Status
Name: Travone Lee
Class: Armoury Class
Integration Level: 8.3%
Rank: Zeta
Attribute Value
Strength 5>8
Dexterity 5>8
Constitution 6>8
Control 4>6
Perception 3>7
Skills:
Barrier(Level 2>5 ), Reflex Guard (Level 4>6),Spectral Arrow(Level 1) Bind (Level 1 )
Armoury Class Passives: None
Travone looked at his gains over the past week. He wasn't one to gloat, but the gains he made as he sparred with Rai were very noticeable. He had always wondered why the strong often got what they wanted, pushed their ideals to others or got away with things, but now he was slowly beginning to understand.
As he moved down the narrow streets of the lower levels, he noticed the wary glances from the miners, labourers, scrapers, and engineers who populated the seating and eating at the stalls. They did not look for so long, less they enocoure his wrath. He knew this even though it was the feeling that he was alone in this place where he did not belong. The people suddenly gave him clues, and this became more noticeable.
Yet, within that moment, a piercing sense of isolation took hold. These streets, with their stink of sweat and smoke, felt foreign to him, filled with wary eyes that conveyed a deeper fear of his presence.
When Rai had told him to get a new place, he had thought about it, but trips down to the planet had consumed his time. Now, no matter if he had to change his view, he would have to get a new place, perhaps something on the twenty-ninth floor, a place that felt cleaner and less tainted by fear and distrust.
He remembered his mother and his home in the stacks. What would Zishan think? What would his mother say? He quickly dismissed the idea. He knew his mother was the religious type, or it better to say she was a fanatic who worshipped seekers and their powers.
He walked over to a food stall he had frequented before. The stall owner greeted him, and Travone could feel the tension in the man's body as he ordered, "What can I get for you."
“I need some noodles and skewers,” he said as his gaze flicked to a neighboring stool where a man heartily consumed canned beef stew that had a faint smell of synthetic plastics that made Travone wrinkle his nose in disgust. He was beginning to understand why the seeker had a particular test.
The Astravores coursing through his body sharpened his senses, allowing him to detect the iron in the air, the sound of leather of work boots scuffing against the grimy pavement, and the underlying hint of sulfur that clung to everything and plastics. When he focused on his ears, his perception could pick up the chewing, saliva, and slurping sounds as the man noticed him, then turned his back to him and kept slurping down his food; this was probably the man's daily meal.
“Here’s your order to go,” the stall owner announced, handing him a paper bag.
"Thanks", Travone made to take his order when he felt the owner’s bony fingers linger on the bag. The man’s eyes narrowed, and then he spoke. “Your kind aren’t known to be down here. You should leave us hardworking folks to do what we do.”
Travone didn’t respond, so he pulled his hand away and left the stall and its owner.
He glanced down at the crinkled paper bag wrapped around the food, and now that he focused on it, he could smell it now, deep and unnatural. It had a smell of something he could not smell.
“Hey, you! I think you’re on the wrong floor!” a man's voice yelled out at him. Travone did not recognize the voice and didn’t acknowledge it.
“Hey! Didn’t you hear me? Your kind should be up there! God only knows how many of us your kind have gotten killed!” The words ignited something within him. Was it anger? He dismissed it and kept walking, ignoring the curses hurled in his direction—curses aimed at him, his family, his very existence as a seeker, and at his father, whom he had never met. He kept moving.
But he had to stop at some point. Because the man following on his heels did not stop at the insults. No, he stopped at the stopped at the sound of the clanging pipe hitting his back
“Did he even feel it”
“Of course he didn't. “
“What’s someone like you doing here?” one man demanded, flanked by four others.
“The red quarter is on the north side,” another chimed in.
“Haven’t seen you around here; you should get out.” Travone could feel their hostility directed towards him.
Travone turned, looked at the five gathered men, and pursed his lips. He did not speak; he simply grew confused and frustrated. He was a seeker, and that was fine, but what were they thinking? Travone could probably harm them very easily.
