"You are now a User."
That was the first voice Lowkey heard when the electro-biological chip was activated—a hybrid of sensory cells fused with a black electronic chip implanted into his head, resembling an octopus with a metallic crown.
Then followed another mechanical voice:
"The user has received a dose of blood cell enhancement."
Suddenly, a half-filled, gleaming bottle containing a yellow liquid appeared in his hand.
He stared at it with a slightly twisted expression, laced with caution and suspicion.
"Is it really that bad?"
asked Cori, who was leaning forward to face Lowkey, seated before him. A proud smile played on his lips—he was the one who brought that electro-biological chip to his friend.
"You're not the only one who's felt its nasty effects."
He let out a loud laugh, straightening up as he wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye.
Then he turned his gaze to the aligned buildings ahead, resembling a massive slab of marble bored with tiny tunnels.
"Look how beautiful... how peaceful it is."
"I hope this peace lasts."
"I see... That's why you stole the chip!"
Lowkey responded with a forced laugh, sipping from the bottle.
"I didn't steal it. I just got my hands on it,"
Cori said, his eyes fixed on the heart of the city.
"And where did you get it? Bartered it with your precious belongings?"
Lowkey chuckled as he stared at the bottle in his hand.
Then, in a calm voice after finishing the dose, he said:
"I'm going to crash for a few hours."
That was how Lowkey received his first dose.
---
API City—one of the largest human cities on the planet. Its towering structures, aglow with scattered lights, loomed overhead while all sorts of flying vehicles whizzed past above.
Among its most defining traits were the omnipresent robots and the complete absence of paved roads for traditional cars. Gardens bloomed atop roofs, clung to walls, and even spread across the ground.
On the fringes of this city, a mechanical voice rang in Lowkey's ear:
"Mission number 28: a Rank-TB Plague has escaped, located a few miles from the User."
"You may eliminate it in exchange for 70 contribution points."
"Really?!"
Lowkey's brows furrowed.
"I've only just received my first dose. How do you expect me to face a Rank-TB Plague? Are you trying to get me killed?"
His face wavered between dismay and annoyance as he spoke.
In mission number 27, he had been sent to kill an Inflammatory-class Aberration near the outer walls. Back then, he foolishly believed he could take down anything up to Malaria-class... He barely escaped with his life for that delusion.
Like someone who believes he can swim without ever having faced the fury of waves—perhaps one near-drowning would instill enough fear to rid him of that illusion forever.
The mechanical voice returned:
"You must complete 30 missions to qualify as a Fourth-Tier User."
"Failure to achieve Fourth-Tier within a few months will result in chip termination."
"You've got to be kidding me..."
Lowkey clenched his teeth, forced himself to calm down, and continued:
"Where is this TB located?" he asked, pulling his black cloak tighter around him.
The voice responded:
"Head west, beyond the walls of API. But do not stray too far from the city..."
Then, at last, the machine fell silent, leaving Lowkey alone.
He mounted his hoverbike and set off toward the massive outer walls—an architectural marvel where marble fused with electronic chips, and thick steel entwined with sigil-like ornaments. The walls stood over 100 meters tall, like a mountain stretching endlessly, adorned with homes, buildings, and barracks clinging to its inner face.
It was a majestic and familiar sight.
A colossal gate stood nearby, through which flying vehicles occasionally passed. It resembled a tear between worlds—sometimes even beasts would stride through, ridden by mysterious figures.
"Hey."
"What's your purpose?"
"I have a mission west of the wall. You can verify it on my chip,"
Lowkey replied, gesturing to his forearm.
One of the guards placed his forearm beside Lowkey's, and after verification, nodded him through.
It was routine for these gatekeepers—many of whom were Users themselves—to see others heading out on missions daily.
Lowkey's bike was in such poor shape it couldn't pass through the gate without growling like a dog whose tail had been stepped on, staggering slightly.
"I expect a decent reward when I get back from this mission."
The system replied:
"So be it..."
The responses were always curt, emotionless, and indifferent. Who could blame it? It was merely a machine—servant and ruler of humanity alike.
Lowkey's face tightened. His hand trembled now and then, but he gritted his teeth and twisted the throttle of the groaning bike.
Beyond the walls stretched wastelands of shattered steel, scattered debris, and ruined buildings overrun by black moss and twisted trees—dark ruins that whispered of doom.
His bike sped westward among the wreckage and jagged remnants of blackened metal.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught glimpses of eerie, black creatures lurking in the shadows of broken structures and walls.
They were all Plagues of the Cold-class. Individually, they posed little threat—but in numbers, they were terrifying.
Then came a sharp whistle followed by a thunderous blast behind him.
It was the defense system from the walls, obliterating thousands of Plagues in one strike.
"Why are we being sent out here?"
His hand shook as he tightened the throttle—nearly snapping it.
"I'm about 18 kilometers in... When will I find that TB? I've been searching for half an hour."
Lowkey's voice quivered as his eyes scanned the crumbling buildings, his heartbeat rising as if awaiting the Reaper.
It was common knowledge that this zone rarely saw Plagues above the Inflammatory-class. But the word rare meant little in such vast, forsaken lands.
Behind him, the walls had disappeared from sight—as if he hadn't left them, but instead, they had abandoned him to this hellscape.
The AI's voice finally answered:
"300 meters to your left. A massive tree coils around a ruined building roughly 30 meters high. There lies a Rank-TB Plague. You are tasked with its elimination."
Lowkey's trembling hand clenched into a fist. He grabbed the hilt of the sword at his waist—but did not draw it.
He wore a black cloak over a leather armor reinforced with silver steel plates. At his left hip hung a double-edged straight sword. His short black hair, brown eyes, and features far too severe for someone only nineteen gave him a quiet gravity.
In API, luxury was not afforded to Users without a rank—what he carried was all he could manage.
The target building, 300 meters ahead, came into view—elevated slightly above most of the ruined skyline.
Lowkey's bike surged forward, descending near a massive black metallic structure, sharpened like a blade slicing skyward.
At 183 cm tall, Lowkey was no more than a fly before this colossal ruin.
His heart pounded. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he advanced cautiously toward the structure.
He stopped behind a large stone, its surface stained black by grotesque moss. Its shadow concealed him as he studied the building ahead.
Through its crevices, twisted branches of a great tree snaked in, bearing red leaves and fruit resembling decapitated wasps—ominous and unsettling.
The sight made him all the more vigilant.
And so he waited in silence beneath the shadow, his breath quiet, his eyes sharp—awaiting his moment.
---
[Author's Note]
Hello everyone, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
I wanted to mention that I intentionally avoided inserting thoughts, internal monologue, or direct feelings for Lowkey in this chapter. You won't find lines expressing fear or anxiety directly—it was a deliberate attempt to rely on imagery and atmosphere instead of exposition.
Did this approach work for you, or should I revise the narration style to include such elements?
Even though I personally pre
fer it this way, your feedback means everything.
Thank you, and I hope you continue enjoying the story.
Please keep supporting me