Prologue – White Steel
“…”
What kind of emotion would appear in the heart of someone—who is forced to stand in front of a colossal giant?
Terror. Helplessness. Nervousness. Insignificance.
Any such word that is related to making a human feel as if they are but an ant can be used to describe the emotions that the young man finds himself basking in, as he stands before a figure—whose stature can only be compared to a mountain.
A full metal body of majestic white steel with wing like boosters mounted to its shoulders.
A spear garbed in the colors of the chilling seas, with a length that can skewer a dreadnought battleship from head to toe.
Its one eye that is located to the right side of its knight like face gives off an eerie blue shine, as the mechanical ring that acts as its iris shrinks—to zoom in on the ant like figure of the young man who stands beneath its heel styled feet.
How much resources would the creation of a similar knight cost, and just how advanced would a civilization need to be to even realize its creation?
“…”
Even if mortal hands are able to replicate this knight’s shape, there are various fantasy factors to take into consideration, one of them being, the visible force of energy that is wrapping around the metal body that pushes it to act and to move.
This energy isn’t something that humans can manufacture for there is something “lively” about it, going as far as to say that one would instinctively relate it to the supernatural.
Regardless, it is these factors that makes this body of white steel difficult for mortals to wrap their untainted minds around.
[This world is already done for. There’s no longer any meaning in staying here unless your wish is to die.]
The familiar voice of a supposed friend comes from the knight of white steel, as it directs the 310-meter spear in its right hand towards the young man.
“…”
Looking towards the giant of white steel’s right eye, the young man forms an expression that is akin to a defeatist.
[Pathetic. Are you so filled with despair that you’ve lost even the ability to make a rational decision? I didn’t take you as someone that is so weak minded.]
In a reprimanding tone, the voice speaks.
“…Right now, are you speaking to me as the almighty god, or are you speaking to me as my supposed friend?”
A hint of unwavering determination can be felt from the young man’s voice, as he gazes fearlessly at the knight of white steel.
[…How very much like you to raise such a question.]
Seeing that determination, the one who commands the knight of white steel smiles in satisfaction.
Chapter 1
“Fire! Do not hold anything back!”
*Boom!* as soon as these words are said by a person dressed in the attires of a colonel, a blast hurls down from above and ends their existence—almost as if the gods looming above his head has deemed him worthy of moving onto their next life.
*Boom! Boom! Boom!* relentlessly, the triggers of numerous missile launchers are pulled.
The target—
“…”
A human dressed in a traditional set of Han robes.
However, the fact that this individual is capable of standing in the air without any sort of tool to assist them meant that they had long strayed from the definition of what it means to be a mere mortal, and towards the incoming missiles—
*…!!!* following the flash of cold steel, the approaching missiles are divided in half, and though the blast had swallowed up the humanoid figure—
*Boom!* brushing aside the settling dust cloud, the figure that should have been wounded emerges unscathed.
In the next instance, he descends from above—with his abrupt landing shattering the earth!
Almost as if the ground had become a blooming flower, slabs of the earth are raised upwards at an angle, while propelling the bodies of numerous individuals into the air.
Without pausing, the figure in the Han robes swings his sword causing limbs, heads, and blood to rain from above.
“…?”
Just as the Han robed figure is about to turn his attention towards another area of this battlefield, a human body descends from above.
“…”
Narrowing his eyes towards the figure, the Han robed figure gradually realizes that the figure is not a corpse, and towards this enemy’s descent—
*…!!!* the depth of the crater increases by more than ten meters as proof of how much force had been put into this strike.
Despite that, astonishingly the thin sword and arm of the Han robed figure hadn’t shattered under the impact of a blade that had been as large as a human body.
“The hell is that sword of yours made from?”
“…”
Without answering the ambusher’s question, the Han robed figure’s eyes flash with killing intent as he swings his sword to hurl the two-handed blade wielder back.
“…”
As if the opponent had been one of extreme insignificance, the Han robed figure checks their sword for any chips, but even before he could give his weapon a thorough look over, the figure that was tossed back bounces back for another assault.
