The town

The journey began with the group moving in silence, the oppressive weight of the Disposal Zone's nightmarish landscape bearing down on them. Troy walked with Jorra and the others, his senses heightened as he took in the horror around him. The ground was slick with rot, littered with broken bodies in various states of decay, some stacked into gruesome piles, others left scattered like discarded refuse. He saw lakes of thick, congealed blood, vast pools that shimmered under the dim, polluted light of the sky. Mountains of bones jutted out from the earth, creating an unnatural, macabre landscape where death ruled.

The air was thick with the stench of decay, but no one in the group reacted—they had grown accustomed to it. As they walked, they scavenged for anything useful—scraps of metal, bits of tech, clothing torn from the dead. It was a grim existence, but it was the only way to survive in this world.

The journey stretched into hours, their pace steady but cautious. The group stayed vigilant, aware that danger could lurk in any corner of the wasteland. Troy kept quiet, still processing everything he had learned about the gods, neurosyncers, and the system that controlled human ascension. All the while, the gruesome scenery passed by in a blur of death and desperation.

As they traveled, Troy noticed how skilled the group was at scavenging. Jorra led them to specific areas where the bodies of failed experiments or discarded materials were more likely to be found. They scavenged for weapons, food, and anything that could be repurposed into something useful. Krag would pull entire sheets of metal from the ground, while Nima, the scout, would rummage through debris, carefully avoiding anything that could be contaminated or dangerous. Savo had a knack for finding tech parts that still had some charge left, while Ellis was constantly on the lookout for communication devices.

Troy watched as they worked together seamlessly, like a well-oiled machine, gathering whatever they could in silence. He felt a strange sense of camaraderie despite the grim surroundings, but also a growing sense of discomfort at the harsh reality these people lived in.

After nearly a full day of travel, they reached the outskirts of a small town, built entirely out of scavenged materials. The town was a haphazard collection of structures made from rusted metal sheets, broken machinery, and other scrap. Everything had been cobbled together, giving the town a makeshift, unstable appearance. Smoke rose from chimneys, and the faint sound of voices could be heard in the distance.

As they approached, the townspeople glanced up from their work. Most were gaunt, their clothes ragged, faces dirty and lined with hardship. There were no pleasantries exchanged—everyone here was simply focused on surviving another day. Troy noticed immediately how the town had been designed for practicality rather than comfort. There was no luxury, no excess—just the bare minimum to get by.

Jorra led them through the narrow streets, past homes made of scrap metal and shelters constructed from old parts of tech no longer in use. As they passed through, people nodded in acknowledgment to Jorra, though it was clear they held him in a certain degree of respect. Troy quickly realized that Jorra wasn't just the leader of their small group—he was the leader of the entire town.

"This is where we survive," Jorra said, his voice low as he guided Troy through the narrow passageways. "It's not much, but we make do with what we find. Sometimes it's enough; sometimes it's not."

Troy looked around, seeing the hollow faces of the townspeople, the way their eyes lingered on anything that could be scavenged or used for survival. He couldn't help but notice the tension in the air—the quiet desperation that hung over everything. There were too many people here for the amount of resources available, and it was clear that the town was barely holding on.

Jorra continued, his tone darkening. "We live off what we can scavenge, but when things get desperate… well, sometimes there's no choice but to turn to other means."

Troy frowned. Other means?

Jorra hesitated before answering. "Sometimes, we have to eat the dead. There's no other way. Resources here are scarce, and when the scavenging runs dry, we do what we must to survive."

The words hit Troy hard. The thought of cannibalism as a means of survival was horrifying, but the people in this town had no other options. He looked around again, this time with new eyes, understanding now just how desperate their situation truly was.

Jorra guided Troy to a small structure near the edge of the town. It was little more than a shack, made from rusted metal panels and debris. The door was ajar, and inside was a single cot, a small table, and a few personal belongings scattered about.

"This is yours now," Jorra said. "The man who lived here passed away from disease a few days ago. It's not much, but it's better than nothing."

Troy stepped inside, taking in the bleak surroundings. The air was stale, and the shack felt cold and empty, but it was a place to rest. He turned to Jorra and nodded. Thank you.

Jorra didn't respond, only gave a nod before turning to leave.

Once alone in the small, cramped space, Troy sat on the edge of the cot and closed his eyes. His mind was filled with questions, and the weight of everything he had learned since waking up in the Disposal Zone pressed down on him. He needed answers—not just about his past, but about the strange power he was now wielding.

Troy focused inward, searching his mind for any trace of the memories that had been buried. His survival of the draining, his newfound telepathic abilities—everything pointed to something deeper, something connected to his ability to ascend. He knew that neurosyncers ascended into Base 1 through mental energy, but he needed to figure out how to tap into that energy on his own.

As he concentrated, flashes of the past came to him—brief, disjointed memories of the lab, of the experiments. He saw glimpses of the scientists who had drained his mental energy, their faces cold and emotionless. But beyond that, there was something else—something ancient, buried deep within his subconscious. It felt like a distant echo, a memory of a power far greater than anything he had experienced in the lab.

He tried to grasp onto that power, to understand it, but it remained elusive, just out of reach.

Troy opened his eyes, frustration building inside him. He didn't know how to ascend, not yet. But there was a part of him that felt like he was on the edge of something—a discovery that could change everything.

For now, he would have to be patient.

He lay back on the cot, his mind still buzzing with questions, but exhaustion quickly overtook him. As he drifted off to sleep, the last thought in his mind was clear:

I have to go to base 1