The Universe Is Innately Just 26 West Highway

The tainted sky wasn't enough to diminish his curiosity, and he was already trying to imagine how the central districts were. Having only heard about them from a few drunkards, he was excited to see those gigantic skysc.r.a.pers for the first time.

Fell left the Slums this morning. As soon as he ended his last cultivation session, he swiftly went to notify Sifiso.

Sifiso wasn't surprised by the young man's future plans. He already expected Fell's departure since the beginning. The Slums were too little for his meteoric rise and would only block his future progress.

He helped him ama.s.s the necessities he needed for his journey and paid him his gains in the Gladiator's Heaven. Fell ignored the old man's money and left him with one of the credit cards he looted from DarkSun.

The old man later was left dumbstruck by the incredible amount of Credit that he received, it was enough for him to retire and live his life more comfortable in the central districts.

A few gladiators noticed that he was leaving and decided to escort him with Sifiso. Their kind act touched fell. This place forever engraved in his heart.

Then he strutted in the direction of Pig's Paw, the only place that offered him help when he needed it. Moha was in the end, his single paternal figure. He couldn't afford to leave without bidding his farewell to his old man.

As soon as he entered the bar, he noticed the weird look on the customers' faces. The rumors were true, Moha the Butcher got his youth back.

Moha's smooth and spotless face left his regular customers smitten as soon they entered the tavern. Although, they swiftly figured out that he was the same as before, a pure native from the Slums.

He was smoking behind the counter, his cheap brand of cigarettes between his lips. Fell was relieved that Moha's new appearance didn't turn into an annoyance for his business. The Butcher's reputation wasn't frail enough to be shaken by his softer physique.

Moha wasn't surprised by the news either, as he was also expecting Fell's departure since his first day at the arena. He could see the heaven-defying ambition in the young man's face, and a simple slum wasn't enough to block him in his path.

"Be safe in your road, don't let people trample on your pride. If you can't secure victory, at least secure your own life…" Moha spouted an endless number of advice, worry and expectation marked on his face.

Fell could only nod vigorously with a wry smile under the old man's constant instructions.

"Now take this and leave before I kick your a.s.s!" Moha gave Fell a carton of cigarettes, turned his back to hide his face. In the side of his eyes, a clear tear glistened before sliding on his smooth cheek.

Fell didn't know what to answer. His emotions were in disarray. He grabbed the carton, bowed deeply in the direction of the man and left the bar with long strides.

Moha kept trembling for some second before turning back. His eyes darted all over the room to see if his protege was still here. He sighed before noticing a card on the counter, smiling he grabbed it and put it on his pocket.

"Wow, boss became quite the p*ss…" a drunkard exclaimed before being slapped in the face by his buddy, stopping him from continuing his nagging.

"If you wanna die that's your own choice, but don't cause me problems with your stupidity" his buddy explained before emptying his gla.s.s, he darted from the bar fearful that anyone heard his friend's stupid remark.

Everyone who lived in the Slums knew that Moha was untouchable, Darksun served as a clear example for everyone.

Fell's disarrayed emotions swiftly cleansed themselves when his excitation kicked in, the idea of travelling around the world made him forget about the Slum.

He traversed the Slums, moving to the West. His steps were unhurried as he enjoyed his last walk here, his mind pondering about how strong will he have become when he'll come back.

Will he become strong enough to change everything here, or will he die while trying to stay true to his path.

Those were the questions he was asking himself as he strode thought New Casablanca's Slums, his eyes focused on the lively streets.

Toddlers were playing close to a puddle, and its color showed how toxic and hazardous it was. Their clear laugher spread in the street. Their innocent vibes were a rarity here. Fell gave them some candies he had in his Spatial Pocket before moving on his road.

He advanced on his path, stopping every time he met an event that made him want to change this place. He understood something on his road to the central city.

It wasn't that the people living in the Slums were filthy and vicious by nature, their environment just shaped them into what they are. His recent encounter with Sifiso and the Gladiators made him believe that even more.

Understanding this, he promised himself to make this place a paradise in the future. He wanted to destroy the Slums and rebuilt them, offering its inhabitant what they deserved.

Bolstered by his dreams, his pace accelerated as he approached West Highway. As he was getting close to the Highway, he noticed that the sky was getting darker. Dark fumes and toxic wastes were cast out from a gigantic factory, tainting the atmosphere and blocking the sunlight.

He stopped on his path, looking at the sad reality in front of him.

"At least, it isn't so bad in the Slums," he thought while resuming his journey.

As he advanced in the empty Highway, the same view repeated itself. The only scenery he got to see was an endless path filled with factories, that were endlessly discharging their wastes in the sky and the earth.

Those factories owned by the biggest corporations and firms of New Casablanca, their sizes and numbers were so big that they wholly isolated the Slums from the outside world.

Naturally, the workforce they used came straight from the Slums. Meager salaries and a dangerous workplace were one of the reasons for the Slums high criminality rate. Most of the workers from the factories ended up developing symptoms of perilous sickness while the others didn't even manage to survive the toxic environment.

Those factories served as a wall separating New Casablanca's central districts from its core. The core that used to be Casablanca from one hundred years ago transformed into a gigantic slum, isolated from the modern civilization.

Fell silently advanced through the Highway, he looked at the scenery unfurl in front of him.

If it weren't for him being born in the worst place of the Slums, the living condition in the factories would have horrified him.

He noticed how remote the Slums were from the central district. In his view, calling it a completely different city wouldn't have been a problem.