The voices echoed around him, layered with taunts and threats. “Go away; you can’t win this."Travones voice was calm.
"There’s only one of you,” one of the men jeered.
Travone moved then, his body moving faster than stale, unmoving air. His body felt light as he took a step, and in a moment, he was in front of the other man. The man's eyes widened, and before he could speak, Travones hand balled into a fist and punched the engineer in the gut; the man's air left his lungs as he started dry heaving on the ground.
The other men looked at him in shock, then back down to their comrade. They looked back up at him, took a step back and ran away down the narrow path.
Travone did not notice the men step back and run. He looked down at his hands, and a shiver ran down his spine. He had acted so fast without thinking with the knowledge that he could harm the man; his hand shook, and he stepped.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
He was one of them. What had gotten into him to do such a thing? He looked around at the squeamish people hiding their glances; he looked back, grabbed his food neatly wrapped in a paper bag and moved away from the scene.
The eyes followed him through the narrow paths of the lower levels they followed in the elevator.
“I really need to find a new place to live,” he murmured.
Just then, a voice cut through his thoughts. “Hey, you! Young man, get over here! I need to have a word with you!” Travone turned to see the quartermaster, an elderly woman whose sharp eyes regarded him.
“You want to talk to me?” he asked.
“Yes, you. I don’t have time for this. Follow me,” she beckoned.
Reluctantly, he fell into step beside her. “There have been UNE agents asking about dead seekers.”
His heart raced at her words; he was immediately alert. “Dead seekers? Here?” He shifted his gaze toward the elevators, anxiety prickling at the back of his mind.
“What are you worried about, boy?” The quartermaster glanced at him knowingly. “Did they say anything else to you ?” he pressed.
“They said they saw a seeker enter my quarter, and a few days later, he was found dead. Do you happen to know anything about this?” she asked.
Travone cleared his throat, the sweat trickling down his back. “No, I don’t know,” he said, his voice steady.
“Well, that’s good,” she said. “But a word of advice: people are complaining about you. A seeker down here is a little suspicious.
” The weight of her words settled heavily on him. “But you saw me the first day I came to rent a room!” he protested weakly.
“Yes, I did,” she replied, waving her hand casually, “but if seekers are ending up dead in my quarter, then I must ask you to leave. The residents don’t feel too well when the UNE and the guilds start throwing their weight around down here. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand,” he nodded, heart sinking.
“If you can excuse me, I will get going. I plan to leave today.”
“Good.”
---
Travone had begun to feel uncomfortable as he moved through the residential quarter. He kept glancing around nervously, evaluating the well-kept buildings and the residents who shared the space with seekers, noticing the distinct difference in atmosphere as he navigated through a more organized area. Shops were meticulously lined up; seekers walked in pairs and groups, enjoying the openness of the environment he hadn’t experienced on the lower floors.
The quartermaster’s station on this level stood grander and better decorated than the old woman's office down below. A large man sat behind a desk, his oversized frame somehow fitting the authority of the space, his glasses barely resting on the bridge of his nose as he offered Travone a welcoming smile.
“So, what can I do for you?” he asked, his toothy grin somehow reassuring yet intimidating.
“I need a room on this floor,” Travone said.
“A room on this floor? That’s good! I suppose you know how much that will cost?”
“Yes, I do. I need the cheapest one available,” Travone replied.
“Oh, come on. This isn’t the lower floors; all the rooms are equally sourced and sized!” The man smiled and handed Travone a slate containing an electronic document for his perusal. Travone scrolled through the digital listings, his eyes widening in disbelief at the spacious accommodations listed.
“How can they even afford this? Do they share the rooms? There are more seekers than dredges; how does everyone have a room this big?”
“Oh, do you have a companion?” the man inquired.“Not to worry; we have bigger rooms, as long as you can afford it.” Travone felt disoriented as he visualized ceiling heights and ample space, something he hadn’t experienced in what felt like ages.
