Dario lay in his hammock, fiddling restlessly.

  He kicked his legs, head turning from left to right. He tossed the artefact he’d been investigating back onto the pile beside him, then grabbed his puzzle. But he’d just completed it the day before yesterday, which had given him a nasty headache, so he put that one aside as well. He brought up his scope instead, fingers tapping on the metal cylinder as his head swung around, scanning the surroundings.

  Old Carla was hanging freshly dyed fabric up to dry, carefully draping it over the stretched lines in her garden. The rope of his hammock creaked softly as he jerked his head to the other side. Luca was tending to his trogs. The brown-furred beasts were looking bloated. The Brown Storm would be coming one of these weeks, then. That would be something to look at. But not today.

  He sighed, about to put the scope away again, until he spotted something overhead.

  “Aha! Delivery’s early this week!”

  He sat up in his hammock, craning his head to look up at the crystal ceiling above. His pupils glowed a deep yellow as Ki was pushed through his seams into his eyes to better see the men through the clear patch in the crystal.

  Each of the cultivators pulled a giant net full of trash, thick muscles shining with sweat as they worked. Even from this distance, his golden eyes could faintly make out the Ki streaming through their bodies, more than he was likely to see in any cultivator on this floor. For some reason he didn’t understand, the ones who carried the garbage were always heavily muscled and never used Ki techniques to help move their loads.

  They plodded on until they reached an open expanse of crystal that had a slightly lighter blue sheen. Careful not to cross the boundary of the Mon, they heaved their massive bags forward with great effort, then began pouring them out over the edge.

  Dario swung his legs out of the hammock to sit up straight, eyes shining as he pushed more Ki into them. When the objects passed through the light-blue crystal and rained down on the Belt, his eyes flitted around like insects, scanning the trash as it fell. Most of it was a mass of dull objects, but those few artefacts that still held Ki would stand out like candles in the dark.

  His gaze locked on a small, round object, appearing bright to his vision with a thick, red aura. Leaping out of his hammock and turning back towards the pillar, he saw that the crest displayed in front of it was only a light shade of blue. There would still be time before dinner.

  Dario put on his dirty overalls and whistled a merry tune as he strode past the rickety houses that surrounded the Belt and towards the one thing that made it famous: the giant field of garbage.

  “Hey Chiara!” He smiled and waved at an elderly lady rocking a creaking chair back and forth in front of the warped wooden boards of her house, white paint peeling off.

  “You look like you’re in a hurry,” she remarked, lips curling up into a smile. “Have you finally come to your senses and decided to leave this dump behind? Or is it another trash-dive?”

  “It’s called a treasure hunt!” he shouted back over his shoulder, shaking his head as he moved on down the street to where the houses thinned out and huge piles of trash loomed not far in the distance.

  But instead of continuing on, he looked around for any observers, then when he was satisfied no one saw him, he ducked into an alleyway and began to climb his way up a fence, tiptoeing over a roof before hopping onto a pile of scrap metal.

  It gave him a clear look at his destination: a dumping ground that stretched as far as he could see. Anything under the Ceiling could be found here; from food scraps to building materials and, for the keen-eyed treasure hunter, even the rare artefact. The junk seemed to be alive at times, shifting over time into changing clusters, forming mounds of various sizes that stretched into a landscape of rolling hills of debris.

  He leapt from pile to pile with a nimbleness that didn’t match his bulky frame, careful to step only on large and well-anchored objects so that he wouldn’t go sliding down. The first and most important rule for making it through the Belt was to always stay on higher ground. Below was where the wet things flowed. You did not want to be where the trash-juice collected into fetid pools.

  The latest delivery had come down on a pile of garbage that was clearly larger than the rest, and he moved to approach it from its flatter side. But then the sound of movement had him ducking between mounds, knowing these corridors to be dry. Peeking around the corner, he saw that it was just a pack of rettil. The large, scaled rodents didn’t pose much of a threat to him, but there was no need to fight them, so he went around, until he heard the distant sound of voices.

  He clambered up a higher mound of mostly wood and metal and peeked around the edge as he pushed Ki to his eyes, vision shifting to show the many shades of aura. It was easy to spot the people between the inert piles of garbage. There were three in total; a shorter man with silver-hued Ki which he didn’t recognize, but he narrowed his eyes at the two faint shapes with the bronze-grey Ki of earth.

  The Contadino boys. He’d warned those stubborn bastards twice over to stay away from the third delivery of the week. This was his treasure. No point in giving a third warning; it was time to teach those morons a lesson.

  Mouth shifting into a mischievous grin, he hurried over the next hill and quickly crawled through a few tunnels and corridors between the piles, remembering that they always took the same path to the central pile, the one that had tall walls that were too shaky for his liking. When he came around a corner into a long passage, he began to scan each side, seeking out a few larger pieces that were supporting a bunch of smaller objects, the more the better. Years spent in these corridors, watching out for areas that might collapse, had given him a great instinct for it.

  There and… there.

