《Ningen - Bela Mondo》


 Volume 1 (1) - Cooking and Picking

    Under the dirty gray sky, mountains of garbage stretched into the hazy distance.


    Toria crouched behind a stack of rusty iron sheets, holding her breath. Her red eyes were fixed on the three scavengers rummaging through the trash ahead.


    She could see the pistols on their hips and the bulging sacks on their backs.


    Still focused on finding valuables, the scavengers stayed bent over. Toria poked her head out from behind the metal, raised the shotgun¡ªnearly half her height¡ªand fired.


    Bang!


    The rearmost scavenger dropped to the ground on the spot.


    Before his companions could react, Toria had already slipped forward, delivering a swift kick that sent one man¡¯s pistol flying.


    Then, swinging the butt of her shotgun in a wide arc, she struck hard. Blood splattered, and the man collapsed.


    The third scavenger just managed to draw his gun, but Toria dodged by rolling aside. In the blink of an eye, she sprang up, pressed forward, and blasted a shotgun round into his head, leaving it a gory mess.


    Scenes like this played out countless times every day in this place. People killed and died for ¡°treasure,¡± where a single bullet was worth more than a human life.


    Toria inhaled deeply, taking in air that stank of rot and unknown chemicals.


    Still, the foul smell didn¡¯t dampen her spirits¡ªin fact, she felt good, because she knew her victory was in sight.


    That meant a haul of spoils was within reach.


    The still-warm corpses had already attracted vultures from the sky to pick at the fresh meat. Had Toria not stepped over to wave them off with her gun, these bodies would¡¯ve been stripped to bone within a day.


    Toria stood amid small hills of rusted scrap metal, shattered plastic, and broken machinery parts.


    Everywhere she looked, serpentine coils of wires and pipes wound out from the rubbish heaps like the discarded intestines of giant beasts.


    Aside from that, only silence reigned. Now and then, faint rustling from unknown creatures hidden in the trash or distant gunshots and monster howls only made the silence more profound.


    This was the ¡°Landfill,¡± a place abandoned by civilization yet still clinging to it. It was the lowest rung of the city, but countless people survived here.


    Toria herself had spent fourteen years growing up in this place.


    She also knew it wasn¡¯t time to celebrate. She still had loose ends to tie up.


    ¡°Hey, I know you¡¯re not dead¡­¡± Toria poked at a ¡°corpse¡± on the ground and said so.


    She never got to finish her sentence. The not-quite-dead scavenger sprang up and, without a word, took off in a panic.


    Seeing this, Toria clicked her tongue in annoyance. She¡¯d purposely left one alive to ask if they had any good loot stashed somewhere, but clearly that wasn¡¯t going to happen now.


    She fired once more, hitting him square in the back. He stumbled and rolled down the side of a heap of trash.


    He tumbled through a gap between the trash mountains, where ragged scavenger shanties were precariously built. At the bottom of the slope, footpaths trailed in winding lines¡ªpaths scavengers had worn down over days and years of scouring the piles.


    Instead of chasing after the body right away, Toria went back to search the backpack of her first kill. She found a few fragments of magitech devices, some copper wiring, and two cans of expired synthetic food.


    ¡°Not bad. At least that¡¯ll feed me for three days.¡±


    She rummaged through his pockets, too, turning up a handful of bullets and a bit of cash.


    Then, following in the direction that last scavenger¡¯s body had rolled, Toria headed down to the base of the trash mountain. It was an area she hadn¡¯t really explored yet¡ªthere might be unexpected gains.


    What caught her attention next was a broken body, though clearly not that scavenger¡¯s.


    Toria crouched to take a closer look.


    It belonged to what looked like a small girl with pale, delicate skin. Her head was completely bald. When Toria lifted an eyelid, she found empty sockets where eyes should have been¡ªapparently gouged out.


    Toria reached out and touched the skin, finding it cold. Judging by the temperature, the body must¡¯ve been there for a while. Curiously, though, it showed no signs of decomposition despite being lifeless.


    ¡°Poor thing. I can guess what kind of suffering she went through before she died.¡±


    A trace of sympathy flickered in Toria¡¯s eyes. But then she let out a wry chuckle.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never tasted this type before. Sorry about this, but thanks for the meal.¡±


    In this day and age, fresh meat was precious. For those living in the Landfill, besides rats, the only other ¡°organic¡± meat came from the same kind of two-legged, thinking creatures¡ª¡°heaven-sent organic meat.¡±


    Toria dragged the body to a flat spot and pulled a small portable pot and a few pieces of desiccant from her bag.


    She used the desiccant to start a small fire, placed the pot on top, and poured in about half a bottle of purified water she¡¯d taken off the scavengers.


    Once the water came to a boil, Toria wrenched off the entire arm of the ¡°heaven-sent organic meat¡± at the joint and dropped it into the pot.


    ¡°That¡¯s odd. This arm is as heavy as metal. Maybe there are implants? Oh well. It¡¯ll soften once it¡¯s cooked long enough.¡±


    After half an hour over a strong fire, Toria couldn¡¯t wait any longer. She raised the arm to her mouth and took a big bite.


    Crack. The noise was painfully jarring. Toria grimaced and spat out the piece she¡¯d bitten off. One of her teeth fell into her palm.


    Looking back into the pot, she saw that the arm was completely unharmed¡ªits skin hadn¡¯t even begun to peel.


    Only then did Toria realize she¡¯d stumbled onto something truly unusual.


    She looked to the horizon. A thin white mist lingered above the distant expanse of trash, as if a cloud of poisonous gas was suspended in midair.


    That was the ¡°Nightmare Fog.¡± It didn¡¯t seem to be drifting this way yet, which gave Toria some relief.


    Dangerous though it was, the Nightmare Fog was also a ¡°giver¡± of sorts to the Landfill¡¯s inhabitants. Whenever the dense fog rolled in, it took some of the trash away and brought new trash in its place.


    No one knew where the disappearing garbage went, just as no one knew where the newfound ¡°treasures¡± came from.


    Likewise for anyone caught in the fog¡ªnobody knew what happened to them, and no one had ever come back alive.


    As usual, Toria took a roundabout path, heading for a place that perhaps only she knew.


    After walking for over an hour, she came to a street reduced to ruins long ago.


    At a glance, she saw several rusted mechanical arms arranged on the sidewalk in bizarre poses, as if greeting passersby.


    Those arms had who knew how many years¡¯ worth of dust on them, and no one had so much as tried to move them.


    Among them, the most prominently displayed mechanical arm pointed toward a closed shop door.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    It was a rusted roller shutter peppered with bullet holes. The doorframe was crooked¡ªprobably deformed by storms¡ªso whenever it was lowered, a gap remained open, letting the sea wind whine through.


    It was huddled alongside a row of abandoned seaside storefronts, as though forgotten in some crevice of time. A single-story building, it had once been a convenience store.


    Paint had peeled away from the walls, revealing rusty metal plates beneath. The old store sign was gone, leaving only a few large red characters scrawled crookedly:


    ¡°WE BUY JUNK.¡±


    Next to the shutter stood a wooden sign that read ¡°CLOSED.¡± It swung back and forth in the sea breeze, letting out a creaking sound.


    But Toria knew ¡°closed¡± was just for show. She squatted down and lifted the shutter¡ªsure enough, it rose a bit, meaning it wasn¡¯t locked.


    Plenty of shops buying trash could be found all over the Landfill, but this one, Toria knew, offered the highest prices around.


    It was open only a handful of days each month. Today, luck was on Toria¡¯s side. Carrying her ¡°corpse,¡± she stepped in. A thick haze of smoke and liquor hit her, making her nose wrinkle.


    Inside were piles of broken mechanical and electronic equipment. A girl who looked about Toria¡¯s age was slumped in a lounge chair behind the counter, smoking a cigarette.


    She had long, pointed ears hidden beneath a messy mane of blond hair. Her green eyes were foggy and half-lidded, as though she¡¯d only just recovered from a hangover.


    ¡°How much is this worth, Tina?¡± Toria plopped the ¡°corpse¡± onto the counter.


    The girl called Tina lazily lifted her eyelids for a glance.


    She slowly sat up and stubbed out her cigarette, then leaned forward like some seasoned appraiser, carefully examining the ¡°merchandise¡± Toria had brought.


    ¡°Not much. Maybe¡­two thousand Kaira?¡±


    Tina sounded casual as she eyed the ¡°corpse¡± on the counter.


    Toria¡¯s eyes lit up. For someone like her, who made only a few hundred Kaira in a month, two thousand was a small fortune¡ªmore than she might earn in a year.


    Just as she was about to say yes, she heard Tina mutter offhandedly, ¡°If it could be fixed, though¡­ Might fetch at least half a million¡­¡±


    Toria¡¯s expression shifted. Narrowing her eyes, she said, ¡°Wait. I¡¯m not selling yet. Can you fix it?¡±


    ¡°Kid.¡± Tina lit another cigarette, blowing a cloud of smoke right in Toria¡¯s face. ¡°I¡¯m not in the habit of doing losing deals.¡±


    Seeing Toria cough, Tina cracked a mischievous grin.


