The bell rang out with a hollow clang, deep and echoing, like a heartbeat straining under weight. The sound came from the largest building in sight—a spire of burnished brass and shifting glass that seemed to bend sunlight to its will. It pulsed with artificial warmth, reminding Tochi of stained-glass churches from old films, except this one looked like it was forged by code and flame rather than stone and prayer.
He stood at the edge of a bustling street, the Citadel looming in the distance. His bare feet ached against the metallic cobblestones. No one else seemed barefoot. They all moved with practiced purpose—people of gleaming robes, neon-trimmed suits, and faces that barely glanced in his direction.
Tochi tugged at the hem of his oversized t-shirt, a washed-out grey against the explosion of color this place seemed to revel in. His jeans clung damply to his legs, still dirty from the dumpster he'd first awakened in. This place—this city—was alive in a way Lagos never was. But it wasn't kind.
Beside him walked Crick, a boy no older than thirteen, with electric blue hair and a voice like quicksilver. "You look like you've never seen midday before," Crick said, pointing up at the spire. "That's the Noon Bell. It's how the C-lass keeps time. Sun never sets here unless they tell it to."
Tochi said nothing. He was still adjusting. The headache from earlier had faded, but his confusion had only evolved.
"C-lass is one of the central cities," Crick continued, weaving through bodies like a thread in a loom. "It's run by House Adrek, one of the Mid-Class houses. They ain't like the High-Class or the Gods. But they got enough power to rule a city."
"Mid-Class?" Tochi repeated, voice dry from thirst and doubt.
Crick nodded. "Yeah. The Houses are everything. Government? That's a House. Law? Another House. Religion? All House-owned. Power here ain't just something you have, it's something you serve. You got three levels—the Mid-Class like Adrek, the High-Class like Zephron, and the God-Class."
"The God-Class…" Tochi echoed, the word catching in his throat.
Crick grinned like someone sharing a secret. "People say the God-Class Houses can bend reality. Change the laws of physics like you're flipping through channels. No one sees them, though. They don't live down here with us."
The streets twisted, and Crick motioned for Tochi to follow. They cut through a narrow alley where the shine and glamour of the main avenue peeled away like old paint. The air here was heavier, and the buildings began to show cracks, graffiti, forgotten wires dangling like metal ivy.
"Come on," Crick said, pushing aside a rusted sheet that served as a makeshift door. "You gotta see the other side of paradise."
They emerged behind the grand Citadel—a monument to light, glass, and song. Behind it, hidden in its very shadow, was the homeless shelter.
Tochi froze.
It wasn't just a shelter. It was a graveyard of dignity. Bodies lay on stone mattresses, curled beneath blankets patched with data-fiber, some shivering in the ever-warm city air. A child no older than four stared blankly at the wall, clinging to a spoon with nothing in it. An old woman whispered verses to herself, her tongue swollen from thirst. There was a sharp contrast here—between the mechanical perfection of the buildings and the raw suffering of the flesh within.
Crick's voice was softer now. "These are the ones who don't submit. They don't pledge to a House. Don't take the oaths. Most had skills once—some were Nano-sensitive. But refusing to align with power here makes you disappear."
Tochi swallowed a dry lump in his throat. "And the Citadel? The church?"
"Owned by the House of Adrek," Crick replied bitterly. "They preach the Sun's Grace. But you only get warmth if you kneel."
Tochi's fists clenched at his sides. His calloused feet ached against the steel ground. "And if you don't?"
"You burn." Crick said it like it was fact, like it was obvious.
Tochi turned away from the shelter and looked back toward the Citadel. It gleamed like a lie told too many times.
He lowered his eyes to his own clothing—just a shirt, jeans, and barefoot soles. He didn't know who he was in this place. But he knew what he felt. A fire, somewhere deep. A rejection of the shiny illusion and a hunger to tear it apart.
"Let's go," Tochi said.
"Where?"
"To see more," he replied. "If I'm stuck in this world, I need to understand how deep its rot goes."
Crick smiled. "Then you're already starting to sound like a threat."
The streets of Grey hummed with strange life. Neon lights spilled across buildings like spilled paint, and people with metallic veins and flickering tattoos walked casually past towering screens that spoke in whispers.
