When Valk opened his eyes again, he was awakened by pain.
A strange boy, about his age, was straddling him. One hand pressed against the philtrum below Valk’s nose, while the other held his throat, causing intense discomfort.
The boy seemed startled to see Valk awaken. Panic flashed in his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it.
“You’re awake,” the boy said.
“I found you collapsed in the snow outside, so I brought you back here.” He released his grip and stood up.
Cough, cough. Rubbing his reddened and aching throat and philtrum, Valk struggled to his feet. He looked around. They were inside a makeshift triangular shelter, surrounded by piles of worn clothes and blankets. It was messy and dirty, but compared to the freezing snowstorm outside, it was relatively warm.
“Thank you,” Valk said weakly, his voice frail from hunger.
“Don’t mention it,” the boy replied. After that, silence lingered between them for a long time.
“My name’s Valk. What’s yours?” Valk eventually asked, breaking the silence.
“Me?” The boy hesitated, his gaze darting around before settling on the label of an abandoned can nearby.
“Grid,” he said finally. Grid was the name of a cheap beer.
Valk realized this was probably a made-up name, but he was too exhausted to care.
The two of them remained in the triangular shelter, sitting quietly, as the day grew darker outside.
Suddenly, Grid lifted his head and looked toward the outside. Through a gap in the cloth covering the entrance, a glimpse of the snowy wilderness was visible.
“It’s time,” Grid said, slowly standing up.
“Time for what?” Valk asked, puzzled.
“Time to get food,” Grid explained, a spark of excitement lighting up his eyes.
“Follow me.” He lifted the cloth and stepped out of the shelter.
The two trudged across the snowy wasteland, with Grid leading the way. After walking for nearly forty minutes, they arrived at a desolate ruin. The area was littered with the remnants of rusted, crumbling structures—evidence of the mining boom that had once thrived here.
Exposed to corrosive acid rain over the years, the abandoned buildings had deteriorated into dangerous, decaying ruins, avoided even by wanderers.
Eventually, they reached the outskirts of a small, secluded town. It appeared to be a roadside rest stop for transporting minerals. Drivers would often stop here to take a shower, grab a hot meal, or get a good night’s sleep.
“Listen up,” Grid said. “Soon, the restaurant over there will close. The staff will take the trash about 100 meters from the building to dump it. There should be edible food in those bags.”
“So we’re going to grab it, right?” Valk quickly caught on.
“Exactly. But we’re not the only ones eyeing that trash,” Grid warned.
“We work together. That way, we’ll both get something to eat. Got it?”
“Got it,” Valk nodded.
“Good. Now let’s find something to use as weapons.” Grid led Valk to a corner of the ruins where he had hidden some sticks and broken pieces of metal earlier.
Despite their weakness, holding the cold metal gave them a small sense of security.
Time passed slowly. After half an hour, a staff member finally emerged from the restaurant carrying a bag of trash.
The two boys stared intently at the employee, waiting for him to finish disposing of the trash and leave.
“Now’s our chance,” Grid said. He and Valk began running toward the trash bags. But their hunger and frailty quickly caught up to them, and they were out of breath after just a few steps, their pace slowing.
At that moment, another figure darted out from the shadows, reaching the trash bags before them. The newcomer immediately began rummaging through the contents, shoving whatever edible scraps he found into his mouth.
“Hurry, or he’ll eat it all!” Grid urged, and the two forced themselves to quicken their pace.
Soon, the man heard the sound of their approach and turned his head. Valk finally got a good look at him—a face resembling that of a monkey, with sagging, bruised dark circles under his eyes. His hair was a tangled mess, his fingernails were filled with black grime, and his entire body emitted a foul stench.
“Wa-ka-ka!” The man didn’t seem capable of coherent speech, only letting out incoherent shouts.
At that moment, Grid charged forward, striking the man with an iron bar. The blow left a red welt and caused the man to cry out in pain.
But the man began to fight back, grabbing hold of the iron bar and trying to wrest it away, while also clawing at Grid.
