The underground world was divided into three regions,with each region having three sectors.
From a birds point of view, the inner region could be clearly spotted from any angle. That was due to the massive elevator that led to the upper world. On the left and right of the elevator, was a humangous metal wall structure that encompased the whole three sectors of the inner region. "They said it was for the administrators protection" Cole once told Medici. But he had also said that the inner region was also the most packed with the law enforcement teams. He had never gone there himself but he informed Medici that he had once seen thousands of them during a riot. "It was also at this riot where dad died."
Cole then continued talking about the sectors. The inner region had the first three, the middle one having sector 4 to 6 while the outher region had sector 7 to nine. The two now lived in sector nine, where crime was rumpant, law enforcement teams were not available and lives of people here were as cheep as the piss like beer they sold here. Believe it or not, but the outer region was the smallest of the three but still had the largest population. And sector nine bore all the brunt of this population pressure.
During this talk, Medici had asked cole to find out whatever he can about the underground world. This information was vital. Vital to his future plans. Vital to his survival in this world. Feeling the weight of being a cripple in a lawless sector terrified him at night. This feeling of insecurity made his stomach churn. And so he sought information.
He learnt about the power structure of section nine. He learnt who controls what, who to not offend and who to offend. But Of course this information was not free. Cole had to use more than 20 credits for it. Which also led to Cole mentioning their inherited debt and how the bloodhounds would be coming for them in a few days. Medici was furious.
"I have thought about it." Cole spoke.." What if we ran and stayed in the disposal sites? There is enough shelter there and i can bring you stuff easilly..? And..and we dont even have to worry about the air .." He said.." We have your modified masks!!"
Medici looked at him. Sighing with disappointment. This plan was not thought through, he thought. He began to rack his head. But anger and fear clouded his thoughts.
Then he asked..
"How much do we awe? " Medici asked cooly."2700 credits." " What?... And youre only saying this now?" Medici erupted.
Just what kind of situation was this? Was fate playing tricks on him? It had already been 7 days since his transmigration into this world. He had thought that with his engenuity, although not as prominent as the geniuses of this world, would atleast be rare in this underground world. Aiding him in selling a few specs and live a little better.
However reality was a bitch. Cole had just informed him of their debt. At first, he had found it absurd that debts in this world were inherited. Now however, after some consideration of the living standards and their situation in the underground world, he had come to terms with it.
"Okay ! Okay ! Lets think of solutions" he thought out loud.
He knew that in this kind of world it was not favorable to awe someone money. Money in terms of credits, as he had come to know, held much value than any kind of currency on earth. According to what he had come to understand, 100 federation credits was enough to feed a family of three for a month in this hell hole. He had also come to know that with just 500 credits, one could find a place at section 7 with favorable housing for a month. Although it would still just be the basic simple kind.
He thought of many things,
Countless of ways and ideas of earning money in this hell hole. Many surfaced in his mind, however, countless shortcomings also presented themselves. In the end, selling the modified breather mask was the most prominent. Not only were the materials easy to collect but he also thought about going big with his idea. A name came to his mind.." Travis"
Travis was one of the overlords of the underground world. Having significant power and authority over the disposal site apart from official workers. He was known for his ruthlessness and his risk taking ventures. Always greedy for more and more.
There was once a rumor, a rumor about how he lost his right hand. This rumor was associated by many different stories. One said that he had once found an ancient space ship underneath the disposal site and lost his arm while adventuring for treassure. Another said that he had lost his arm while fighting an anomalie that had manifested in the disposal zone. Some said that it was after this battle where he displayed the anomalies corpse for thousands of credits. Enabling him to solidify his place in the outer region, collaborating with the few unlucky officials that were posted there.
Medici litsened to all these with an open mind. Clearly noting some parts of the rumors. He knew that if their is a rumor, there is a hint of truth. He also made some reference to the kind of personality Travis had. He wanted to know what kind of person he would be dealing with. In the end, the rumors were too many. And most of them frightened Medici to the core. " This man is too ruthless and calculating." Medici thought to himself.
