The Democratic Zone was the true heart of No. 9 Underground City.
Unlike the filthy, chaotic slums of Livability City, here you could understand why so many ordinary people would risk their lives just to become Deathmatch fighters themselves—or to make their children into fighters.
Glittering company signs and holographic ads shone everywhere, while luxury cars sped along wide, immaculate roads.
There were upscale gyms, expensive luxury boutiques, and even yacht clubs—things ordinary people wouldn't even dare dream of.
At any restaurant you picked at random, one meal would cost an ordinary person several years' wages.
It was hard to imagine a place like this existing inside a shelter. Everything was so extravagant and indulgent, with every luxury imaginable.
Police officers stood around at intersections, staring into space.
Most of the time, they were little more than human recording devices. Even if someone broke the traffic laws, all they did was record the license plate and issue a fine in the database—one that barely mattered to the offender.
The place where the Deathmatch schools gathered to exchange knowledge and learn from one another was right here in the Democratic Zone.
At first, the exchange events between the ten Deathmatch schools were held at the schools themselves, with each taking its turn in order.
But this arrangement had plenty of problems. Students from higher-ranked schools looking down on those from lower-ranked ones was only one of them. The main issue was that it was difficult to guarantee fairness.
For instance, they might turn down the air-conditioning in the rest area assigned to students from other schools, or make sure the soundproofing was a little worse.
When you were hosting, there were plenty of ways to affect the visiting students' performance without doing anything that could be faulted on principle.
Ultimately, the