The morning light in Sunset City wasn't light at all. It was a washed-out gray light that slipped through clouds thick with carbon and smoke. Dominic sat cross-legged beside a crate, sorting through the pile of scrap he'd gathered from the last week's repairs. Terminals, drone arms, burnt capacitors, all of it were worthless to most, but survival meant knowing what could still spark when wired right.
He had already decided what to keep: his holobrain, a cracked photo of him and Jerry, and the small metallic wristband that once belonged to the old man. Everything else — the spare processors, stripped conductors, and faded tools — would be sold for travel credits.
He stood, stretched his arms, and let out a quiet breath. "One more trade, old man," he said, glancing at Jerry's corner where a small altar of wires and broken glass sat. "After this, I'm gone."
At the local recycler's stall, he haggled with a scavenger named Pike, who always smelled of oil and desperation.
"Five credits for the whole lot," Pike said, not even looking up from his scanner.
Dominic snorted. "Five? That's charity, not payment."
"Eight then. You're leaving anyway, right?"
Dominic's eyes narrowed. "Word travels fast."
"Everything travels fast when you're worth something," Pike replied, transferring him the credits through his holobrain.
By noon, he was back at the shelter, checking his credits left on his holobrain. Enough for the train to Skyreach city. Barely.
He paused, staring at Jerry's old wristband. It was a dull strip of synth-leather with faded engraving. 'Stay standing.' Jerry's voice still echoed faintly in his mind: A man doesn't fall because of failure, boy. He falls when he stops trying.
He packed the wristband into a small pouch. Later, he'd burn it and bury the ashes with what little he had left of Jerry. One promise kept, at least.
As he sealed the bag, a knock sounded at the door.
It was Kellan, a lanky mechanic from two sectors over. Grease under his nails, with an annoying smirk on his face.
"You heading out, Solari?"
Dominic nodded, tightening the straps of his worn pack.
"Then you should know. Tiger Claw's been sniffing around. Word is they're looking for someone.'"
Dominic gave a low chuckle. "Guess they finally ran out of ghosts to chase."
"I'm serious, man. They tore through Silo Nine last night."
"Then they're late." He slung the pack over his shoulder. "If they come, they'll only eat my dust."
Kellan raised an eyebrow, half amused. "You always talk like you're in a movie."
Dominic shrugged. "Maybe I just like good lines."
He left the shelter one last time and walked to the back lot, where the soil was little more than compacted ash. Jerry's makeshift grave sat there, a slab of old machinery marked with the letters J.V.
Dominic lit the wristband, watching the synth-leather curl and smoke, then scattered the ashes across the grave.
"You took me in," he murmured. "Different worlds… same lesson. This time, I'll make it count."
He stood there until the flame died, then turned toward the city gates.
The train station at Sunset Terminal looked like it was built by someone who hated beauty. Cracked tiles, flickering neon schedules, a stench of burnt ozone in the air. Dominic stood among a handful of passengers, most clutching battered bags, their faces set in the same expression. Hope masked as fatigue.
The train's sleek silhouette arrived with a low hum, doors sliding open. He stepped inside, the air instantly cleaner, colder. A holo-ad greeted them: "Nova Academy — Where the Chosen Ascend!"
Dominic smirked. "And where the rest die trying."
He took a seat near the window. Outside, Sunset City began to shrink as the train climbed its magnetic rails. The horizon shimmered with industrial haze, and then, slowly, light began to filter in.
He hadn't realized how long it had been since he'd seen blue sky.
Around him, a few slum kids whispered, clutching small bags with academy flyers sticking out. Across the aisle, a pair of upper-sector citizens sat stiffly, pretending not to breathe the same air.
Dominic leaned back, observing. "The higher you go, the cleaner the lies," he muttered.
Halfway through the ascent, a man two rows ahead suddenly convulsed. His veins glowed faintly blue, definitely a resonance surge effect of a hallucinatory drug that has gone wild among the drug addict communities. Security drones descended instantly, stunning him before he could even stand. The compartment went silent as the drones dragged the unconscious body away.
No one looked up. No one spoke.
Dominic, ever the observer, memorized the sequence of lights on the drones' panels, the delay in response time, and the pattern of their communication beeps. Systems. Everything followed a pattern.
Meanwhile, back in Sunset City, the Tiger Claw gang tore through Dominic's shelter. The leading was a bald man with scarred eyes, flipped the table and kicked the broken terminal across the room.
"He's not dead," he growled.
One of the thugs held up a cracked data chip with a faint blue glow. "Found this under the bench, Boss Scar."
Boss Scar grinned, teeth yellow. "Find me the boy. Relay the info you got to the big boss."
The train broke through the cloud barrier, and Skyreach City appeared.
It was beautiful. Unnaturally so. Towers floated on gravity lifts, glimmering bridges connected glass domes that hovered midair. The sunlight reflected off the mirrored surfaces, making the entire skyline look like it was made of liquid light.