“**** *** *** *****…”
Speaking in a language that is foreign to the people of this world, the Han robed figure turns his full attention towards the superhuman.
Battles of this nature are rampant throughout this war zone that is located in the northern parts of this planet.
This is what the denizens of this world calls the Great Immortal Wars that is waged between the Han robe wearing Immortals and the Sinners, the superhumans that are capable of fighting these Immortals head-on with only their flesh and blood bodies.
In this war zone, the common soldier’s life is worth nothing more than fodder for their main task is to provide long-ranged support using advanced weaponry and the distribution of basic survival necessities.
Chapter 2
“What you see on screen is live footage of the frontlines.”
Within a classroom that is far removed from the supposed frontlines are students of high school age.
All of them are staring at the same large monitor screen that shows the situation of this planet’s northern domains.
Pressing a remote to shut off the monitor is the instructor—who is a forty-year-old man dressed in a military attire.
“Look outside.”
Towards the instructor’s words that is the equivalent of a military order, the students all look to their left.
Embedding itself into the exosphere of this planet is a colossal structure made up of gears.
Over the course of this war that has lasted for well over 1,500 years, the people of this world have come to call this structure made up of moving gears, the Gears of Descension. It’s common knowledge that the gears have two functions.
The first function is the gears’ ability to bring Immortals and other foreign matters into this world, while its second function is to act as a prison that prevents all the lifeforms living on this planet from escaping into outer space.
“The dream of humanity is to rid ourselves of these prison bars someday, these are expectations that you Sinners are expected to fulfil for civilization.”
Having said that, the military instructor turns toward the door and leaves.
As silence looms in the air after the doors are shut, one of the students eventually takes his eyes away from the window.
(A hassle, a pain, a death sentence, I don’t feel like breaking my back for this society.)
Tossing the military instructor’s words out of his head, the whining young man presses his face against his desk that barely fits someone of his above average stature.
His name card that is pinned to his cheap uniform jacket reads 1029-874 and aside from his dark hair, the only other features about him that stood out from his peers is the black choker that is wrapped around his neck along with his azure-colored eyes.
“Hey, how are we being divided again?”
“Lottery draws.”
“So, the misfortunate gets sent off to the frontlines right away?”
“And the fortunate gets sent off to the Disciplinary Bureau to work for five years prior to getting shipped off.”
“Doesn’t that just mean that the fortunate only gets a reprieve?”
“Wouldn’t you want to get a reprieve instead of having to deal with what we saw on the screen today?”
“I think I’m going to miss this classroom. Today’s the last day we get to use the place.”
“Graduation…”
For the students at this school that is lazily being labeled as S09, one of the many institutes that are mainly ran by the military and given the task of educating Sinners, graduation for these youths is the same as being handed either a death sentence or a government job.
There are no ceremonies to speak of to send these youths off into society—for a vast majority of them tend to not even make it through their first year of active service, which results in the higher-ups deeming the act of spending funds on ceremonies and the likes to be a waste of precious resources.
As one of the doors of the classroom is slid open, another military man peeks in, and announces—
“Class A-5, it’s time for you all to draw your ballots.”
“…”
Lifting his head slightly, 1029-874 raises a light yawn before standing up from his seat along with the rest of his classmates.
In a way that is similar to a herd of sheep, these students followed after the military officer.
The walk to the ballot drawing location didn’t last long, for it was only a few classrooms down the hall.
“Enter one at a time. Remember to leave your jacket behind after drawing.”
Towards the last sentence, some of the students frowned.
Leaving their jackets behind so that they can be used by the students that are coming in next semester—it saves the government money, resources, and manpower that would be otherwise spent on producing new ones.
Efficient is another word to describe this act of reusing old resource, but it still leaves a sour taste in the student’s mouths to know that they are not even allowed to keep a jacket.
(It’s not the worst, but…)
(This is still bad, but could be even worse.)
If the government had been more shameless, they’d probably order these students to return their entire uniform and walk out of the drawing room naked.
“Number 1123-481, you’re up!”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
One by one the students are called into the drawing room, and one by one they’d emerged without their jackets either with an expression of relief or an expression of pure dread.
