Brahma Kingdom, outskirts of the Mumbai Slums.
The cramped, damp shack reeked of cheap nutrient fluid mixed with low-grade motor oil. Muhammad crawled out of a secondhand gaming pod, his sunken eyes bloodshot. He had just spent sixteen straight hours hauling low-grade flesh materials in the upper lobe of the right lung.
He walked over to the cracked-screen communicator in the corner and opened the guild's settlement page. It displayed his wages for the day.
Less than one-third of the promised amount.
A shrill motorcycle engine roared outside. A high-caste supervisor wearing an earring and an expensive cold-weather jacket kicked open the half-closed door. He did not enter, merely pinched his nose in disgust and slapped a bill onto the doorframe.
"Bone Shield durability loss, depreciation for two minor recovery potions, plus management and protection fees for this leveling area. This is what's left after deductions." The supervisor blew out a smoke ring, his gaze contemptuous. "Oh, right. Young Master Raja wasn't feeling well and didn't log in today, so cover his gold-farming quota while you're at it. If you can't finish it, you won't even get this one-third tomorrow."
Muhammad stared at the bill, his eyes passing over the cheap oxygen generator in the corner that kept his mother breathing. He knew every charge had been fabricated out of thin air, but he neither argued angrily nor resisted hysterically.
The rent and his mother's medicine fees were due today. He needed this money, even if it had been stripped down to scraps.
Without a word, he collected the pitiful electronic transfer, turned around, lay back down in the gaming pod, and pressed the connection button.
Upper lobe of the right lung, G-44 District.
This was a low-level bronchial passage covered in dark-red mucosa. Several high-caste gold-farming members who had