As the old lady—dressed in grey leather, her hair as fluffy and ragged as raw fur—began counting the separated body parts of men and monsters, Klein stood outside the glass door. He remained completely untouched by the sterile insides of the Ledger's Hall. With a loose grip, he held a small token and Roste's amputated arm and leg on a cart below him.
"It's as filthy as ever," Klein muttered, setting his sights on the numerous corpses being perfectly dissected by Aaron Krovnic.
The Dain, despite being the central processor for all food rations in the state, had several flaws. Namely, it lacked the intelligence to organize or figure out the best way to process each part of a body, whether it was a man or a monster. Hence, the Askardya family, utilizing the immense resources of knowledge passed down for generations, had created a detailed accounting system. They tracked the calories, minerals, and nutrients each corpse possessed, dividing them into strict categories and assigning priorities to extract every possible derivative from the Sanctuary's limited food source. Klein noted this from the precise way the old lady and Krovnic organized the butchery.
The first layer was Organ Alpha—the highest priority. Klein went over each of them in his head. Even though he didn't have access to the deepest Askardya archives, the crates being loaded had dedicated, stamped labels.
Organ Alpha 1: Hepatic Tissues. Livers. With their extreme concentrations of vitamins and iron, Krovnic sent them to be boiled down in chemical baths to extract coagulant serums for bleeding elites, or to synthesize "Dark-Sight Tincture" to help the Repellers see in the pitch black.
Next was the hemopoietic marrow scraped from the spines and femurs, destined to be mixed with powdered adrenaline to create Repeller Paste—a high-calorie survival gel given only to the strongest before a harvest. Finally, there was the myocardium. The hearts. Dried, salted, and reserved exclusively as a pure delicacy to maintain the elite squad's explosive physical strength.
These Alpha organs were not publicly available. Their existence was entirely unknown to the lesser men, who believed everything sent to the Dain was simply ground into standard rations.
Below the Alpha tier were the more abundant resources, categorized into Priority Beta. This included the heavy muscles from thighs, calves, biceps, and pectorals. High in amino acids and proteins, these were the building blocks of the Sanctuary's primary food. The Dain crushed these muscles into a paste, using Hyrae's canal algae as a binding ingredient, baking them into thick, nutrient-rich blocks that fed almost every high man and lesser man daily. The lowest priorities belonged to the remaining scraps of the corpses, which were turned into nutrient-rich powders, spices, and dehydrated supplements that kept the Sanctuary sane and fed.
It took Klein thirty more minutes of watching the butcher and the old Askardya lady organize before Krovnic finally opened the glass door. The butcher took a look at Klein's token but refused to meet his eye. Cold-heartedly, they exchanged the human arm and leg for pure monster meat—this time, a huge portion from a Mawtorus.
Klein did not want to stand watch inside the claustrophobic building any longer. Holding the thinly sliced monster meat, now packaged tightly into a reused kit, he walked out through the main corridor.
The corridor connected directly to the Dain itself. It was a giant, furnace-like structure, yet it emitted no heat. It featured several different ports, each containing different chemical solutions to process food. Murad had once told him that even human hair could be broken down into nutrients by this machine. The mechanical beast was deafeningly loud, even while idling, but that was to be expected; the Dain had not stopped running since the day of its creation. No one knew exactly where it drew its power from, but the giant cables attached to its base, plunging deep into the underground void below, gave Klein a good reference point to ponder.
A full cycle had passed since the harvest. With the next one not due until the following week, there was plenty of time for Klein to relax. As an elite and one of Murad's most trusted, he held more influence within the Sanctuary than the standard soldiers. Unlike the Askardya ledgers, however, he did not have a swarm of subordinates to carry out his tasks. He often woke at midday, when the artificial lights were the brightest and the bunker the warmest. At that hour, Klein would take a walk around the crowded Sanctuary. His favorite place was the central platform. Even though it wasn't as beautiful as the places he had seen in his youth, it still helped him unwind from the blood and troubles of the gates. The platform bustled with street vendors selling spices and food, both fired and raw.
"Get the beast harvest meat, folks! Fifty Xyls if you buy the set!" the vendors screamed at potential customers. Near them, small packs of stray cats and dogs roamed, though seeing them in the Sanctuary was growing rarer as time went on. It was Klein who had written the law prohibiting the killing of companion creatures, but he often wondered: Where is the morality in that, when even cannibalism is justified?