    Waving away the smoke, Toria hurriedly dug through her backpack and pulled out a carefully sealed bottle of mead. Though the label was faded, Tina could immediately tell it was a vintage brew.


    Toria had discovered it deep beneath the garbage piles a few days prior. She¡¯d planned on trading it for essentials, but clearly, this was a better use.


    Tina¡¯s eyes flickered with brief admiration, but she quickly masked it with a bored expression.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± She gave a dismissive snort.


    Toria pressed her lips together and, with obvious reluctance, pulled out a can of sauce from her bag¡ªa devilishly spicy condiment she only used sparingly on festive days to smear on her synthetic protein.


    ¡°Well, since you¡¯re so sincere, deal.¡± Tina finally gave in, smiling in satisfaction as she reached out for the bottle. ¡°But let me take a sip first.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡±


    Suddenly, Toria lunged, her tanned arm clamping down on the doll. Narrowing her eyes, she glanced suspiciously between Tina¡¯s face and hand.


    ¡°You say you¡¯ll fix it. But what if you keep it for yourself?¡±


    Her knuckles were white from the pressure she exerted, and her chin jutted forward in a confrontational stance.


    Tina¡¯s hand froze in midair.


    She scratched her nose, looking at the grubby, underfed kid trying hard to act tough. A smirk tugged at her lips, making her cigarette quiver. ¡°What do you want, then?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll watch you the entire time you fix it,¡± Toria said. ¡°Every step, from start to finish, I won¡¯t let it out of my sight.¡±


    Toria wrapped her thin arms around the doll, hugging it close. Her neck was stiff as a board, and she leaned back slightly.


    Tina clicked her tongue and slipped one hand onto her hip. With the other, she flicked the almost-spent cigarette butt away. From her pocket, she fished out a rumpled pack, clamped a new cigarette in her teeth, and lit it.


    ¡°Fine. But it¡¯s going to be deadly dull.¡±


    She took a long drag, the smoke drifting slowly from her nostrils.


    ¡°A single module alone can take hours, and I can¡¯t promise it¡¯ll even work in the end.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind!¡± Toria pressed her chin against the doll¡¯s head, like a hungry animal guarding its kill. ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing better to do anyway.¡±


    ¡°Suit yourself.¡± Tina shrugged and turned to open a door. The wooden door creaked sharply, dust drifting from the frame.


    The workshop looked like a graveyard for spare parts.


    Rusted gears and frayed wiring lay scattered across the workbench. The walls were plastered with yellowing schematics whose edges curled in the dim glow of a magitech lamp, casting eerie shadows.


    The smell of oil and dust mingled with the heavy odor of alcohol. Toria scrunched up her nose.


    Clutching the doll, Toria wove through scattered junk like a feral cat prowling the trash heaps.


    Tina, her fingers stained with machine oil, pointed to a battered old sofa in the corner. Several splits in its leathery covering exposed grimy foam. ¡°You can sit there.¡±


    Tina took a seat at the workbench and put on a special magnifying visor. The cigarette dangled from her mouth as she freed both hands to tinker with the doll.


    The clink of metal and the whir of gears echoed through the workshop.


    Toria sat cross-legged on the sofa. Like an alert owl, she swiveled her head to watch Tina¡¯s every move.


    Though she tried her best to stay alert¡ªeven biting her lip until it bled¡ªshe hadn¡¯t eaten more than a single protein block in three days. Exhaustion took over.


    Tina, however, didn¡¯t seem to notice. She simply spoke aloud to herself.


    ¡°Incredible design¡­¡±


    With the doll¡¯s back panel open, Tina marveled.


    ¡°Toria, you¡¯ve really struck gold. This is the pinnacle creation of Ukiyo Tech¡ªthe top company before ¡®That Day¡¯¡ª¡±


    She turned around, only to find Toria already slumped fast asleep on the sofa.


    Toria lay curled up, arms still hugging as if there were something in them. Her brow was slightly furrowed, but the corners of her lips quirked upward. A faint strand of drool shimmered on her grimy cheek. She looked oddly serene.


    Tina paused for a moment, almost dropping her cigarette. She shook her head, a soft look briefly flickering in her eyes.


    ¡°Falling asleep here so carelessly¡­ You¡¯d be an easy target. But at least this is my place.¡±


    She stood, moving carefully. From the clutter, she retrieved a somewhat clean piece of canvas and gently draped it over Toria.


    The cloth fell as softly as a feather; Toria stirred but did not awaken.


    Returning to the workbench, Tina continued her task. Cigarette butts piled high in the worn ashtray like a little mountain. A dusty window let angled sunlight creep in, painting streaks of light across the floor.


    The tap of tools and Toria¡¯s gentle snores merged into a peculiar lullaby for the afternoon.


    Time seemed to stand still in that cramped workshop of wires and gears. For a short while, this harsh world seemed very far away.


    Toria dreamed.


    In that dream, she lived high in a tall building, wearing clean clothes and resting on a soft bed. The kitchen filled the air with the aroma of real beef¡ªnot the fake protein she was used to.


    Sunlight poured in bright and warm, with none of the suffocating haze from the Landfill.


    Carrying her meal was a doll with white hair¡ªone her mother had left behind but which had been stolen by other scavengers when Toria was just eight.


    The doll¡¯s hair shone in the golden light; its blue eyes blinked.


    And Toria just smiled, like they were a family.


    It was the kind of life she had only ever seen on her broken old TV¡­


    She wished that dream would never end.


    She didn¡¯t know how much time passed before she slowly woke. Hovering between sleep and reality, Toria blinked, realizing she was still in Tina¡¯s shop. Her mind flashed back to what she¡¯d asked Tina to do.


    Looking over at the workbench, she saw the last thing she wanted to see¡ªher ¡°half million¡± was nowhere to be found.


    ¡°Damn it!¡±


    Toria leapt off the recliner, drenched in cold sweat. In a fluid motion, she bounded forward, her right hand gripping her pistol at her waist.


    ¡°Tina! Where the hell are you?¡±


    Fury in her voice, Toria stormed into a back room, kicking the door wide open. Pistol raised to shoulder height, she was ready to shoot whoever stood behind it.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t have a good explanation, I¡¯ll blow your¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hululu¡­ Hululu¡­¡±


    Toria found herself aiming at a pair of pale-blue eyes staring back at her.


    Those eyes blinked, their pupils contracting like a camera lens, looking perplexed.


    Despite large portions of its body still missing, the ¡°half-million¡± now had snow-white hair, and empty eye sockets had been replaced with blue irises.


    It looked just like the doll Toria had dreamed about.


    ¡°Hululu¡­ Hululu¡­¡±


    The automaton leaned forward slightly, as if trying to speak. But only the grinding of gears emerged from its throat. It wore a flustered expression, its mechanical joints squeaking louder as if reflecting its anxiety.


    ¡°Calm down, kid.¡±


    Tina strolled over slowly from somewhere in the back, half an empty bottle in her hand. She wiped sweat from her forehead, leaving a smear of machine oil on her cheek.


    ¡°If you pull that trigger, you can kiss that half-million goodbye.¡±


    Toria swung her gun toward Tina, knuckles white from the pressure. ¡°What did you do¡­?¡±


    ¡°I had to charge her, obviously. This is the only power cable I¡¯ve got.¡±


    Tina gave the cable plugged into the back of the automaton¡¯s neck a slight tug.


    ¡°Seriously, who do you think I am? If I wanted to keep this treasure for myself, why would I leave you alive?¡±


    Thinking it over, Toria decided Tina had a point. She lowered her gun, feeling the tension in her chest ease. ¡°So what¡¯s going on here?¡±


    ¡°I only repaired the basic systems, plus a bit of cosmetic work.¡±


    Tina took another swig of liquor, a faint smile twitching at her lips.


    The automaton¡¯s eyes never left Toria, pale-blue pupils glowing with something like warmth and expectation. It tried to pivot, but without its lower body, the motion made its torso rock unsteadily.


    On instinct, Toria stepped forward to steady its shoulders.


    ¡°If I bring you the missing parts, can you attach them?¡± Toria looked up, slight frame leaning in, her eyes glinting in the dim light like salvageable gems in a scrap heap.


    ¡°You¡¯d install them?¡±


    Tina tilted her head back, gulped down the last of her drink, then wiped her mouth. A teasing half-smile formed on her lips.


    ¡°I said I¡¯d get it working. I¡¯ve already used a bunch of my own shop¡¯s parts. As for the rest¡­¡± She shrugged, drawing out the last word. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything that¡¯ll fit.¡±


    ¡°Hululu¡­ Hululu¡­¡±


    A series of quick gear sounds came from the automaton. She seemed anxious, her mechanical pupils contracting as she turned again to Tina, wobbling precariously.


    Once more, Toria darted forward to brace her.


    ¡°But if I bring the parts, you¡¯ll install them?¡± Toria asked.