This comment was after tracing the rumors to the truth. He made cole gather all the major events that happened, compared them to some of the rumors, made some deduction and the only thing he was certain was that... If he played with fire, he would most likely get burnt.
And so he altered his plans. He took a long glance at the mecha arm that Cole had hauled from the disposal site and started tearing it apart. He took out all the components and in the inner most part, he found what he was looking for."Just as i expected." A smile crept out of his mouth.
A small sphere was taken out of the mechanical arm. A second one was taken out, then another and another until seven balls were in Medici's hands. He gazed at these things with curiousity. It was everything he had dreamt of. " A sphere of compressed energy. Just what kind of energy is this though..? Damnmm this technology! Just how far more advanced is it..? This compression ability is just divine."
He thought for hours and hours. Then he began tinkering.
****
The next day.
Medici's wheelchair was a crude marvel of underground ingenuity, its frame welded from an old delivery drone chassis, reinforced with steel rods salvaged from collapsed scaffolding. The seat was a bent machine panel padded with foam strips and stitched rags, while mismatched motorbike wheels served as the main drive, paired with squeaky caster wheels in front for maneuverability. Pipe wrenches functioned as side levers for manual control, connected to a crude gear-assist mechanism pulled from a clock. A cargo net hung behind the seat for scavenged parts, and the armrest held makeshift tools fixed in place with magnets. Though battered and uneven, it rolled.
It may sound cool and suffisticated but it looked worse than it seemed. It was like a magnet that attracted chaff. It was just so and so in terms of appearence. But it did its work. It rolled.
"Lets go." He told Cole. Cole grabbed on the back of the wheelchair and pushed out of their cloth door. The wheelchair moved slowly due to the mud and grime. Cole needed to put effort for them to to transverse the section full of people and machine. They strolled through vendors and beggars. Widows, low quality servant robots and some dead bodies being disposed of by the so called sanitary cleaners.
It was a hassle. They wore normal breather masks before entering the disposal sites. The air becoming toxic from all the compaunding and burning of junk by robots and machinary. Along the way, apart from the robots, worker drones and machinery, the pair also encountered some of the official workers roaming around. They wore reflector jackets and carried control manuals. They had to stop, put their hand on their chest and bow. Medici found it taxing. "The federation he! " He took note..
The two walked around the site for about 10 minutes before arriving at Travis's camp. Their hearts tightened, especially Medici. He took a deep breath, calmed himself down before following a man in black into the camp.
The deeper into the camp they went,the more the noise outside faded into a low mechanical hum. Inside, the place was a maze of narrow paths walled by stacked crates and half-gutted machines. Workers were moving disorderly, there faces smeared with grease and their eyes avoiding contact. Overhead, salvaged lights dangled from frayed cords, flickering like they might die at any second. Every corner reeked of labor: burnt wire, coolant leaks, oil.
As they turned the final corner, Medici saw raised platform, rusted, and surrounded by scrap screens looping surveillance feeds. Travis sat above, one boot propped on a twisted railing, a half-lit smoke in his mouth. Medici confirmed the rumors, Travis only had his left hand.
Their guide brought them to the side. Saying that when their turn to speak came they would be surmoned. Looking around, more than three hundred people were watching Travis by the sideline. He had also noticed that he and cole were in some kind of cubed sideline, along with other people who were in their own cubes.
Suddenly, a boy no more than 15 knelt in the metal floor with a bang. His forehead striking the floor three times before Travis raised his hand.
"Do you know your sin?" The boy trembled when he heard this. "Do you know why you are here. Right before me in the judging room?" The boy got more anxious, his voice breaking as he spoke." Ye..yes boss."
"Tell me then? What is your sin?" The boy now was terrified. He had seen this before. He had been where many others were before. Watching as others got judged. Much like how he was getting judged. He knew what was coming. His fear evident in his eyes.
