Chapter 104: Even if you're a guest from 'Heaven,' you must still obey the rules of 'Hell'

"Whoa, is the vibe of Stellar Prodigy Season 2 really this dark now? The production team’s guts are impressive!"

"Rusted steel and steam weaving through a human inferno—I can feel the despair just watching from the screen."

"Season 1’s theme was destruction and rebirth. Could Season 2’s Faint Light actually be about despair and hope?"

"Hey, don’t say that—those two words do carry a faint hint of redemption, don’t they?"

Though it was just a simple bar scene, and the two named characters who appeared were entirely new faces, the Dimensional Audience could already glimpse the tip of the iceberg—Steam Capital · Lower District.

This place, known as "Hell," was truly enough to crush the soul.

【Rust Nail Bar, corner of the hall】

"Hey, Beltran, what’re you waiting for? You really gonna help us?"

Facing the merciless stares of his companions, Beltran gritted his teeth. Trembling, he grabbed five bullets from the table and dumped them all into his beer.

Plunk—

As the bullets sank into the Coal Ash Black Beer, the bubbling foam and thick, black froth rising to the surface sent a chill down Beltran’s spine. It reminded him of boiling magma in the depths of Hell.

Well, if I’m gonna die anyway…

Without hesitation, he lifted the glass and drained it in one gulp—swallowing the bullets whole.

Hmph—

A thick cloud of black smoke burst from his mouth.

It wasn’t beer he’d drunk. It was the Kong gas that haunted the underbelly of Steam Capital—what drove so many to despair.

This was the true face of Hell.

I... I'm... still alive?

Beltran patted his stomach. When he confirmed the bullets hadn’t exploded inside him, relief flooded his face.

But he didn’t notice—

As he celebrated his survival, the gang members beside him exchanged glances. Then, one by one, they smirked.

That wasn’t a smile of joy.

It was the cold, cruel grin of a hunter who’d just seen his prey walk straight into the trap.

"Woah, Beltran, lucky bastard. You actually made it through all five gates of Hell!"

"Now it’s time for you to spin the Death Roulette."

"Come on, don’t drag it out like a coward."

Beltran, convinced fate had smiled upon him, seized the revolver on the table and pressed it to his temple.

But before he could pull the trigger—

A pale, slender hand gripped the barrel.

"Stop," she said. "They never meant for you to leave this table alive."

Beltran turned, stunned.

Before him stood a mysterious girl in a silver uniform.

Though he didn’t know her name, he recognized the outfit—and the badge pinned to her chest.

"An Upper District Silver Knight?"

Hearing Beltran’s words, not only his gangmates but every patron in the bar fell silent. All eyes turned toward her.

And the bar’s owner, Old Jack, noticed.

He paused polishing the glass, his single remaining eye locking onto the girl in the corner.

"Kong, come out."

"Coming!"

In the excited anticipation of the Dimensional Audience, Chen Kong—already mid-way through replacing a keg—wiped his hands and stepped out from behind the bar.

Sensing the strange tension in the air, he glanced at the girl’s direction, then asked Old Jack:

"What’s up, boss?"

"Go help that Upper District White Eagle. Don’t let her ruin our business."

"After all, even if she’s a guest from Heaven, she still has to follow Hell’s rules."

"Otherwise… her wings—capable of soaring through the skies—might just break right here."

"Oh, got it."

Chen Kong untied his soapy apron and hung it on the rack. Then he left the bar, walking straight toward the girl.

Meanwhile, Vivian—exposed—was already in trouble.

"Hey, hey, a Silver Knight from the Upper District showing up here is one thing. But now you’re accusing us of wrongdoing?!"

"We were just playing a little game with Beltran. What’s your problem, huh? You White Eagle got a big mouth, but you’re out of place here!"

The gang members stood, eyes blazing, ready to fight.

And the other patrons? They didn’t step in.

Instead, they leaned in, grinning.

Oh, this is entertainment.

Vivian sensed the tension. But as a Silver Knight of the Gear Church, she didn’t care about these "lowly" rats of the undercity.

She said coldly, "I don’t care what you’re doing. I only know one thing—Beltran is the man I’m looking for. And he’s alive."

Without waiting for their reaction, she grabbed Beltran by the collar and yanked him toward the door.

Despite her slender frame, her grip was iron.

Even Beltran—enhanced by cybernetic implants—struggled to resist, forced to stand.

But the gang wasn’t about to let her walk away.

"Damn it, a little White Eagle thinks she can boss us around in the sewers?"

"Listen, little bitch—this is the Rust Iron District, not your clean, sunny sky. Put that damn arrogance away!"

Furious, one gangster pulled out a shotgun and leveled it at Vivian.

Others followed, drawing weapons.

The air crackled with danger.

"Excuse me, excuse me."

Just as the fight seemed inevitable, Chen Kong stepped through the crowd—right between Vivian and the gang.

His gaze swept over the tense standoff, lingering briefly on the pink children’s watch on her left wrist.

Then he turned, silent, and locked eyes with the armed gang members.

"Kevin, Hill, Philipo. Drawing weapons in Rust Nail? Don’t think being part of the Gray Rat Gang means the boss won’t deal with you."

"Remember—your boss, Gray Rat · Riccardo, was raised under my boss’s watch."

Hearing that, the three men stiffened.

But with their mission and the massive reward in mind, they bit down hard and snapped back:

"We were just playing a game. This White Eagle jumps in, accuses us without proof, and tries to drag Beltran out in front of us!"

"Kong, even if you take this to our boss, we’re right. We’re following the rules."

"Exactly," Chen Kong said flatly. "You’re the ones who broke them."

He snatched the revolver from Beltran’s hand, opened the chamber—then began removing the bullets, one by one.

One. Two. Three...

Six bullets lay on the table.

Beltran froze.

If it hadn’t been for Vivian… he’d have been dead.

This wasn’t a game.

It was a murder trap.

"Still want me to teach you the real rules of the Rust Iron District?"

Vivian stared at the open revolver. The crowd’s eyes—once curious, now sharp—watched with growing tension.

The gang members exchanged glances. Then, with gritted teeth, one spat:

"You wait. We’ll be back."

They left.

"Real troublemakers, but they’re the ones who broke the rules first. So full of themselves, the Gray Rat Gang."

Chen Kong didn’t flinch.

He’d seen this kind of nonsense a thousand times in his years in Steam Capital.

If threats like that could scare him, he wouldn’t be the Stellar Prodigy.

He’d just be another nameless corpse in some sewer gutter.

To survive in Hell… you need more than luck.

But after settling the gang, Chen Kong turned to Vivian and Beltran.

"Come on. This place isn’t safe for talking."

Vivian hesitated, then nodded.

She grabbed Beltran and followed.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end