Klein walked toward the single most peaceful spot on the central platform—a multi-seat bench made of rusted metal that offered a view of every road leading away from the center. The seat was positioned so perfectly in the shadows that not even the most cunning soldier could easily spot it in plain sight. A perfect area to plot a rebellion, Klein mused, or maybe to guide people toward the center, if you are feeling optimistic. "The place is falling apart faster than expected," Klein murmured to himself, waiting as the people started to gather one by one.
Klein had been to every corner of the Sanctuary. The center held the major Temple Clinic in the east, the Chief's office in the north, a small fashion establishment in the south, and the Ashkyn Forge in the west, where the famous Dicardys polished his lethal skills. The smell of hot iron, pungent chemicals, and pseudo-warmth filled Klein's chest.
Before long, a dense crowd had gathered around the center, and a tall woman walked toward the giant cables that plunged upward into the dark, underground sky. She stood taller than anyone in the crowd—perhaps even taller than Klein himself. She raised her arms, greeting her unwilling subjects with overwhelming, desperate love. It was Syuri. The crazy woman. Akira's mother.
"Hear, oh my lords 'n men! Hear, oh beauties 'n women! Hear, oh innocence and children!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the rusted metal. "The Chief is lying! He is lying to keep you caged, not to serve his subjects, but to protect his own failed ideals! They—the perverted soldiers who loom within the Breeders—shall tell you that I am crazy! Seven of the eight families shall thrust nails of converged thorns into me and my child... all because I alone speak the truth!"
With a gentle, elegant smile, she raised both her arms, pointing at the dark, suffocating ceiling as if she were waiting for a gift from the lords. But she had already received her share.
Klein studied the faces of the people. Many mocked her. Many barely held back their giggles. Some were curious—not about what she was saying, but whether she was truly insane or something worse. Only a very few held a genuine smile over their ugly, flea-bitten faces. Even the women—those who had never been touched by a man out of love, but only out of duty and lust—mocked her, despite her best efforts to save them.
"The outside world... above the shackles of this cage, is beautiful!" Syuri sang. "The sky is pure and blue! Its clouds are soft and slow, the life is green and red! The women are bold and full of love, and the men are protective and earn their vows! The kings had hearts of mercy and an unshakable presence. They made strong decisions, with faith stronger than a bow. Wise they were—wiser in innovation, and powerful in their might!"
She sang the praises of the outside world. Perhaps she was just replaying those memories in her own mind. The crowd remained unimpressed, but Klein knew something they did not. A secret only Malrvr, Klein, Haveth, the Harshir family, and the Chief King knew. None of what she said was a lie. Because she and her son were the only ones in the Sanctuary who had actually come from the outside world. It was a secret Murad had strictly prohibited anyone from speaking of.
Before she nearly fainted from exhaustion, she ended her sermon by repeating the exact same sentence over and over again: "There are children of men outside! Save them... Save the children of men... save them!" The crowd began to disperse. Klein nearly clapped, mostly because, unlike last time, she hadn't been pelted with bricks, spices, or human trash. Perhaps it was because she hadn't specifically mentioned Haveth and his perversions; that was probably why his breed-wives didn't engage this time.
"Nostalgic, ain't it?" Syuri sat down next to him, exceptionally well-hidden away from the busy crowds. "I congratulate you on your valor... and my son. He is safe thanks to you!" the lady said.
Klein turned around. Upon closer look, despite her grayish-white hair, her eyes were foreign, queer, and a brilliant green. Her skin was soft, fair, and utterly untouched by the Sanctuary's deep corruption.
"Syuri, you do not have to thank me for anything... I promised to take care of him. Isn't that why you let him join the Repellers?" Klein asked.
"Even then, I... I must humbly thank you for risking your position and yourself," she said, her tone suddenly as cold as the city around them. She is a beautiful woman, Klein thought, someone who clearly does not belong here. "My position wouldn't have mattered, and my life even less. Ironically, Murad Xie—your greatest enemy—saved him from the stupid tradition of injecting oneself with potential tetanus," Klein laughed softly.
But Syuri did not laugh. "For Akira, yes... but Murad is no fool. He taught them that so the children would develop antibodies for the disease. He is one of the few who doesn't underestimate a human's life," Syuri replied.
She is beautiful and elegant, even when speaking highly of her rival, Klein thought.
"I do respect Murad too, but he has gone too senile. Just this harvest... we encountered something we haven't seen before, yet he hasn't issued any changes apart from destroying the tainted meat," Klein continued. Syuri was one of the few people he truly trusted. She was one of the first people Klein had met when she stumbled into the Sanctuary for the first time eleven years ago. She had been the exact same back then: kind, gentle, and always looking out for humanity.
