Galactic Vendetta

Episode 2: The Slum

After the war, many battle-scarred mechas were abandoned. The chaotic times made it easy for the homeless to claim these metal giants as shelters. By the time the authorities attempted to reclaim them, it was too late. The cost of recovery far exceeded the value of the dilapidated machines, making them economically worthless.

In the slums, owning a discarded mecha as a home was a luxury. David Wood, an orphan, had been taken in by an elderly scavenger when he was young. A few months ago, the old man passed away, leaving David this "vast" inheritance.

This ancient heavy combat mecha bore countless scars—teeth marks, claw marks, and other signs of battle. Despite its wear, it still maintained a relatively intact exterior.

David climbed the rusty mecha with the agility of a monkey, entering the engine room. The engine had long been removed, leaving a clean, empty space that David had transformed into a small but comfortable bathroom. The setup had cost him a significant portion of his savings.

The bathroom was equipped with eco-friendly facilities, capable of generating electricity from waste and collecting water from the air for reuse. Aside from meeting basic needs, it also allowed David to indulge in a luxurious hot shower every three days.

From the engine room, David crawled into the cockpit. The controls and instruments had all been stripped away, leaving two narrow bunks—one for him and one for the old man. The old man's bunk was now covered not with blankets but with an assortment of wood carvings and various colored pieces of wood.

After entering the cockpit, David had a simple meal of nutrient liquid and compressed food before turning on the lights. The small cockpit instantly brightened.

In the bright light, David picked up a carving knife and began his work for the day.

This was a job David had stumbled upon by chance—crafting wooden artworks for a small, long-established shop. In this era of booming mechanical civilization, wood carving was a forgotten art.

As soon as David grasped the carving knife, the cold expression on his face disappeared, replaced by a look of intense focus. His eyes gleamed with a unique brightness as the sharp, delicate knife danced nimbly in his hands. Each stroke seemed to breathe life into the wood.

Time passed, and the block of wood, slightly larger than a fist, gradually took the shape of a soaring eagle. Even in its rough form, it exuded an impressive spirit.

Satisfied with the eagle's emerging form, David glanced at the ancient wristwatch on his arm and set the carving aside.

Though David could quickly complete a piece, that didn't mean he could work nonstop. In fact, his daily workload was relatively fixed, limited by the sales volume of the small shop.

But David was content. The price of each carving he sold was high, and the commissions he earned were substantial. At his current rate, he would easily earn enough to cover four years of tuition and living expenses within a year.

Today, it was time to make a delivery.

David's gaze fell on a carved tiger resting on the bunk. The small figure of a tiger crouched on a rocky outcrop radiated majesty, its fierce eyes embodying the king of beasts.

In reality, David had never seen a real tiger. He carved it based on data provided by the shop. This animal, native to Earth's distant solar system, was said to be ferocious, the king of beasts, a predator. David could only imagine what a real tiger might look like through his work.

David harbored a long-standing dream: to visit Earth, the cradle of human civilization. However, he knew this dream was out of reach for now. Besides his financial constraints, the entire solar system was under martial law, and Earth itself was off-limits to any spacecraft.

Carefully wrapping the wooden tiger sculpture in velvet cloth and placing it securely in a small box, David Wood put it in his backpack and climbed down from the mech, heading directly for the commercial district of Zor Star.

David wasn’t worried about anyone breaking into his mech. On any planet, personal property was heavily protected; entering someone’s home without permission could legally result in being shot by the owner. Of course, such laws were a joke in the slums, where murder and robbery happened every minute, often for something as trivial as a meal. In the slums, fists were the only law.

David's protection wasn’t based on law but on reputation. His adoptive father, known as “Ironhead,” had a fearsome reputation. Ironhead wasn’t the strongest, but he was ruthless. At least half of the garbage bins around Zor Mech University bore Ironhead’s mark, and anyone daring to scavenge from them risked a brutal attack. Though frail, Ironhead was vicious, often fighting to the death, making even the local gangs think twice before crossing him.

When David was five, a small-time thug knocked out one of his teeth. Ironhead waited three days and nights, then used a hammer to knock out all of the thug's teeth in revenge.

After Ironhead died six months ago, the scavengers in the slums celebrated for three days, and the garbage bins at Zor Mech University were emptied within minutes—a testament to the fear Ironhead had instilled.

David didn’t follow in Ironhead’s footsteps as a scavenger, not because he didn’t want to, but because Ironhead wouldn’t allow it. Ironhead believed David was destined for greater things and never let him scavenge, not even from a distance.

Though David didn’t inherit Ironhead’s trade, he did inherit his ruthlessness. Ironhead had drilled into him from a young age to show no mercy to enemies; when it was time to strike, it had to be decisive and brutal. Everyone in the slums knew about the ferocious father and son duo, Ironhead and David.