In extreme cases, there are even those who run out of the room with tears in their eyes. Worse off than that, are those who walk out of the room with lightless eyes.
Apparently, every single year there would be at least 50 graduating students who commit suicide after picking the undesired ballot.
(Hm? F and D… Ah I see. F for frontline and D for Disciplinary Bureau work.)
Glancing at a couple of students who passes him by, 1029-874 sees them holding onto a spherical device that is assumed to be the ballot itself.
“Ah if there is a god out there, please give me a reprieve…”
“Maybe I should just pray to one of those IMLs…”
“Don’t, those anti-IML fanatics will be the first to kill you off if you did.”
(IMLs…? Ah Immortals.)
As the line shrinks in length at a gradual rate, it eventually got to—
“Number 1029-874, you’re up!”
“Yes, sir.”
Entering the drawing room and shutting the door behind him, 1029-874 sits on the opposite end of the two desks that have been brought together to make a single table.
Sitting on the other side of 1029-874 is a lady with long black hair and glasses—who is looking at what seems to be a current gen tablet that had most likely been funded by the hardworking people’s tax money.
The air of this blue-eyed lady dressed in a lab coat gives one the impression of a “cool beauty,” which makes her seem like the sort that is difficult to make small talk with.
Placed by the cool beauty’s slender legs are several black plastic boxes that should be the containers for the ballots.
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To the right side of the room—where the monitor is mounted is a pile of cardboard boxes with a few already filled with used uniform jackets. Along with those is a separate container holding disinfectants.
“…”
“…”
Without saying anything, 1029-874 patiently waits for the lady to finish looking at whatever it is that she is looking at.
And sensing it to be something that may take a great deal of time, 1029-874 crosses his legs and rests his cheek against his fist while closing his eyes.
Brazen, that would be the word to describe 1029-874’s sitting posture—almost as if he wasn’t the person who is having his fate decided by a ballot drawing.
………
Eventually—
“…Ake up. Wake up 1029-874!”
“…”
Opening his azure-colored eyes, 1029-874 looks to the lady in the lab coat and pink sweater without a shred of desire to apologize for his behavior.
“How long was I asleep for?”
“About half an hour. Seriously, the fact that you’d allow yourself to sleep in front me, the person in charge of the ballots… I don’t know if it’s just because you got a big pair, or if you’ve got a screw loose in the head.”
“Maybe I do have a screw loose in the head.”
With a smile of amusement, the lady picks up one of the black plastic boxes by her foot, and places it onto the table before sliding it towards 1029-874.
“Well then, go ahead and draw. Or if you need to pray to some god first, be my guest.”
“Before that, I do want to ask—are the ballots in any ways rigged?”
Without changing his seating posture, 1029-874 asks this question while maintaining eye contact with the lady in the lab coat.
“Rigging the ballots? What makes you think that?”
“Regardless of whether it’s food, school equipment, or even the uniforms, everything that is given to Sinners is made to be as cheap and efficient as possible. And so… Why is it that the devices we pull out of these boxes are of such high quality?”
“Your point?”
“Electronic devices are so easily tampered with. Who’s to say that the moment I touch a ballot labeled D, it wouldn’t suddenly turn into an F at the tap of a computer screen?”
“Those with a similar line of thinking as you, aren’t small in numbers each year.”
Placing the tablet onto the desk, the lady in the lab coat maintains her smile.
“…”
Glancing around the room, 1029-874 spots a total of four hidden cameras.
“Remote control from a distance is also possible.”
“Well, there’s nothing that I can do to resolve that suspicion.”
“Why not try to?”
“Hmm would be rather pointless, and too much effort needed.”
“Then how about we do this.”
Deepening his tone of voice at the end of his sentence, 1029-874 lashes his right foot out, and abruptly launches the desk in front of him into the air.
“…”
“…”
As ballot devices along with the desk and box looms in the air for but a brief instance—long enough to see what each of them is labeled with, one of the devices is caught by 1029-874 prior to directing it right in front of the lady in the lab coat.
Momentarily the desk and box falls back to their original positions, while the remaining ballot devices are dropped onto the floor.
“Disciplinary Bureau, I would say congratulations here, but I consider what you just did to be cheating.”