They talked for half an hour. Klein mentioned everything about the miasma incident on the bridge, and Syuri tried to match the symptoms with her knowledge of the outside world. Klein wanted a solution, a way to fight it, but she insisted it was her first time hearing of such a thing. She assured him of only one absolute truth: the only way to escape this nightmare was to leave the cage entirely.
While they spoke, they smoked pure monster meat, cooked deliciously in the forgotten styles of the outside world. Once finished, Klein drank a fermented eye-beer to wash it down, but when he offered the flask to Syuri, she stuck to a canteen of cold water instead.
"I am going to his school. I have to give him his lunch. The food given there is from the Dain... and I do not trust it," she said, standing up and packing her belongings.
"Shall I accompany you?" Klein asked.
"What will you do there?" Syuri wondered.
"I need to check on how the educational system is holding up... and I want to see him before I take him in for training."
Klein walked by her side through the dense crowds. A mad woman and a loyal, elite soldier walking together raised no suspicions among the people—they had been seen together for as long as anyone could remember. Syuri herself was a highly mysterious figure. Crazy? Yes, definitely, in the eyes of the public. But she also mysteriously held the favor of Murad Xie. She had openly mocked the Goddesses and had been spared. She was selected by the Askardya ledgers for the breeding programs to single-handedly increase genetic diversity, yet Murad Xie had given her a full pardon, offering no explanation to the stewards. Klein had stood witness to that pardon, and as he walked beside her, he often wondered exactly why the Chief had done it.
They left the central platform and headed south, toward where the old town used to exist. Under Murad Xie's rule, this sector had long been overlooked. The buildings in this region frequently collapsed from rusted foundations and a severe lack of maintenance, but it was still home to one of the oldest structures within the Sanctuary: Bayt al Idris.
They called it the house of the Founder. It was where Idris used to sleep, eat, rule, and nurture his royal children. But as it stood next to the flowing canals, the rust had crept up until it nearly destroyed everything to the far south, forcing its later inhabitants to flee and settle on the other side. Because it had mainly been occupied by the Royal Family of Ryukzen and their eight vassal families, there wasn't much friction among the lesser men when it was abandoned.
The sheer coldness of the canals and the metallic buildings increased as they walked deeper. Almost all the checkpoints featured towering, oxidized statues of the Founder. Before long, they saw the first lights in the distance. The giant palace of Bayt al Idris—said to have once hosted enough space for half the population of that time—had rusted to its worst state ever. Now, it was repurposed into an educational society where the family of Askardya, the family of Raityors, and the family of Kyneges took turns educating the youth in Knowledge, Combat, and Obedience, respectively. Klein had long been interested in knowing exactly how they taught these subjects. He watched as a smaller section within the massive Bayt al Idris was dimly lit, while the remaining halls of the palace were as pitch-black as the rustyards.
Leaving the last bit of the city's pseudo-warmth behind, Klein and Syuri entered the school. Klein could swear he had a completely different image in his mind. He laid his eyes on completely empty classrooms as they walked past, each containing fewer and fewer lanterns as they ventured deeper. Klein watched how Syuri moved with absolutely no fear whatsoever. A woman above all, Klein imagined. Maybe that is how women were supposed to be. Eventually, they found the only well-lit classroom among the hundreds.
It was a massive room filled with thousands of rusted benches, but it held only a single teacher and eight students. Klein didn't count the ninth one, as the man looked old enough to marry; his beard and hair were far too long to belong to a child.
"I'll ask for him," Klein said.
But Syuri stopped him. "Children shouldn't be interrupted when learning," she whispered.
Klein looked past the door and saw Akira fast asleep on a bench at the far side of the room. Maybe even that is part of the experience, Klein wondered. The bell rang within a few minutes, and they waited as the children began to leave for their lunch. Everyone left except Akira, who remained asleep. Not even the teacher cared enough to wake him up.
"Klein... sir! What business brings you here?" said Deinne. Klein recollected the child from the last harvest; the boy had proven his name worthy on the bridge.
"Personal reasons," Klein said. Deinne glanced over at Akira's mother, and Klein could read the sheer disgust twitching across the boy's face.
"You're a friend of Akira's?" Klein asked.
Deinne immediately shook his head in rejection.
"But you both seemed close," Klein pressed.
"He ruined my life... his mother is the culprit," Deinne spat. His hands tightened in rage, gripping the solid chunk of cheap ration he had gotten from the market so hard that it crumbled and fell through his fingers to the dirty floor.
