The dim light of Umbraeth's evening sky filtered weakly through the layers of smog, painting the city in a dull, bluish-gray hue. Akira Hayato sat quietly in a small, corner café built between two towering buildings of metal and glass. The faint hum of energy lines buzzed above him as he scrolled through holographic screens projected from a rusted console.
He had spent the entire day researching. His eyes burned from hours of reading, but his mind was too restless to stop. The amount of information available in this world was staggering not because it was hidden, but because it was endless.
This was not a new world struggling to rise; it was an empire that had thrived for over forty-five thousand years.
Akira leaned back, stunned by the sheer number. "Forty-five thousand… years," he muttered under his breath. "That's older than all recorded history back on Earth."
He scrolled further, eyes darting across glowing text and animated records. The database described how the Human Empire had begun as a fragile colony of survivors in the early days of the New World. Thousands of years of struggle, war, and innovation had shaped it into the vast civilization that now spanned continents. The empire was not merely surviving it had achieved perfection in control and order.
Every invention, every piece of research, every policy had been developed for one purpose: to ensure the survival and dominance of humanity.
As he read, Akira realized something that made his stomach tighten this empire was built on structure and efficiency, but also on suffering. The people of Umbraeth, especially those born in the lower zones, were living proof of that. They were the discarded foundation stones that held the shining towers above.
He sighed, closing one of the screens. "No wonder this place is called the City of Shadows," he whispered.
Umbraeth was dark not because of nightfall, but because sunlight barely reached the ground. The endless factories, energy converters, and smoke-spewing towers created a ceiling of pollution that dimmed even the strongest glow. Above, the rich lived in cleaner air down here, the people simply survived.
He walked out of the café, stepping into the heavy air. The streets were still busy, the constant mechanical hum mixing with the chatter of vendors and the faint rumble of trains far above. He could feel the cold metal beneath his boots, and for a moment, it felt like the whole city was breathing — a giant, iron beast that never slept.
Akira's thoughts turned inward. The memories of the body he now inhabited flashed in fragments hunger, loneliness, the hopeless stare of a child who had already given up. That boy had lived his short life without ever questioning the system around him. He didn't know what power meant, what opportunity was.
But Akira was different. He had come from another world a world where knowledge meant survival. And here, knowledge was the only weapon he had.
He spent the next few hours moving between public data terminals scattered throughout the district. The holographic displays flickered as he searched records, trying to understand not just the empire's history, but its systems of control.
What he found was both fascinating and terrifying.
The Human Empire functioned like a living organism. At its heart stood the Royal Family, the unchallenged rulers. Below them, the Council of Aetherials ten beings who managed the ten great districts. Then came the Lords, a hundred powerful individuals who governed the empire's zones through their Zone Managers.
It was an unbroken chain of command, stretching from the heavens to the gutters of Umbraeth. Every human, no matter how small, was part of that order even if they didn't realize it.
Akira rubbed his temples. "It's perfect," he thought grimly. "Too perfect. Everyone's accounted for… even the poor."
That realization sparked an idea. If the empire truly managed everything, then there had to be a system for people like him orphans with nothing to their names. On Earth, governments had aid programs. Surely this world, far more advanced, would have something similar.
Driven by that thought, Akira began searching again. He approached one of the floating information hubs, its transparent interface glowing a soft blue. After a few failed keyword searches, he finally found what he was looking for:
Public Aid and Support Division — Umbraeth Central Office
"A government organization assisting orphans and low-income residents across all zones."
His heart quickened. The file listed registration times, requirements, and even the address of the nearest branch just a few streets away from the commercial center.
"So there is hope after all," he murmured.
As he closed the holographic window, the city's lights flickered faintly. Dusk was deepening into full night, and the dark clouds above seemed to swallow the last traces of light. Umbraeth truly became the City of Shadows once the sun vanished a place where the weak vanished and the desperate roamed.
Akira tightened his robe and began walking toward home. His mind was racing with everything he had learned: the empire's history, the layers of control, and now this is a possible opportunity.
But as he walked, another thought came. The boy who once lived in this body never knew this. He died hopeless and alone. But I'm not him anymore.
For the first time since awakening, Akira felt something close to confidence. The world was harsh, but it was logical and that meant it could be understood. If it could be understood, it could be navigated.
He looked up at the sky, a dark sea of smog and faint red lights. "If the empire took forty-five thousand years to build," he whispered, "then I'll take one year to build my foundation."
The cold air bit at his face as he turned toward his home in Zone 971. The streets were growing quieter, shadows stretching long across the walls. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed a reminder that danger never slept here.
He would visit the Public Aid Building tomorrow. For now, he needed rest. His mind was full of knowledge, and his heart, though small and fragile, carried the spark of determination.
He reached the doorstep of his old, broken home the same one where he had first awakened. It still smelled of damp earth and decay, but this time, he didn't feel disgusted. He felt ready.
As he lay on the creaking bed, the city's hum faded into the background. His last thought before drifting off was simple but resolute: "Tomorrow begins my path to survival."
END OF CHAPTER