“Seems fair enough to me when none of you are playing by the rules. Those who walk out of this room can blame their misfortune on luck, but that’s simply not my style. I’ve been taught that trying to beat a game master by their rules is both impractical and impossible.”
“Hmm tough customer you are. Fine, fine, let us just say on paper that you will be joining the bureau.”
(On paper?)
Despite the doubt in his mind, 1029-874 knew that asking further questions would be meaningless since he has already gotten what it is that he wants.
Shoving the ballot into the pocket of his pants, 1029-874 unpins his name card prior to tossing his jacket towards one of the cardboard boxes to the right.
“Right, hope we won’t have to see each other again.”
“If we do end up meeting each other again, I wouldn’t mind treating you to a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
As 1029-874 leaves the room and shuts the door, the lady in the lab coat picks up her tablet, and types out a message to those on the receiving end.
“1029-874,” these numbers consist of the entire message and having done that, the lady in the lab coat looks up at the ceiling while adjusting her thin-framed eyewear.
“*Sigh* reporting cheaters is a part of this job, but… Those that cheat always tend to leave a more favorable impression on me.”
Muttered this, she enters the same numbers onto the official form for the relocation’s directive under the Disciplinary Bureau label.
Chapter 3
Grounded City 012, shortened as GC012, one of the many cities that continue to exist till this day, located in the eastern parts of this imprisoned planet.
With the current state of this world, the idea of race and nation has almost disappeared thoroughly from the minds of the public.
Much like most Grounded Cities, this place is divided into wards, counting ten in total. From a bird’s eye view, the shape of the city is round in form.
Crystal clear slabs of colossal stature, barrier devices, surrounds the city’s domain, and acts as its borders.
From the sides and top of these slabs, an energy shield that is as thin as paper, but more durable than diamond can exponentially be, is generated.
A decade after the start of the Great Immortal Wars, all cities that continued to remain after the initial invasion are equipped with such devices.
The purpose of these large-scaled devices is to defend the fortified cities against the attacks of the Immortals that are brought into this world through the Gears of Descension, and to prevent these same Immortals from manifesting themselves within the city grounds—causing unwanted havoc amongst the populace.
“…Finally free.”
As the sun begins to set, the final day of the school semester ends, and with it the graduating students of S09 are released.
Raising a lazy yawn, 1029-874 walks down the business establishment filled streets of the third ward to get to his workplace.
Right as he crosses the road, his phone begins to ring.
“Zhōu’er? (舟儿)”
Looking at the caller ID that had appeared on the screen of his smartphone, 1029-874 raises an eye as he answers the call.
The person on the other line is his co-worker of the same business establishment, a café called Mirrored Moon.
“Something the matter?”
[Congratulations on graduating, Lóng Huá. (龙华)]
Long Hua, that is 1029-874’s real name outside of school.
“…”
[What’s wrong? Aren’t you supposed to let me hear a bit more excitement than that?]
“What exactly is there to congratulate about really? Four years spent on something utterly meaningless.”
[C’mon don’t be like that. At least this will give you more opportunities later down the line.]
“Quit talking like you’re the older one. Is there any other reason for this call?”
[I figured that I might as well warn you about the guys tailing you right now. Wouldn’t want them coming to the café with you and scaring away the customers.]
Hearing this, Long Hua halts his footsteps and in a natural manner, he moves to the side to lean his back against the wall of a brand-named clothing shop.
“How many?”
[Two, four… Five total. Just what did you do?]
“I cheated a bit when drawing the ballot.”
[So, the rumors of them rigging the system are real?]
“No idea, and not interested to find out. I’m just not one to leave stuff like this up to chance.”
[Yeah, if you got sent off to the frontlines that could complicate some things in the Guild.]
“On paper these guys aren’t official government dogs, are they?”
[They gotta keep some things unknown, so I doubt they’d have anything on them that could be traced back to their employer. Even then, who would believe a Sinner crying wolf or murder, when they tend to be the wolves and the murderers?]
Despite the importance of Sinners to the war efforts of fighting back against the invading Immortals, public opinion in the last couple of centuries has swayed towards designating Sinners to be elements of danger.
