Limon carefully tucked the cloth pouch into his chest, his movements deliberate and cautious. As if still unsure, he reached through his nearly shredded gray shirt and patted the small, bulging spot beneath. Feeling the pouch's reassuring presence, Limon finally relaxed.
He turned toward the exit, a narrow passage leading out of the dim and cramped space that could hardly be called a room. In truth, it was nothing more than a crude dugout a simple dwelling carved into the side of the earth. In the "Filthy Ravine," such shelters were countless.
The ravine housed over ten thousand people not a large population by most standards, but it filled every available inch of space in this fractured world.
Stepping outside, Limon was greeted by a breathtaking, almost surreal sight.
The "Filthy Ravine" was a colossal surface fissure, nearly sixty meters wide and stretching for several miles across the earth's surface. The vertical walls of the gorge plunged over a hundred meters at their deepest, and yet, they teemed with life. Humanity, ever resourceful, had carved homes, pathways, and shelters into the sheer rock faces, transforming the barren crevice into a thriving community.
For nearly two centuries, humanity had eked out an existence here. Despite its intense radiation levels classified as barely survivable at "Level 3"the ravine offered safety from the relentless onslaught of polluted beasts. Yet, survival here was far from idyllic.
The midday sun blazed overhead, its piercing rays flooding the walls of the ravine with light and heat. Looking up toward the jagged edges of the gorge, Limon could make out nothing but two faint golden threads far above—the endless expanse of sky was almost unimaginable.
From birth, Limon had never set foot outside the ravine. His father, Old Li, had often warned him before passing away: "Don't go up there. The outside world is a place that devours men whole. No one survives out there."
But Limon knew better. Stories from hunters who ventured out told of human settlements beyond the ravine. The place wasn't entirely isolated, either every two months, a strange-looking "bus" would arrive, bringing new faces and taking others away to destinations unknown.
As Limon navigated the narrow, shadowy corridors of the gorge, faint silhouettes darted in and out of view. People shuffled back and forth along the paths, their figures dim and indistinct in the poor light. They were no different from Limon although their bodies were slightly healthier, their eyes were hollow and their ragged clothes betrayed lives of relentless hardship.
Suddenly, a blur shot out from the corner, slamming into Limon with enough force to jolt him sideways.
"Ow!" a voice cried, light and childlike.
Limon stumbled but managed to stay upright. Whoever had crashed into him wasn't as lucky; they hit the ground with a thud. Despite his weakened state, Limon's stature as an adult kept him on his feet.
Clutching his chest, where a sharp sting reminded him of the collision, Limon looked down. But the small figure he expected to see was already gone. The space where the child should have been was empty. Looking toward the end of the passage, he could make out a few vague figures moving away, but none resembled the small form that had collided with him.
"Damn it!"
A sinking feeling crept over him. His face darkened as he frantically patted his chest. His worst fear was confirmed the pouch was gone.
Limon froze for a moment, frustration and anger warring on his face. He had let his guard down. In a place like this, such a mistake was unforgivable.
With a heavy sigh, Limon checked his pockets and found a handful of spent bullet casings. At least all wasn't entirely lost. Still, his mood was sour as he resumed his path down the winding corridors.
The deeper he went, the stronger the stench became. The air grew dense with a choking, acrid smell that burned his nostrils. This was the essence of the Filthy Ravine, a name earned from the poisonous yellow river that flowed along its bottom.
The river's murky waters were deadly, capable of dissolving flesh and bone on contact. The fumes it emitted were equally hazardous, driving even the most resilient of the polluted beasts away. Yet, paradoxically, those same fumes purified the air, lowering radiation levels closer to the bottom. This was why the ravine's wealthiest and most powerful inhabitants lived near its base, while the poor were relegated to the toxic upper levels.
As Limon descended, the nature of the surroundings shifted. The crude shelters of the upper layers gave way to lively markets and ramshackle stalls. The passageways buzzed with activity, teeming with traders and buyers haggling over goods in loud, animated voices.
"Pure water for sale! Guaranteed 100% purity just one bullet for 100 milliliters!"
"Don't miss out! Everything must go! Bargains galore!"
"Selling lung powder, gas masks, and hunting gear! Essential for survival!"
The chaotic chorus of hawking and bartering surrounded him. The crowd surged in every direction, eyes darting toward enticing offers and deals.
"Hey, kid! I'm warning you don't walk out of my shop empty-handed, or you'll regret it!"
Limon barely flinched at the gruff voice, used to such threats. Here, respect was a commodity reserved for the strong, and those who couldn't impose themselves were fair game for anyone. Limon had learned this lesson the hard way, enduring countless beatings in his weaker days.
Crossing the threshold of the shop, Limon cast a glance at the burly, scar-faced man seated behind a cluttered counter. Without a word, he moved past the merchant, browsing the disorganized shelves.
The goods were a chaotic mess everything from small screws and knives to random, unidentifiable scraps of metal. In one dusty corner, a rusted exosuit hung on a rack, its surface pitted with corrosion.
Just as frustration began to set in, a familiar voice echoed in his mind.
"Master! There's an energy signature to your lower left!"
Following the prompt, Limon crouched down and began sifting through the piles of debris. Beneath the layers of junk, he uncovered a small, round object that gleamed faintly in the dim light.