It had been 2 hours and 34 minutes since Venti left the Robot Settlement and reached the Upper District.
It was now evening, and dusk’s light was slowly retreating from the city, draining the brilliance from this city of Preservation. Dark shadows crept out from the corners of buildings, casting the city’s edges in an eerie emptiness, giving it a sense of abandonment.
This was no surprise; the outer sections of Belobog had long been ravaged by the Fragmentum. People there were forced to move closer to the city’s safer core.
Initially, many of these displaced people were sent down to the Lower District. After the lockdown, they were forever separated from their families above.
Among them were those like Natasha—compassionate people who chose to stay below to help others, only to be locked in, unable to return.
Though Natasha didn’t regret her choice, who could really sever ties with family without feeling pain?
Her foster parents were quite old, old enough that any news of their passing wouldn’t be surprising. As their daughter, she couldn’t be there to care for them, not even to exchange simple words of comfort. It was a source of sorrow for Natasha.
After meeting Venti and becoming friends, she occasionally asked him to take letters to the Upper District for her.
Natasha wasn’t the only one; others from the Lower District would also ask Venti for favors—tasks he could easily complete while he was up there.
Whenever he returned, he was met with grateful thanks. Sometimes he even witnessed tearful reunions as family letters were read.
These experiences always left Venti with a heavy heart. They were also part of the motivation behind his current plans.
As for his conversation with Svarog? Let’s leave that as a mystery for now. What really matters is Venti’s next move in the Upper District.
So far, his “heroes” team had two members—Seele and Clara. The latter would likely bring along her powerhouse guardian, Svarog. Thanks to Seele’s role within Wildfire, he could potentially influence both Natasha (Wildfires’ backer) and Oleg (their leader).
This meant that the two biggest forces in the Lower District were united, eliminating any risk of division or backstabbing.
The next step was to push this unity forward while borrowing a bit of “external power” to help him gain a foothold in the Upper District.
Of course, as just a mere bard, Venti wasn’t in a position to make bold speeches in a tavern, stirring up tales of how a single loaf of bread cost fifty thousand Winter City Shields in the Lower District.
People would just assume he’d had one too many bad drinks and advise him to go home and sleep it off.
After all, in the Upper District, a joke went like this: “People in the Lower District are so hungry they’re down to eating Rock Crabs for every meal.”
Rock Crabs had once been coastal creatures that laid their eggs in rock crevices before returning to the sea.
But when the Ice Age hit, they migrated underground to the warmth of Belobog and thrived in vast numbers. As they tunneled, they often caused cave-ins and were even known as Tunnel Crabs.
Eventually, the majority of the Rock Crab population reached Belobog’s underground, where they became a serious nuisance. The Architects of the time had quite the headache dealing with them.
Until, of course, someone decided they’d make a great meal. The crab’s delicate meat soon became a popular delicacy, appearing at meals throughout the city.
In the end, after the Subterra Exploration Unit made several trips underground, they found that Rock Crabs were on the brink of extinction for reasons unknown.
So, while any sensible person might doubt the claim that “everyone’s dining on crab meat” in the Lower District, the very persistence of this myth revealed just how out-of-touch the Upper District was with life below. In their minds, the Lower District was still that integrated part of Belobog from ten years ago—a time when both districts lived in relative comfort, at least free from hunger and cold.
If the realities of life in the Lower District were exposed to society at large, the shock would be profound.
But this wasn’t a matter of pity or shouting into the void.
Besides, too much public outcry might alert the authorities prematurely and ruin his plans.
Even if aid organizations were formed, any resources sent below would be barely a drop in the bucket.
The people of the Lower District didn’t want to sell their suffering for the distant sympathy of the Upper District.
They had strength, resilience. What they needed was a platform to make themselves heard and the power to secure their rights.
Otherwise, in the isolated and sheltered Upper District, people would forget the Lower District altogether—the dim, underground world where people fought against the Fragmentum, risking everything just to survive.
Only when society grasped this would a true shift occur, forcing Cocolia to make concessions. Only then could they finally improve conditions below.
Even something as basic as reopening trade routes would give the Lower District a lifeline.
Only then would they be spared from death in the mines, spared from huddling in tents with no protection against the cold, and perhaps find rest on a real bed instead of jagged rocks radiating crystal dust.
The road ahead remained long and arduous.
—
Venti moved through Belobog’s winding streets, watching cars powered by Geomarrow drive by. People strolled without urgency, considering their options for dinner.
People passing by, lights everywhere—it was a scene that, strangely, evoked a pang of loneliness.
The bard, ever perceptive, found himself feeling a little homesick.
Thankfully—
“There you are, busybody.”
A bookish girl stood before him, her expression touched with gentle reproach as she hugged a slim novel to her chest.
She was petite, even shorter than Venti’s youthful build, which made her look especially cute.
A purple beret crowned her head, and her raven-colored hair framed a pair of large, sparkling eyes. Her delicate, rounded face, paired with owl-shaped glasses, gave her a soft, refined look.
“Good evening, Pela!” Venti recovered instantly, flashing her a mischievous wink.
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