Chapter 1: Kindred Outcasts

On the edge of the Chromatic Prison, in the slums where refracted light pierced through shattered stellar debris, rainbow patches danced across the ground in beautiful, broken patterns. This was where the forgotten gathered—those abandoned by the main districts of the Prism Cosmos. Here lived the ordinary people who couldn't afford spectrum identification devices and lacked natural broad-spectrum vision, scraping out harsh existences on the fringes of this chaotic wasteland where magnetic fields ran wild and energy was scarce.

The air reeked of corroded metal and an indescribable stench of decay. Ramshackle buildings cobbled together from salvaged ship wreckage and industrial waste stretched as far as the eye could see, their walls stained with mold and water damage—silent witnesses to this community's years of desperation. Distant quarrels echoed across the wasteland, nothing unusual here where the weak struck out at the weaker still. Such was the law of survival at the bottom.

Raven crouched behind a pile of discarded aircraft parts, clutching a rusted metal rod she'd just pried loose. Though practically useless, in this dangerous place anything that might serve as a weapon held value. Her attention was drawn to the sounds of conflict nearby.

"Look at this freak! Face all mangled up and still dares to come out and scare people!"

"Monsters should get out of the slums! This place is cursed enough without your bad luck!"

Four older teenagers formed a circle around a frail boy. The child looked no more than ten, thin as a reed, but he clutched desperately at the black scarf around his neck, enduring the rain of fists and feet rather than let go. The scarf was old, its edges badly frayed, yet it had been washed clean and stood out as precious in this filthy environment.

She could sense how important that piece of cloth was to the boy. Not through any supernatural perception, but because growing up on the slum's edge, she'd witnessed countless scenes of people fighting to the death over scraps of food or salvage. She knew that in this place of nothing, anything worth cherishing would be defended with one's life.

"Please don't touch my scarf..." The boy's voice trembled but remained resolute. "It's all I have left of my mother..."

"Your mother? Ha! A monster's mother must be a monster too!" The lead bully grabbed a corner of the scarf and yanked hard.

That's when Raven stood up.

"Enough."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the chaotic environment and reached every ear clearly. The four bullies turned, and the moment they saw her, they froze.

Raven was sixteen, nearly as tall as a grown woman, her graceful figure striking in this place where malnutrition was the norm. But most memorable were her silver-white hair and heterochromatic eyes—left eye crimson, right eye golden, reflecting some mysterious radiance in the light.

"It's... it's that freak-eyed girl..."

"They say anyone who looks into her eyes gets cursed..."

All manner of rumors circulated through the slums. Some claimed she was the product of genetic experiments, others that she was alien spawn, still others that she could foresee death. Most of these tales were nonsense, but in this place lacking scientific education, ignorance and fear spread faster than truth.

"Run!"

The bullies scattered quickly, leaving Raven with the boy curled up on the ground. She approached and extended her hand.

"Can you stand?"

The boy looked up, revealing a face severely burned on one side. From his left cheek to his chin, grotesque scar tissue had replaced what might once have been pleasant features. But his eyes were clear, holding no hatred or despair—only a calm that seemed beyond his years.

His composure surprised Raven. Children who grew up in this place usually carried wariness and fear in their eyes. Few could maintain such tranquility after being bullied.

"Thank you..." The boy carefully stood, readjusted his scarf, and brushed the dust from his clothes. "I'm Carlos."

"Raven."

When Carlos saw her heterochromatic eyes, he didn't recoil or show fear like the others. This intrigued Raven—in her memory, no one had ever gazed so calmly into her eyes.

"You're special too," Carlos offered a shy smile, his voice carrying an understanding born of shared suffering. "We're the same."

Those words impressed Raven more than any thanks could have. In this place where everyone struggled just to survive, "understanding" was a luxury.

"Your face... what happened?" Raven asked directly.

"An accident five years ago." Carlos's hand unconsciously touched his scarf. "A scrapped aircraft exploded. The scalding liquid inside splashed on my face. I've been the local 'monster' ever since."

Raven nodded. In this place filled with dangerous equipment and toxic substances, all kinds of accidental injuries were common. Carlos's wounds were just another testament to this cruel world's reality.

Over the following weeks, the two were often seen together throughout the slums. Their friendship seemed strange to outsiders—a girl with mysterious heterochromatic eyes and a disfigured boy, both outcasts marginalized by society.

Two children abandoned by the world had found each other in the depths of the wasteland.

During an afternoon when they shared their meager food, Carlos told her about his past in detail. His mother had been an assembly worker, laboring in harsh factory conditions for over a decade before dying of lung disease. On her deathbed, she'd left him this scarf—hand-knitted with all her love and blessings woven into every thread.

