Chapter 6 – From Forest to Filth
Axel's footsteps were steady, despite the weight of his thoughts. The forest had gradually shifted around him, the tranquil green walls of trees parting to reveal a path that felt increasingly unfamiliar, as though it was not meant for a man like him to tread. The air had grown warmer, the scent of moss and earth replaced by the acrid tinge of industry and soot.
He had been traveling for hours, following the thin line of charcoal that snaked across his map, the only guide he had toward the next stage of his strange journey. Elyria was with him, as always, her form a faint glimmer on the edge of his vision. Her presence was less intrusive now—more of a companion, an ever-present whisper of knowledge. She was no longer the mysterious guide, but something closer, something like a teacher… or perhaps, something like a guardian.
"We're getting closer," Axel murmured to himself, glancing at the map. It was aged, tattered at the corners, but still a reliable tool in his hands. The sliver of paper marked a path that eventually led to the gate of a place known simply as The Eternal Slums.
Elyria's voice echoed in his mind, cutting through the rising murmur of his thoughts.
"It is not a place for the faint of heart," she warned, her tone more somber than usual. "This is the lowest city in the known world, Axel. A sinkhole of broken dreams. What was once a thriving hub of trade, culture, and power has long since rotted into a wasteland. What you will find there… isn't what you expect."
Axel didn't respond. His eyes remained focused ahead, squinting through the trees as the underbrush gave way to a path of cracked stone. He could smell the distant stench of smoke now, burning wood mingling with the faint, rancid tinge of something metallic. The map led him to this point, but the path beyond seemed almost like a mistake.
But no matter how he tried to pull himself back, the pull of this destination was stronger than his hesitation. Something about this place, this "Eternal Slums," seemed to beckon him with a force he couldn't deny. Perhaps it was the promise of answers—answers about his new life, about his strange cooking powers, and the depths of the world he now found himself in. Or perhaps it was something darker, a pull he couldn't quite explain.
Axel clenched his jaw, forcing his doubts aside as he approached the edge of the woods.
The trees thinned, and the landscape opened up to reveal a towering iron gate, rusted and caked in grime. The gate itself was adorned with faded, peeling symbols—runes long since forgotten by the passing years, yet still strong enough to give a warning. The metal was warped, bent in places as if it had borne the weight of countless storms and struggles. Through the bars, Axel could see little more than shadowed streets, buildings crouching like sick animals under a permanent fog of smoke.
Beyond the gate lay The Eternal Slums.
Axel's feet stopped moving, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his blade. His senses heightened, a tinge of foreboding clinging to his skin like the dampness of the air. The sounds of the world shifted—no longer the whisper of trees, but the hum of distant cries, shouting, the scraping of metal against stone. The wind, though faint, carried the stench of refuse and decay. The city before him seemed to pulse with a life that was more disease than vitality.
"Welcome to hell," Axel muttered under his breath, stepping forward.
Elyria's form shimmered beside him. She appeared almost out of place here, like a shard of silver amongst the grime. Her eyes, still that deep, sorrowful violet, glimmered in the dim light. She spoke, but there was no hiding the sadness in her voice.
"This place… this is where the worst of humanity gathers. Where those who have nothing are left to rot. The criminals, the desperate, the broken—this city is their graveyard. It was not always like this."
Axel glanced at her, his hand tightening around his sword. "What happened here?"
"A great war, centuries ago. Political maneuvering, betrayal, a desperate grasp for power. When it was over, the city was abandoned—left to crumble, left to burn. It is now a place of no hope, only survival."
Axel turned his eyes back to the gate, feeling the oppressive weight of her words settle over him. There was no illusion here. There would be no easy answers, no clean path. This was a place of filth, both in its surroundings and its soul.
He approached the gate. The metal was cold under his fingers, and as he pushed against it, it creaked in protest, as though the entire structure had been slowly dying for years.
A voice cut through the air, ragged and thick with the weight of years spent in this place.
"Don't just stand there, stranger. Open it already."
Axel turned, his hand still on the rusted gate. A figure stood a few paces away, a man with the kind of weary look that told you he had long given up on any semblance of hope. His face was weathered, lined with dirt and sweat, his clothes ragged and torn, hanging loosely off a frame that was too thin for its height.
The man's eyes, however, were sharp—too sharp for someone so clearly broken. Axel recognized the look. It was the kind of gaze that only someone who had survived too many battles, too many betrayals, could possess.
"What do you want?" Axel asked, his voice flat.
The man didn't move immediately. He studied Axel for a moment, then nodded toward the gate.
"You're here for the city, aren't you? Everyone who comes through that gate is. The Eternal Slums—the last stop before you hit rock bottom, or maybe before you finally get a glimpse of redemption, if you're lucky." The man's lips twisted into something like a bitter smile. "But no one gets in without a price."
Axel frowned, his hand still resting on the gate. "And what's the price?"
The man cocked his head, eyeing Axel with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "A meal. The only currency that works here. Feed a man, and you'll find your way through the gates. It's a system, you see? Those with foo, get a place to stay. Those without… well, they don't last long."
Axel's brow furrowed. "You're telling me I need to cook for you to enter this city?"
The man nodded. "That's the deal. It's always been the deal. Those with skills like yours…" He motioned toward Axel's waist, where the black blade rested, Theyy survive better. Those who can feed others—those who can keep the fire burning—are the ones who get ahead."
Axel's grip tightened on the gate. The words hit harder than they should have. Was this what his system had truly come to? A world built on food, on survival?
"I'm not here to cook for you," Axel said, his voice sharp. "I need answers, not to play some game."
The man's expression remained unchanged. "Don't get it twisted, friend. We all need something here. The question is, are you willing to pay the price?"
Axel stood still for a moment, considering his options. Elyria's voice cut through the silence in his mind.
"He's right. This city is ruled by hunger. The Eternal Slums don't trade in coin, they trade in sustenance. Your [Sovereign Cooking System] will be your key, Axel. Use it wisely."
Axel didn't like the implication. But Elyria was right. He wasn't getting through this gate without feeding someone. He didn't have to like it, but if he wanted to learn what the Slums had to offer, he would have to play bytheirs rules.
He nodded curtly, his mind already racing. "Fine. I'll cook. What do you want?"
The man grinned, his yellowed teeth a stark contrast to his grimy face. "Now, that's the spirit. There's a good shop down the street. They'll tell you what to do. But don't expect any easy handouts. No one here gives anything for free."
Axel turned his back on the man and approached the gate. With a grunt, he shoved it open, the hinges protesting the motion. A wave of heat, filth, and despair washed over him as he stepped through.
The Eternal Slums sprawled before him, a hellish maze of crumbling buildings, makeshift tents, and unlit alleyways. Above it all, a sky filled with thick, black smoke, as if the city had never seen sunlight. The stench was overwhelming—rotting food, human sweat, and the sickly sweet odor of burnt rubber filled the air. Axel could feel the weight of desperation here, thick and heavy like a tangible fog.
The street was lined with people, gaunt and hollow-eyed, their faces worn by years of struggle. Children played in the dirt, their hands stained with grime, their eyes devoid of innocence. There was no laughter here, no joy. Just survival.
Elyria's voice lingered in his mind. *"You'll need to find a balance, Axel. In a place like this, it's not just about feeding them. It's about what your food represents. A meal can mean life, or it can mean death. Be careful who you feed, and