    Tina shrugged again, casually waving her empty bottle. She didn¡¯t even look Toria¡¯s way. ¡°Sure¡ªif you can actually find them.¡±


    A grin split Toria¡¯s lips, showing a surprisingly clean set of teeth for a Landfill child.


    She lowered her gaze to the automaton, her eyes alight with determination. The automaton lifted its own gaze, mechanical pupils adjusting as though capturing the most precious of images.


    Without another word, Toria rushed out the door, heading straight for the town center.


    Tina opened another bottle, watching Toria¡¯s figure vanish. Leaning on the workbench, she shook her head. The tight furrows on her brow eased, and a barely visible smile tugged at her mouth.


    ¡°What an interesting kid,¡± she murmured.

 Volume 1 (2) - Adventure and Embrace

    Junk Town is a gathering place located just outside the gates of Hlteraz City, a haven where society¡¯s so-called ¡°trash¡± congregates.


    Because of the city guards stationed at the gates, this area¡ªthough essentially a lawless dump¡ªstill maintains a loose form of order under the threat of absolute force. After all, the guards won¡¯t let anyone die right in front of them.


    That¡¯s why some shady or legitimate business transactions can still be found here.


    Toria steps inside, scanning the makeshift shacks attached to these metal frames.


    She hasn¡¯t been here for quite a while, but it doesn¡¯t seem to have changed much.


    The air reeks of motor oil and rust, mixed with faint hints of blood. Market stalls crowd both sides of the narrow street, leaving barely any space to move. She wrinkles her brow as she navigates the narrow walkway.


    She hasn¡¯t brought her shotgun, only a small pistol. Carrying a big firearm would attract unwanted attention and be inconvenient for what she needs to do.


    Passing by a stall selling synthetic food, she uses the moment when the vendor is haggling with a customer to reach out lightning fast with her slim fingers¡ªtwo neatly packaged synthetic protein bars are gone in an instant, slipped into her pocket.


    Of course, she¡¯s here for more than just stealing a couple of food packs.


    A crooked sign reading ¡°Coleman Prosthetics¡± hangs in front of a shack made of sheet metal. Toria stops and narrows her eyes at the broken prosthetics displayed outside the entrance.


    The metal shells of those prosthetics are covered with rust and dark splotches of dried blood. She presses her lips together, then pushes open the creaking metal door that grinds unpleasantly on its hinges.


    Straightening her back, she tries to appear more confident. ¡°I need leg prosthetics and a voice unit. Name your price.¡±


    The shopkeeper at the counter raises his head slowly. His face is covered in crisscrossed scars, and his left eye has been replaced by a prosthetic that glows red.


    He narrows his one good eye, his gaze sweeping over Toria like he¡¯s evaluating a piece of merchandise.


    ¡°Where¡¯d this stinking brat come from?¡± he growls, revealing a row of golden false teeth. ¡°A complete set of leg prosthetics will run you fifty thousand Kyla. The voice unit is fifteen thousand. You couldn¡¯t afford it even if I sold you off!¡±


    Toria¡¯s throat bobs slightly and her expression darkens. She instinctively steps back half a pace, a glint of murderous intent flashing in her eyes.


    In her world, if money can¡¯t solve a problem, a gun can. And when staring down a gun barrel, anyone will ¡°agree¡± to her proposition.


    With that in mind, her right hand inches toward the holster at her waist.


    Just then, a tremor rumbles through the floor.


    Heavy footsteps approach from outside. A member of the Rust Gang, covered head to toe in prosthetic limbs, swaggers into the shop. His metal feet thud dully against the floor with every step.


    The biggest one has to stoop to get through the doorway, the joints in his metal neck screeching horribly. The fresh red rust emblem painted on his mechanical arm stands out vividly in the dimly lit store.


    Toria¡¯s entire body goes taut, muscles quivering under her worn-out clothes.


    Her hand immediately slides away from the pistol, and her eyes flick from the floor to the exit, like a trapped little animal searching for an escape route.


    After all, this is the Rust Gang. The entirety of Scrap Iron Town is their turf. If they set their sights on her, she¡¯d be lucky to just get skinned alive.


    Fortunately, the Rust Gang thugs don¡¯t even glance her way. They head straight for the counter.


    ¡°Get lost if you don¡¯t have the cash,¡± the shopkeeper barks impatiently at Toria, his metal teeth flashing in the dim light. ¡°Don¡¯t block my real customers, you damned junkyard brat.¡±


    With that, he turns to greet the Rust Gang members, a fawning grin on his face.


    Toria bites down hard on her lower lip, then spins and strides quickly to the door, shoulders tensed like she¡¯s bracing for an attack from behind.


    From inside comes the Rust Gang¡¯s coarse laughter, crackling with mechanical distortions. It grates on her nerves.


    She halts at the threshold and takes a deep breath. Her hand digs into her pocket, nails piercing her palm, clutching the two stolen packs of food. This approach isn¡¯t going to work. She¡¯ll need another method.


    She narrows her eyes, the glint in them sharpening like when she spots a target scavenging in the junkyard.


    But that look fades in an instant. She pretends to be nonchalant and shifts her gaze back to the goods on the shelves.


    ¡°Boss, how much stock can you give me this time?¡± the shopkeeper asks obsequiously. ¡°It¡¯s tough business these days.¡±


    ¡°Tch, Coleman, you¡¯re such a piece of work¡­¡± one of the Rust Gang members snaps, his mechanical voice crackling with static. ¡°Always whining about shortages. What happened to the last batch we gave you?¡±


    ¡°All sold out! You have no idea how big the demand for prosthetics has been in the city lately. Those folks in the Old Castle District all want to beef themselves up.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that crap. You¡¯re definitely hooking up with those smugglers in the city.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare,¡± the shopkeeper replies, groveling, ¡°I¡¯m just afraid of offending you. Didn¡¯t I give you all your cut from that last batch?¡±


    ¡°Enough. Anyway, there¡¯s plenty in the warehouse. However much you need, write it down and pick it up tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°About that warehouse¡­¡± The shopkeeper rubs his hands, hesitating, ¡°Is Chris still running the place?¡±


    ¡°That pack of losers does nothing but sleep, eat, drink, and fool around with women,¡± the Rust Gang member says with a sneer. ¡°They even lost a shipment and didn¡¯t notice. If the boss hadn¡¯t realized the numbers didn¡¯t add up, they¡¯d still be clueless.¡±


    Toria¡¯s eyes light up. She knows exactly how these Rust Gang punks operate¡ªbullies who only know how to push around the weak. Their warehouse guards are the lowest-ranking grunts, satisfied with a few packets of synthetic food, too lazy to even patrol properly.


    ¡°Alright, just bring some good booze when you come for the pickup,¡± the thug says, patting the shopkeeper on the shoulder. ¡°Last time, you tried to pass off some watered-down garbage, and I¡¯m not falling for that again. We¡¯re out of here.¡±


    Toria carefully memorizes every piece of information, already calculating her next move. A sudden shout shakes her out of her thoughts.


    ¡°Goddamn brat, scram!¡±


    Toria slinks away, but her mind is on the mute doll she left behind. A bold idea begins taking shape in her head.


    She touches the gun at her waist, takes a deep breath, and then slowly removes her hand from the grip.


    It¡¯s a crazy idea. If it fails, death might be the least of her worries.


    But¡­ that doll that only makes that ¡°Hululu¡± sound¡­


    Remembering those big blue eyes gazing at her with a plea so full of sorrow, Toria clenches her fist.


    ¡°Damn it, who am I kidding? I¡¯ll go for broke. The so-called Rust Gang can¡¯t stop Toria from doing what I want to do.¡±


    With that, Toria slips into the shadows, following the Rust Gang¡¯s path.


    Once she¡¯s certain they¡¯ve gone far enough, she starts her pursuit.


    She keeps a full block¡¯s distance, drawing on the skills she¡¯s honed in the junkyard¡ªambushing other scavengers and quietly following them to find the best loot. She can do it in her sleep.


    Whenever the Rust Gang member senses something and looks back, Toria quickly ducks into an alley or hides behind a stall.


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    His heavy mechanical footsteps echo through the streets at a steady pace. Toria doesn¡¯t need to see him; just from the sound, she can tell exactly where he is.


    Other prosthetic-equipped passersby sometimes appear, their mixed footfalls helping mask her presence.


    Eventually, the streets become more open. They¡¯ve ventured some distance from Scrap Iron Town.


    Finally, the Rust Gang member halts in front of an old three-story factory building, its walls streaked with rust like dark red scars.


    A tattered flag hangs from the top floor, painted with the gang¡¯s logo in red¡ªa skull in the shape of a gear.


    From the shadows of a nearby alley, Toria peeks at the building through the corner of her eye.


    Two sleepy guards lean against the front entrance, practically dozing off. Their worn-out revolvers hang from low-quality holsters. Clearly, they can¡¯t even afford prosthetic upgrades themselves.


    The Rust Gang thug strolls inside, and the guards don¡¯t even bother looking up.


    Toria¡¯s gaze shifts up the building¡¯s outer wall, spotting a decrepit exterior emergency staircase.