Carlos gently stroked the scarf, his voice soft: "Mom said it would protect me."

Raven listened quietly, feeling an emotion she'd never experienced before. An orphan from birth, she'd never known what family love felt like. Watching the tenderness in Carlos's eyes when he spoke of his mother, she understood for the first time why some things were worth defending with one's life.

"What about your eyes?" Carlos asked. "I've always wanted to ask, but I was worried you'd mind. They're special."

This was the first time Raven had heard someone describe her eyes as "special" rather than "terrifying" or "eerie."

"Born this way," she answered simply. "I can see things others can't. Those chromatic traps are crystal clear to me."

She didn't elaborate on her abilities, but Carlos's reaction surprised her.

"Then you're the best guide here!" Carlos's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Raven, do you know what this means?"

"What does it mean?"

"We could search for Igniscale Stones!"

Raven frowned. Igniscale Stones were the most precious and dangerous treasures of the Chromatic Prison. Those multifaceted crystal clusters held flowing liquid rainbow light within them, worth fortunes in the outer ring markets. A fist-sized Igniscale Stone could fund a decade of comfortable living in a mid-tier city. But the price of obtaining them was often life itself.

"Too dangerous," Raven shook her head. "Those clusters are usually hidden in the deepest parts of the spectrum maze. Even if we found them, we might not survive to bring them out. Moreover, Igniscale Stones generate intense psychic interference, causing hallucinations. Many experienced scavengers have died seeking treasure."

She'd seen too many such examples. Adventurers driven by greed entered the spectrum maze with the most advanced equipment, never to return.

"But if we succeeded, we could leave this place." Carlos looked at her earnestly, his eyes burning with determination. "Raven, you're the first friend I've ever had, and the only person who doesn't despise me. Things are already like this anyway—why not try to change something?"

This unreserved trust gave Raven an unprecedented sense of responsibility. On this wasteland edge where everyone feared for themselves, someone was willing to entrust their life to her.

She studied Carlos's expression carefully. Though young, his eyes held a resolve beyond his years. This wasn't youthful impulse, but a choice made after careful consideration.

"You really want to risk this?" Raven finally asked.

"I've lost all my family, and there's nothing in this world worth staying for." Carlos's voice was soft but unusually firm.

These words deeply moved Raven. She saw in Carlos's eyes the same thing she carried—dissatisfaction with the status quo, yearning for freedom, and determination to change fate.

"Alright." She nodded slowly. "But we must prepare thoroughly. We need food, water, basic excavation tools, and we need to study the spectrum maze's terrain. Once we enter the maze, no matter what you see, stay close to me."

"I understand." Carlos nodded vigorously. "I'll prepare everything."

Over the next few days, they began preparing for the adventure. With their meager savings, they bought basic food and water, and found a rusty but reasonably sharp excavation tool. Raven observed around the spectrum maze, mapping routes.

"Here's the entrance," she pointed to a crude hand-drawn map. "The first kilometer or so is relatively safe, but the deeper we go, the denser the illusions become. The Igniscale Stone veins should be at this central location."

She marked a point on the map, surrounded by a complex spectrum maze.

"Looks pretty far." Carlos studied the map seriously.

"It's not just the distance." Raven's expression was grave. "There are many collapsed areas along this route. One wrong step could kill us. And the Igniscale Stones themselves create psychic interference that will affect my judgment. The closer we get to the veins, the less reliable my abilities become."

"Ah, so do we still have hope?"

"Yes. But we'll need luck, courage, and absolute trust. Are you certain you can do it?"

"I'm certain." Carlos didn't hesitate.

Just as they were finalizing their plans, abnormal rainbow light blazed from deep within the spectrum maze, shooting toward the sky. That radiance was more brilliant than usual.

"What's that?" Carlos pointed at the distant light.

Raven frowned, staring intently at the radiance. With her special vision, she could tell this wasn't normal spectral refraction, but some deeper energy fluctuation.

"I'm not sure," she said slowly, "but I think this might be an opportunity. The Igniscale Stone veins seem more active than usual."

"Is it a good omen?" Carlos asked.

Raven didn't answer. She felt something wrong about that light, though she couldn't pinpoint what. Instinct told her this radiance would completely change her and Carlos's fate—she just didn't know whether that change would be for better or worse.

In the deep of night, Raven stood alone at the slums' highest point, gazing at the distant spectrum maze. That abnormal rainbow light still flickered, as if extending some silent invitation.