  He grinned as he tied a thin rope to an object in each pile, allowing just enough tension so that it remained in place at the height of his ankles. Then, he inhaled slowly, closing his eyes as he squeezed his Ki through his seams, letting the bright energy out as he moved his hands across the rope before drawing it back in.

  Where his hands passed, the light pulled away from the rope, leaving it barely visible. Nodding with satisfaction, he then took a piece of dry cheese out of his pocket and mashed it into crumbs, spreading them over the side of one the piles.

  The voices were coming closer, so he moved away to circle around the towering pile of trash. He moved more slowly than before, keeping the fingers of his left hand clutched into a fist as part of his attention stayed with the rope, making sure the effect wouldn’t just disappear.

  He scaled the side of the largest pile, scanning the contents absently with golden eyes, pausing every now and then to dig through the contents.

  “Probably just a blast of air in all directions. Boring,” he muttered at a talisman that shimmered with light-blue Ki before tucking it away in his pouch.

  His head jerked around at the familiar sound of a pile of junk collapsing, followed by muffled curses. Dario chuckled as he released the hand, no longer needing the effect. There was a satisfied grin on his face as he continued scaling the pile, the noises of people digging themselves out of a pile of trash followed by more curses and screams.

  “What in the pillar was-”

  “Rettil! There’s a whole pack right there. Crap, we have to get back!”

  He zoned out the sounds of rettil screeching and men shouting, turning his attention back to the pile he was climbing. A vivid red aura was calling to him like a beacon, just a bit further up past a cluster of bulky items.

  But when he hauled himself up on a large piece of wreckage that might once have been part of a roof, he froze. Right behind the red orb stood a trash-goat, angry black eyes staring at him. It took a step closer, slamming a hoof onto a piece of metal with a loud clang, before letting out an ominous growling sound.

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

  “No, no,” he said sweetly, holding up his palms in a gesture of peace, “you’ve got the wrong idea, buddy. I’d never even think of stealing your stuff. I know how possessive your kind are.”

  He took a small step back, shuffling his feet slightly left and right to test his footing as he pushed more energy into his eyes. Pale Ki was already moving through the beast’s body, gathering into a pool in its lungs.

  “I’ll just be on my way and leave you in-”

  He dove suddenly with a grunt, thrusting his right arm forward. As soon as his fingers closed around the orb, he pushed himself to the side with the other hand. The goat screamed, a cone of force blasting out of its mouth to crush and scatter the trash where Dario had just been.

  But he was already rolling down the hill, limbs tucked in close to his body. He grunted with pain as something hard poked him in the back, until he pushed off a large piece of wood. His body was flung in the air and he managed to get his legs underneath him, turning his wild tumble into a dead sprint. Eyes wide, arms flailing, he let out a whooping laugh.

  With another angry scream, the goat gave chase, hopping nimbly down in a zigzag pattern. Dario somehow made it to the bottom without crashing, using his momentum to dash up the next mound, then diving over and rolling down the other side. The blast that followed sent bits and pieces of trash raining down on him as he ran.

  Once he was out of sight, he paused for a moment to draw in the light like before, this time taking it from his own body to make him look like a moving shadow.

  He ducked around a corner, crawled through a tunnel, then paused briefly to send out his Ki once again. The bright energy flooded out from his channels, creating a blurry image of himself that moved past the tunnel and into another corridor. When he saw the goat take the bait, he let out a relieved breath, checking himself over. Nothing worse than a few bruises.

  After a bit of time spent silently creeping through the heaps of trash, Dario was walking the streets of the Belt again, waving at people as he whistled a victorious tune, until he heard the sound of the fourth bell and looked up to see that the blue crest in front of the pillar had turned a deep purple.

  His eyes widened and he began to race through the narrow streets, calling out apologies as he narrowly avoided crashing into people as he skidded around a corner. After a few turns, he came to a stop in front of a modest little house, made up mostly of white painted stone. He took off his dirty overall, dusted off his hands and then opened the door, opening his arms theatrically as he stepped through.

  “It is I, your beloved son, the great Dario!” he called out in a haughty voice.

  His mother was stirring a pot, her long black hair woven into a thick braid that ran down her back. She turned and cocked a brow as her green eyes took him in.

  “Well, Dario the Great, you better wash up or you’re not getting any dinner.”

  He relaxed, matching her smile with one of his own before moving to the basin behind her.

  “Have you been trashdiving again?”

  “I’ve been treasure hunting, yes,” he said, pausing to lather some soap on his hands and wash his hands and face. “It's market tomorrow and I need stuff to sell.”

  His mother chuckled. “Oh, we’re going to pretend that you actually sell the artefacts now? Do you think I don’t know about your hoard?”

  Dario scoffed. “There are a few special tidbits I like to keep around. Just in case.”

  Definitely holding onto that bomb, he thought, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “Just in case a Reijuu attacks you while you’re napping in the hammock?” she snorted.

  But after he finished washing up and moved to sit across from her at the table, he noticed her expression had turned more serious.

  “What are your plans, Dario? How long are you planning to still do this?”

  “Do what?” he tried, suppressing the urge to sigh. It’d been a while since they had this conversation and it was never fun.

