Kai wandered through the alley with no direction, boots dragging along cracked pavement that oozed runoff from pipes overhead. Trash was ankle-deep. Broken lights flickered and buzzed above rusted storefronts. The stink was layered—smoke, blood, sewage, copper.
It was disgusting.
There were hawkers lined up against graffiti-tagged walls, shouting in six languages at once. Some sold weapons. Some sold time. Some just held up signs that said "Bite Me." The streets were alive with twitching junkies cradling cracked glass pipes like holy relics. People bartered with old food wrappers, scavenged pills, body parts. No one looked twice at the dead guy slumped beside the stairwell. Flies had already claimed his eyes.
Everyone was armed.
Knives strapped to calves. Pistols on hips. Shotguns in guitar cases. Even the children. One girl, no older than ten, walked past dragging a sniper rifle in a pink wagon.
All Kai had was a sharpened bone.
He passed a woman yelling at a weapon stall. Her voice cut through the chaos.
"These are warped! I told you I wanted clean barrels!"
"You didn't pay for clean," the dealer shrugged.
"I'll pay in corpses."
"Then go get some."
She had twin pistols strapped under each arm, hair tied back with a bootlace. They kept arguing, but Kai didn't listen.
He kept walking.
Weak. Dirty. Half-starved. His body screamed with each step, but he moved like he'd always been part of this place. No questions. No complaints. Just another shadow.
The Lawless City was a cesspit.
But it was beautiful.
Tall neon signs blinked in broken cycles above the chaos. Towering megastructures formed ragged skylines, each district connected by rusted trams and hanging bridges. Shimmering digital banners glitched through advertisements no one believed in. And in the center of it all stood the tower.
Massive. Spiraling. Impossible to ignore.
It rose like a broken spine into the clouds, casting a shadow over every street. The Azura Center—or the Soul Tower, depending who you asked.
"It's awesome, isn't it?" a voice said.
Kai turned.
The speaker was a man in a long patchwork coat, scarred jaw, metal plates bolted to his neck. One arm was mechanical, twitching faintly with exposed wire nerves. He didn't look hostile—just tired.
"That's the Soul Tower," he continued, nodding toward it. "Some call it the Azura Center. Depends who you're working for. Or hiding from."
Kai didn't answer. He didn't need to.
"You seem new. So I'll give you something for free." The man stepped closer, voice dropping just enough to be heard under the noise. "Don't trust anyone. Don't make eye contact unless you're ready to kill. And whatever you do, avoid the underground. The Russians run it. And they use kids for soldiers. Smart ones. Broken ones."
Kai gave a faint nod. "Thanks."
The man jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "There's a doc around the corner, east end of Rustwalk. Patchworker. Won't charge you. I think he likes fixing things more than people."
Kai stared for a moment, trying to decide if it was a setup. His ribs ached. The gash across his side was swollen, hot.
He didn't have many options.
"…Appreciate it," he muttered.
He turned to go.
Someone bumped into him.
A second later, his cigarette pouch was gone.
Kai blinked. Looked over his shoulder to see a kid vanishing into the crowd with a grin. He sighed. Reached into his coat—and pulled the pouch right back out.
Infinite.
He popped one between his lips, but didn't light it. Not yet.
He passed a man getting dragged into an alley by two figures in masks. They moved fast. Clean. Surgical. Kai didn't stop walking.
Gunfire erupted two blocks over. A woman screamed. No one turned.
Two men were fistfighting over a tooth near the curb.
A body fell off a building and landed face-first in the gutter.
Kai stepped over it and kept moving.
This was the Lawless City.
And he was starting to understand the rules.
As Kai followed the directions down Rustwalk's east end, the noise dimmed. Not because it was quieter, but because everything blended into one constant thrum of chaos. Sirens, shouting, coughing, laughter—it all became a background scream.
That's when he saw the crowd.
A small group had gathered around someone lying on the curb. Not helping—watching.
"Teeth on the curb," one of the men said, pushing the victim's face down hard against the concrete.
The victim thrashed, blood already spilling from his mouth. "No—please! Please, I'll pay! I swear, I'll pay—"
"You had your chance. We told you what would happen."
One of them lifted his foot.
Kai slowed, watching.
The boot came down.
A crack. Wet. Snapping. Sick.
The man's jaw shattered instantly. Teeth burst across the concrete like scattered dice. He stopped screaming—just a moan, then limp silence. Blood pooled beneath his cheek, thick and fast.
The group backed off laughing.
One turned and saw Kai.
"What you lookin' at?" the man sneered. His knuckles were still wet. "Want a turn?"
They laughed, like it was a joke. Like it was nothing.
Kai didn't speak.
He walked past without a word, smoke unlit between his lips.
This place was brutal.
But he didn't stop walking.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't help.
He didn't have the strength to care. Not yet.