The world Ely Zoan inhabited was only one among hundreds colonized by humanity, but they all shared a singular, unbending structure—one that defined a person's life the moment they were born.
Each planet was divided into three distinct sectors, separated not by walls or rivers, but by laws, technology, and a gulf of opportunity. From the cradle to the grave, a person's worth was measured by the sector they lived in, and climbing that social ladder was more myth than reality.
Ely lived in the Lower Sector—a place of rusted rooftops, broken roads, and starving potential. It was the lowest rung of society, home to the abandoned, the forgotten, and the desperate. Life here was governed not by order but by survival. Despite the chaos, Ely had carved out a life, relying on his wits, instincts, and strength.
The Middle Sector hovered above, both literally and metaphorically. Here lived those deemed worthy of recognition—military officers, alchemists of Qi pills, blacksmiths whose forges sparked with advanced alloys, and scientists whose laboratories shimmered with energy cores. It was a place where skill reigned supreme. Each individual, from the armorer to the herb master, was a cog in the planetary machine.
Then came the Upper Sector, a realm almost mythical to those below. Floating cities, gravity-manipulating platforms, and martial families who walked on air. It was a place of power, wealth, and ancient lineage. Three ancient martial arts families ruled here—lineages with roots stretching back to the dawn of human interstellar travel. Only those whose ancestors had once served with distinction in the Human Civilization Army were allowed residence here—particularly those who had earned the title of Commander. Once that title was claimed, the Emperor himself would choose a planet and grant the family a permanent place in its Upper Sector.
But movement between sectors was far from free.
A man from the Middle Sector could walk into the Lower Sector at any time, just as the Upper Sector's elite could look down upon the rest from their ivory towers. But no one moved upward without purpose—and permission.
To leave the Lower Sector for the Middle, one needed an official invitation from a recognized Middle Sector resident. But that alone wasn't enough. A person needed clearance, stamped documents, and the explicit approval of the planet's military Commander, a powerful figure installed by the Human Civilization Army. Without that signature, no transport, no portal, no permission.
The same held true for those attempting to rise from the Middle to the Upper Sector. Invitations, documents, approval—all overseen by the military arm of the Human Civilization. Even something as simple as a maid being summoned to clean an Upper Sector estate required extensive processing and surveillance.
And yet, there was a way.
The Human Civilization Army, the iron force behind all planetary law, offered the only structured path to ascension. If one from the Lower Sector enlisted, endured, and completed their military service, they were automatically granted Middle Sector status. For some, that was enough. For the truly exceptional—those who reached the rank of Commander—their bloodline would be moved forever into the Upper Sector, enshrined in honor.
This army reported only to the Emperor, a figure of myth, who ruled from a secluded planet in the deep reaches of the omniverse. His influence stretched across every planet, every sector, every soldier. Each planet's Commander answered to him alone.
Ely Zoan had never known the feel of authority or power. He had never stepped foot in the Middle Sector. But within him were questions that didn't belong to someone from the slums—questions about structure, rules, and the paths between them.
He didn't yet know it, but the pistol he built from scraps wasn't just a weapon. It was a key.
And one day, someone from above would notice.