Tochi followed close behind Crick, still trying to make sense of the chaos around him. The air felt... heavier than back home. Almost alive. He'd been here for barely an hour, and nothing had made sense.
That was until he saw a man push his hand into a broken kiosk—and it healed itself instantly.
Tochi stopped walking. "Wait—what the hell was that?"
Crick glanced back, then snorted. "Nano. You really are clueless."
"I've been saying that since I got here," Tochi muttered, walking again. "Nano? What's that? Is it like magic?"
Crick made a face. "Don't call it magic. People here'll laugh at you."
"Then what is it?"
They turned into a narrower street, a little quieter. It gave Crick a moment to actually talk without shouting over the noise of engines and sky-trams.
"Alright," Crick said, "listen close, 'cause I'm only saying this once."
Tochi nodded.
"In this world, Nano is everything. It's not tech, it's not magic, and it's not air—but it's in all of those. It's energy. Raw energy. Microscopic, floating everywhere. You breathe it in, eat it, sleep in it, touch it. It's part of the environment."
"Okay..." Tochi said slowly. "So people just... have it?"
"No," Crick replied. "Everyone's born with something called dormant Nano channels. Think of them like veins—except instead of blood, they carry Nano. Problem is, they don't work on their own."
"So how do they get... turned on?"
"You need a Nano-injection," Crick said. "That's how everyone starts. It jumpstarts your channels. Some people react well, some don't. It depends on compatibility."
Tochi looked at his own arms, skin still dirty from the alley he'd woken up in. "So what happens if you're compatible?"
"Then you awaken into the Nano-rank system," Crick explained. "Ten ranks total. Rank 10's the bottom. Just awakened, barely able to sense Nano. Rank 1... those are the monsters. People that can do things that shouldn't even be possible."
"Like what?" Tochi asked.
"Rip apart buildings with their bare hands. Freeze time for a few seconds. Bend light. Heal bullet wounds in a blink. But you don't start there. You work up through the ranks. Slowly."
Tochi let that sink in.
"And what about those things you said before—channels?"
"Ah, now that's different," Crick said, pointing at a girl standing across the street. Her hair floated as if underwater, and her footsteps didn't touch the ground. "Awakening gets you a rank. But a channel is your path. It's the route your body and mind take as you grow stronger. Everyone develops differently. You train, you absorb Nano, your body starts aligning with a particular way of using it."
"Like fighting styles?"
"Kinda," Crick said. "But deeper. Some people align with strength, some with speed, some with illusions, healing, corrosion, electricity... There are hundreds of possible channels. But they aren't chosen. They form naturally as your Nano use evolves."
Tochi frowned. "So... you just train, and your channel decides itself?"
"Exactly," Crick said. "You don't get to pick it, and once it shows up—it sticks. That's why some people train carefully. Others go mad trying to change theirs. But if your body says your channel is Flame, then that's what you get."
"And once you get your channel?"
"You get stronger along that line. More specialized. The higher your rank, the more your channel shapes your abilities. That's how people start doing crazy stuff. But it all starts with one thing."
Crick held up a small silver tube. Inside was a faint blue glow.
"A Nano injection," he said. "No injection, no rank. No channel."
Tochi eyed the tube warily. "That's in people's bodies?"
"It's how you start," Crick said, putting it away. "But I wouldn't rush it. You don't even know if you're compatible."
"What happens if I'm not?"
Crick didn't answer right away.
"Best case? Nothing happens. Worst case... you die."
Tochi froze. "What?"
"It's rare," Crick admitted. "But yeah. That's why the weak usually don't awaken. It's a gamble. Some people risk it anyway. Others spend their whole lives unranked."
Tochi was quiet for a while.
"So you've been awakened?"
"Yeah," Crick said. "Rank 9. Just one above the bottom. Still weak, but I've got my channel. It's called Faith."
"Faith?"
Crick shrugged. "It's weird, I know. But my Nano reacts strongly when I trust something completely. If I believe in something hard enough... it gets stronger. Me with it."
Tochi looked around the city. The glowing people. The skycars. The towering buildings wrapped in energy.
He rubbed his eyes. "This place is insane."
"You'll get used to it," Crick said.
Tochi wasn't so sure.