In truth, David only had to make his mark once in the slums. At age five, with Ironhead's help, he knocked out all of a thug's teeth with a hammer. After that, no one dared to mess with him again.

There’s also a notable story about how David got his job at Zor Mech University. It was all thanks to Ironhead. Rumor had it that Ironhead harassed the university’s president for five years to secure a job for David. During those years, Ironhead was often beaten b****y, because a university president was no slum thug—he was always surrounded by bodyguards. Whether it was Ironhead’s persistence or the president’s exasperation that finally worked, David eventually got the job, and even managed to get Liam Strong hired too.

Ironhead protected David like a fierce mother hen, but he wasn’t as tender as people might think. He had high expectations and was incredibly strict. Though uneducated, Ironhead had his own teaching methods, which were simple: he’d make David memorize scavenged books within a set time. David would never forget the time he failed to complete a memorization task and was punished by having to stand on top of the mech for an entire day and night without food or water.

David looked back at the towering mech, almost feeling as if a pair of cold eyes were watching him from the cockpit. He sighed. Ironhead had been dead for nearly six months, but David still felt his presence, always pushing him, never letting him slack off.

Night had fully descended, casting the entire slum in darkness, with sporadic lights flickering among the chaotic structures, making them appear especially dazzling. The slum was far from quiet at night; it was even livelier after dark. Along with the returning workers, shady figures began to emerge, gathering in corners, while the air was thick with the scent of drugs. A few women, caked in cheap makeup, stood in the shadows, enticing customers, their overpowering perfume making passersby nauseous.

David Wood navigated through the crowd, untouched and unbothered. In the slum, he was an outlier, someone who didn’t fit in. Ironhead had made sure of that, strictly forbidding David from mingling with anyone in the slum. Liam Strong was the only exception, thanks to his role in helping David during that fateful incident with the knocked-out tooth.

Besides Liam, anyone else who attempted to get close to David would immediately face Ironhead’s hostility. To David, Ironhead was a mysterious figure, nothing like the shortsighted and desperate residents or scavengers of the slum. Despite his limited literacy, Ironhead had the air of someone who had received a higher education. He knew things most of the slum dwellers couldn’t even imagine, had a keen understanding of human psychology, and, most importantly, knew how to protect both himself and David in the harsh environment of the slum.

Ironhead's frail-looking body also harbored an inexplicable strength that David had always been curious about. In David's memory, Ironhead never lost a fight. Although most of his battles ended in mutual injury, his opponents invariably came off worse. This reputation was the main reason why the slum’s residents feared him so much.

Unfortunately, even up until Ironhead’s death, David never truly understood who Ironhead really was.

Because of Ironhead, David was shrouded in an air of mystery among the slum's residents. Most people avoided him, fearing to get on Ironhead’s bad side. Growing up in this isolated environment, David developed a habit of being quiet and reserved. Anyone who tried to approach him would quickly sense a cold, distant aura that kept them at bay.

The slum was vast, covering tens of thousands of square meters. From a bird’s eye view, it was clear that Zorl Mech University and the slum were separated by just a single wall, although the main gate of the university was over a kilometer away from the slum.

It's said that the first generation of residents in the slum were mech warriors who had once protected Zorl Mech University. After the war with the alien species, many of the wounded soldiers stayed behind, forming the first wave of slum inhabitants. Over time, as interstellar exploration expanded, more and more destitute people gathered, creating the slum as it existed today.

Perhaps due to the influence of these early residents, most of the current inhabitants relied on Zorl Mech University for their livelihood, much like how Ironhead scavenged within the university. Of course, scavenging was just one of many ways to survive. Some provided drugs to students, others offered s****l services, or engaged in extortion, petty theft, and other criminal activities.

Beyond these illicit methods, there were a few relatively legitimate businesses as well. Around five hundred meters from the university's main gate, there was a large hole in the wall leading into a street in the slum. It’s said that half of the university's female students lost their virginity on this very street, which the students had humorously dubbed "Fall Street."

Fall Street was about two hundred meters long, lined with teahouses, restaurants, and small inns, many of which concealed prostitutes within. The university had tried to seal off the hole in the wall countless times, but each time, it was violently reopened within days. After a long, drawn-out tug-of-war, the university finally conceded, allowing the hole to remain. After all, that hole supported the livelihood of hundreds of people, and in the spirit of humanitarianism and social harmony, its existence was deemed necessary.

At night, Fall Street was ablaze with lights, a vibrant hub of activity. It offered students affordable and high-quality services, drawing a steady stream of them through its alleys. The small inns, in particular, were thriving, with young couples sneaking in and out, their faces flushed with a mix of excitement and embarrassment...