Into The Noble DIstrict (Part 1)

The city of Blackwood was a fractured beast.

Once, it had been a grand stronghold of humanity, a beacon of civilization in a world teetering on the edge of ruin.

But those days were long gone. Now, it stood divided — a city split between those who held power and those who struggled to survive.

The noble district was a place of towering stone walls and pristine streets, where gold flowed as freely as water.

Mansions stretched across vast estates, guarded by private soldiers and fortified gates.

The noble families — those who had secured power after the apocalypse — lived in comfort, untouched by the suffering of the outside world.

Then there were the slums.

Crammed into the outskirts of the city like a festering wound, the slums were a place of filth and misery.

Crumbling buildings leaned against one another, their roofs patched with scrap metal and rotting wood. The streets were little more than muddy pathways, reeking of unwashed bodies and decay.

Disease ran rampant, and hunger was a constant companion.

Here, life was a desperate struggle.

And worst of all — the guards ensured it stayed that way.

They patrolled with iron fists, their authority absolute. It was an unspoken rule that no one, no one, dared to anger them.

A wrong look, an accusation, even standing in the wrong place at the wrong time could mean a beating — or worse. The guards weren't protectors.

They were enforcers of the status quo, ensuring the nobles stayed rich and the slums stayed broken.

Alexian kept his head low as he weaved through the narrow alleyways, careful not to draw attention.

Though his body felt rejuvenated, his mind was still adjusting.

He was no longer starving, no longer weak — but that didn't make him invincible. A reckless move could still get him killed.

He passed a group of beggars huddled around a small fire, their eyes hollow and sunken.

A mother clutched a sickly child to her chest, whispering soft reassurances even as the boy coughed weakly. A few men sat against a ruined wall, their gazes vacant — defeated.

Alexian knew that look. He had worn it himself just hours ago.

But not anymore.

A faint glow flickered before his eyes.

Then, with a soft chime, a screen materialized in front of him.

---

[System Update: Bloodline Purification Complete]

[Host: Alexian Veynor]

[Race: Human (Primed)]

[Status: Healthy]

[Abilities Unlocked:]

Enhanced Strength – Your physical capabilities exceed normal human limits.

Heightened Endurance – Your body can withstand greater levels of strain and fatigue.

Mana Affinity – Your connection to magic has been significantly strengthened.

---

Alexian's eyes widened.

Super strength? Increased endurance? And magic?

He flexed his fingers, testing the feel of his body.

His grip felt… denser, his muscles more responsive. Even standing still, he could feel the energy coursing through him, like a fire burning just beneath his skin.

He clenched his fist.

This wasn't just an improvement. This was a complete rebirth.

But then, a chilling thought settled in his mind.

Even with all this…

He still wasn't strong enough.

Alexian exhaled, his breath misting in the cool night air. He had no delusions about what lurked beyond the slums.

The city was dangerous, but the world?

The world belonged to the monsters.

Demons.

They were the true rulers of the land — the creatures that had plunged humanity into ruin. He had never seen one up close, but the stories were enough.

Beings of immense power, capable of tearing through entire battalions, consuming life itself.

If a demon set its sights on him, no amount of strength or endurance would save him.

Alexian clicked his tongue, shoving his hands into the pockets of his tattered cloak.

He had power now, but it wasn't enough. If he wanted to survive — truly survive — he needed to grow stronger.

He needed to train.

And for that, he needed information.

His eyes flicked toward the distant lights of the noble district. That was where knowledge was hoarded — books, scrolls, everything that could tell him more about the system, magic, and the world he had been thrown into.

But getting there?

That was a challenge on its own.

The noble district was heavily guarded, and no slum dweller was allowed beyond the gates without reason. He couldn't just walk in. He needed a plan.

But first — he needed a place to rest.

Alexian turned down another alley, moving deeper into the slums. He had hidden spots — places he used to crawl into when the nights grew too cold or when the streets became too dangerous.

Now, more than ever, he needed a place to gather his thoughts.

The slums were silent at night.

Not the peaceful kind of silence — the kind that let weary souls drift into sleep — but the dangerous, unnatural stillness that warned of unseen threats lurking in the dark.

Alexian moved quickly through the winding alleys, his steps cautious but sure.

He kept his hood low, blending into the shadows as best he could.

The last thing he needed was to attract attention. He was just another beggar, another nameless figure moving through the filth of the slums.

A few blocks away, a collapsed building loomed in the moonlight.

It had once been a shop — maybe an old tailor's or a general goods store — but time had not been kind. The front door was barely hanging onto its hinges, swaying slightly whenever the wind picked up.

The windows were shattered, their jagged edges glinting like teeth in the dim light.

It was perfect.

Alexian slipped inside, carefully stepping over broken debris. Dust swirled in the air, disturbed by his presence.

The interior was just as ruined as the outside — rotting shelves, a collapsed ceiling in one corner, and piles of rubble scattered across the floor.

Still, it was shelter.

He leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. His body no longer ached from hunger, his limbs no longer trembled from weakness.

It was a strange feeling — this newfound vitality, this sense of power humming beneath his skin.

He lifted his hands, staring at them in the dim light.

He had yet to test the full extent of his abilities, but now wasn't the time. The slums were a prison, a dead-end. He had no intention of staying.

'I need to get out of here.'

His gaze drifted toward the ceiling, his mind racing.

The Noble District. That was where he needed to be. It was the only place with access to books, knowledge, and — most importantly — opportunity.

But how?

The guards patrolled the slums mercilessly, ensuring that no beggar or thief could wander too close to the noble gates.

People who tried to sneak in were often caught and never seen again. The only ones allowed inside were servants, traders, or those with the right connections.

Alexian had none of those.