"Don't waste my time boy? Tell everyone your sins and repent! You have five seconds to do so!" Travis erupted, then as if a different person took over his body, his tone changed and became softer." Boy..Whats your name? I know you didnt mean to steal from me. I know you had no other choice. You had to save your mother. I understand, i also empasize with you. But you should know,those who do not hide their sins have a chance of forgiveness. And so am giving you your last chance...what are your sins?"
The boy's heart raced. Then it calmed. He surmoned up all his courage and opened his mouth. However...
Bang!
Blood splurted all over the metal floor. The boy's lifeless body fell with a thud and Travis's face showed a wicked smile as he said..." Five seconds are over!" Then he laughed.
Medici saw all this from the sidelines,reevaluating Travi's as a threat that is even more dangerous. His plans changed on the spot as his heart raced. He was too hyper, his mind thinking about how to present his proposal.Then things got worse..
"Next.." Their guide turned hostile, rolling Medici's wheelchair next to the lifeless body on the metal floor. Cole was knocked unconcious, then dragged next to the corpse. Medici's mind was in turmoil. Just when he thought that things couldn't get worse.
"Do you know your sin?"
The underground world was divided into three regions, each with three sectors.
From a bird's-eye view, the inner region stood out immediately—thanks to the colossal freight elevator that connected the underground to the surface. Flanking it on both sides were enormous metal walls, towering structures that enclosed all three inner sectors in a fortress-like embrace.
"They said it was to protect the administrators," Cole once told Medici. "But truth is, that place is swarming with law enforcement. I've never gone in, but I saw thousands of them once—during a riot."
He paused, the weight of memory settling on his shoulders.
"It was the same riot where Dad died."
Cole had gone on to explain the sector layout. The inner region held Sectors 1 through 3. The middle region stretched from Sectors 4 to 6. And the outer region—where they now lived—held Sectors 7 through 9.
Sector 9 was the far edge of society, where the Federation's reach was little more than a rumor. Law enforcement was absent, crime was rampant, and life was cheap—cheaper than the piss-like beer the locals brewed in the alley stills. Ironically, the outer region was the smallest of the three, yet carried the largest population. And Sector 9 bore the brunt of that weight.
It was during one of their late-night talks that Medici had asked Cole to dig up whatever he could about this underground world. He needed information—desperately. Not just for his plans, but for survival.
Being a cripple in a lawless zone gnawed at him nightly. It made his gut twist. And so, he learned.
He learned about the power players in Sector 9—who to avoid, who to bow to, and who could be pushed. Of course, knowledge came at a cost. Cole spent over 20 credits to get it, and in doing so, unearthed something worse: the debt.
The Bloodhounds were coming. And they were owed.
"We inherited the debt," Cole admitted grimly. "They'll come in a few days."
Medici's fury was immediate.
"I've been thinking," Cole offered, nervously scratching his neck. "What if we hide in the disposal sites? There's shelter there... I could sneak in food. And the air's fine—we still have your modified masks."
Medici stared at him, exhaling hard. It was a reckless plan. Born from fear, not strategy. His mind began to churn, but it was clouded with panic.
"How much do we owe?" he asked, voice flat.
"Two thousand, seven hundred credits."
Medici's eyes narrowed. "What?! And you're only telling me this now?!"
Was fate mocking him?
It had only been seven days since he transmigrated into this world. He'd expected that his Earth-born ingenuity, while not genius-tier, would at least give him an edge. Help him sell a few gadgets. Survive.
But this place was merciless. Debt was hereditary, hope was taxed, and now they were staring down a 2700-credit grave.
"Okay… think. Think," Medici muttered aloud, trying to steady his thoughts.
Credits ruled everything here. From what he'd gathered, a hundred credits could feed a family of three for a month. With 500, one could afford basic housing in Sector 7. By underground standards, that was paradise.
He thought of dozens of ways to make money. Most were impractical. But one idea kept rising to the top—selling the modified breather masks. The materials were easy to scavenge. The demand was real.
He even thought of going big. Of partnering with someone powerful.
