Chapter 5: Beneath the Smog

Chapter 5: Beneath the Smog

The streets of Zenith stretched endlessly beneath the perpetual haze of industrial smoke. To most, it was the cradle of progress—a city built on the bones of innovation. But to Kael, it was a labyrinth of suffering and oppression, where the weak were forgotten, and the strong thrived at their expense.

He adjusted the scavenger pack slung over his shoulder, glancing up at the towering skyscrapers that pierced the clouds. Each one belonged to a mega-corporation, their neon logos glowing brightly even in daylight. Genyx Biotech, Vironet Systems, and NovaCore Industries—names that were synonymous with power and wealth. They controlled everything, from cultivation advancements to the distribution of food and medicine. And for people like Kael, they represented an unreachable peak.

"Stay focused," Kael muttered to himself as he wove through the crowded alleys of the lower levels. Garran had sent him on a task—to find old tech scraps and wiring for a training device they were building. Simple, but dangerous. The lower districts weren't just a place of poverty; they were a hunting ground for gangs and mercenaries.

The further Kael descended, the darker the streets became. The upper levels of Zenith were sleek and modern, filled with chrome-plated buildings and advanced tech. But the lower levels were a different world entirely—a sprawling maze of decaying infrastructure, rusted walkways, and makeshift shelters.

The air here was heavy with the smell of oil and rot. People shuffled by in tattered clothing, their eyes hollow from years of exploitation. Kael passed a group of children huddled around a fire, their faces smeared with grime. For a moment, he saw himself in them, a pang of guilt stabbing through his chest.

"This is where the corporations dump their failures," Garran had told him once. "Failed experiments, defective tech, even people they don't need anymore. This is their graveyard."

Kael's hand instinctively brushed against the vial in his pocket—the remnants of the serum that had changed everything for him. It was a reminder of how close he'd come to being just another forgotten soul.

As Kael moved through the market district, he overheard snippets of conversation from the vendors and scavengers around him.

"Did you hear? Genyx is looking for volunteers again. Paying double for test subjects."

"Double? What's the catch? Last time, half of them didn't make it out alive."

"Doesn't matter. If you survive, you're set for life."

Kael clenched his fists. It was always the same. The corporations offered false hope to the desperate, luring them into dangerous experiments with promises of wealth or power. Most didn't survive, and those who did were often discarded when they were no longer useful.

His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion up ahead. A group of men in sleek black uniforms—the enforcers of Vironet Systems—were dragging a screaming woman through the street. Her arm glowed faintly with Bio-Energy, but it flickered weakly as she struggled.

"Unauthorized cultivation detected," one of the enforcers said coldly. "You're coming with us."

"Please!" the woman cried. "I have children—I didn't mean to—"

Her plea was cut short as one of the enforcers injected her with a syringe, causing her body to go limp. The crowd around them dispersed quickly, no one daring to intervene.

Kael's nails dug into his palms. He wanted to do something—anything—but he knew better. One wrong move, and he'd end up just like her.

As Kael continued deeper into the lower levels, he noticed a symbol painted on one of the walls—a red phoenix rising from flames. It was faint and partially obscured by graffiti, but it caught his attention.

"The Resistance," Garran had mentioned once, though he hadn't gone into detail. "They're fools, but their hearts are in the right place. Trying to fight the corporations head-on is a death sentence."

Kael paused, staring at the symbol. Part of him felt a flicker of hope. If there were people out there fighting back, maybe he wasn't alone in wanting to change things.

But hope was dangerous. Hope got people killed.

Shaking his head, Kael pressed on.

Hours later, Kael returned to the scrapyard with his scavenged haul. Garran was waiting, inspecting a makeshift punching bag he'd rigged up using scrap metal and old tires.

"Find anything good?" Garran asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kael dropped the pack at Garran's feet. "Enough to get started."

Garran rummaged through the contents, nodding approvingly. "Not bad. You've got a good eye."

Kael crossed his arms. "I saw something down there. A symbol—a phoenix. Do you know what it means?"

Garran's expression darkened. "It means trouble. The Resistance thinks they can take down the corporations, but all they're doing is making life harder for the rest of us. The enforcers crack down harder every time the Resistance makes a move."

"But what if they're right?" Kael asked. "What if someone needs to fight back?"

Garran sighed, standing up. "Let me tell you something, kid. The corporations aren't just powerful—they're untouchable. They control the government, the media, the military. Taking them down isn't a fight. It's suicide."

Kael frowned but didn't argue. Deep down, he knew Garran was right. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there had to be another way.

"Enough talk," Garran said, tossing a pair of worn gloves at Kael. "Time to get back to work. Let's see if you've got what it takes to survive out there."

Kael slipped on the gloves, his determination burning brighter than ever. He wasn't just training for himself anymore. He was training for everyone who couldn't fight back—for the children in the alleys, for the woman dragged away by enforcers, for every forgotten soul in the shadows of Zenith.

And one day, he would rise above it all.