It would have been rather confusing how the space was located on the Athens platform if one didn't know the shape it took on. Unlike old space stations, it was uniquely shaped like a diamond and had a maze of narrow hallways the lower you got, yet here everything felt thoughtfully constructed and inviting. it had a narrow top where the first floor was located, a wide section of the medium floors and at the bottom, the platform narrowed again to the 50th floor.
“Let’s see. We have a room on the seventh level of the structure, or you can get one in the second level of the structure.”
“I’ll take it.” “Which one?” “The one on the seventh floor,” Travone confirmed decisively.
“Just like that?” The man seemed surprised before smiling again, but Travone did not wait for him to draw out any negotiation. He pushed his personal card against the tablet, feeling a sinking pit in his stomach as the credits were transferred.
With the UNE snooping around the lower levels of the platform, he needed to settle quickly and distance himself from the suspicion that would come his way regarding the death of a seeker. After all, he was right in assuming that they were looking for the person he had killed, a seeker. Then they were right on his track.
Travone found himself contemplating the best way to disguise the power stone he had scavenged from the corpse during the fight—that was a liability that needed careful handling.
“I hope you can pay the rent, but if you can't, you can take part in the dueling arena on this floor,” the quartermaster informed him.
“No, I can get the money.”
“Good. That’s very good. Here’s the keycard. When you’re ready, you can move in anytime,” the man said.
The move had taken him about two hours. He needed only to fit everything he owned in the crate into a curry box: his few clothes, his mining gear and his mask; then, he simply had to walk carefully while avoiding the UNE that was snooping around on the lower floor. all in all, it went as smoothly as could, with some seekers giving him curious glances and not approaching him.
It proved smoother than anticipated, even avoiding any curious glances from other seekers.
The room into which he stepped was just the right size—not too big, not too small—all too welcome after sleeping in a crate. It had a separate bathroom and a designated space for the kitchen and sleeping area, although technically it felt like a studio due to its openness.
Onto the next problem then, Travone glanced at the dagger power gem he had located off the corpse after his fight; he shifted clothes and pulled a well-wrapped piece of clothing out of the carry box, knowing he could not simply hand it over or attempt to sell it; that would bring about questions he wouldn't want to have any part in.
“Perhaps if I take it to the dungeons and casually walk out with it, I can claim I found it there,” he thought, calculating the risks. He realized he’d need Rai to join him on another dive soon.
Travone woke the following day, feeling well-rested yet apprehensive as a call from Rai informed him of a mass transport carrier heading to the dungeon planet, and they would meet at the transport station. He strapped on his new sheath to hold his blade, donned his jacket and pants over his suit, and exited the room, nerves tingling.
Unlike the lower floors, the residential quarters where he rented now had an empty balcony, and the paths below were relatively quiet as only a few individuals stirred in the early hours when the star illuminated the platform, marking the dawn of a new day on the planet.
The steady beat of his heart echoed in his chest as he made his way up to the transport station. “You made it!” Rai looked up, his body still and his back straight as he stood next to the wall and glared at the yawning pilot.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d show up this early,” Travone said.
“Well, it doesn’t matter; you’re here,” Rai said, dismissing the pilot's lethargy.
“You look like you’re in a rush.”
“Yes, I must go now. Fights on the high floors among the Gammas are becoming more frequent,” Rai stated.Travone leaned in, curiosity piqued. “Is someone looking for you?”
Sure, he had known about the the higher floor’s politics, but Travone had never guessed Rai to be the sort associated with it.
“The politics of the higher floors should not concern you,” Rai replied, shaking his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “The sooner we get moving, the better.”
Travone nodded, his hands instinctively gripping the bag at his side. “I can agree with you on that.”
“Everyone, all aboard! We move in fifteen minutes; the ship will leave as soon as the station aligns with the planet,” the pilot announced, stirring an air of urgency. Metallic doors opened to the transport vessel, and the few gathered seekers this early in the day rushed inside.