Halley: Journey Across The Space

Chapter 1: Water Charm

Beneath the modern and breathtaking view of a futuristic metropolis, there exist districts that starkly contrast with the word "breathtaking." People refer to them as slums or shantytowns. The streets of these slums are filled with low-status citizens, struggling to survive. Among the dilapidated buildings, there's a pub hidden behind cramped alleys and the city's gutters, its existence a secret known only to its employees and a select group of customers. The hidden place is called Yalea.

The clientele at this pub must be someone other than regular patrons. Anyone who dares to enter for a drink is usually eyed with suspicion by the regulars and often asked to leave after just one. The moment they step inside, they are met with deadly stares, making ordinary citizens wary of crossing the threshold.

But here comes the unusual part: a woman entered the pub. She was draped in a cape that concealed her entire body. The drinkers glared at her as she made her way to the bar, but she seemed undeterred by their hostile looks. When she spoke to the bartender, her voice was calm and soft. The bartender was taken aback, but he masked his surprise with his usual tired expression.

"A service? Yeah, we've got one. What kind?" he asked.

The woman answered quietly. The bartender glanced around, searching for an available mercenary. Within a minute, he shouted a name.

"Hey, Halley. There's a customer for you."

He pointed to a man sitting at the third table—a humanoid with a ponytail and tanned skin. He wore a cropped navy jacket over a black turtleneck and was idly holding a straw in a shot glass, blowing bubbles into the alcohol.

The woman approached him and took a seat across from him. Halley lifted his gaze, observing her closely. He could see her face clearly now; it looked as if she were wearing a mask, with spirals swirling around her features and stopping in the middle to form a hole. When she spoke, the hole shifted with her voice—it was her mouth. Though her hood concealed much of her face, strands of silver hair peeked out.

"Are you available for my request?" she asked softly.

"Well, the bartender called me. I'm your guy now," Halley replied.

"How much is your payment?"

"5,000 Antz, minimum."

"5,000!? You're robbing me!"

"Depends on the job, sweetie. What do you want?"

"I want you to steal an artifact for the sake of my village."

"From your village head?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"No, from the colonizers.

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The woman asked Halley to come with her to her home at the countryside, far away from the metropolis city. When they arrived, he was greeted by the desperate state of the village. The land was parched, and Halley felt as though he had stepped into an unrelenting summer. If he could describe the village in a single color, it would be yellow—the pale sky, stained by three unyielding suns, and the golden sand stretching endlessly beneath them.

The villagers looked haggard and dust-covered. They toiled relentlessly, digging for treasure, scraping together whatever resources they could—gold, diamonds, anything they could offer the colonizers. Some had already collapsed, lifeless bodies scattered on the ground. Others were little more than rotting corpses, ignored by the living, who continued working as if death were a familiar companion.

"It's gotten worse since the new government took control," the woman said quietly. "They turned our green lands into a wasteland."

"There was once greenery here?" Halley asked, his gaze lingering on the remains of dehydrated trees and grass, now buried beneath layers of sand and withered to nothing.