The first light of morning bled slowly through the narrow cracks of the rusted metal canopy above. Golden rays slid down onto Noir's shoulders, illuminating the squalor of the scrapyard slum in hazy warmth. The air still reeked of oil, scorched circuits, and something sour he couldn't name—but there was a strange serenity to it. He stood quietly as several lizardfolk gathered around him, their clawed hands moving with rough efficiency.
A cracked tactical pad was fastened to his wrist with duct-tape-thick straps. A threadbare utility belt hung loose on his hips. Someone shoved a small translucent pouch of energy gel into his hand.
"Eat slow," one of them muttered. "Lasts longer that way."
Another thrust what looked like a respirator toward him—a pale-grey device with uneven edges.
"This filters the surface air. It's pure to you humans, but burns our lungs. Lucky freakin' mammal."
Noir didn't know whether to nod or smile, so he did both.
Then one lizardfolk—the same one who'd spoken with authority the night before—jerked his chin toward a nearby wall where a scrap panel had been peeled open.
"Through here. Follow the tunnel. You'll reach a ladder. Climb it. You'll see the city."
"Got it," Noir replied.
"Drones won't scan for human heat signatures. They're looking for us, not you. Don't draw attention."
Noir stepped through the narrow opening. The tunnel beyond was dimly lit with flickering lights embedded in the cracked walls—lights that pulsed faintly, as if on the edge of failure. It was a tight squeeze, barely wide enough for his shoulders. He ducked often, the low ceiling pressing into his awareness like a coiled spring.
Eventually, he found the ladder.
It creaked under his weight, but held firm. At the top, a small circular hatch awaited.
He pushed.
Light poured in.
The city hit him all at once.
He blinked rapidly, adjusting to the sharp brilliance of the surface. The air felt strangely fresh—filtered, electric. His feet touched down on sleek polymer concrete that sparkled faintly in the sun.
Everywhere he looked, motion and sound converged. Flying cars zipped through the air above like flocks of metallic birds. Hovering trams soared quietly along sky-rails that crisscrossed between towering buildings of glass and chrome.
The skyline shimmered with light projections. Holographic advertisement boards shimmered with rotating product displays: energy weapons, cybernetic enhancements, off-world food pills, and personalized AI companions. One ad beamed bright slogans:
"New Eden: Powered by Unity. Supported by the stars."
"Proud Partner of Vekta Prime. Now Opening to Polaris-13!"
The language shifted every second—Japanese, Korean, Galactic Common, Standard English.
On the street level, crowds flowed like rivers—people of all shapes and species dressed in glossy fashion or utility gear. Many wore sleek helmets or visors linked to their neural networks. Small drones hovered by their heads, acting like personal assistants.
The city pulsed with energy.
Industrial hums buzzed from buildings, their facades covered in neon vents and heat exchangers. Massive machines operated seamlessly on rooftops, maintaining structures in real time. Beneath Noir's feet, robotic cleaners swarmed, polishing the sidewalks with methodical precision.
It was busy. Restless. Towering. Alive.
And yet, as Noir took it all in, a strange hollowness crept into his chest.
He was standing on a planet wrapped in light and power… while a civilization just below this surface choked in the dark.
He swallowed hard, pulling the respirator over his mouth and nose. It adjusted automatically, hissing slightly.
"Right," he muttered. "Find the base."
He turned toward the densest part of the city.
As he weaved through the crowds, he kept his head down, avoiding the glances of security bots stationed on street corners. Giant loading mechs clomped down boulevards beside trucks that hovered inches above the road. Steam burst from vents, and the air was filled with the low drone of industrial turbines powering unseen reactors.
Then, something changed.
The crowd thickened.
Noise swelled.
He heard people gasping, chattering, speculating. The tide of bodies all pushed toward a single street. Noir's curiosity flared, and he drifted closer, keeping to the edges of the sidewalk.
That's when he saw it.
A massive carriage, sleek and imperial in design, hovered silently above the ground. Obsidian-black panels gleamed in the sunlight, trimmed with metallic crimson lines that seemed to glow subtly. The wheels weren't touching anything, suspended by invisible tech.
People were gathered in a wide semi-circle, held back by guards in crimson armor. Each one stood perfectly still, but their presence alone was enough to keep the civilians from moving any closer.
The air buzzed with restrained tension.
Noir climbed onto a bench for a better view, crouching behind a holographic map display. His eyes narrowed.
Whatever was in that carriage wasn't a person—it was a symbol. Of power. Control. Fear.
And something told him it wasn't a coincidence he stumbled on this moment.
The name burned in his mind.
Cloud Solslade.
But before he could act, before he could even draw another breath, the crowd grew louder.
Something—or someone—was about to step out.
And Noir knew without question: the next few days on this planet would change his life.
Forever.
(To be continued...)