    It looks dangerously unstable, but it¡¯ll probably hold someone of her weight.


    She keeps watching for a while, noting the guards¡¯ shift-change schedule. They¡¯re so lazy that they usually slip away at least ten minutes early.


    She counts how many people come and go, figuring out roughly how many are inside. Once late night rolls around, the security will get even sloppier.


    ¡°Luck¡¯s on my side,¡± she mutters, eyes on the rickety emergency stairs. ¡°Tonight, I¡¯ll come for the goods.¡±


    Night¡¯s chill wind cuts Toria¡¯s face like a knife.


    She¡¯s been crouched behind a pile of discarded pipes for over an hour, observing the Rust Gang¡¯s base, silently tracking the patrol routines.


    Each patrol squad has four people, and they switch out every two hours.


    And when they do, there¡¯s always a gap of a few minutes.


    At last, the echo of footsteps fades into the distance.


    Toria darts out like a lithe panther, sprinting silently to the base of the wall.


    She carefully tests the rusted metal of the emergency staircase, wincing at each tiny squeak.


    Every step must be tested for weight capacity; every movement must be noiseless. The corroded metal groans faintly under her hand, sending her heart hammering.


    A loud ¡°Bang!¡± rings out below. Toria freezes mid-climb, pressed tight against the staircase, holding her breath.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± a guard¡¯s voice calls out.


    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± another replies. ¡°Goddamn junk made me trip.¡±


    ¡°You alright? The boss said to keep an eye out¡ªrecently we¡¯ve had some missing shipments.¡±


    ¡°Probably just starving scavs rummaging through our leftovers.¡±


    Toria hears them talking below and allows herself a slight smirk. We¡¯ll see about ¡°leftovers.¡± Tonight, you¡¯re gonna lose something big.


    Once their footsteps fade again, she resumes her climb. By the time she finally reaches the top floor platform, sweat is pouring down her face.


    She hides behind a stack of crates, peering around in the moonlight. The roof is crammed with all sorts of mechanical parts.


    Toria pulls a small detector from her pack. A faint blue glow points her toward several crates in the corner. She tiptoes over and carefully pries one open.


    ¡°Fully intact prosthetics¡­¡± She can¡¯t help but grin. ¡°And they¡¯re from that high-end brand the prosthetic shops sell.¡±


    Toria quickly retrieves what she needs: a voice unit and the core components of a set of leg prosthetics. She tucks them into her backpack, taking great care not to make a sound.


    Just then, footsteps sound from the stairwell. Toria goes rigid. These steps are heavy¡ªlike someone with extensive prosthetic work.


    She ducks behind the crates, hand clutched around her pistol.


    ¡°That¡¯s weird, was that crate open before?¡± A low voice grumbles.


    Toria¡¯s finger tightens around the trigger, heart pounding so hard it roars in her ears. If discovered, she only has one chance.


    Right then, a commotion erupts downstairs.


    ¡°Hey, boss! They¡¯re fighting down there! Looks like some of the boys got drunk and started a brawl!¡±


    ¡°Those idiots!¡±


    The heavy steps recede with more cursing and muttering about ¡°next time they disturb my nap, I¡¯ll feed them to the twisted monsters.¡±


    Toria exhales in relief, wiping cold sweat from her brow. She quickly double-checks the contents of her pack, then heads toward the stairwell.


    Climbing down is easier than going up. She slips down the stairs like a shadow, disappearing into the darkness within minutes.


    Of course, it¡¯ll be a whole year before the Rust Gang realizes someone had broken into their warehouse. But that¡¯s another story.


    ¡°Bang, bang, bang!¡±


    A rapid pounding on the door jolts Tina awake. She angrily lifts the rolling shutter. ¡°What the hell is your problem? It¡¯s the middle of the¡ª¡±


    Before she can finish, Toria barges into the shop and tosses a heavy bag of parts onto the table, including the voice unit and a full set of leg prosthetics.


    ¡°These enough?¡±


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Tina says, nodding. Her half-lidded eyes show a hint of admiration. ¡°Where¡¯d you get them?¡±


    Toria smirks. ¡°Secret source. Ask again and I¡¯ll charge you more.¡±


    ¡°You little brat¡­ Fine, I¡¯ll get to work now.¡±


    Tina digs out a pack of cigarettes, pops one in her mouth, and lights up. She lazily leans in to check the items in the bag.


    ¡°Military-grade high-strength alloy components? Where the hell did you get these?¡±


    She frowns.


    ¡°Wait, this is Ryan Corporation¡¯s fancy stuff. Don¡¯t tell me you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Never heard of them. I said it¡¯s a secret source.¡±


    Tina shrugs, giving Toria a slightly exasperated look. ¡°Alright. Go grab Hululu from the storeroom in the back.¡±


    ¡°Got it!¡± Toria instantly brightens and dashes into the back room.


    ¡°And don¡¯t go swiping my stuff in there!¡±


    ¡°Go to hell, Tina! Stop treating me like a thief!¡±


    ¡°You did steal some of my parts last time and then sold them back to me¡ªI haven¡¯t forgotten that.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, you noticed?¡± Toria averts her eyes, awkward.


    ¡°You little brat.¡±


    ¡°Who are you calling a brat!¡± Toria makes a silly face at Tina. ¡°You look around fifteen or sixteen yourself, not much older than me, so quit acting like a grown-up!¡±


    ¡°Oh, for f¡ª¡±


    Tina grabs a bottle of booze as if to throw it, making Toria immediately shield herself in alarm.


    In the end, Tina just gulps some down and belches, flipping Toria off with her free hand.


    ¡°Tch, hurry up.¡±


    Relieved, Toria scampers to the back room.


    When Toria¡¯s gone, Tina glances at the pile of parts. She quickly notices there¡¯s a tracking spell on them¡ªbut she says nothing. Placing a hand on the components, she focuses for a moment, disabling the tracking.


    Within seconds, Toria reappears from the back room.


    She¡¯s gently cradling the doll, placing it carefully on the workbench. Its light-blue eyes blink back at her, accompanied by a faint whir of gears.


    ¡°Hululu¡­¡± Toria imitates the doll¡¯s little sound. ¡°You¡¯ll be able to talk soon.¡±


    Tina dons a specialized magnifying headset, inspecting the newly acquired parts.


    ¡°These are top-tier, way better than the junk you scrounge in the yard,¡± she remarks. She fiddles with the voice unit. ¡°They¡¯re in good condition, too. Gotta say, the Rust Gang sure can nab decent stuff.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ how long to fix her?¡± Toria asks urgently, not catching that Tina has guessed where the parts came from.


    ¡°Don¡¯t rush me. If you want a job done right, don¡¯t nag. Besides¡­¡±


    Tina gives Toria a meaningful look.


    ¡°My craving for booze is back.¡±


    ¡°Here.¡± Toria pulls out a bottle from her pack. They¡¯ve known each other a while; she knows Tina¡¯s vices well.


    ¡°You brat, getting generous now.¡± Tina chuckles, taking the bottle. ¡°Alright, since you¡¯re being so nice, I¡¯ll try to finish tonight.¡±


    Toria squats by the workbench, eyes glued to Tina¡¯s every move.


    Tina works swiftly but with meticulous precision. The components seem to come alive in her hands, each part neatly clicking into place.


    As always, she mutters while working: ¡°It¡¯s a shame¡­ If not for ¡®that day¡¯ when 95% of the world got blasted into this hellscape, this technology would be widespread by now.¡±


    Toria says nothing, her mind wholly occupied with the thought of hearing Hululu¡¯s voice.


    ¡°If you¡¯re tired, go sleep a bit. Don¡¯t get in my way,¡± Tina says, noticing the weariness on Toria¡¯s face.


    ¡°I¡¯m not tired! I want to watch you fix her.¡±


    ¡°Tch, you¡¯re at it again.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®at it again¡¯!¡± Toria puffs out her cheeks, protesting.


    ¡°Fine, fine. Keep me company, then?¡±


    ¡°Sure. Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°Let me think of a topic¡­ Toria, do you know why the world ended up this way? You might not believe it, but it all started with a blonde, pointy-eared¡ª¡±


    Tina turns around. Toria¡¯s already dozed off against the workbench. Tina sighs, wearing an ¡°I knew it¡± expression.


    Some time later, Toria wakes up groggily.


    ¡°All done,¡± Tina announces, blowing smoke in Toria¡¯s direction.


    Toria jumps up from the makeshift sofa and rushes to the workbench.


    The doll is now sitting there, pale-blue eyes blinking. Her white hair cascades gracefully, giving her the look of a tranquil beauty.


    For a moment, Toria feels like she¡¯s seeing a scene from a dream¡ªlike a white-haired, blue-eyed doll she¡¯d once lost. She¡¯s momentarily at a loss.


    Now, the doll sits on the workbench, gently swinging her newly attached legs as if testing the mechanical joints.


    She looks up at Toria and smiles.