A name came to mind—Travis.
One of the overlords of the underground world. Ruthless. Ambitious. Dangerous. Travis ran the disposal sites like a king, with more sway than the actual officials posted there.
Rumors swirled around him like flies over rot.
Some said he lost his right arm exploring an ancient starship buried in the junk. Others claimed it was severed in a fight against a mutated anomaly in the site—a creature whose corpse he later sold for thousands of credits.
Whatever the truth, one thing was clear: Travis was no man to cross.
Medici listened carefully to every rumor, pieced them together, checked their timelines. He made Cole compile past events, compare testimonies. The conclusion?
Play with Travis, and you'd likely burn.
So Medici adjusted his plans.
He turned to the dismembered mecha arm Cole had salvaged. He stripped it down, component by component. And in the heart of the machine, he found what he'd been hoping for.
"Just as I thought."
From the wreckage, he pulled out seven small spheres—compressed energy cores. He held them in his hand, marveling.
"A sphere of compressed energy… but what kind? The tech here—how far ahead is it? This compression... it's almost divine."
He stayed up all night tinkering.
The next day
Medici's wheelchair was a crude marvel of survivalist engineering. Its frame was scavenged from a broken drone chassis, reinforced with bent steel rods. The seat was cobbled from machine panels and padded with stitched-together foam rags. Motorbike wheels served as the drive, with squeaky caster wheels up front. A pair of pipe wrenches acted as side levers, linked to a hacked gear system taken from an old clock.
It wasn't pretty. In fact, it looked like a magnet for ridicule. But it rolled—and that was enough.
"Let's go," he told Cole.
Cole nodded and began pushing the wheelchair through the filth-stained alleyways. They passed beggars, widows, broken robots, and corpses being carted away by silent sanitary drones. The air was already foul.
They donned breather masks before entering the disposal site. The stench of burning junk and chemical runoff was overwhelming. Worker drones buzzed overhead, hauling debris. Federation workers in reflective jackets walked the area with control manuals. At their approach, Medici and Cole bowed low, hands on their chests—a required gesture of submission. It made Medici seethe.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at Travis's camp.
The noise outside dulled to a mechanical hum. Inside, the camp was a tangled maze of stacked crates, half-dismantled machines, and flickering lights hanging from frayed wires. Workers moved like ghosts—silent, grease-stained, avoiding eye contact.
At the center stood a rusted platform. Screens cobbled from old monitors looped surveillance feeds. Travis sat on a crooked metal chair, a boot propped up, smoke curling from his lips. His right arm was indeed gone.
The guide led them into a boxed-off area on the sidelines. All around them, others waited in similar cages, watching. Medici counted over three hundred people gathered.
A boy was dragged forward—no older than fifteen. He fell to his knees with a metallic clang. Bang. Bang. Bang. He slammed his forehead into the steel floor.
Travis raised a hand.
"Do you know your sin?" His voice echoed through the camp.
The boy trembled. "Y-yes, boss."
"Then say it."
The boy was panicking now, tears already forming.
"Don't waste my time. Speak up, or be damned. Five seconds." Travis paused, then softened his tone. "What's your name, boy? I know you didn't mean to steal from me. You did it for your mother. I get that. I respect that. But redemption comes only to those who speak their sins."
The boy's breathing slowed. He summoned the courage to speak.
But before the first word left his lips—
Bang!!
Blood sprayed across the metal. His body hit the floor with a dull thud.
Travis smiled. "Five seconds are up."
Laughter erupted from the crowd.
Medici stared, his mind racing. This man... he's worse than the rumors.
His plans shifted again, instantly. The danger here was far greater than he'd calculated.
Then came the voice.
"Next."
Their guide's tone turned cold. He wheeled Medici forward.Straight to the blood-slick floor. Cole was struck unconscious and dragged beside him.
Medici's heart thundered. Cold sweat clung to his back.
Then came Travi's voice, delivered like a curse:
"Do you know your sin?"