Chapter 4: The City of Glass and Gold
The air in the city felt different—heavy with the scent of ozone and expensive fuel. Ren adjusted his grip on Hana, his muscles screaming in protest. They were no longer in the decaying outskirts of the Forsaken lands. Here, the streets were paved with polished stone, and the buildings reached for the purple shroud above.
In front of a cramped, dusty apartment building, an old man with a sharp nose and greedy eyes stood waiting. Ren reached into his pocket and pulled out four Golden Cones, pressing them into the man's weathered palm.
"Four cones, Uncle," Ren said, his voice raspy. "For the first month."
The Uncle squinted at the gold, then at Ren's tattered clothes. "Fine. But next month, it's six cones. Prices are rising, boy. And where are your ID cards? Everyone in the Workman and Elite sectors must carry their registration."
Ren's heart skipped a beat. If they found out he was from Tier 4, it would be their death sentence. "We... we were up on Mount Vane," Ren lied, his eyes fixed on the ground. "A Feral attacked us. We managed to kill it, but our house caught fire during the struggle. Our cards were lost in the flames."
The old man grunted, unconvinced but swayed by the gold. "Hmph. I'll overlook it for now. But you better get new ones issued by next month, or the Sentinels will have your heads."
Ren nodded quickly and hurried inside. He placed Hana gently on the small, creaking bed. The room was dark and smelled of damp wood, but it was a sanctuary for now. He looked at her leg; the purple veins were pulsing slower, but they were deeper.
"I have no more coins," Ren whispered, his head in his hands. "How am I going to save you, Hana?"
He knew he couldn't stay idle. He locked the door from the outside and stepped into the bustling street. In the distance, the Apex Tower—the King's residence—loomed like a giant spear of light. People in clean, pressed clothes walked past him, their eyes filled with the arrogance of the upper tiers.
Lost in his thoughts, Ren didn't see the figure approaching from the corner.
THUD.
Ren collided with someone and stumbled back, nearly hitting the pavement.
"Whoa! Sorry, sorry, brother!" a cheerful voice called out.
Ren looked up to see a boy his own age. He wore a high-collared jacket that screamed Tier 2 Elite, but his face lacked the usual coldness. He had messy hair and a curious glint in his eyes.
"It... it was my fault," Ren muttered, trying to hurry away.
"Hey, wait!" the boy called out, following him. "What's your name? I'm Go. I live right there, in the house next to yours."
Ren stopped, his hand on the rusted handle of his door. "I'm Ren."
Go grinned. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Ren. And you're sweating like crazy. Come on, I live alone—come over for some food? I've got more than I can eat."
Ren hesitated. His instinct told him to run, to hide. But he looked at Go's expensive jacket and then at his own empty pockets. If this boy was an Elite, maybe he knew something. Maybe he had access to the Aethel-Serum or a Vitalist.
Is it worth the risk? Ren thought. Can I trust an Elite?
"Ren? You still with me?" Go asked, tilting his head.
Ren took a deep breath. "Actually... I don't need food. I need help. Follow me."