smack.
"Zya?" The boy grimaced.
"Sal, if that as much as grazed me, I was going to cut you," Zya said, her sword shrieking as she slid it back into the scabbard at her side.
"What's going on?" Sal lowered his bow and arrow.
"Put that thing away," Zya moved toward Asher, clutching a hand to the arrow that protruded from his shoulder.
Asher winced. "No—"
Zya yanked the arrow out.
Asher groaned.
"Come on, Sal. You need to stop shooting at us. Learn how to use your shit."
"If he knew how to shoot better," Asher applied pressure to his shoulder, "the arrow might've not only gone deeper but it probably would have ended up in my head too."
"The spawn, Zya," Sal said, "you stole it, didn't you?"
"Yeah, Sal, I stole it. I just ran right in and took it from the doctor because the regime's definitely going to let me get away with that," Zya said, dropping the arrow in her hand.
"Zya!" Sal snapped. "You're taking it back to the Doctor right this instant!"
"Gods, Sal, don't you pick up on sarcasm" she said, "the doctor released him."
"It is not safe," Sal said, "the Doctor wouldn't dare."
"Exactly," Zya said, "if he were dangerous, the doctor would have him caged by now."
"He told me that I have no discernible darkness in my body," Asher said, "whatever that means."
"Everyone has a little in them," Sal said. "That's simply hogwash. Zya, do you believe this? I took you for smart. The spawn is deceiving you."
"What spawn would follow me to your place, speak of hunger, ask countless questions, and try to reason with people?" Zya facepalmed.
"None to date."
"None," Zya said. "If he was what you think he is, we'd be screaming for help by now. He's no abomination, Sal. We're supposed to be wishing we knew how to channel The Void to use it against him but instead we're here, listening as he yaps his gum."
Sal looked at Asher. He narrowed his eyes. This is a terrible mistake … trusting the very thing that has us in ruins, he thought. Zya must be simply out of her mind. What's she gaining from this?
"Are you not inviting us in, Sal?" Zya said, looking at Sal who did not take his eyes off Asher.
Sal scoffed. If only he didn't look so damned human, I would have killed him by now! He thought, a temple pulsing at his temple. "You must be truly crazy to think I'd let that enter my house."
Zya frowned. "Sal …." she dragged her voice.
"I don't … I don't mind staying outside here," Asher said, leaning against the balcony.
Sal glared at him. "Let not evil past your doorstep . The Satharian words of Sky."
"You told me you're not very religious," Zya said, walking into Sal's house.
Sal finally took his eyes off Asher, and turned to the door. He walked inside after Zya, closing the door behind him.
The room was nothing special. A bed, a chair, and a table. But there were items that rendered Sal's residence above par: a mirror, which was a very unusual belonging of the impoverished, a mattress of wool rather than wood splinters or straw, and shelves of books, which was peculiar as many were more concerned with survival than education.
"Closing that door was unnecessary," Zya pressed her lips together in a fine line.
"How else am I going to gossip about your beastly friend?" Sal said. "I think you're making a horrible mistake, Zya."
"I am not, Sal," Zya said, "We're wasting precious time here, Sal. You're beginning to piss me off, Sal!"
"If the spawn—"
"Asher," Zya furrowed his brows.
Sal cleared his throat. "If the spawn is—"
"Asher is." She narrowed her eyes at him.
"If seen with him … we, as conquerors — we'll be poorly judged," Sal said. "Horribly judged. Given your already subpar reputation, I doubt it'll withstand another blow. They'd throw your arse out of the regime."
"I'll protect Asher," Zya said. "And since I take this role, no one will hurt him before getting through me."
Sal sighed. He knew the people of this floor were ruthless. To him, Zya was naught but a novice in the likes of many Conquerors. She was just always so optimistic. So … stubborn.
"I will mostly exclude myself from your absurdity," Sal started toward a flight of stairs. "But it … it doesn't mean I won't keep an eye on you two."
"Where are you going?"
He started down a flight of stairs. "Heard a few grumbles from your pet's stomach."
Zya watched on in thought. To her, Sal had all the reason to be apprehensive of anything that related to the Void. That is why she admired his bravery — his decision to fight against it. His decision to be a Conqueror. She smiled as he disappeared into the walls after the steps.