But Dominic saw more than beauty, he saw the guards, the drones, the scanners embedded into every corner. The air smelled of sterilized perfection, a world wound by perfection masking flaws.
He walked through the terminal, eyes flicking to every sign. "Eidolon Trials Begin Soon." "True Names Unveiled." "Ascension Through Discipline."
The people here moved like machines. Clean suits, perfect faces, eyes that glowed faintly with cybernetic data feeds. Even some of the children had AR overlays dancing across their retinas.
Dominic tightened his bandage and kept walking. "Humanity scared of AI taking over the world, decides to fuse with one," he said quietly.
A group of cadets in uniform passed him, their laughter sharp, controlled. He didn't miss the way they looked at his patched jacket. It didn't bother him. He had survived worse eyes than theirs. Well that what the sharp ones in the third view perspective would think, but inside his mind all was there was a question. What tf are those red nose punks looking at?
Ahead, the upper sector shimmered with energy as Nova Academy came into view.
Nova Academy wasn't just a building. It was a huge monument.
Suspended on hovering spires above the city, its foundations were wrapped in transparent energy barriers that pulsed with faint blue runes. Monoliths not seen though but were presumed to be at it's center, humming with ancient resonance.
Hundreds of candidates lined up before the entrance, each holding their identity slips. Drones scanned them and their holobrains one by one. Blood tests, resonance checks, background scans.
Rejection rates flashed on the holo-screen: — Unqualified. — Deceased During Trial.
Dominic waited his turn in silence. When the examiner gestured, he placed his palm on the resonance scanner.
The device flickered. For a second, everything dimmed. Then came a low hum.
"Origin Trace Detected: Unknown Source."
The officer frowned. "That's not supposed to happen."
Another guard walked over, irritated. "Ignore it. Interference again. The maintenance guy still hasn't fixed the grid."
"Lazy punkish bastard," the first muttered, pressing override.
And the guard replied while laughing. You still don't know how to cuss well.
As they were busy cooking and roasting each other.
The holo-screen stabilized.
"Welcome to Nova Academy, Descender Candidate 2471 Dominic Solari."
He stepped through the gate as the barrier shimmered briefly against his skin. A faint pulse went through him. It was cold and, electric. The same kind of sensation he'd felt the moment he transmigrated.
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "Guess round two begins."
As Nova Academy's gates closed behind Dominic, the city stretched far below like a living maze. Someone not familiar with it's paths would get lost quite easily.
Two worlds had birthed him. One had tested him then killed him now the other would either test him or kill him.
He adjusted his bandage, eyes sharp with that same quiet defiance.
"Let's beat up the system again."
Back in Sunset City, the Tiger Claw gang gathered in the shadowed interior of a burned-out warehouse. Smoke from a small, flickering heater coiled lazily toward the cracked ceiling. The walls were plastered with wanted notices, old holo-ads, and hastily scribbled maps of the slums.
The leader of the gang was a man nicknamed Red Fang. He stood over a holo-table, scanning images of Dominic's face and the scattered remains of his abandoned shelter. His veins pulsed faintly red beneath skin.
"So he's not dead but he's gone… disappeared into the upper sectors," he growled, fingers drumming on the table. "
One of the henchmen, a wiry man with mechanical claws, muttered, "Boss, the locals say he boarded the Skyreach train this morning. Could be anywhere now."
Red Fang slammed his fist against the table, the sound reverberating through the warehouse. "Then you find him. I don't care what it takes. And don't bring back half-measures. He's worth more than just credits, I want him, and I want the secret he carries."
A young scout, trembling slightly, spoke up. "What about the city? Isn't that upper sector… untouchable?"
Red Fang's grin split his scarred face, sardonic and cruel. "Untouchable? You think that matters? That's where he's heading. That's where we strike. And don't get me wrong, I enjoy watching them squirm. But he… he's different. He survived what would've been called a sure death. It was more like he resurrected. He's a prize."
He leaned forward, the red glow in his eye sharpening. "I want reports every hour. Every movement, every step. And if anyone thinks they can stop me…" His voice dropped to a low, venomous hiss. "I'll make an example. Everyone knows the Tiger Claw doesn't fail. Not on my watch."
The henchmen nodded, a mix of fear and greed in their eyes. Plans were drawn, holo-maps marked with Dominic's potential routes, the holo-train lines, and Skyreach sectors. Each shadowed corner of the city was considered a possible hiding place.
Red Fang stepped back, arms crossed, surveying his crew. "Move out. And remember. I want him alive.."
As the gang dispersed into the slums, the city seemed quieter.
The boss sat down, and slowly leaned back, with a slow grin spreading across his face.
The light caught his eyes, faint red veins crawling across his sclera. His grin twisted into something almost inhuman.
"Whatever healed him… might just make me a god."