Seeing this, Grid was both shocked and frightened but didn’t dare let go of the iron bar. If the man got hold of the weapon, the two of them wouldn’t stand a chance against this adult.
“Quick! Help me!” Grid shouted urgently, enduring the man’s scratching and clawing.
Valk hesitated no longer. He rushed forward and swung his stick, striking the man on the head. The man howled in pain again.
With Valk’s help, Grid tightened his grip on the iron bar, wresting it from the man’s grasp. Then he struck again.
Under their combined assault, the frail vagrant had no choice but to flee, leaving the trash can behind.
After driving away their competitor, the two sat on the ground, panting heavily. They looked at the scattered scraps of food on the ground, their faces breaking into relieved smiles.
That day, they shared the rare meal and decided to stick together. Along the way, they faced off against other vagrants, stray dogs, and low-tier autonomous units, using their wits and courage to survive in the wilderness.
…
“What a touching past,” Partridge said, wiping away tears as he reflected on Valk’s hardships.
After speaking, he sniffled, walked to the side, picked up a glass, and drank some water to calm himself.
“I grew up in Southern 1st District. I never imagined the Verdant Veil had such harsh wilderness environments,” Partridge sighed. He had once thought eating T5-grade meal packs was the hardest life could get. He never imagined people could be forced to eat trash.
“Although the Four-Leaf Crystal Star Region isn’t wealthy, it’s generally able to meet the basic needs of its residents.”
“Industrial goods have become cheaper, which does help create jobs and keeps the Verdant Veil relatively stable.”
“How did you end up obtaining Federation citizenship? That can’t have been easy,” Partridge asked.
“I owe it to Priest Borys. He helped me locate the relative who abandoned me years ago, offering them money to acknowledge and testify for me. We then went to the archives to confirm my identity,” Valk explained.
“Although my mother abandoned me, fortunately, she had left a genetic sample in the Federation Gene Bank. Once they verified I was her descendant, the approval process became much easier.”
“That makes sense,” Partridge said, thoughtfully rubbing his cup.
“The Federation is strict when it comes to verifying untraceable bloodlines. If your parents were already Federation citizens, the process becomes much more lenient.”
“Later, I can run a genetic test against your profile. Who knows? Maybe we can trace how many generations back your ancestors migrated to the Verdant Veil.”
“There were three main periods of population expansion in the Verdant Veil’s history. The earliest settlers were primarily elves. They responded to the ‘Golden Flame Rose’ legacy, traveling to barren planets to develop and transform the environment.”
“The second wave came after the Verdant Veil was fully terraformed and habitable. People from all over the Federation migrated here, including humans and a small number of beastfolk. These were often wanderers who couldn’t integrate into their original communities, so they sought a fresh start here.”
“The third wave came over 400 years ago, during the civil war. At the time, the Verdant Veil was a major military industrial hub. Numerous factories were built, requiring a large workforce. The Federation relocated workers and technicians from other star regions to this planet.”
“As time passed, elves on this planet have become rare. The major military-industrial conglomerates from those days have also relocated under the Federation Council’s directives.”
“It’s truly nostalgic to think about. If those military-industrial giants had stayed, the Four-Leaf Crystal Star Region would undoubtedly be far more powerful.”
“But such things are only daydreams. The Federation’s leadership would never have tolerated so many powerful military corporations gathering in one place. Their dismantling and relocation after the war were inevitable.”
“Military industry was both the rise and the fall of this place. The Four-Leaf Crystal Star Region is merely one of the lingering scars from that long and drawn-out war. Time alone can heal it.”
“Yet issues like toxic rain and problems among the lower classes remain unresolved. It’s not that the leadership doesn’t know how to fix them—it’s that some people don’t want to.”
“Why wouldn’t they want to solve those problems? If they were addressed, the Verdant Veil would improve significantly,” Valk asked, confused.
Partridge glanced at the robust young man lying on the hospital bed. Instead of answering directly, he slowly sipped his tea.
“For some, it’s suffering. For others, it’s a blessing.”
“When it rains, the people selling umbrellas must be very pleased.”