"Huff… huff…" Zen's breath came in ragged gasps as his bare feet slapped against the cracked and grimy pavement of the slum's back alley. The stench of rot and dampness clung to the air, but he barely noticed—it was just another day in the life of a boy from the gutter.
"Fuckers!" Zen spat over his shoulder, his voice laced with both annoyance and amusement. "Why are you chasing me like your goddamn life depends on it?!"
His heart pounded in rhythm with his sprint, adrenaline coursing through him like a shot of cheap liquor.
"If you wanna fight me," he shouted, ducking under a low-hanging clothesline, "at least do it one-on-one like civilized people! But nooo, y'all gotta gang up on a weak guy like me. huh?"
Despite the words, a mischievous grin curled at the corner of Zen's mouth. Weak? Sure. He wasn't much of a fighter, but survival? That was his game. He didn't need fists when he had quick legs.
The sound of heavy boots and angry shouts echoed behind him. He veered sharply into another alley, leaping over a pile of trash bags and landing in a puddle that splashed up his ragged trousers.
"This all you got?!" he yelled back, taunting them even as his lungs screamed for air. "You're slower than my grandma, and she's been dead for years!"
Zen knew these streets better than anyone. Every corner, every shortcut, every hiding spot. If they thought they could catch him, they were in for a surprise.
Still, as he rounded another corner and heard the shouts closing in, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "Shit, maybe I shouldn't have spent that money…"
After several twists and turns, he darted into the bustling evening market. The air was thick with the mingling scents of fried snacks, roasted spices, and unwashed bodies. He slowed his pace, blending seamlessly into the chaotic crowd. With practiced ease, he maneuvered between vendors, ducking beneath hanging lanterns and avoiding suspicious glances. By the time he reached the far side of the market, the commotion behind him had died down. He allowed himself a moment to breathe.
Zen leaned back in the creaky chair, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his tattered shirt. The tea shop was as shabby as the rest of the slum—faded paint, uneven tables, and a roof patched with scraps of metal. But it was familiar, a quiet corner where no one asked too many questions.
"Wooo~ half-cut," Zen whistled to the old shopkeeper, his grin wide despite his earlier sprint. "Make it strong, yeah? I need to recover from my intense workout."
The shopkeeper grumbled something under his breath but shuffled off to prepare the tea. Zen chuckled, leaning back as if the weight of the world wasn't chasing him just moments ago.
Before he could fully relax, a voice broke the moment.
"What mess did you make this time?"
Zen glanced up and immediately recognized the figure dropping into the seat across from him. Dark, shoulder-length hair framed sharp black eyes that were currently glaring at him—it was Sia, his closest (and perhaps only) friend.
"Mess? Me?" Zen grinned, feigning shock. "Nah, just the usual jogging for good health. Gotta keep this body in peak condition, you know?"
Sia raised an eyebrow, folding her arms as she leaned forward. "Right. And this 'jogging' wouldn't have anything to do with Lugo's men chasing you through the slum, would it?"
Zen leaned forward, matching her expression with exaggerated seriousness. "Sia, I'm wounded by your lack of faith in me. Do you really think I'd involve myself with thugs like that?"
She didn't blink. "Yes."
"Fair." He leaned back again with a shrug, his grin returning. "But for the record, I didn't make a mess. I created… a small misunderstanding. See, they think I owe them money. And I think they should forgive and forget. It's all very philosophical, really."
Sia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're unbelievable. You're going to get yourself killed one of these days. And guess who's going to have to clean up the mess?"
The old shopkeeper clattered down a chipped cup of tea in front of Zen, interrupting their exchange. Zen raised it dramatically in mock toast. "To surviving another day in paradise!"
Zen raised an eyebrow, taking a casual sip of his tea. "So, what made you come here?" he asked, his voice light.
Sia leaned forward, her sharp black eyes fixed on him. "Well, I've got a job request, but I'm quite busy, so… do you want to go?"
Zen's grin widened as he set his cup down. "As long as it's not something shady," he replied, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion.
Sia scoffed. "Look who's talking." She crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. "It's a request from sector 9, Area 17. The job's simple—you just have to be a guide. They're transporting some stuff from Area 17 to Area 23 through the forest."
Zen blinked, momentarily confused. "Through the danger zone?" he asked, glancing up at her.
Sia shot him a deadpan look. "Why would you go to Area 23 through the danger zone? You can just take the old road near Zhilrm Forest—that's in the safe zone."
"And how much are they paying?" Zen asked, raising an eyebrow.
"1000 PR per day," Sia replied nonchalantly.
"1000 PR, huuuh..." Zen trailed off, his gaze turning distant as he mulled over the offer.
