[ NOTICE ]
Dear Citizen,
We regret to inform you that you have been selected as part of the upcoming group to be relocated from the city due to overpopulation. As our city nears its maximum capacity, it becomes necessary to maintain equilibrium for the well-being of all residents.
To facilitate the relocation process, we kindly request your cooperation in presenting yourself to the authorities at your earliest convenience. Upon arrival, you will be guided through the necessary procedures, including the surrender of your WristNet device.
Please be advised that failure to comply within the designated timeframe will result in the activation of the safety protocol within your WristNet. This protocol will ensure the expeditious resolution of the relocation process.
While we understand the challenges associated with relocation, we extend our heartfelt condolences. Rest assured, every effort will be made to ensure your comfort and safety throughout the transition.
Thank you for your understanding and cooperation in this matter.
Sincerely,
[ ]
"it is time...."
The words hung in the air, heavy with resignation. Zolma Ghorab, a pale and frail figure in the dimly lit room, stared blankly at the communication device in his hand. His missy dark hair fell unkempt around his face, framing eyes that shimmered with a haunting green.
With a sigh, Zolma tossed aside the remains of the mutated insect he had been eating and rose from his corner. The cramped space felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the vastness of the world outside. He knew what awaited him beyond these walls: a fate dictated by power and strength.
he took a last look at his half-collapsed room and the books his mother collected when she was alive and finally decided to crawl through the small hole in the wall leading to the streets.
"cough cough"
As he made his way through the dirty streets, Zolma couldn't help but notice the blank faces of his fellow residents. They all shared the same pallid skin and threadbare rags, the unmistakable marks of a life lived on the edge of survival in the outer area of the city.
The closest guard office loomed far ahead, where he would have to hand his WristNet and make the choice that would decide his future, though calling it a choice is an exaggeration. one has to either leave the city to clear space or sell himself as a slave to some rich family that lives in the inner ridges of the city to avoid the dangers beyond the barrier, as for those who refused to respond to the notice, they get captured and thrown outside with the rest, the slave market doesn't need their kind anyway.
"sigh..."
With a resigned sigh, Zolma continued on his path, his footsteps echoing against the cold pavement. He knew there was no turning back at this point.
As he approached the nearest guard office, Zolma felt a knot form in his stomach. Surrendering his WristNet meant surrendering his last link to the city, his last semblance of freedom. But in this world, freedom was a luxury few could afford.
With a heavy heart, Zolma stepped inside the office, the harsh fluorescent lights casting long shadows across the worn linoleum floor. A uniformed guard glanced up from his desk, his expression showing signs of exhaustion.
"Name?" the guard asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
Zolma hesitated for a moment, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a lead weight. But then he squared his shoulders and spoke the words that sealed his fate.
"Zolma Ghorab," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within.
The guard looked up his information and began the procedures.
"Are you capable of paying for an extended stay?"
"no"
"Do you have any family members capable or willing to pay for an extended stay?"
"No."
"I see, the slave market then?"
"No sir, I wish to accept my relocation."
The guard gave him a deep look and sighed before continuing.
"You are 17 years old and, like most who live near the barrier, you are suffering from mana poisoning. Going outside is suicide. It is recommended that you go to the slave market. Serving under someone is not that bad compared to dying to some wild monster."
"I wish to accept my relocation," Zolma simply restated his request without hesitation.
He knew that going outside the barrier meant death, but he refused to sell his freedom. His mother faced this same choice when she was 16 and managed to survive for 30 years just by hunting weak mutated animals until she died of mana poisoning at the age of 46. A remarkable feat considering that most outskirters chose to become slaves or died on their first year outside the city upon receiving the relocation notice.
The city couldn't allow people who played no role in society to take up much-needed space and resources, after all. Although most survived by hunting and eating mutated insects, they were still seen as a liability, as even mutated insects were an important resource for feeding the slaves and cattle.
This is why the four rulers agreed on giving the outskirkers and those who had no job within the city the choice of either becoming slaves or trying their luck outside the wall. Normally, people would have to choose when they reach the age of 15, but thanks to his late mother leaving him some savings before her death, Zolma managed to survive another two years by paying for an extended stay. He spent it training his body and buying the best mutated insects he could afford, all to have better chances of surviving the dangers that lay beyond the barrier.
"I see... hand over your communication device and wait for the transport to move you to the gate," the guard instructed.
Zolma looked at the guard and pulled a sack out of his rags, handing it to the guard who opened it in stunned silence.
"That's 20 G-rank mana stones. I want to buy H-rank flame and H-rank water," Zolma stated firmly. That was what was left from his savings, and he planned on using it to awaken his mana by learning spells.
"This is enough for an extra 2 years in the city. Are you sure? These spells can barely make you a G rank, and even if you awaken a powerful exclusive skill you won't have enough mana" the guard asked, skepticism lacing his tone.
"And when the year is over?" Zolma replied emotionlessly with his hoarse voice. "I am not going to be a slave."
"I see..." The guard pulled a box full of small and colorful pieces of glass, ranging from white to orange. Each had a pointy end and was labeled with different elements. He selected two white pieces with the words "fire" and "water" written on them and handed them to the green-eyed boy while disconnecting his WristNet using some device in his. "Good luck, kid, and remember to bring back the blank oculus."
Zolma took off the WristNet from his wrist after it loosened and handed it to the guard.
"I will bring the empty shell back when I learn the skills," Zolma said quietly as he headed toward the waiting room.