Chương 2: Rat Food

Before the death of Damon's parents, they were one of the more prestigious families all over Rackwood City.

They were viewed as nobles. Even though they were a middle-class family, the Blackwoods held great respect and connections with wealthy families within the city.

However, all that went down the drain when the Void came to Earth. Purple dark clouds enveloped the sky, plunging Earth into complete darkness.

Never to see daylight again.

Then strange things started to happen. The sky formed sizeable hollow holes in different areas, and strange swarms of creatures free-dived into Earth's atmosphere through portals in the sky.

Creatures possessing destructive energy landed, wreaking havoc in different places on Earth. They were formidable and relentless, showing no emotion when killing living beings like themselves.

Humanity's forces were like flies in their eyes; bullets were useless against their extremely hardened skin, making them hard to kill.

They had robust and solid structures that were ten times more advanced than humans, who would crumble against their might.

Unfortunately, Rackwood City was the frontline of the first siege, destroying the city in the process and ending the lives of Damon's family.

Damon, walking through a destroyed part of the city, suddenly stopped. His stomach rumbled in pain.

"Is it me or am I really hungry today? Either that or the rat didn't agree with me." Damon sighed before continuing forward. He was extremely careful with each step, avoiding any sharp objects or cracked pavement.

"I need to avoid those cracked pavements; I don't want to end up with broken bones in a ditch like Leonardo." Leonardo was a graceful soul. Because he neglected the precautions of the pavement, he ended up in a ditch with fractured ribs that punctured his heart, killing him on the spot.

His worthless life ended there, and the story of his stupidity reigns on as a means of precaution.

The area was filled with mountains upon mountains of discarded plastic and rubbish. That was explainable because this was the city's dump.

This was where physical or metaphorical trash was dumped, e.g., Damon.

Here was the home to those who couldn't afford a house or an apartment in the main city.

The smell of this place was so revolting that a plant literally shriveled up the moment it was planted and died.

Well, Damon was used to the smell by now, having lived here for about a year.

Scouring through the garbage mountains for something to salvage or at least find breakfast, Damon suddenly halted, locking eyes with someone who was collapsed on the ground.

He wasn't lying down for the warm sun's rays, that's for sure. The sun hasn't been seen for two years now, so it could only mean the person was injured.

From the fierce gaze they gave each other, one could tell they were on high alert, ready to bolt or attack to defend themselves at any moment.

Observing the man properly, Damon noticed a large wound on his abdomen. From the look of the wound, he was sure it wasn't from any sharp object.

There were frequent bite marks, as if something had chewed through his flesh.

'Dude's sure unlucky; he might have encountered hordes of rats in his crib. Never stay where wasted food is, the rats might mistake you for the food,' Damon thought, shaking his head in solicitude as he slowly backed away from the place.

Even at the jaws of death, the man held a knife behind him to defend himself or die trying. He wasn't going to be cannibalized for breakfast without going down fighting.

"Relax, I won't eat you. Besides, I don't think you'll be delicious anyway," Damon said.

'He might as well go back to the rats, let them finish what they started. I don't eat leftovers.'

Cannibalism wasn't an uncommon thing in this dump. The power of hunger was overwhelming, and people had no choice but to turn on each other.

The man would be someone's next meal if he was discovered hiding here. Damon knew it was of no use; he would eventually die of infection or starvation.

The meat would no longer be fresh.

After walking for a while, Damon arrived at the end of the dump where a large wall barricaded it. He stared at the wall before shifting his gaze to a small store a few meters away.

Standing in front of the rundown-looking store that had lacked proper maintenance for years, with rusted roofing and wooden structures held in place with some metal to keep the store standing, Damon pushed open the front door and went inside. He was immediately greeted by the horribly dusty interior and rotting shelves that held different books.

In the middle of the store was a counter, but no one could be seen.

"He's not here, I guess I'll wait for him," Damon said, his attention taken by the books on the shelves.

The books seemed ordinary, telling about political issues of the world, the war progress, and so on. None of them really interested Damon.

"Hmm, you decide to finally return. I thought you might have forgotten about me or were dead," a middle-aged man with sunken eyes and abnormally white skin said while exiting from the backroom.

"Mr. Kenny, I guess you're still breathing, old man," Damon replied, slowly turning back.

"I told you to stay here, not to go out and scavenge like a dog. Look at how thin you've gotten; the wind could literally blow you away," Kenny said, coming closer and giving Damon a big hug before throwing him to the ground. "See, look at how easy it was to throw you to the ground."

Unlike Damon's frail, pathetic figure, Kenny was a more robust individual with a muscular frame. He didn't fit the profile of someone who lived in the dump; rather, those from the main city matched his standards.

People in the dump were practically walking bones with elastic flesh, lacking nutrients and a clean environment. Almost all of them had diseases, part of the reason being that their basic protein consumption was mainly composed of rats.

Some people went weeks without a morsel of food.

The world system was simple: the rich and important were deemed valuable while the poor ended up in the slums.

The only people who held higher regard than the privilege of a president were the heroes of humanity.

The Curseweavers.

***