    ¡°You¡­ you can speak now?¡± Toria asks, feeling strangely nervous before those bright eyes. ¡°Can you talk?¡±


    The doll tilts her head, mechanical pupils focusing on Toria. She parts her lips and, instead of a chattering gear noise, out comes a clear, pleasant young girl¡¯s voice:


    ¡°Yes, I can speak.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Toria realizes she hasn¡¯t introduced herself. ¡°I¡¯m Toria.¡±


    ¡°Toria¡­¡±


    The doll repeats the name and gives a gentle smile.


    ¡°I also have a name¡ª¡®Hululu.¡¯ You came up with it.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ you don¡¯t like it?¡± Toria lowers her gaze, suddenly unable to meet the doll¡¯s eyes. ¡°If you don¡¯t, I can change¡ª¡±


    Without another word, the doll stands up. Her new mechanical limbs make only the faintest click. Her movements are graceful and fluid, astonishing for a freshly installed prosthetic.


    She approaches Toria.


    Toria stares in awe; the doll moves just like a real person, every expression natural.


    She instinctively takes a step back, but the doll has already reached her.


    Then, the doll embraces her.


    ¡°Thank you, Toria.¡±


    All Toria¡¯s fear and surprise melt into a new emotion she¡¯s never experienced¡ªher nose tingles, and she feels tears threatening. She hugs Hululu back and says:


    ¡°Hululu, as long as you¡¯re happy.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Tina suddenly interjects, ¡°are you still planning to sell her? I have connections, and as long as I get a cut¡ª¡±


    That hits a tender spot in Toria. She instinctively shields Hululu behind her, arms stretched wide as if terrified someone would take the doll away again.


    ¡°No way! Not selling! I¡¯d never sell her¡ªwouldn¡¯t do it for a million!¡±


    Tina sees Toria¡¯s defensive posture and laughs. ¡°Alright, calm down. I was just asking.¡±


    Toria relaxes slightly, turning back toward Hululu. Her face flushes. She¡¯d hardly realized the doll was basically uncovered, mechanical limbs fully visible.


    Flustered, she snatches up the scrap of canvas she¡¯d been using as a blanket and wraps it around Hululu.


    ¡°Damn, I didn¡¯t notice you were practically naked. I¡¯ll get you some clothes at home¡ªdon¡¯t want you catching a cold.¡±


    ¡°Toria,¡± Hululu says, fiddling with the rough fabric. ¡°I am a mechanical being. In principle, I can¡¯t get sick the way humans do¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop with the smart talk. Around here, it¡¯s dangerous to be careless. I don¡¯t want anything happening to you.¡±


    Hululu still looks confused but nods anyway.


    Toria hugs her again, and on Toria¡¯s face appears a smile Tina¡¯s never seen before in all the years she¡¯s known her.


    It¡¯s not the smug grin Toria wears when she successfully steals something, nor the forced smirk when she pretends to be fine. It¡¯s pure, genuine happiness¡ªsomething Toria has never shown the world.


    ¡°Hululu, from now on, you¡¯re mine! I¡¯ll scavenge for scraps to keep you fed¡­ And if you join me out there, that¡¯d be even better¡­¡±


    Hululu smiles in return, as if understanding her.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go home, Hululu.¡±


    Toria takes Hululu¡¯s hand, heading for the exit.


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you my stash. I even have a little TV we can watch together¡­¡±


    Their voices fade into the distance.


    Tina stands at the door, lighting another cigarette, watching the two small figures disappear into the early morning light.


    Under the glow of the rising sun, those silhouettes grow smaller and smaller, until they¡¯re out of sight.

 Volume 1 (3) - Minefields and Jungle

    Toria once heard somewhere about the so-called ¡°Three Laws of Living,¡± which go like this:


    If people go hungry too many times, they¡¯ll starve to death.


    If people don¡¯t eat, they¡¯ll go hungry.


    If people have no money, they won¡¯t have anything to eat.


    Hence, in order not to starve to death from having nothing to eat, Toria has no choice but to leave early and return late in search of treasure. And now that Hululu is staying at her place, the rations that could have lasted three days have been consumed in just one.


    Even though Toria doesn¡¯t know exactly how it works, Hululu can actually eat food, which also saves the trouble of having to charge her.


    Originally, Toria had planned¡ªjust like last week¡ªto leave Hululu at home. But today, under Hululu¡¯s strong insistence, she could only bring her along.


    ¡°Then again, the more people, the more strength we have. Bringing her might help us scavenge more.¡±


    Toria thought to herself.


    ¡°And besides, leaving her alone at home isn¡¯t necessarily safe.¡±


    In the misty morning light, Toria raised an old military binoculars she had dug out from a trash heap.


    At the moment, she was lying atop a mountain of junk, carefully surveying the terrain ahead through the lenses.


    Making sure whether there are enemies on the opposing junk hill is a mandatory lesson for any scavenger who wants to stay alive. If you fail at this ¡°lesson,¡±you will droping out...of your life.


    Although the binocular lenses are slightly cracked and the edges still bear dried bloodstains, after Toria¡¯s careful cleaning and adjustment, the tool still faithfully fulfills its purpose.


    She once spent an entire afternoon cleaning each and every mechanical part inside the binoculars with a soft cloth and some cleaning solution she got from Tina. When she first looked out at the distance through the newly cleaned lenses, that crystal-clear view almost moved her to tears.


    But for now, Toria was simply looking with intense focus.


    About three hundred meters away, wedged between two small mountains of trash, stood a makeshift shack pieced together from rusty iron sheets.


    From her vantage point, she could see every detail around that small hut with perfect clarity.


    ¡°Looks like they¡¯re one of us,¡± Toria whispered to Hululu at her side. ¡°See those paths they cleared, and the barbed wire on the roof? That must be another scavenger¡¯s base.¡±


    ¡°Toria, your analytical skills are impressive,¡± Hululu said with mild surprise. ¡°My quick scan a moment ago didn¡¯t even catch all those details right away¡ªthough it might be because of the distance.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just experience. If I couldn¡¯t read signs like these, I wouldn¡¯t still be around to meet you.¡±


    Even as she spoke, Toria never took the binoculars away from her eyes.


    ¡°Hululu, don¡¯t be fooled by how harmless the trash heaps around the hut look. They¡¯ve obviously been set up carefully. Heh, just as devious as me.¡±


    Her gaze swept across the ground, searching for subtle clues: places where the soil was packed tighter, suspicious angles of metal scraps, or certain junk heaps arranged to create blind spots. All these small details revealed lurking danger.


    In a land where everyone scrambles for resources, any scavenger who survives long enough will rig traps to protect their territory.


    ¡°Look over there.¡±


    Toria pointed to the left side of the little hut, signaling Hululu to check that area as well.


    ¡°Those seemingly random piles of scrap metal are definitely covering landmines or other explosives. Scavengers love using this method to protect their turf.¡±


    She paused briefly, then added, ¡°I do the same thing.¡±


    Hululu tilted her head, seeming to mull over Toria¡¯s words. ¡°But Toria, how can you be so sure there are traps underneath?¡±


    Toria lowered the binoculars and gave a meaningful smile.


    ¡°Because that¡¯s the best place to put them. Look at the way those steel plates are placed, right on the only route to that little hut. If I were that scavenger, that¡¯s exactly where I¡¯d set up my defenses.¡±


    She pointed at a few more spots, continuing her explanation:


    ¡°See that stack of old tires, and that section of barbed wire fence near the hut? Those places could easily hide more traps.¡±


    ¡°I see. So, what looks like a random messy area is actually filled with danger signs.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Everyone who manages to survive here has some special tricks. And in their home base, they almost always have a signature way of defending it.¡±


    Toria licked her chapped lips, her voice taking on a graver tone.


    ¡°Some scavengers like simple tripwire traps. Others prefer deadly explosives. More creative ones might use things like nerve gas, so you won¡¯t even know how you died.¡±


    Toria continued describing these terrifying traps, seemingly unfazed. Hululu showed a trace of unease, but Toria just rattled them off as though reciting from memory.


    ¡°And of course, cunning scavengers like us often combine traps, making them impossible for raiders to guard against.¡±


    ¡°Toria,¡± Hululu interjected, eyebrows knitted, ¡°forgive me for saying so, but this all sounds rather unsettling. Why set so many traps?¡±


    Toria lowered the binoculars and turned to face Hululu.


    ¡°Because this is the Junkyard. If you don¡¯t do this, at best you¡¯ll lose everything you¡¯ve worked for; at worst¡­¡±


    ¡°At worst?¡±


    Toria¡¯s face darkened at once. Something in Hululu¡¯s simple question had brought up painful memories. She gazed deep into Hululu¡¯s bright blue eyes, as if staring at a piece of her own past she had lost long ago.


    She would never forget that afternoon five years ago, under a harsh, pale sunlight. Her mother had gone out and never returned, while intruders broke into their home.


    Toria didn¡¯t like to recall what happened next. Yet, unbidden, her mind replayed the scene of herself, barely clothed and covered in blood, sprinting through the junkyard under the cover of night.