  “To live the way you do. From moment to moment. Diving into the Belt to look for trinkets, selling them just to get by. Is that really all you want out of life?”

  “Bah, such heavy topics on such a beautiful day! Why don’t you tell me the latest gossip instead. Is old Luca getting ready for the Brown Storm?”

  He lifted his brows suggestively as he flashed her a grin, but she knew his tricks too well and just patiently stared him down.

  “Ugh, fine!” he said with a sigh. “What’s so bad about it, anyway? Being spontaneous is fun and treasure hunting suits me. What else would you have me do? Work in the damn recycling plant?”

  “It’s honest work and they could use someone with your skill. But if a steady job is a step too far, I think you should at least go out and see the world. It’s in your blood, after all.”

  He didn’t miss how some of the conviction left her voice and how closely she was watching him as she said the last part.

  “In my blood? Really? You make it sound like a good thing,” he said with a grimace, shaking his head. “I’d rather work in the plant than become like that.”

  A tense silence stretched between them as his mother looked at him with concern. Eventually Dario sighed, forcing a smile onto his face and leaning forward to put his hand on hers. “Look,” he said, “I’m a simple guy with simple desires, alright? As long as I have a comfy hammock, a full belly and a happy mother, I’ll be content.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, you know?” she said, but he could see the relief in her eyes.

  “It’s not-” he began to protest, but she stopped him with a squeeze to his hand.

  “But a wonderful son! Now, let's see about filling that belly of yours.”

  She got up and moved over to a pot that was simmering over a low fire.

  “But don’t think for a second that this conversation is over! If you insist on staying on this floor, you need to think about a career. Maybe you could learn a trade? At the very least, you should put some effort into finding yourself a good woman. Laura has a niece who’s coming of age…”

  Dario groaned as she went on, but both of them were smiling again.

  ***

  After traveling out for a few hours the next day, Dario arrived at his stall and got to work lining up his artefacts on the crude wooden table. The market was still quiet now, but soon it would be bustling with people.

  “Well if it isn’t young Dario! Gathered a pile of trinkets again, have you?”

  “Luca! Good to see you!” Dario said as he turned to the dark-haired farmer. “You know me, always finding interesting things in weird places.”

  Luca grunted as he lifted a large leg of dried meat onto a hook hanging from the ceiling of his stall.

  “You’ve got the talent for it, I suppose. Me, I wouldn’t last a week out there.”

  Dario chuckled, looking over the farmer’s cart. “Hey, is it my imagination or is there more trogmeat than normal?”

  Luca raised a pair of thick, grey-and-black eyebrows. “Did you forget? Ascension’s coming up next month. First of the nobles are already arriving. Trogmeat from the Basement is something of a novelty for them. ‘Rustic’, as they like to call it.”

  Dario’s eyes widened a fraction. Had it already been almost a year since the last one? That would explain why his mother was suddenly acting strange.

  “You planning to go up this time?”

  “Me?” Dario asked, pointing a finger at his chest. “No, I wouldn’t dream of it. Far too much work. I’m happiest when I’m in my hammock.”

  Luca’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, but then the man shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “Hey, isn’t it almost time for shitting season?” Dario asked with a grin.

  Luca let out an unhappy grunt as he lifted another trog leg onto a hook. “Don’t remind me. I was forced to let the trogs graze from the Belt more often than not. They’re swollen like balloons, now. Might need the help of the gods to get through this one.”

  Dario chuckled. He had a weak spot for the fat animals. All they did was eat and, with the exception of metal, their bodies processed everything else almost perfectly. But still, some impurities built up slowly over time, which for some reason they expelled only once a year. It was quite a show, except if you were a trogfarmer.

  Soon, traffic in the market picked up and he haggled even more than usual, counting on the increased demand from the nobles to increase his prices. After selling a few artefacts at a tidy profit, he noticed that a fancy-looking boy with a hooked nose and an older man were throwing him looks while talking rather loudly. Both of them had the dark skin and pale hair of those who’d grown up close to the pillar.

  “Must we really do this? It’s cumbersome,” the young noble said to the older man.

  “Yes, my Lord. Defending the clan name may be cumbersome, but I’m afraid it’s never optional. And, if I may, I believe ‘I demand justice’ would be a stronger alternative. ‘Want’ is weaker than ‘demand’, and retribution seems like you’re only out for punishment. Justice is a nobler pursuit, fitting your station.”

  The small noble nodded reluctantly. Dario looked on through narrowed eyes, frowning as he recognized the silver hue of the young man’s Ki.

  His eyes landed on the Contadino brothers next, guilty looks across their faces as they tried to hide in the crowd.

  Dario swallowed as the young noble walked up, flanked by two men who he assumed to be guards. The great volumes of Ki that ran through their bodies marked them as Amber. Instead of speaking, the young noble looked back at the older guard, who was holding a scroll and a writing utensil.

  “Hand on the pommel of your sword, my Lord, and a straight back.”

  The boy sighed but nodded, following the instructions before speaking in a bored tone of voice.

  “My name is Hokori from the Ashikaga clan, and I demand justice.”