47: The Circle of Power

The room was cold, stark, and gleaming with polished metal and glass as Alex was led down a long hallway by one of the armored guards. His steps echoed through the sleek corridor, his heart pounding steadily in his chest. The Elite District was unlike anything he had ever seen—far too pristine, too clean, too removed from the harsh realities of the world outside. It felt as though every corner of this place had been scrubbed of imperfection, of humanity.

As they approached a large, intricately carved door at the end of the hall, the guard paused, turning to face Alex. "This is where you will present your case," the guard said, his voice filtered through his helmet. There was no hint of emotion, no acknowledgment of the gravity of what was about to happen. The door slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing a vast room beyond.

Alex stepped through, and the sight before him made his breath catch.

At the center of the room was a round table made of gleaming black stone, smooth and flawless. Seated around it were ten figures, each one dressed in elaborate, high-tech clothing that shimmered under the artificial light. They sat with perfect posture, their faces expressionless, but their eyes—sharp, cold, and unyielding—were all trained on him the moment he entered.

The room itself was grand, with high ceilings and walls lined with holographic displays of data, maps, and energy flows. Everything about it screamed control, order, and power.

Alex felt a chill run down his spine. These were the elites—the rulers of this hidden world. The people who had built this perfect haven for themselves while those outside struggled to survive. He could feel the weight of their judgment already, as though they were assessing his worth in mere seconds.

One of the figures, an older man with silver hair slicked back and sharp features, gestured to the space in the center of the room. "Step forward," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "You're here to show us what you've brought."

Alex took a deep breath, moving to the center of the room where all eyes were on him. He could feel Elara's gaze from where she stood at the edge of the room, Serena and Nia waiting behind her. They had agreed that Alex would present the suit alone, leaving the rest of them as silent witnesses to whatever would unfold.

"We've come from the Rust Quarter," Alex began, his voice steady though his heart raced. "We've developed something that can change the way people survive out there."

The ten elites exchanged glances, but none of them spoke. Their silence weighed heavily on him.

"I've designed a suit," Alex continued, unzipping his coat to reveal the sleek, advanced gear beneath. The turbines on his back whirred softly, and the modular components glinted in the low light. "It generates energy using the wind, keeps the wearer warm in any storm, and filters water from snow and ice. It's lightweight, flexible, and can be modified depending on the mission. With this suit, we can survive for days in the harshest conditions."

Alex stepped back, letting them take in the full design. He had expected at least some level of awe or interest, but instead, their expressions remained unchanged. If anything, they seemed… unimpressed.

The older man with the silver hair leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked over the suit. "I commend you," he said, though his tone lacked enthusiasm. "To create something like this outside, in the chaos of the Rust Quarter, is no small feat."

A woman seated beside him, her dark hair pulled back tightly and her eyes cold, nodded in agreement. "You have skill, certainly. But this"—she gestured dismissively toward the suit—"is not something we haven't seen before."

Alex's heart sank slightly, but he kept his composure. He had known the elites would have access to advanced technology, but to hear them dismiss his creation so easily stung.

"You've managed to survive," the older man continued, his voice taking on a more analytical tone. "That much is clear. But survival alone is not enough. We thrive here, not merely survive. What you've brought is interesting, yes, but we expected more."

Alex felt a wave of frustration rising in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. "This suit is more than just survival gear. It's a way for people to push back against the cold, to maintain a life beyond these walls."

The man leaned back, folding his hands in front of him. "Perhaps. But tell me, where did you learn your energy arts? The techniques you're using to power this suit?"

Alex hesitated, his mind racing. The AI had always been a secret, a voice in his head that he had relied on to survive. But he couldn't reveal that. He had to give them a plausible answer, one that wouldn't raise suspicion.

"I found the techniques on a scavenging mission," Alex said, meeting their gaze. "In an old ruin, among forgotten technologies. I came across a device that contained data on energy manipulation, techniques that allowed me to understand how to use my own energy to repair and power machines."

The elites exchanged glances again, clearly intrigued. One of the younger men at the table, his face thin and angular, raised an eyebrow. "What were the names of these techniques?"

Alex's heart raced. He hadn't expected them to be so direct. He forced himself to remain steady, recalling the information the AI had presented to him. "The first is a basic energy-rotation technique, used to charge or absorb energy. The second allows me to repair mechanical or electronic devices using energy. And the third… lets me understand the inner workings of devices, giving me the knowledge to rebuild or improve them."

There was a long pause as the elites considered his words.

Finally, the man with silver hair let out a soft hum, his eyes half-lidded as he regarded Alex. "Interesting. But these techniques you speak of… they are basic. Very basic."

The woman with dark hair nodded in agreement. "These are old arts, rarely taught anymore. Simple tools for those who can't access more advanced methods. Still, I'm impressed that you were able to make use of them, given your circumstances."

Alex clenched his fists subtly, trying to hide his frustration. To them, everything he had achieved, everything he had struggled to build, was nothing more than "basic." They didn't see the hours of work, the risks, the ingenuity required to survive in the wasteland.

Another member of the council, a middle-aged man with a sharp jawline, leaned forward. "You've shown us your skills and your ingenuity. You survived the Rust Quarter with these techniques and designed a suit that we must acknowledge as remarkable."

Alex tensed slightly, waiting for the inevitable rejection or condition that would follow.

The man paused, glancing around at his peers before continuing. "You have demonstrated your worth, Alex. And for that, we will allow you and your group to stay here, in the Elite District, as citizens."

A murmur of approval went around the table. Alex's heart skipped a beat, the sudden shift catching him off guard. Citizens? He hadn't expected this, not so soon. He'd been prepared to negotiate, to barter for resources, but becoming citizens of the Elite District?

The older man with silver hair gave a slow nod, his eyes sharp. "You've proven that you have something to offer, something we can use. Designing the suit, surviving the Rust Quarter, learning energy arts on your own—that is commendable. It's more than most people outside these walls can claim. As citizens, you'll have access to resources, technology, and knowledge that will allow you to continue improving your designs."

Alex stood frozen for a moment, barely able to process the weight of what they were offering. To live here, to have access to the Elite District's resources—it was everything he had been working toward, everything he had dreamed of when he first built the suit. But there was an undercurrent to the offer, a subtle sense that they were getting far more out of this than Alex could see right now.

Serena, who had been standing quietly behind him, let out a soft breath of relief, her hand tightening on Nia's shoulder. Elara, however, remained as stoic as ever, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she, too, was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"What's the catch?" Elara asked bluntly, cutting through the air like a knife.

The elites turned their attention to her, their expressions unreadable. The man with silver hair gave a faint smile, though it held no warmth. "There is no catch. However, we will expect you to contribute to the District's development. We have high standards here, and as citizens, you will be expected to uphold those standards. Your skills will be put to use, and your suits—if you continue to improve them—could become a key part of our expansion efforts."

Alex felt a knot form in his stomach. Expansion efforts. Of course, there was always a larger plan, always a way for those in power to use others to further their goals. But was this a price he was willing to pay? The offer on the table was one of survival—true survival, not just scraping by in the Rust Quarter. But it came with strings attached.

"We'll take it," Alex said before he could think too much. He needed the resources, the knowledge, the safety. They all did.

The man smiled again, nodding in approval. "Then it's settled. Welcome to the Elite District, Alex."