    ¡°At worst, you get stripped of everything and left with nothing¡­ I will never let that happen again. Never¡­¡±


    Hululu noticed Toria¡¯s sudden change in expression and cautiously asked, ¡°Toria, are you all right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m fine,¡± Toria said, taking a deep breath and forcing an awkward smile. ¡°Hululu, you wouldn¡¯t want any strange people barging into our home either, would you?¡±


    ¡°I think I understand.¡± Hululu looked down thoughtfully. ¡°So that¡¯s why you told me I must walk in a zigzag path whenever I go out¡­?¡±


    ¡°What shape?¡±


    ¡°Like this¡­¡± Hululu made a motion in the air.


    ¡°Ohhh, that.¡± Toria nodded. ¡°Yes, exactly. If you don¡¯t follow my route, you might step on one of my traps.¡±


    ¡°I did detect those traps, but I thought the junkyard itself was just that way by nature.¡±


    ¡°Ha, if that were the case, I wouldn¡¯t still be living here.¡±


    ¡°Would these traps protect us against the twisted creatures you mentioned before? Based on your description, they¡¯re not something my database has any record of.¡±


    ¡°Hard to say.¡± Toria blinked and shifted her gaze, thinking for a moment. ¡°If it¡¯s some monster crawling on the ground, maybe. But if it can fly or teleport, that¡¯d be harder to defend against.¡±


    She patted the dust off her clothes and stood up.


    ¡°Let¡¯s head another way.¡±


    Next, Toria knelt down and gently dusted off Hululu¡¯s clothes. Hululu was wearing Toria¡¯s old outfit¡ªthough ¡°old¡± was actually better than what Toria currently had to wear. That was why Toria was so careful brushing off any dirt.


    ¡°Even though I¡¯d love to storm that place and take a few things, the risk of getting blown up by a mine, poisoned by gas, or falling into a spiked pit and bleeding out in agony doesn¡¯t really seem worth it.¡±


    With that, Toria and Hululu turned away from the area and headed for the next junk mountain. As they walked, Toria kept in mind to watch out for any possible ambushes from that ¡°fellow scavenger.¡±


    But the anticipated ambush never came. After a few uneventful hours of searching, Toria and Hululu ended up with enough treasures to call it a day. Hululu¡¯s backpack now contained several decent electronic components and a few metals they could sell for recycling. While not a huge haul, it was good enough for a typical day¡¯s work in the junkyard.


    ¡°Maybe I can sell that somewhat intact processor for some canned food. As for the metal parts, I can probably get some tools from Tina¡­ Wonder how much wiring will cost.¡±


    Toria mumbled, half to herself.


    Trailing behind, Hululu quietly observed Toria¡¯s pleased expression for a while, then spoke up with a soft smile. ¡°Toria, you seem to be in a good mood.¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Toria replied, turning to see Hululu¡¯s smiling face and grinning back. ¡°It¡¯s not every day we don¡¯t run into enemies or monsters, and we got a fair amount of good stuff, too.¡±


    ¡°Still, it¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve realized just how much you need to consider just to survive,¡± Hululu said, her eyes showing a tinge of distress on Toria¡¯s behalf. ¡°Have you really lived like this all these years?¡±


    ¡°What else could I do?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re incredible, Toria.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing special.¡± Toria scratched her nose with her sleeve. ¡°Once we get to the city, we can pick any odd job there, and it¡¯ll still be better than staying in this wretched place where not even dogs want to linger. All these little tricks won¡¯t matter once we¡¯re there.¡±


    ¡°The city?¡± Hululu echoed, blinking as she turned to look at the towering walls faintly visible in the distance.


    ¡°Yeah, after ¡®that day,¡¯ it became one of the last remaining major cities on Earth.¡±


    Toria¡¯s eyes brightened:


    ¡°It¡¯s called the City of Illusions¡ªHlteraz!¡±


    At that, her lips curled into a gentle smile, like someone caught up in a dream that doesn¡¯t quite belong to her.


    ¡°As soon as I save enough money to buy two IDs, we¡¯ll get out of this godforsaken place and never look back.¡±


    Toria followed Hululu¡¯s gaze toward those distant walls, her eyes filled with longing¡ªas though she were gazing upon her promised land.


    ¡°No matter if it takes five years, ten years, or twenty¡­ As long as I¡¯m still breathing, I won¡¯t give up¡­¡±


    With those words, Toria¡¯s brow furrowed abruptly. Turning her head away, she clenched her fist as though steeling herself, muttering almost like a mantra:


    ¡°I have to live to see that day. I have to¡­¡±


    After repeating those words several times under her breath, she turned back to Hululu and spoke with solemn resolve:


    ¡°Hululu, I promise¡ªI¡¯ll make sure you get to see that day. I swear it.¡±


    Hululu stood in silence for a few moments. Her expression shifted from concerned compassion for Toria to pure admiration. Even in such a hellish world, Toria had never let go of hope for the future. She¡¯d even continued planning and dreaming.


    ¡°I believe you, Toria.¡±


    Toria felt Hululu¡¯s hand clasp her own. Though it was a mechanical arm, it somehow conveyed warmth to her palm. She tightened her own grip in return and said softly:


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    By this time, the sun had nearly set, and the two moons were already rising. They were nearly home when Toria noticed something amiss in the terrain around their shack.


    ¡°Stop, Hululu.¡± She held out her arm to halt Hululu¡¯s step.


    Years of scavenging had honed Toria¡¯s instincts sharply. Even the slightest abnormalities couldn¡¯t escape her notice. Narrowing her eyes, she studied the land she knew better than anywhere else.


    Along the only path leading to their ramshackle home, three fresh blast craters pitted the ground. Dirt and debris were scattered outward in irregular radial patterns.


    ¡°Stay on guard.¡± Toria lowered the shotgun from her back into her hands and chambered a round. ¡°Someone¡¯s been here.¡±


    She advanced slowly, weapon at the ready, her expression grim. She recognized these blast marks very well: they were made by landmines she herself had buried.


    Crouching down, Toria inspected the details of the explosion site. The distribution of shrapnel suggested the intruders were facing Hululu¡¯s little shack when the blast happened. The overturned soil was still warm, meaning the explosions occurred no more than two hours ago. Blood spatters and scraps of cloth lay scattered around, indicating the intruders had been badly wounded.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°At least two of them¡ªmaybe three. The footprints vary in depth, and some are uneven, likely because they were injured and had trouble standing.¡±


    She pointed to the messy tracks.


    ¡°Judging from how they¡¯re laid out, after the first explosion, they panicked and ran, triggering the other two mines. Bunch of amateurs.¡±


    Even as she explained, Toria looked around for signs that her other, more concealed traps had also been triggered. Sure enough, near an old streetlamp, she spotted a length of wire that had been tripped. Following it, she could see that a cleverly hidden snare trap had been sprung.


    ¡°Toria,¡± Hululu suddenly whispered, pointing to the left side of the shack. ¡°My scan shows that mechanism over there has been tampered with too.¡±


    Toria followed Hululu¡¯s gesture, where she saw her prized mechanical bear trap exposed beside a pile of junk. In the fading sunlight, the trap¡¯s steel spikes glinted with a dark, reddish glow. Someone must have stumbled onto it in their desperation. Judging by how fresh the blood looked, they¡¯d triggered it not long ago.


    ¡°Idiots. I heard there¡¯ve been new scavengers around who don¡¯t know the rules. Now they¡¯ll learn,¡± Toria muttered with a cold laugh. Then her smile vanished as she surveyed the area once more, alert to any possible hidden threats.


    ¡°Still, this is trouble. I¡¯ll have to reset and bury those traps all over again¡ªjust cleaning and re-arming them will take half a day¡¯s work.¡±


    ¡°Should we check inside the hut?¡± Hululu asked, her optical sensors scanning for any heat signatures.


    ¡°Of course, but we¡¯ll need to be extra careful.¡±


    Toria glanced at the shotgun, confirming it was fully loaded.


    ¡°If they dared to break in, they might have been well-prepared. Even if it looks like they got blown to hell outside, there could still be someone lurking inside.¡±


    She raised the barrel slightly. ¡°Besides, I need to make sure they didn¡¯t mess with my ¡®special surprise.¡¯¡±


    The ¡°special surprise¡± Toria referred to was the final line of defense she¡¯d set up inside the shack¡ªan especially lethal trap even Hululu didn¡¯t know the details of. If the intruders had triggered it, Toria would be dealing with more than a few bits of scattered limbs and a need to reset traps.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go in first. You stay out here and see which traps got triggered.¡±


    Toria instructed Hululu, and Hululu nodded in agreement.


    Next, Toria took out two wads of tissue from her pocket, rolled them into small ovals, and stuffed them into her ears. This was her standard procedure whenever she went to inspect tripped traps¡ªjust in case her ¡°special surprise¡± was set off.


    ¡°Keep an eye out behind us,¡± Toria said loudly¡ªher ears were blocked, so she couldn¡¯t control her volume well. She raised the shotgun to chest level, barrel angled slightly downward, ready for any sudden threat.


    The old iron door creaked softly. Toria pushed it open just a crack. Inside, it was dark and damp, smelling every bit as musty as always.


