Chapter 3 Survival Rules of the Undercity
1933 Words
Cold, putrid darkness swallowed me whole.
Like a piece of discarded scrap metal, I slammed into the knee-deep, viscous sewage. The stench—a cocktail of chemical waste and rot—felt like an invisible hand tightening around my throat, forcing a violent cough from my lungs. Above, the futile gunfire of the security bots faded into the distance, replaced by the roar of rushing water within the pipes.
I was safe, for now.
I struggled to my feet, the sticky liquid dripping from my tattered clothes. A piercing, agonizing pain shot from the wound on my arm, far more intense than the bullet graze from moments ago. I looked down. By the faint industrial glow filtering through the cracks in the pipes, I saw the gash from the metal shard undergoing a horrific transformation.
The blood was no longer a vivid red; instead, it was tinged with an eerie blackness, like dead pixels on a screen. This blackness was crawling up my veins like a living thing.
At the same time, in the corner of that damned system interface in my mind, a value was ticking upward.
【Data Corruption: 0.1%】
I didn't know what it meant, but my instincts were screaming at me. Like "Existence Deletion," it radiated an ultimate, irreversible chill.
What the hell... was I becoming?
The question pounded at my frayed nerves like a cold hammer. But I had no time to dwell on my fear. The countdown above my head—now with less than seventy-one hours remaining—was a noose around my neck, tightening with every passing second.
I had to keep moving.
I trudged through the sewer, stumbling through the endless dark and the sickening stench. My "Data Vision" was nearly useless here, my field of view flooded with chaotic gray noise. Occasionally, discarded fiber-optic cables would flicker with a faint blue light in the sewage, tagged as 【Data Contamination Source】. I avoided them instinctively.
I don't know how long I walked, but by the time my legs had gone numb, a vertical shaft of light finally appeared ahead. A drainage outlet.
Using the last of my strength, I clawed my way up the slick walls of the pipe and squeezed through the circular opening like a mud-caked insect.A pungent stench, a hundred times more intense than the sewer and thick with sulfur and acid, instantly flooded my lungs. I collapsed to my knees, dry-heaving violently, though my stomach was completely empty.
When I finally managed to look up, I felt a different kind of suffocation.
This was the "Sinking Zone."
The sky was a perpetual murky brown, devoid of even a glimmer of sunlight. Mountains of scrap metal and trash loomed like silent behemoths, crouching along the horizon. Visible dust drifted through the air; every breath felt like swallowing a mouthful of grit. My "Data Vision" had completely broken down, my field of view cluttered with flashing warnings of [ENVIRONMENTAL HAZARD] and [DATA NOISE].
The dual assault on my physical and digital senses left me lightheaded and dizzy.
I struggled to my feet and began to stumble aimlessly forward. I needed a place to hide—somewhere I could figure out how to assassinate a gang leader I’d never even seen before that damned countdown ran out.
Just as I was passing a "hill" of stacked, rusted shipping containers, the ground suddenly gave way beneath my feet.
*Click.*
The sharp snap of a mechanical trigger echoed from underfoot.
My heart leaped into my throat. A split second later, a massive net of woven steel wire erupted from beneath its camouflage, snaring me and hoisting me into the air at a terrifying speed.
"Aagh!"
I let out a sharp cry as I was jerked upside down, dangling in mid-air. My vision swam as the ground fell away beneath me. The wire mesh bit deep into my flesh, tearing at the wound on my arm once more. Waves of agonizing pain caused my vision to darken.
I'm done for.
I thrashed uselessly in the net like a landed fish. A gaunt, skeletal figure emerged from the shadows of the containers. He held a length of rebar sharpened to a point, his eyes gleaming with the predatory greed of a wild dog that had just found its next meal.
【Iron Rat - Scavenger】
【Vital Signs: 100%】
【Threat Level: Medium】
He approached me step by step, his mouth twisting into a hideous grin that revealed rows of stained, yellowed teeth. "Chick from Uptown? Lucky me," he rasped, eyeing me up and down. "That’s some nice material you’re wearing. Should be worth a decent amount of credits."Cold despair gripped me. I thought I had escaped "Athena’s" pursuit, only to end up dying at the hands of a scavenger in the Sinking Zone. It was the ultimate irony.
Just as he raised the sharpened rebar, ready to skewer me, a raspy, aged voice carrying unquestionable authority rang out from nearby.
"Iron Rat, get off my turf."
The scavenger froze, the greed on his face instantly replaced by terror. He spun around, looking toward the source of the voice.
I struggled to turn my head. A gaunt, stooped old man, leaning on a cane with a metallic sheen, was slowly walking out from the shadow of another container. He wore a worn but clean worker's jacket; his face was a map of deep wrinkles like a parched riverbed, but his eyes were startlingly bright and sharp.
"O-Old Doc!" Iron Rat’s voice stuttered with fear. "I... I didn't know this was your turf..."