'By now those bastards must have broken into my house—or whatever shabby steel garbage that was—and stolen whatever leftovers I had and there's no money in my pocket right now' he thought grimly
Sia's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "If you don't want to go, I can give the job to someone else. At least they'd give me some share—"
"I'll go." Zen interrupted, cutting her off before she could finish. His grin returned, and he sat up straighter. "When do we leave?"
"What do you mean we? You're on your own," Sia said, her tone flat as she leaned back in her chair.
Zen glanced down at himself, taking in his pale skin, sweat-soaked black jacket, and trouser that looked like they'd lost a fight with a trash heap. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he looked at Sia. "Yeah, sure. I'll just stroll into the inner city. I'm sure the guards will greet me with smiles and a grand welcome. Maybe even roll out a red carpet while they're at it."
Sia smirked, fishing something out of her jacket pocket. "Relax, dumpass. Show them this." She handed him a card with a flick of her wrist.
Zen took it, flipping it over in his hand. "What is this? My ticket to inner city?"
"More like your pass to not get beaten to a pulp at the gate," Sia replied, standing up and brushing off her clothes. "Be there by 7 PM. Don't make me regret giving you this."
He gave her a mock salute. "Got it. See you at—"
"Nope." Sia cut him off. "You're on your own, remember?"
Zen raised an eyebrow, tucking the card into his pocket. "Wow, abandoning me already. Fine, see you whenever."
As he stood and turned to leave, he called out to the old shopkeeper. "old man! Add it to her tab, yeah?"
"What?!" Sia's voice rose sharply behind him "Fucker, pay it yourself!"
At 7 p.m., the evening had turned chilly as Zen stood outside the towering walls of Sector 7. After showing the card Sia had given him to the guards, they asked a few questions before letting him in. Rubbing his hands together for warmth, Zen stepped through the gates and into the city.
The city bustled with life, its streets lined with stalls selling sizzling creature meat, glowing stones, and rusted weapons. Merchants shouted over the hum of generators. The air was thick with smoke and the sharp tang of metal.
When Zen reached the location, a sprawling warehouse loomed ahead, its rusted metal walls streaked with grime and wear. Five vehicles sat parked nearby, their exteriors reinforced with mismatched armor and crude weapon mounts. Workers hurried about, loading crates into the jeeps.
"Hey, boy, where to?" a sturdy guard in a greenish-yellow uniform called out, his brows raiseed.
"Here, as a guide," Zen replied, holding up the card Sia had given him.
The guard glanced at the card and nodded. "Alright, wait there till the young miss arrives," he said, gesturing to a shadowy corner near the warehouse entrance.
Zen moved to the indicated spot, rubbing his hands for warmth as he leaned against the wall. Moments later, two girls approached. One had sleek black hair and deep black eyes, her features striking and composed. The other, with flowing silver hair and vivid blue eyes, walked beside her quietly. Both looked to be in their early twenties, only a couple of years older than Zen, yet they carried themselves with an air of experience.
The girls exchanged a few words with the guards before heading toward a four-seater pickup truck. Without another glance, they got inside, their demeanor unreadable.
"Let's go, boy," the guard called, waving Zen toward the truck.
Zen climbed onto the back of the pickup, sitting on the cold, hard metal bed behind the cabin, where he could give directions to the driver. The truck's engine rumbled to life, followed closely by the deep growls of the four vehicles behind it. The convoy rolled out, leaving the bustling city behind.
The air grew colder as they entered the forest, the towering trees casting long, twisted shadows under the dim moonlight. Frost clung to the bark, and a low mist crawled across the ground like a living thing. The silence of the woods was broken only by the occasional snap of branches under the vehicles wheels and the distant, eerie howls of unseen creatures.
From deep within the darkness, guttural growls echoed faintly, too far to be a threat but close enough to set nerves on edge. The headlights of the convoy carved through the gloom, illuminating glimpses of glowing eyes in the underbrush that vanished as quickly as they appeared.
"Stop," the black-haired girl's cold voice rang out,
The driver immediately slammed on the brakes, the pickup skidding to a halt.
Zen tensed, his brow furrowing as he scanned their surroundings.
"Is something wrong?" driver asked, his voice tinged with confusion. The vehicles behind them came to a halt, and people began stepping out, their faces painted with uncertainty.
"What's wrong, young miss?" one of the guards asked, looking around. "I don't see any problem—"
Before he could finish, the black-haired girl moved with lethal speed. Her fist collided with the man's head with a sickening crack. Zen heard the sound of bone shattering as the guard's skull caved in. Blood splattered in a wide arc, soaking the ground as his body crumpled to the dirt, lifeless.
The others froze, their eyes wide in horror, but the girl remained unbothered, her expression as cold as ever. The air around them felt thick, the reality of the brutality sinking in. Zen couldn't tear his eyes away from the gruesome scene. The guard's body lay in a twisted heap, his face a grotesque mess of pulped flesh, his eyes wide in shock.
"Fuck"