    She didn¡¯t enter right away. First, she stood at the threshold, letting her eyes adjust. Through the gap, she caught sight of a few dark-red smears on the windowsill.


    At last, she cautiously stepped inside.


    Surprisingly, the interior was mostly untouched. Only the windowsill showed signs of blood and a few torn scraps of fabric. It seemed the intruders never got the chance to rummage around.


    ¡°Probably got interrupted by the traps outside.¡±


    She spoke aloud to herself, walking carefully through the room to check each corner. Following the trail of blood, she saw fresh handprints on the windowsill¡ªsomeone who¡¯d been badly hurt had apparently tried to climb inside. Judging from where the blood ended, they might have passed out from blood loss or simply given up.


    And there she saw the body. Facedown on the floor, its back was shredded beyond recognition, the right arm still stretched out overhead, leaving a streak of blood across the floor. It seemed to plead, ¡°Don¡¯t stop now.¡±


    Toria ignored the corpse. She had more pressing matters: checking her most important trap.


    She walked to the television, carefully examining the glass bottle hidden behind it. It looked as though it might be empty¡ªor might hold something¡ªin the dim light it gave off a faint, eerie glow. She had acquired this ¡°treasure¡± near the edge of the Nightmare Mists. Tina claimed it contained the whispers of some sealed evil god.


    Making sure the cord securing it was intact¡ªif someone tried to move the TV, the cord would pull on the bottle, unleashing the cursed whispers inside to echo through the room, killing anyone who heard them¡ªToria nodded in satisfaction.


    ¡°Even my final defense wasn¡¯t triggered,¡± she murmured, touching the glass lightly. ¡°Looks like my traps did their job.¡±


    Removing her makeshift earplugs, she began inspecting her supplies. The storage box was intact, the rack of canned goods untouched, even the spare parts in the corner undisturbed.


    She gave a wry chuckle. ¡°They didn¡¯t even bother scouting first before trying to rob this place. Do they have any idea whose territory this is?¡±


    ¡°Toria, I¡¯ve finished my inspection. My scan shows two corpses over by the junk pile in the northwest corner.¡±


    Hululu¡¯s voice came from outside.


    ¡°One of them is only half a body; appears to have been killed by an explosive. The other is in the pit trap. Judging by its heat signature, the body hasn¡¯t gone cold yet¡ªso the death probably happened less than two hours ago¡­¡±


    Hululu paused for a moment, sounding startled. ¡°No, he¡¯s still alive.¡±


    ¡°So two of them got caught, plus this one inside makes three,¡± Toria said, walking to the doorway and gazing toward where Hululu was pointing.


    ¡°Likely two got killed by the mines first, and the third tried to flee but stepped right into those spikes. Those iron spikes must¡¯ve turned him into a pincushion.¡±


    ¡°Should we take a look?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Toria said, double-checking her shotgun. ¡°They might have something valuable on them.¡±


    ¡°All right. Follow me.¡± Hululu led Toria behind a heap of trash, Toria right on her heels. ¡°The scan indicates there¡¯s still a faint life sign, but it¡¯s fading.¡±


    Toria carefully raised her shotgun and peeked out from the edge of the junk pile. In the long shadows cast by the setting sun, she finally got a clear view of the trap she had painstakingly set up:


    It was a pit nearly two meters deep, with the bottom lined by sharp steel spikes scavenged from various metal scraps. Some spikes were thick, some thin, some long and some short; all had been meticulously sharpened and fastened tightly to a concrete base at the bottom of the pit.


    Right now, a man wearing a tattered, bloodstained gray jacket lay impaled on those spikes. His left leg and right arm had been completely pierced by a couple of the longer spikes, pinning him to the bottom of the pit. A thick spike had gone straight through his left thigh, and dark red blood trickled down its metal surface. His back was also punctured by several shorter spikes, soaking his patch-covered jacket with blood that glistened in the dim light.


    He was still alive, struggling to push himself up with his uninjured right leg. But every slight movement caused the spikes to twist in his wounds, igniting fresh pain. Blood oozed steadily from multiple gashes, pooling into a small crimson puddle beneath him.


    From Toria¡¯s vantage point, she could clearly see every wound on the man¡¯s body. The carefully honed spikes were doing exactly what she had intended: inflicting enough pain and immobility without causing instant death¡ªleaving the victim conscious, in case she wanted to interrogate them.


    ¡°S¡­ save me¡­¡±Seeing Toria and Hululu, the man lifted his head and pleaded weakly,¡°Help¡­ me¡­ I can¡¯t hold on anymore¡­¡±


    His face had gone ashen from blood loss, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead.


    ¡°You like my little ¡®present,¡¯ dear? You look so¡­ ¡®thrilled.¡¯¡±


    Toria let out a cold laugh that echoed like some demon risen from the depths. Standing at the edge of the pit, she looked down at the wounded intruder, her tone mocking.


    ¡°But man, you have rotten luck. You didn¡¯t step on any of my mines¡ªunlike your two pals. They went out quick and easy. Heh, probably up in heaven by now.¡±


    ¡°I was wrong¡­ I know I was wrong¡­¡± the man stammered, trying to shift his weight, but the movement caused the spikes to tear at his flesh again, forcing a pained groan from his lips. ¡°Please¡­ let me go¡­ I swear I¡¯ll never come back¡­ I¡¯m begging you¡­¡±


    Hululu stepped forward, and a flicker of sympathy seemed to pass through the optics in her eyes. ¡°Toria, he¡¯s in no condition to threaten us anymore. According to my ethics protocols, perhaps we should administer first aid¡­¡±


    ¡°Hululu,¡± Toria cut her off calmly, ¡°for our own safety, I need some answers first.¡±


    She steadied her shotgun, aiming it squarely at the man in the pit. ¡°All right, Mr. Raider. I don¡¯t recall ever doing anything to offend you. Did you come just to rob me?¡±


    ¡°Y-you¡¯ve got it wrong!¡± he blurted anxiously. ¡°We were just passing by and fell into the trap¡ª¡±


    ¡°Okay, I believe you,¡± Toria sighed and moved the gun aside. ¡°See, I didn¡¯t set these traps because I wanted to kill anybody. It¡¯s just to protect my home from thieves and monsters, not to take your life.¡±


    ¡°So then¡­¡±


    ¡°So, I¡¯ll let you go,¡± Toria said, crouching down at the pit¡¯s edge and meeting the man¡¯s gaze with a gentler tone. ¡°As Hululu mentioned, we can even give you first aid.¡±


    A glimmer of hope lit his eyes. He offered breathless thanks: ¡°Thank you¡­ I¡¯ll never forget your kindness¡­ ever¡­¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    Toria¡¯s voice shifted abruptly, dashing the hope she had just sparked. Sensing his renewed tension, she softened her tone again:


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t look so nervous. I just want to know if you¡¯ve got any¡­ uh, family or buddies I can hand you off to.¡±


    ¡°Could you¡­ send me to the clinic run by the Suno Church in Scrap Iron Town¡­?¡±


    ¡°No can do,¡± Toria replied, her words edged with a warning. ¡°I have to deliver you in person. Otherwise, how do I know you won¡¯t trash-talk me once you¡¯re there?¡±


    Blood still trickled from the man¡¯s wounds, and his hesitation betrayed the mental struggle behind his eyes.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m alone¡­¡± he rasped, his voice raw from pain. ¡°My brother was the one killed by the mine. There¡¯s no one else left at home¡­¡±


    Toria exhaled softly. ¡°Listen, buddy. You know how it is in the junkyard¡ªnothing stays secret for long. If you don¡¯t tell me who you really are, then I don¡¯t know whose people I¡¯ve just killed. For all I know, they¡¯ll come for revenge.¡±


    She stared off into the distance, muttering quietly under her breath, her tone suddenly uneasy. ¡°Damn it, I¡¯m just a nobody without parents or a family. I can¡¯t afford that kind of trouble. I¡¯m too young to die.¡±


    Noticing her apparent vulnerability, something shifted in the man¡¯s eyes.


    Catching that, Toria continued, ¡°I¡¯m guessing you found my place because someone told you how to get here?¡±


    His voice quivered a little. ¡°I¡­ I mean¡­ if there¡¯s someone out looking for us¡ª¡±


    Seemingly misunderstanding Toria¡¯s meaning, he took a gamble. Clenching his teeth, he forced an expression of menace through his pain. ¡°You better let me go. Don¡¯t think you can just walk away from this scot-free.¡±


    Toria¡¯s eyes went wide, and she reflexively leaned back in feigned alarm. ¡°Wh-what do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The Rust Gang knows what you did. They won¡¯t let you get away with this.¡± A smirk formed at the corner of his mouth, as if he¡¯d just grabbed a lifeline.


    Toria¡¯s expression darkened slightly, but she continued to look worried.


    ¡°The¡­ Rust Gang?¡± She took a step back. ¡°You mean that Rust Gang?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that Rust Gang,¡± the man asserted, emboldened by her reaction. ¡°If you dare lay a finger on me¡ª¡±


    Just then, Toria stopped retreating. She lowered her gaze to the man in the pit, and the fear in her eyes vanished without a trace. In its place was a chilling calm.


