Ratom explored deeper into the slums; they looked worse the further he went. At a certain point, the density of drones surveying the area began to drop, and signs of human life grew scarcer. In this desolate stretch, he came across the crooked remains of what probably used to be a neon sign. The original text was long gone, but someone had scrawled "Ghost Town" on it in marker.
The place seemed recently abandoned, so he checked inside a half-collapsed building, hoping to find anything useful for his search—people, food, or tech that might aid him in finding him. But there was nothing—only shattered drone parts. After a few minutes of contemplating the idea of turning back and looking for another route into the capital, he noticed something strange: similar buildings and the same "Ghost Town" sign again.
"The ghosts must be trying to tell me something," he muttered sarcastically and chuckled. He walked past it—and somehow ended up at the same spot again. Suddenly, he heard a creaking sound behind him and turned, alert. Nothing.
"This place is pretty creepy."A few seconds later, low-level Alphoids began marching steadily toward a nearby alley. That was odd. There weren't supposed to be any drones here, and he was certain he'd avoided the ones he had spotted earlier. So how were Alphoids moving in this area?
He ducked behind the nearest wall, but a second later, a powerful force struck him, blasting him straight through it. As he rolled to his feet, he turned to face his attacker—and froze. A Shade Unit.
He was baffled. What the hell was a Shade Unit doing this deep in the slums of some edgy place like Ghost Town?
Before he could finish the thought, one of the Alphoids launched a charged bullet at him. He dodged it—barely.
"What the hell is going on here?!"A Shade Unit—known for speed and stealth—was here for him.
"Ratom the Undefined confirmed at location IL42.32."
"Do I look like Ratom to you?!" he barked.
"Yes. You do.""Fair enough.""You are wanted in the capital.""I'd love to go—but not in chains.""Beggars can't be choosers."
By now, Ratom had confirmed: five Alphoids and one Shade Unit. No way he could take them all at once.
He bolted, smashing through a building to escape their perimeter. The Shade Unit pursued but lost track of him.
Ratom had circled around. In an instant, he took down two Alphoids, ripping their heads from their cores. He kicked another straight through a concrete wall. As he spotted the Shade approaching, he dashed into another building. The Shade prepared a charged shot at the exit—but Ratom never came out that way. Instead, he appeared from another side, hurling the severed Alphoid head at the Shade's arm—the one holding the charged energy. But the Shade was too fast. He dodged and fired, completely obliterating the structure behind Ratom.
Ratom barely escaped, using a second severed Alphoid head as a temporary shield. The melting metal sizzled in his hand. The blast also destroyed the last two Alphoids, who had been charging their shots and were seconds away from firing.
Ratom's legs were injured, and he couldn't regenerate them fast enough. He adjusted his stance, hardening his bones into armor. His fists darkened and sharpened with dried, crystallized blood, forming a jagged edge.
He faced his foe—a six-foot-tall Shade, humanoid in build. His skin was dark, but the melanin in the rest of his body had been drained, leaving his hair pale and colorless. He had a lean but well-defined physique—a "sleeper" body type. He must've been a hardworking man before the upload. Now he was just a hollow shell with the mind of a machine.
The Shade dashed into Ratom's range instantly. Ratom, aware of the enhanced legs, focused on disabling them first. The Shade lashed out with a flurry of kicks. Ratom blocked the first—barely—and kept blocking, but he couldn't find an opening.
Analyzing the rhythm, Ratom realized the fighting style—an evolved form of Taekwondo.
"A Taekwondo fighter… ugh."The Shade hesitated—just for a split second—and Ratom landed a clean blow on his core.
He shifted stances, fusing Muay Thai with Judo, pushing the Shade back and predicting each movement with increasing precision. Their exchanges grew sharper.
Then—wham—Ratom was struck in the back of the head, slammed face-first into the dirt.
"That's not Taekwondo."