Earth was no longer the only home of mankind.
Humanity had long crossed the threshold of planetary boundaries. Entire civilizations now flourished across dozens of terraformed planets and orbital habitats. Trade routes spanned galaxies. Cultures evolved, merged, and split again. But no matter how far they expanded, martial arts—both spiritual and scientific—remained a universal constant.
Interplanetary travel was no luxury. It was a necessity. The elite of Lord Zeus City's Upper Sector traversed the stars effortlessly through stabilized portals powered by quantum chi cores. These portals connected directly to key locations across the galaxy, allowing them to move between systems in mere seconds.
The Mid Sector, with its powerful military and scientific communities, relied on space shuttles. Slower but reliable, they moved troops, tech, and people between worlds with ease.
But the true marvel? Human flight.
Ascended Masters—beings whose martial prowess had reached cosmic levels—could manipulate energy, space, and even time. These rare individuals traveled faster than light, soaring through the stars unaided, crossing systems in moments, leaving behind trails of raw chi in their wake.
The Lower Sector knew little of these wonders.
Ely Zoan had never left Earth. But he dreamed of it. Read fragments. Hacked stolen databases. Studied the scraps of tech that drifted down from above. His mind was a magnet for knowledge. A fixer. A builder. A prodigy.
His primary weapon was always his dagger—short, sharp, and made from a meteorite that struck the old scrapyards a decade ago. It hummed faintly when he gripped it, as though reacting to his intent.
But his second weapon? That was a mystery even to those closest to him.
Tucked away under his jacket was a small pistol. Sleek. Lightweight. Silent. Crafted entirely from scavenged tech—some of which didn't even originate from Earth. No one had ever seen him fire it. No one had dared push him far enough.
But those who had glimpsed it, even for a second, knew one thing: that pistol had no business being in the Lower Sector.
And Ely? He was just getting started.
Like the cities and classes, currency was divided.
The standard currency of trade was the Zentel. Most common among the Lower and Mid Sectors, Zentels were digital, traceable, and easy to counterfeit—making them both vital and unstable.
But the true elite traded in something else: Aurelium.
Aurelium was a hyper-dense energy-backed coin that couldn't be reproduced or altered. Just one unit of Aurelium was worth more than ten million Zentels. In the Lower Sector, a single Aurelium coin could buy out an entire black-market district, settle all gang debts, and place its holder among the wealthiest underground lords.
Most Lower Sector citizens would never see Aurelium in their lifetimes.
But Ely had once seen a small, silver-edged case buried in a nobleman's crash site. He hadn't touched it—but he remembered the glow. Remembered the way the light around it bent. Remembered how heavy the air felt.
He didn't need it—yet.
But he knew what it meant.