Selling scrap metal was a very, and I mean very profitable business. Since the last remaining iron mine ran out of ore a few years back, the price of steel skyrocketed.

  Nowadays, the only way to get more steel was through recycling so that ugly mess of distorted pipes and warped cogs I managed to amass was more valuable than any ordinary E-rank carcass could ever hope to be.

  The notion that I could once again be rolling in the sweet, sweet cash made me giddy with excitement. That said, I couldn’t just start bringing heaps of precious metal into the Outskirts market out of nowhere—that would only invite trouble.

  Should I sell just a little and then wait until the situation settles before selling more? I briefly considered this but then quickly discarded the idea as it would be too cumbersome to execute while also having to constantly throw off Rowan’s snoopers at the same time.

  No, If I wanted to pull this off, my only chance would be to gain access to the Smelters, which were located deep within the confines of the craftsman’s district on the seventh floor.

  It was where all the Shelter’s metal converged, so a bit more could easily disappear within, and nobody would be any wiser. Still, the real problem was how to get there.

  Ever since the war between the Sentinels and Reavers broke out, checkpoints have been set up everywhere along the main staircase, especially in front of the entrances to the respective floors.

  Technically, we slum rats weren't forbidden from entering the upper floors, but in reality, it often required bribing the guards so as not to cause us any trouble.

  But since I was currently out of money, trying to talk my way in was out of the question. I had no intention of getting detained for "inspection" in case some greedy bastard took offense at my momentary lack of funds.

  Besides, most of the local guards were deep within Rowan’s pocket, so he would know right away what I was up to.

  Wait... maybe I could go through there. At that very moment, a certain crazy idea popped into my head—I could use the service tunnels under the Generator to bypass the checkpoints!

  As kids, we often sneaked in there, although it was forbidden, and I still remember a few access points close by.

  The Shelter had eight floors in total, and apparently, even more were planned but never completed. For example, the Outskirts—or the slums, as the citizens used to call them—were located in the ruins of the half-completed ninth floor.

  Whilst the Generator itself was located on the eighth floor, the service shafts extended from the seventh all the way to the ninth floor.

  Nowadays, nobody ever goes there unless they absolutely have to because that place was positively crawling with rats, and I mean the ugly, mutated kind of rats.

  Still, beggars can’t be choosers. I reminded myself. After all, I have recently dealt with plenty of rats down in the Ratways, so what difference would a few more make?

  Forcing a smile, I ensured my hood was lowered deep before I went out to locate one of the hidden entry points in the more abandoned part of the Outskirts.

  With the course of action set, there was no time to waste. There it is! Removing the rusty cover, I took one last deep breath before carefully squeezing inside while listening for any suspicious sounds.

  So hot... The scorching air hit me like a drunk's fist. I forgot how hot it could get here—all the more reason to get moving. Grimacing, I adjusted my backpack on my shoulder, which was easier said than done, as I began the painfully slow ascent up through the awfully narrow shafts.

  The closer I got to the Generator, the hotter it got. At this point, the walls around me were literally shaking. I looked up with a slight trepidation as I realized I must be right beneath the hellish machine. I gulped, painfully aware that if there was a leak, the steam would melt me long before any rat could eat my sorry corpse.

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  Right about now, I was beginning to second-guess my ill-fated decision to crawl through here. Still, I have no other choice if I want to keep my business secret. I reminded myself.

  With that, I urged my sore limbs to keep going, eager to have this overly unpleasant stroll over with. So far, so good. I sighed with relief. I could hear the rats scurrying somewhere above, but having previously discovered they were attracted by light, there was a simple solution to this problem—stay in the dark.

  Luckily, the shafts were narrow, and I remembered them well, so I could navigate their tight confines just fine. Soon, I stood before a series of rusty ladders leading to the upper floor. This was as far as I ever went during our outings. From then on, I had to continue on blind—quite literary.

  Despite my class significantly improving my eyesight, it was still useless in a pitch-black darkness. However, there was nowhere to go but up, so clenching my teeth, I placed my hand on the closest rung and began climbing.

  The ladder creaked and groaned as I slowly made my way up, sweat pouring down my face. The oppressive heat wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket.

  I paused to wipe my brow with a grimy sleeve, my breaths coming in short gasps. How much further? The darkness pressed in from all sides, broken only by the tiny flickers of light coming through the occasional crack in the walls.

  Just when I thought the ladder would never end, my head suddenly bumped into something solid. Cursing, I tentatively reached up with my fingers and, to my delight, felt the rugged surface of a metal hatch.

  This must be it! The entry point to the seventh floor. I eagerly tugged at it, but sadly, the hatch didn’t budge. …Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

  Down in the Outskirts, keeping a regular maintenance schedule was among the last of people’s concerns. So, nobody cared whether or not all the various service hatches and covers were properly secured. But out here, it was a different story.

  I groped around the edges of the small hatch, trying to find some latch or handle. There! Luckily, this was the type designed to be opened both ways, so I soon felt a small lever poking at my outstretched hand.

  With great difficulty, I somehow managed to turn it, scrunching my face as I felt flakes of rust falling past my face. Then, I took a deep breath, braced my shoulder against the hot metal, and pressed with all my might. Ugh, come on!

  Nothing… The hatch groaned but didn't budge - it seemed to be sealed tight. Damn it! Now what? At this point, I couldn't just turn around and go back empty-handed, not after coming this far.

  So I simply tried again and again, pushing with every bit of my now much-improved strength until finally, with a loud crack, the damned hatch relented.

  I froze, straining my ears for any suspicious sounds coming from the other side, afraid that the noise would draw someone’s attention. But to my delight, I heard nothing but the distant hum of machinery.

  Sighing with relief, I slowly pushed the hatch open. It resisted at first, its rusted hinges loudly protesting, but then it finally gave way and, with a soft creak, allowed itself to be lifted while showering me with even more rust than before.

  I poked my head out, blinking from the sudden influx of overly bright light coming from above. Ah! They have that wonder called electricity up here. I wistfully reminded myself.

  It looked like I was in some maintenance room with pipes and wires snaking along the high ceiling. Yet, most importantly, it was empty. Grinning, I crawled out of the narrow hatch, carefully closing it behind me so as not to leave behind any evidence of my clandestine activities. So what now?

  I knew that the smelters were located directly above the Generator, utilizing its excess heat to function, so I figured I must be somewhat close to them already. Yet, at the same time, this was only my second time in the craftsman’s district, and during my last visit, I never went so far in.

  I also didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention by asking around. Since that could easily get me detained with a charge of being a Sentinels’ spy. Well, I guess I’ll have to wing it somehow.

  With that, I cautiously exited the small room, emerging into what looked like a busy street tightly packed with various shops and apartments. I didn’t recognize this place at all, but as I looked ahead, I couldn’t help but smile.

  In the distance, I saw a steady stream of billowing smoke that was conveniently taken out by a series of massive pipes toward the surface, where the thick plumes of grey smoke were subsequently vented, adding to the already hazy, poisoned sky. The Smelters!

  It turned out I didn’t have to worry about getting lost after all. Thus, humming a lively tune, I quickly set out in their direction.