"Now you do," the old man said coldly, tapping the end of his cane on the ground with a sharp *clack*. "Drop it and get lost."
A trace of resentment flashed across Iron Rat’s face, but when he met the old man’s cold eyes, he immediately hunched his shoulders. He dropped the rebar, shot me a venomous glare, and then scrambled away, disappearing into the shadows of the trash mountains.
The danger had passed.
The old man walked beneath the net, looking up at me as I hung upside down. His gaze swept over me like a scalpel, sending an inexplicable chill through me.
I tried to ask for help, but only a raspy wheeze came from my throat. "He... help..."
He didn't let me down immediately. Instead, he circled me, his cloudy yet sharp eyes gleaming with scrutiny. I felt less like a human being and more like some bizarre, intricately structured component salvaged from a scrap heap.
At that moment, I subconsciously activated my "Data Vision," trying to get a read on this mysterious old man.
However, what happened next was even more shocking than when I had altered the trajectory of a bullet.
When my gaze focused on him, my infallible "Data Vision"... failed for the first time.
No health bar, no name, no threat level. In my field of vision, the old man’s figure was like a data black hole. Over him, there was only a single line of flashing gray characters:
【Insufficient Data Permissions】My mind went blank.
How was this possible? Ever since my awakening, I had been able to see through every living creature and every machine. But this old man before me—it was as if he didn't belong to this world of code.
As I watched in horror, the old man finally raised his hand and pressed an inconspicuous button on the container wall. The steel cable holding me up creaked as it slowly lowered.
When the net hit the ground, I crawled out, my limbs weak and my whole body trembling.
"Uptowner," he spoke, his voice as raspy as the grinding of rusted metal. "You’ve come to the wrong place."
With that, he turned and walked toward the container he had just emerged from. The door, disguised as part of the wall, slid open silently to reveal a cramped but tidy space. The air inside was thick with the scent of disinfectant and machine oil.
I hesitated, but looking at the endless mountains of trash and the dark corners surrounding me, I knew that following him was my only choice.
I limped inside. It was a cybernetic clinic converted from a shipping container. The walls were lined with various models of prosthetic parts and tools. In the furthest corner, a washed-out uniform hung quietly on the wall. There was a faded insignia on the chest; though nearly unrecognizable, its silhouette bore a striking resemblance to the badge of a senior researcher from the Olympus Group.
"Sit," the old man said, pointing to a metal stool next to an operating table.
I sat down obediently, watching him nervously. He pulled a strange, handheld scanner from a cabinet. He stepped up to me and scanned me from head to toe. The device emitted a low hum as beams of blue and green light swept across my body. I saw his clouded eyes fixed intently on a small screen on the device, his brow furrowing deeper by the second.
The scan ended. He switched off the device and looked at me in silence, his gaze making me feel like a frog pinned to a dissection table.
"Interesting," he finally said, his raspy voice carrying a hint of something inexplicable.
I swallowed hard.
Staring at me with eyes that seemed to see through everything, he slowly spoke the words that nearly made my blood freeze:
"You’re carrying an 'Athena' beacon, as bright as a lighthouse in the dead of night. But it’s also being protected by a more ancient, lower-level code—like an invisible shell."He paused, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk that was part mockery, part curiosity.
"You aren't an ordinary fugitive. You're an interesting 'error'."
My heart pounded wildly. He knew! He actually knew about "Athena," and could even see the "code" inside me that I didn't even understand myself!
"Who... who are you?" My voice trembled with shock.
He didn't answer my question. He simply leaned his metal cane against the table, then methodically took a roll of bandages and a jar of ointment from a drawer and tossed them in front of me.
"I don't care who you are, and I don't care what kind of trouble you're in," he said coldly. "I only make deals."
He pointed at my arm, which was oozing black blood.
"I can treat your wounds and let you hide here for a few days. In exchange," he locked his sharp eyes onto me, "you will work for me. Be my assistant. Clean, organize parts, hand me tools... do whatever I tell you to do."
I looked at him, then at the ointment and bandages on the table. I had no choice. In this dog-eat-dog Sinking Zone, he was my lifeline—even if that lifeline itself reeked of danger.
"...Alright." I squeezed the word out through gritted teeth.
"Good." The old man nodded, seeming satisfied that I knew the score. He picked up a tool and motioned for me to extend my arm.
Just when I thought the deal was struck and I could finally catch my breath, that cold, damn synthetic voice in my head rang out again without warning.
This time, it didn't bring a warning, but a brand-new command that chilled me to the bone.
[Detected unknown high-privilege unit intervention... System rules revision in progress...]
[New Priority Directive: Eliminate Threat.]
[Assassination Order Updated]
[Target: Sinking Zone Cyber-Doctor, "Old Doc".]
[Mission Description: Permanently eliminate target unit before countdown expires.]
[Failure Penalty: Existence Erasure.]
- Writer