Jobs that deal with taking down rogue Sinners that have a record of causing harm to the public are handled by the Disciplinary Bureaus, which are ran by the Sinners that have formally graduated from schools akin to S09.
As for the task of taking out Immortals that manifest near the city at random, that is also directed to the members of the Disciplinary Bureau.
Naturally, the odds of these manifestations happening is a lot rarer compared to being able to encounter an Immortal on the frontlines every day, but it does still happen once in a while.
“Looks like I’ll be a bit late for work today then. Tell that to the Owner.”
[Already did.]
“I’ll see you two in a bit then. I’m hanging up.”
Hanging up the phone and storing it away, Long Hua continues towards his destination with a detour in mind.
Chapter 4
“You all done hiding? I even went through the effort of picking out an alley that most people wouldn’t think to come through.”
Standing within an alley that is made up of two windowless buildings, Long Hua calls out to his pursuers.
One by one, a total of four individuals came down from above, and lands a few meters away from him.
Each of these individuals are dressed in a white set of robes that covers them from head to toe.
(Honeycomb patterned?)
Squinting his eyes, Long Hua is barely able to make out the honeycomb patterns that decorates the assassins’ robes.
“Where’s the fifth person?”
Despite how casual Zhou’er may have sounded on the phone, she is someone who takes this part of her job seriously, so she couldn’t have miscounted.
“1029-874, correct?”
Turning his head to the side, Long Hua sees the fifth person dressed in the same attire. As they have used a voice changer, it’s difficult to distinguish their gender.
“I’ve always wondered. Don’t you people in charge of us—Sinners, find it to be quite a mouthful to call us by numbers?”
Although this is done to dehumanize Sinners further, Long Hua can’t help but think it to be quite a hassle for both those in charge of the Sinners and the Sinners themselves.
“Either you exchange your ballot for this one, or we erase you from the records.”
Ignoring Long Hua’s question, the person behind him takes out a ballot that is labeled with F.
“What difference does it make? Aren’t both of them a death sentence?”
*Klang.* as the metal ballot drops onto the ground, and rolls a few inches forward, the five figures in white vanishes from sight.
(So those robes have a camouflaging function?)
Straining his ears, Long Hua tries to see if he can pick up on the sound of the fives’ footsteps. However, their shoes seem to be just as specialized in canceling out the noise they make when moving.
Maintaining a defenseless stance, Long Hua waits for the enemy side to make the first move, which doesn’t take very long as two figures emerges from behind him with daggers in hand.
“Did you know?”
As two ribbon like objects abruptly bursts out of Long Hua’s back, the two unaware assailants are impaled by them in the next instance.
As these objects had impaled the two assassins through their head, they had died instantly without any awareness of what had happened.
“Snakes are apparently able to see heat.”
As the two assassins’ daggers slip from their lifeless hands, the weapons are dropped onto the ground, which is then followed by the dripping sound of fresh blood.
“Attack him together!”
Recovering their wits quickly, the remaining three assassins didn’t bother to hide behind their veil of invisibility any further as they attack from the front.
Towards the three who are coming in for a frontal assault, the ribbon like objects that are connected to Long Hua’s back flicks forward and hurls the two corpses at them.
Two of the assassins are pushed back by the hurled corpses, while one of them manages to charge through, and close the distance with a blade lunged outwards.
“…!?”
“…”
Effortlessly, the blade is caught by Long Hua using his right hand as he pinches it between his fingers and thumb.
“What are you? …!?”
As the two ribbons close in on him, the assassin sees them for what they are for the first time.
These things aren’t ribbons at all.
Eyes of deep azure, pale white scales, and venomous fangs, these two things are living, breathing serpents.
“What? Is it so surprising to see a Sinner—whose Relic is a part of their flesh?”
“A-”
Without giving the assassin the time to react, the twin serpents flattened their bodies into blades, whilst sweeping themselves towards the assassin’s neck.
As the twin serpents overlap their bodies in a way that is reminiscent of a scissor, the assassin’s head flies with blood overflows from the wound.
