They said it would be a sunny day.
The sun shone weakly over the slum, glinting off piles of twisted metal and cracked plastic. Narrow alleys twisted between rickety shacks, reeking of smoke, rot, and sweat. I crouched over a heap of scrap, fingers scraping dirt and rust, searching for anything that might be useful. A bent wire, a shattered screen, even a tiny gear—anything could help me survive another day.
No one noticed me. Not the merchants yelling over broken carts. Not the gangs roughhousing in the alleys. Not even the other scavenger kids, bigger, faster, stronger. I was invisible, and that was fine. Being seen usually meant trouble.
A sharp shove sent me sprawling onto the mud-stained ground. I grunted, scrambling upright. A boy snatched the scrap I had been reaching for and ran off laughing. Typical. I clenched my fists, muttering under my breath. "One day… one day I'll be more than this."
Life in the slum was always the same. Hunger, dirt, bruises, and the endless struggle to scrape by. I moved from heap to heap, avoiding bullies, dodging scraps of fire from overturned carts, scanning every shadow for danger. My stomach growled, my back ached, my hands were raw—but I kept moving. Survival was all I had.
Then, something in the sky caught my eye.
It shimmered strangely, like light bending on water. I blinked. At first, I thought it was heat haze, but the shimmer widened, twisting and splitting across the blue. Nearby kids stared, some laughing nervously, some frozen in fear. I felt a shiver crawl down my spine. Something wasn't right.
The sky fractured.
A jagged rift tore through the heavens, splitting sunlight into broken shards. From the tear, a massive tower appeared, stretching far beyond the clouds. Its edges shimmered with alien energy. Shadows moved along it, twisting into forms I couldn't name.
Beasts. Monsters of every imaginable shape and size. Some with wings, claws, or jagged teeth. Their roars shook the streets, throwing dust, debris, and terror into the alleys.
People screamed. Fires flared from overturned carts and shacks. Panic spread like wildfire. I froze behind a pile of scrap, clutching it to my chest. I was small, weak, powerless. I had nothing.
Then, distant flashes of light drew my eye. Figures descending from the Tower—players. Weapons gleamed. Powers flashed. They moved like gods among ants, striking down monsters with effortless precision. I watched in awe, too terrified to move, hiding from the chaos around me.
Even the players could not stop it. The Tower seemed endless. The monsters never ceased. Destruction stretched across the slum and beyond, unstoppable and chaotic.
I pressed my face into the pile of scrap, trembling. I was nothing. Invisible. Powerless.
And yet… a spark ignited inside me.
One day… one day I'll become a player. I'll survive the Tower. I'll be strong… no one will ever ignore me again.
The fractured sky loomed above. The Tower pulsed like a living wound in the world. And for the first time in my life, I felt something that wasn't just fear or hunger. Something that might be hope.