    ¡°You¡¯re saying the Rust Gang¡¯s got your back?¡± Her voice took on a flat, emotionless quality.


    Realizing something was off, the man hesitated. But there was no turning back now. ¡°Y-yeah¡­ so you better¡ª¡±


    ¡°You must not know,¡± Toria interrupted him, ¡°that the Rust Gang never hires junkyard scavengers to do their work. They¡¯d never send their own people to rob a small-time junk scavenger like me.¡±


    His face went whiter than ever.


    ¡°I¡­ I can explain¡­¡±


    ¡°Explanations won¡¯t help,¡± Toria replied coldly.


    Her gaze drifted to the shotgun in her hands. She ran her fingers along its worn metal stock, tracing every scratch and dent. A glimmer of calculation flickered in her eyes.


    ¡°What a waste of ammo,¡± she murmured, as though talking to herself¡ªor perhaps announcing the man¡¯s fate. She turned her head toward Hululu. ¡°Go fetch my shovel¡ªthe one I use for digging through garbage.¡±


    A faint mechanical whir came from Hululu¡¯s optical sensors as they zoomed in and out. She glanced between Toria and the man in the pit, as if wrestling with some complex internal process.


    ¡°Toria,¡± she began, her synthetic yet earnest tone filled with concern, ¡°burying someone alive¡­ my morality module flags that as an extreme measure.¡±


    Hearing this conversation, the man¡¯s pupils contracted sharply. He struggled desperately, but every frantic motion only twisted the spikes deeper, magnifying his agony. Fresh blood dripped from the metal tips, forming an even larger crimson puddle beneath him.


    Toria¡¯s lips curved slowly into a chilling smile. Taking the shovel Hululu handed her, she examined the rusty blade the way a craftsman might inspect a prized tool.


    ¡°Bury him alive?¡±


    She let out a low chuckle, her voice cold as the junkyard¡¯s metal debris.


    ¡°That would be a waste.¡±


    With a swift motion, the shovel traced a harsh arc through the air. In the dimming light, the rusted blade gleamed ominously. Held high like the scythe of Death, it hovered over the man¡¯s head.


    ¡°Of course, I¡¯d whack him with one blow, then chop up the corpse into eight pieces. The lean parts I¡¯ll pickle, and the fatty bits can be rendered for oil. That should taste fantastic.¡±


    The man locked eyes with Toria for just an instant and understood he had no chance of survival. His face turned even paler than the blood he had lost. Toria wore a smile¡ªchildlike in its purity¡ªyet behind it lay a callous disregard for life, more terrifying than any malice.


    ¡°So much meat¡­ enough for us to eat well for a while.¡±


    His lips trembled, gaping soundlessly like a fish out of water. It was impossible to tell if he was begging or cursing, for his voice, frozen by terror, refused to leave his throat.


    It was then that Hululu stepped forward.


    She came up beside Toria, her exquisite mechanical face reflecting a strange expression. Flickers of blue light danced in her optical lenses, hinting at a logical paradox raging within her processors.


    ¡°Toria,¡± she said at last, sounding almost tormented. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but according to my ethics protocol, I cannot participate in any act that violates social morality, including the consumption of an intelligent being¡¯s corpse. That breaks my core program directives.¡±


    Toria froze, lowering the shovel slowly. She bowed her head toward Hululu, voice laden with apology:


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Hululu. This is the only way I¡¯ve survived all this time. If I never ate corpses, I might not be alive now.¡±


    She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, like a child caught in wrongdoing.


    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry I can¡¯t offer you a more respectable life.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, Toria.¡±


    Hululu caught the sorrow in Toria¡¯s eyes. After a moment of hesitation, she continued,


    ¡°Though I can¡¯t partake, I won¡¯t stop you if you need to. Under extreme conditions, there aren¡¯t many options.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Hululu.¡±


    Toria nodded gratefully, then turned back, her face resuming its usual coldness. She hoisted the shovel once again:


    ¡°Sorry about this. I¡¯ll make it quick.¡±


    The man never heard whatever Toria said next.


    Blood sprayed in all directions, and the last rays of the sun slipped beneath the horizon. The sky itself turned black beneath the blazing afterglow.


    After finishing their long day¡¯s work¡ªwhich included resetting traps and dealing with the ¡°ingredients¡±¡ªToria and Hululu finally enjoyed a rare moment of rest.


    Steam rose in the cold air, weaving a hazy mist around them. Toria had already poured hot water into a large tub, gazing at her own reflection on the water¡¯s surface with a hint of satisfaction.


    When she was eight, Toria killed a scavenger who had robbed her, seizing this place with its own water well¡ªa precious oasis in the junkyard. That was the first time she took a life. Although the water here was still contaminated, boiling it made it safe enough to drink. This allowed Toria to avoid industrial wastewater, improving her health. Of course, it also meant more frequent attacks from others wanting the well, but that risk was worth it.


    At least she no longer had to worry about water shortages¡ªand could even afford to take the occasional bath.


    ¡°Hululu, how¡¯s the water temperature?¡± Toria asked out of habit, even though she knew her companion might not actually sense heat the way humans do.


    ¡°My sensors read the water at 42.3 degrees,¡± Hululu answered, touching the surface gently. ¡°According to the data in my archives, this should be comfortable for humans.¡±


    ¡°Perfect.¡± Toria flashed a thumbs-up. ¡°Hurry and get in!¡±


    Without waiting for Hululu¡¯s response, Toria peeled off her clothes in a matter of seconds, tossing them aside heedlessly. She paid no attention to the bloodstains still on the ground or whether her clothes might get stained again.


    She took a short run-up and leapt into the tub, sending water splashing everywhere.


    ¡°Ahh! Feels great! Hululu, get in here already!¡±


    Hululu watched and opened her mouth, as though wanting to say something¡ªbut in the end, she stayed silent. She neatly removed her white dress, shoes, and underwear, folding them and placing them aside. Then she gingerly climbed onto the rim of the tub and slipped her body into the hot water.


    The tub had originally been used for storing liquefied magic. It wasn¡¯t worth much to sell, so Toria decided not to waste it and brought it back to convert into a makeshift bathtub¡ªthough it had rarely seen use.


    It wasn¡¯t large, but it was just big enough for two slender girls if they stayed close. They didn¡¯t mind, though. Toria even found comfort in the close contact of Hululu¡¯s skin, hugging Hululu¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Hululu, the temperature still okay?¡± Toria repeated the question she had asked earlier.


    ¡°It¡¯s wonderful,¡± Hululu replied with a faint smile. ¡°It raises my positive emotion reading to about 97.3¡ªan excellent state.¡±


    Toria let out a small laugh and leaned lazily against the edge of the tub. Warm water enveloped her tired body, drawing out a contented sigh. On a cold night like this, a hot bath was a rare luxury.


    Hululu sat beside her, the steam reflecting off her optical lenses. Her white hair, as pure as the dress she had set aside, fanned out in the water like a blooming lotus.


    From inside the makeshift shack, a strong aroma wafted through the half-open door. Meat was simmering on low heat, its fragrance billowing out into the chilly night air.


    ¡°Hululu,¡± Toria murmured, gazing at the distant lights of the city, ¡°when we have enough money, let¡¯s buy a real bathtub in the city¡ªsomething big enough for both of us to soak comfortably.¡±


    ¡°That day will come,¡± Hululu replied softly. Her lenses flickered, as though calculating the odds of making that dream a reality.


    Toria reached out and stirred the water, sending ripples dancing in concentric circles. Reflected on the surface were two moons, one blue and one purple, shimmering in the night sky. For a moment, even the ever-present smell of blood hanging in the air seemed less pungent.


    ¡°We had pretty good luck today.¡±


    She eyed the thin trail of smoke drifting from the shack¡¯s kitchen, pondering aloud. Inside, the stew simmered, the steam rising in tandem with the steam in their ¡°bathroom.¡±


    ¡°All that work resetting traps and butchering the¡­ supplies¡­ was exhausting. But the thought of having fresh meat makes it easier to bear.¡±


    Her tone was oddly calm, as if everything that had happened was just part of another ordinary day.


    Hululu said nothing. Her ethics protocols wouldn¡¯t allow her to comment on certain actions, yet she understood Toria¡¯s circumstances. In this brutal world, staying alive could be considered a stroke of luck.


    Night deepened, and the swirling steam blurred the outlines of their figures. Toria closed her eyes, letting the warm water wash away the fatigue of the day. In that instant, she looked like any other fourteen-year-old girl, rather than a hardened scavenger who fought tooth and nail in the junkyard.


    Both of them knew, however, that such tranquility wouldn¡¯t last.


    Tomorrow, they would still have to face the endless dangers of this world.


    But for now, at least, in this old tub filled with hot water, they could forget everything else and enjoy a moment of rare peace.


    ¡°The stew¡¯s probably done cooking. Hungry?¡±


    ¡°Please allow me to decline.¡±