“Ah…”
“…”
Looking at the remaining two assassins that continues to breath, but have lost their will to fight Long Hua licks his lips.
“I was taught to never let my enemies live without good reason.”
Similarly to whips, the twin serpents continue to lash outwards and within the blink of an eye, they decapitate the two enemies that had planned to flee.
“…”
Retracting the twin serpents back into his body, Long Hua tears off a honeycomb patterned piece of fabric along with a part of the shoe worn by these individuals.
“…”
Looking at these two items in detail, Long Hua mutters—
“Seems usable. Tài Xuán. (太玄)”
Chapter 5
Mirrored Moon Café, a café located in the third ward of GC012.
Exterior of the location can only be described as inconspicuous—for it is located within an alleyway.
Meaning this isn’t a place that a random person would just wander into—unless they were looking for it specifically.
“Wel- oh a lot sooner than expected.”
Greeting Long Hua who had stepped into the café is Zhou’er—who is dressed in an outfit that is reminiscent of a maid.
“Tail again?”
Passing by Zhou’er, who had her light brown hair tied into a tail, Long Hua smiles.
“Something wrong with it?”
“No. It suits you.”
A tinge of red appears on Zhou’er’s cheeks from hearing a compliment instead of an expected rude remark.
“…Would you not?”
“Isn’t it the job of the senior, to tease his younger co-worker?”
“You’re only a year older.”
“So, you’re 17 this year?”
“It’s rude to just point out a lady’s age like that.”
“A true lady wouldn’t mind.”
The interior of the café is designed to give off a classic air that is meant to be aesthetically pleasing to those with such tastes.
A total of 12 tables, each equipped with four chairs.
The counter however doesn’t resemble that of a café at all—for numerous bottles of alcohol decorates its walls.
Below the alcohol rack is where all the coffee beans are located.
“Where’s the Owner?”
“Here.”
From the entrance that leads into the back, walks out a man—who looks to be somewhere in his mid-twenties.
Dressed in a classic bartender outfit that is made up of a black vest over a white shirt; his dark hair reaches down to his waist. The texture of his hair would surely look far more fitting on a woman than a man.
This is the Owner of the Mirrored Moon Café, whose real name and age are up for anyone to guess.
“Congratulations on graduating.”
“Now that I think about it, not having to walk between the third and sixth ward for work does seem like something worth celebrating about.”
Walking over to the counter, Long Hua pours himself a glass of water.
“For the time being, the Guild has no plans to assign you to anything.”
Guilds, these are organizations that provide Sinners with living necessities, such as, a run of the mill job—outside of military service—and a functional place to live in. They are easy to join, but difficult to get out of—depending upon the type that one enters.
“So, a break? Does sound nice, since I’ll probably be using that time to get used to work in the Disciplinary Bureau.”
“Emergencies may come up depending on the situation.”
“Those tend to pay well, so let me know.”
“Would you two quit talking about the Guild? It feels chilly when you do.”
“Apologies.”
“I’ll go get changed.”
It didn’t take long for Long Hua to change out of the remainder of his school uniform, and into a white dress shirt that is layered over a black vest.
And having put on the appropriate attire, work in the café begins.
“Welcome, is it a table for one?”
As this café isn’t located in a very conspicuous location, the place is rarely ever busy.
At a glance, one would think this café to be a local business that is funded mainly by the money of its loyal regulars, which isn’t very far from the truth, so long as its main function that is to act as the branch office of a Guild remains unseen to the general populace.
“Hey, Long Hua.”
“What?”
As Long Hua washes the cups and dishes, Zhou’er sits in front of the counter with an expression of curiosity.
“Is S09 really that different from an ordinary high school?”
“Why are you asking that now of all times?”
“Research paper. I want some direct references to work with.”
“Oh? So, your grade is dependent upon my answer? Makes me want to throw in a few exaggerations.”
“Don’t.”
“Hmm. Other then most of the workers there being made up of military personnel…- Let’s talk about the food first. You know those MREs and common canned fruits?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what we are made to eat there.”
“All the time?”
“All the time. If we’re lucky those MREs… I think 30 percent of the time aren’t expired.”