"You shouldn't hold a grudge against a fellow human... aren't you supposed not to care?" Klein bent down and started picking up the pieces of the ration one by one, but the floor was so dusty and the food so brittle that his efforts were wasted.
Deinne stared at Klein. "We shouldn't care about others. So what are you doing right now? I wish I could crush his mother like this ration," Deinne said coldly, before walking away empty-handed.
Despite Dicardys being the number one forger and part of the eight influential families, he still can't afford top amenities... poor kid, Klein murmured to himself.
Klein turned toward Syuri. He saw the mother had finally woken her child. Still sleepy, with the right side of his face painted in a red pattern, Akira slowly munched on the aromatic, grilled monster meat, gnawing on it with absolute delight. Klein spotted the mother's warm smile as she watched her son eat.
How far have we fallen... and how far ahead can we go? Klein thought.
Smelling the rich aroma of Akira's grilled, spiced, homemade food, the other children slowly poked their heads out from the sides of the hall. The grudges on their faces told Klein everything he needed to know. They weren't happy, and this feral jealousy was a usual event.
"Maybe we should clear the classroom," Klein said aloud to Syuri, who nodded upon seeing the gathering, hungry children. This was perhaps the first time Akira noticed Klein's presence. He laughed, jumping up and leaping forward upon seeing two of his favorite people, guiding them as they made their way toward the Ragtree.
Klein had heard about the Ragtree before. It was the only tree that existed within the Sanctuary, said to have been planted by the Founder himself. He wondered how tall it would be, but he couldn't ignore the sheer joyousness of Akira, who was simply thrilled to have another person care about him. Staying within the limits of what the teachers allowed, Klein, Syuri, and Akira entered the sacred nursery. It was a place where Idris had supposedly planted all the flora that ever existed, though Klein heard Syuri quietly call that a lie, stating that the world was far larger than the words of the people here.
"This is from where the plants for medicine were cultivated, before Murad shifted its cultivation to the Kyneges Oxygen Systems," Klein noted.
"Good for them... but it won't last," Syuri replied.
All the while, Akira sat on one of the lower tables and looked out over the rusted balcony attached to the room. The inside of the palace was massive. It was too dark for Klein to figure out much of the architecture, but he had heard there were murals filling the halls and ceilings, painted with lights from the "other world" they described.
This nursery was on the second floor. Klein watched Akira staring down over the balcony railing. He couldn't figure out why Akira had suddenly stopped chewing his premium grilled meat. But as Klein stepped closer, he understood the sadness and concern swimming in Akira's bright, innocent eyes. Down below on the ground level, Akira was staring at his former friend, Deinne, who was sitting completely alone, starving.
"Had he not brought anything?" Akira asked softly.
"He had... but he lost it before he could eat," Klein replied.
Akira stared back at Klein. Klein glanced into the boy's eyes—those damn innocent, rounded eyes, so entirely full of love for others. Klein felt as if his own hardened heart would melt if he stared into them for far too long. He broke eye contact, stepped forward, and pulled Akira upright from the bench.
"I did not come here just to wish you good health," Klein said, his voice dropping into a cold cadence. I think it's the right time to tell him, Klein thought. Akira listened carefully. His hands gripped his food tightly, and his legs did not shiver from the cold.
"You want your friend's respect back, don't you?" Klein asked.
Akira nodded.
Klein pulled an expensive, razor-sharp combat knife from his pocket and handed it to Akira. He immediately recognized the sheer expensiveness of the blade.
"To earn someone's respect, you must prove them wrong. And there is nothing in this world that cannot be proven wrong with strength. I shall train you, boy... to be a conqueror, and not just a king."
Klein took a defensive stance, signaling Akira to use the knife. It was the Sanctuary's standard military signal to attack. I can gauge his baseline strength from his strike, Klein thought, calculating how to make the upcoming training smoother.
But Klein had assumed wrong. He thought the school had taught these children basic combat lessons and military signals. But Akira had been asleep.
Instead of attacking, Akira raised the expensive blade, wiped it clean, and carefully sliced his premium meat perfectly in half.
What is he trying to do? Klein thought, utterly bewildered.
"Just what he is supposed to do," Syuri said softly, a proud smile on her face.
Before Klein could process it, Akira rushed past him and sprinted downstairs. Klein could only stare in pure wonder. He had just tried to teach Akira to gain respect through strength, violence, and dominance.
But Akira had already shared his meal with his friend, under the tall ragtree