6th

The city of Stratum Prime was a machine. Towers of steel and glass stretched into the heavens, connected by skybridges and neon-lit highways. Above, the elite soared in gravity-defying transports, untouched by the filth below. But at the city's base, in the Null Sector, life was a fight for survival.

Aero Vance knew that fight well.

He ran through the slums, weaving between rusted stalls and crumbling buildings. His lungs burned, his legs ached, but he couldn't stop. Behind him, the enforcers of House Rellan pursued, their armored boots pounding against the cracked pavement.

"There! Don't let him escape!" one of them barked.

Aero gritted his teeth. He'd stolen a single ration pack—just one. A week's worth of food in this wasteland was worth more than gold. But to the highborn elites of Stratum 4 and above, it was nothing. And yet, here they were, chasing him like a rabid dog for it.

A hand seized his shoulder.

"Got you, rat—"

Aero twisted his body, using the momentum to slam his elbow into the enforcer's throat. The man choked, releasing his grip, and Aero took off again. The others hesitated only a second before continuing the chase.

Aero knew the alleys better than anyone. He slipped into a narrow passageway, leaped over a pile of discarded tech, and climbed a rusted fire escape. His hands scraped against metal, but he barely noticed. His mind was too focused on survival.

At the top, he took a sharp breath and glanced below. The enforcers split up, some searching the alleys, others contacting reinforcements.

They wouldn't stop.

Not unless he made them.

Aero clenched his fists. He had no Resonance Ability—no power to call his own. In a world ruled by the Apex Strata, he was nothing but a Stratum 6 reject, a dreg.

And that meant his fate was already decided.

Unless he changed it himself.

The enforcers regrouped at the alley's entrance.

"He's close. Thermal scans show residual heat signatures."

Aero pressed against the wall of the rooftop, heart hammering. Think. Think.

Then, a voice. Low. Mechanical. Cold.

[Threat detected.]

Aero's head snapped up.

A drone hovered above him, its sleek frame humming with restrained energy. Its lenses locked onto him, and he knew what came next. Within seconds, the enforcers would pinpoint his location.

Move. Now.

Aero ran.

The drone fired.

A bolt of energy seared past his shoulder, scorching the rooftop. He leaped, arms reaching for the next ledge. His fingers barely caught the edge, his body dangling over the abyss below. For a second, he thought he'd fall.

But then, a familiar presence.

Kai.

A hand grabbed his wrist, pulling him up in one swift motion. Kai Ren, Aero's only friend in the Null Sector, stood before him. His dark eyes flickered with intensity, his lean frame coiled like a predator ready to strike.

"You sure know how to get yourself in trouble," Kai muttered.

Aero panted. "Had no choice." He held up the ration pack. "Had to eat."

Kai exhaled sharply but nodded. "Come on."

The two bolted across the rooftop as the enforcers opened fire. **Kai's Resonance Ability—Phantom Stride—**allowed him to move faster than the human eye could track. Aero, lacking any ability, struggled to keep up, but Kai adjusted his pace.

They reached the edge of the building. Below, a sprawling marketplace stretched out, filled with scavengers and traders.

"Jump," Kai ordered.

Aero didn't hesitate.

The two plunged down, landing on a fabric awning before rolling onto the ground. People barely reacted—violence and chases were too common in the Null Sector to be surprising.

Kai pulled Aero to his feet. "We split up here. I'll distract them. You get home."

Aero hesitated. "Kai—"

"Just go."

Aero clenched his jaw, then nodded. He turned and vanished into the crowd, the taste of blood and adrenaline thick in his mouth.

By the time Aero reached his hideout—an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the slums—the sky had darkened. He collapsed against a pile of old metal, exhaling deeply.

He unwrapped the ration pack, biting into the synthetic protein bar. It tasted like dust, but to him, it was a feast.

His mind wandered.

Stratum 6. The lowest of the low. No rights, no future. Just survival.

It wasn't fair.

Above him, in the upper Strata, people lived like gods. They controlled everything—the economy, the law, even life and death. The Apex Council, the ten strongest beings in the world, dictated the future of every person below them.

And people like Aero?

They were nothing more than insects.

Aero clenched his fists. His nails dug into his palms. His entire life, he had accepted this reality.

But why?

Why should he accept being powerless? Why should he let the Apex Strata decide his worth?

His anger burned like a fire, hotter than it ever had before.

And then, something changed.

A pulse of energy erupted in his chest. The air around him warped, reality itself distorting for a split second. His vision blurred. His head throbbed.

And then, a voice—not his own—whispered in his mind.

[Resonance Surge detected.]

Aero gasped, clutching his chest. No. That's not possible. He had no ability. No Resonance.

But the energy coursing through him said otherwise.

The darkness of the factory deepened. A swirl of invisible force surrounded him, crackling with potential. Aero could feel it—the raw, untamed power surging in his veins.

His eyes widened as the words burned into his mind.

[Ability Awakening: Apex Override.]

And in that moment, Aero Vance was no longer powerless.