Lucas woke up coughing.
Dust scraped down his throat like broken glass. His lungs screamed, and his whole body ached.
He rolled over and spat blood on the cracked floor.
The first thing he smelled was rot and sewage. The second thing he noticed was how thin his arms were—malnourished, bruised, and trembling.
"What the hell is this dump?" he groaned, sitting up.
That's when the golden light hit.
Not gentle. Not slow.
It slammed into his chest and head like a bullet through bone.
"Ah—DAMN it!" he shouted, clutching his skull as memories poured in.
This kid's name was Wren.
No last name. Trash born in the Bottom Wards.
A walking target. A living offense.
The poor here weren't just poor, they were illegal.
Spat on. Hunted. Denied rights. Called pests.
When the pain faded, Lucas collapsed back onto the cold floor, chest heaving.
He opened his eyes.
A system screen floated before him.
[Soul Trial System – Sin #2: Discrimination]
Sin Progress: 2 / 30
Stats:
Strength: 5
Agility: 6
Stamina: 4
Intelligence: 6
Willpower: 11
Charisma: 2
Insanity: 1.8%
[Quit]
Lucas glared at the [Quit] button.
His finger hovered over it.
He laughed bitterly.
"Of course. Just one tap, and it all goes away."
He stood up.
"Nice try, bitch," he spat, aiming his words at the goddess.
"I'm not quitting until I get my wish. No matter what twisted crap you throw at me."
He dismissed the screen with a swipe.
The building was falling apart.
The walls were tagged with graffiti that screamed "BURN THE PESTS" and "THE BOTTOM IS A DISEASE."
Lucas stepped into the daylight and nearly gagged.
The stench of garbage, smoke, and rot was so strong it made his eyes water.
People shuffled through the streets like the dead. Thin, broken, ignored. Some begged. Some fought over trash. None looked up.
Lucas tried to blend in, but he could feel the looks.
He didn't belong here, even though the memories said he did.
A cart full of fruit rolled by. One apple slipped and bounced into the gutter.
Lucas saw it. So did a few others.
He moved fast, reaching for it,
SMACK!
A boot slammed into his shoulder.
He fell back as a man in a coat pointed down at him.
"Touch that again, filth, and I'll crush your skull!"
Lucas wiped the blood from his lip.
He said nothing.
He waited until the man turned, then spat at his feet and sprinted.
Half the day passed like that.
Lucas got chased twice. Hit once.
He stole nothing. Didn't beg.
And still, the world tried to kill him.
By sunset, he'd found a group of orphans sitting around a trash fire.
"Move," said one.
"I'm just sitting," Lucas muttered.
"No freeloaders."
Lucas clenched his jaw. "It's a fire, not a goddamn hotel."
One of the boys stood, holding a rusty pipe.
Lucas didn't back down.
The tension held… then dropped.
The boys ignored him.
Lucas sat in silence, staring at the flames.
He didn't eat that night.
He found a rat's corpse behind a bin and nearly considered it.
That's when the screen blinked again.
[Quit]
He stared at it.
"Tempting," he whispered. "Real tempting."
His stomach growled.
He dropped to one knee, fists clenched.
"Is this the game? Break me with hunger and hate?"
He looked up at the sky.
"I hope you're watching, goddess. I hope this is entertaining for you."
The next day, he heard a food truck had crashed near the Mid-Wards.
Free scraps.
Lucas didn't wait.
He ran.
When he arrived, dozens of Bottom Wards kids were already there, being pushed back by guards.
"GET AWAY FROM THE TRUCK!"
One guard swung a baton at a girl's legs. She collapsed.
Lucas saw a sack of bread rolls fall off the truck bed.
He didn't think.
He bolted for it.
Grabbed one,
CRACK!
A bottle shattered on his shoulder.
He staggered.
Another kid kicked him in the ribs.
Lucas rolled, shoved two away, and kept the roll.
He ran through alley after alley, blood dripping from his temple.
Eventually, he collapsed behind an old pipe tunnel.
He bit into the bread.
It was stale. Moldy.
He ate every bite.
That night, he wandered past the Wards and into the Outer Strip, a forgotten wasteland where monsters roamed.
He didn't care.
If he stayed in the city, they'd kill him anyway.
He found a burned-out tree stump and curled up inside.
He muttered to himself.
"Quit or die, huh?"
He looked at his hands.
"I just hope I can make it out for you, Mum."
Somewhere in the distance, howls echoed.
His fingers tightened around a rusted nail he'd found.