Thinking of this, Long Hua really did feel like it was good riddance on his part from having graduated today.
“You saw how I didn’t come in the door with my usual jacket on today? We were made to give that up after drawing the ballots.”
“Seriously?”
“If they were more shameless about it, they’d probably order us to walk home naked. You know how at an ordinary high school, you’d have both a winter and a summer uniform? That uniform is the only one we get, and the material it’s made from is also on the cheap side as well. Other than that… Right, we get called by numbers and not actual names.”
Having said this, Long Hua places his plastic name card onto the counter table.
“1029-874. Hm? Is it just me or do these numbers look…?”
“They are. If you rotate the two and seven, they resemble an N and U respectively. Eight and four is up for interpretation, but they can act as an H and A. The Guild did a few things to get me the numbers that would most resemble my name in pinyin.”
“Would you have forgotten your own name in the four years since enrolling had you not?”
“I probably would have. Since I’ve been through so much hardship, be sure to treasure me as much as possible.”
“How about no? Clearly, you’re lying about that.”
“*Sigh* you young folks really don’t know how to respect the elderly.”
“You’re not even that old…”
“Hmm I think the moment you need to do math to figure out your own age, is when you become an old man. Hey, how’s life in the second ward?”
The third ward that this café is located in, is a ward that focuses on entertainment, so it’s intended to be the center of business for this city.
At the same time, it is the ward that holds this city’s main port, which is heavily focused on receiving imports from the outside world.
“Life in the second ward is… Normal, I guess?”
The second ward is a ward that is focused on housing for families. Sinners are banned from entering this ward—unless, they have special permission to be there.
Even the Disciplinary Bureau offices that oversee this ward, are made to position themselves at the edge of its borders—where a wall runs across it and the second ward.
“The first ward is right beside the second ward. Don’t you think that’s awfully convenient?”
The first ward is focused on providing general education to non-Sinners, with most of its land made up of schools and dorms.
As this ward is bound up together with the second ward through a border wall, Sinners are also banned from entering there without special permission.
“The sixth ward is where S09 is. What do you think is around that?”
“Hmm the fifth ward and the seventh ward…”
“Why do you think the fifth ward is made up of mostly labs?”
Restaurants, apartments, general stores can be found throughout all the wards, but compared to the first and second ward, the ones found in other wards are generally smaller in size—for they are built to service the working class that all gets off at varying hours of the day.
“…”
An unpleasant expression appears on Zhou’er’s face towards this question upon realizing the answer.
“Sinners aren’t treated like humans depending on the higher-ups’ demands. Our bodies are a lot stronger than the average human. Doesn’t that just make us the perfect guinea pigs to test experimental drugs and the likes on?”
To live in this world’s society properly as a Sinner, one is required to serve in the frontlines for five years.
After that, they can do whatever they wished, so long as they are willing to heed to the calls of the government in times of need and stay out of trouble.
“…”
“The seventh ward is made up of mostly power plants. Some Sinners are capable of manipulating electric energy through their Relics.”
Shutting off the water and placing the last plate onto the drying rack, Long Hua wipes his hands with a towel.
“If you really want to do a research paper on Sinners, keep what I just said in mind. Also, don’t go asking other Sinners for reference. I don’t want my first job in the bureau to have to involve a 17-year-old high school girl being brutally murdered by a rogue while on her way home to the second ward.”
“…”
Hearing this, and realizing just how high the likelihood of it happening are, Zhou’er’s lips quiver with a hint of nervousness.
“Now, now, no need to scare the young lady.”
Upon the Owner lightly resting his hand onto Zhou’er’s head, the latter snaps out of her nervous state.
“Go clean up the table for me.”
“Got it.”
As Zhou’er leaves the counter, Long Hua looks to the Owner.
“I was taught that having fears is a good thing, since being on edge makes you far more cautious of your surroundings.”
“I seriously do have to wonder just who taught you these things…”
“…”
Truth be told, Long Hua doesn’t know the answer to that either.
But whoever this mysterious mentor is, their lessons have seemingly been engraved onto his very soul—making it easy for him to recite them by heart.
“I received something today that may interest you.”
“Oh?”