Breathing cost fifty aels a day.
That was the first rule every child in the Shallows learned. Before they learned to swim, they learned that air was a subscription service provided by the highborns. The bill was a slow noose that tightened every morning.
Airlangga checked his wrist-comp. A holographic box hovered over his skin. The text glowed with a warning red.
[TIME: 07:15 AM]
[OXYGEN BALANCE: 120 aels]
[EST. SUPPLY: 48 Hours]
"Cheap," Angga muttered. He adjusted the strap of his heavy scavenger pack. "If I hold my breath between steps, maybe I can stretch it to sixty hours."
He stood at the airlock of Sector 4. It was a rusted gate between the slums and the Level 1 Jungle Biome. The air here tasted like old iron and desperation. Outside the thick glass of the dome, the dark ocean water pressed against the city lights. It hung there like a black sky waiting to fall, held back only by three inches of magic glass.
"Hey, Porter! Stop staring at the fish and lift!"
The shout came from Vance. He was a Highborn student from the Academy. He did not even turn around to look at Angga. He was too busy adjusting his sleek combat suit. That suit probably cost more than Angga's entire life.
Angga did not look up. He just tapped his knuckle against the heavy supply crate Vance was pointing at.
Thud. Thud.
Hollow sound. Uneven weight distribution. They packed the potions on the left side. If I lift this wrong, I pull a muscle. That's 50 calories of wasted energy.
"Coming, Boss," Angga said. His voice was flat.
He hooked his tool into the crate's handle. It was a heavy, L-shaped iron bar covered in deep orange rust. Angga called it Karat[1]. It was an ugly thing, but it was a loyal dog made of iron. He swung the eighty-kilogram box onto his back. His knees did not even buckle.
"You look like a turtle, lowborn!" one of Vance's friends laughed.
Angga ignored the nickname. Laugh all you want, he thought. You are paying me 500 aels for this run. That is ten days of breathing.
The airlock opened. The heavy blast doors hissed.
Inside was the Jungle Biome. It was a massive bubble of magic that contained a humid rainforest. Giant ferns curled like green fists. The gravity here was heavy to mimic the crushing pressure of the Deep.
"Alright, listen up!" Vance drew his sword. The blade glowed with a soft blue light. It lit up the white tattoo on his neck. That was the Iron Prasasti. "We are here to hunt Iron-Hide Boars. I need ten tusks for my Class Evolution quest. The Porter stays back."
"Understood," Angga said.
The group moved forward and slashed through the bushes. Angga followed a few steps behind. His eyes scanned the mud. He was not looking for monsters. He was looking for crumbs.
Suddenly, there is a flash of movement.
A massive boar burst from the ferns. Its fur was matted with metallic scales. It squealed loud enough to rattle Angga's teeth.
"Attack!" Vance shouted.
The students engaged. It was a mess of flashing lights. A girl in the back fired ice bolts that missed by a meter. Vance swung his sword in wide, wasteful arcs.
"[Tide Slash]!"
Vance's sword struck the boar's flank. Sparks flew. The boar rammed him and sent the noble tumbling into the mud.
Angga watched with a blank face.
Sparks of blue mana sprayed into the air. It was bleeding light. That was enough energy to power a lamp for a week, spilling into the dirt for nothing.
Inefficient, Angga thought. He is using a slashing attack on a hard hide. He just burned 50 Mana on a scratch.
Eventually, the boar fell. They simply beat it to death with the blunt force of their wealth.
Vance stood up and panted. He walked over to the twitching corpse and placed his hand on its head. The white tattoo on his neck flared.
Whoosh.
A stream of blue light flowed from the boar into Vance. The Highborn closed his eyes as he drank the Experience Points.
"Ten experience points," Vance grunted. He kicked the carcass. "Trash mob. Barely moved my EXP bar." He turned to his friends. "Grab the tusks. Leave the rest. It is too heavy to carry."
They hacked off the tusks and moved on.
Angga waited until they were fifty meters away.
Then, the "turtle" moved.
He dropped the supply crate and slid through the mud. He knelt beside the dead boar. To anyone else, it was garbage. To Angga, it was dinner.
"Let's see what you left behind," Angga whispered.
He pulled down the collar of his ragged shirt. On the back of his neck, a black, jagged tattoo pulsed. It did not glow like gold. It seemed to be a hole in reality that swallowed the light.
[SYSTEM :: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED]
[User: Airlangga]
[Class: Dredger (Tier 1)]
Angga gripped his rusty Karat. He tapped the hook against the boar's ribcage.
Clink.
He drove the hook into the chest cavity.
[Skill Activated: Sift]
[Description: A beggar's tithe. By vibrating a tool against a corpse, the user shakes loose the last clingings of essence that the killer missed.]
Normally, this skill was a joke. It was designed to scrape a pitiful 1% of the residual energy, crumbs for the rats.
But Angga wasn't using the Usual System.
The black tattoo on his neck flared. It hijacked the skill and forced the rusty hook to act like a vacuum. It sought the leftovers that the System was too arrogant to see. It didn't just scrape, it inhaled the remains.
[System Override :: Void Prasasti]
[Amplification: MAX]
[Residual Essence Scavenged]
[Base Efficiency: 1% >>> OVERRIDE: 100%]
[Gained: 100 EXP]
Angga exhaled. 100 EXP. That was more than Vance got for killing it.
But he was not done.
He twisted the hook deeper. He felt for a dense knot of energy near the boar's heart.
Click.
He yanked the hook back. Stuck to the rusty point was a small, grey pebble.
[ITEM ACQUIRED: Lesser Density Pearl]
[Effect: Permanently increases Strength by 0.1]
"Jackpot," Angga whispered.
He quickly shoved the pearl into his boot. A Highborn would pay 5,000 aels for this. That was enough for three months of oxygen.
"Porter! Where are you?" Vance's voice echoed from up ahead.
"Just tying my boot, Boss!" Angga shouted back.
He stood up and grabbed the heavy crate again. As he jogged to catch up, a notification flickered in the corner of his vision.
[CLASS: Dredger]
[Level: 10 (MAX)]
[Evolution Condition: Master Skill 'Sift' to Grade E]
[Current Proficiency: Grade F (95%)]
Angga patted the rusty metal of his hook.
"Soon, Old Karat," he whispered. "We just need a few more scraps."
He looked at the backs of the rich kids ahead of him. They walked like they owned the ocean.
Walk tall, because when I am done scraping the bottom, I am coming for the top.
[1] Karat is an Indonesian word for Rust