Thursday morning. Ren stood in front of Guild Tanah's iron door. The clock read six thirty. Brek had said come before the sun was up.
The door opened. Inside, Brek was already at the same desk with a cigarette in hand.
"You came," Brek said.
"Yeah."
"Follow me."
---
The guild warehouse sat behind the main room. Another iron door, larger, with two rusted hinges.
Brek pushed it. The door opened with a heavy groan.
The warehouse was wide, about twice the size of Ren's flat, but no windows. A fluorescent light on the ceiling flickered.
On the floor, dozens of monster carcasses lay across blue tarps.
Ren's eyes lit up. "Whoa. Actual monsters."
Brek glanced at him. "You've never seen a corpse before?"
"Not this many at once. Look at the scales on that one." Ren crouched near a basilisk carcass. "They're not uniform. The ones near the spine are smaller."
Brek stared at him. "Your job is to haul those to the expedition truck out back. One by one. Don't damage them."
Ren looked where Brek was pointing. The expedition truck was a large box vehicle, rear door open, already half filled with sacks and crates.
"How many?"
"Fifty three. But you're alone. The others aren't in yet."
Brek lit a new cigarette. "Done by twelve. If not, I dock your pay."
"Fair enough."
Brek left. The warehouse door closed.
Ren stood in the middle of the warehouse. A fly buzzed near his ear.
"Fifty three," he said to himself. "Better get started."
---
The carcass was the length of an adult forearm. Scales on the skin, grey green, with small spines running along the back.
Ren lifted it, He carried it to the truck, set it down, then went back.
---
Twenty minutes later, he had moved ten carcasses. His hands were sticky with residue.
The warehouse door opened.
A man walked in. Black jacket, short hair, square jaw. A silver guild badge on his chest, rank C.
He looked at Ren. "What are you doing?"
"Hauling."
"Hauling what?"
"Monster corpses." Ren lifted a carcass to show him. "See? Scales, spines, the whole package."
The man came closer. He looked at the carcass, then at Ren.
"You're a grunt?"
"Correct."
"A grunt working for Guild Tanah?"
"Correct again."
The man laughed once, short. "Guild Tanah still exists? Thought they'd gone under."
"They haven't. I'm standing in their warehouse."
The man shook his head. "Weird."
"Weird how? Hauling corpses is normal for a grunt."
"No. You're weird. You're smiling while holding a dead lizard."
"Huh," he said. "I guess I am."
---
The clock read eleven. Ren had moved forty three carcasses. Ten left. His hands felt like sticky and tired.
When He lifted the forty fourth carcass. Different. Smaller, lighter, not scaled.
Ren examined it. Black fur, coarse. Under the fur, a clean cut.
"Someone dissected this," Ren said to himself. "Interesting."
The warehouse door opened again. Two people, a man and a woman, regular jackets, no badges.
They looked at Ren, then at each other.
"New grunt?" the man said.
"Looks like it," the woman said.
Ren didn't look up. "New grunt. Name's Ren. Nice to meet you."
The man and woman exchanged a look. They went straight for the carcasses.
In the corner, Ren heard them whispering.
"Rank F apparently."
"What skill?"
"Synthesis or something."
"Synthesis? What's that?"
"Don't know. Sounds made up."
"Whatever. As long as he hauls."
Ren, without looking up, said: "I can show you what Synthesis does if you want. I just need two objects. Or two people. Either works."
---
Five minutes to twelve. All fifty three carcasses were in the truck.
Ren stood outside, cleaning his hands with water from a jerry can.
Brek came out and looked at the truck.
"Done?"
"Done. Fifty three. All intact."
Brek pulled money from his pocket and handed it over. "Twenty thousand. Daily grunt wage."
Ren took it.
"What time tomorrow?"
"Same. But tomorrow you haul to a different warehouse. South side."
"Same pay?"
"Same pay."
"Okay."
Ren turned. At the alley entrance, he saw the woman from yesterday. She stood in front of the guild's back door with her hands in her pocket.
They held each other's gaze for three seconds. The woman didn't smile or nod.
Ren tilted his head. "You're always there. Do you live in that corner or something?"
The woman didn't answer.
"Okay. Silent type. That's fine."
Ren walked past.
---
On the way home, Ren walked through the alley behind the old ironmonger's shop. A large tin bin, dented. Beside it, a pile of scrap metal.
"Free stuff," Ren said.
He picked out two pieces. An iron bar, slightly bent. A thin metal sheet, rusted on one side.
He put them in a plastic bag. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bone. He had found it on the warehouse floor, fallen from one of the carcasses. Brek wouldn't miss it.
"Monster bone," Ren said, turning it over. "Let's see what you can do."
He put the bone in the bag and went home.
---
The flat was dark. Ren opened the door.
Mira sat on the floor near the window, hair tangled, blanket around her shoulders.
"Ren," she said without turning.
"Yeah."
"Did you get the gift?"
"Not yet. Still working on it."
Mira turned. "Working on it?"
"Yeah. It's a project. Needs experimentation."
Mira stared at him, then turned back to the window.
Ren went to the chest near the stove. He pulled out the fever medicine and placed it on the chest.
"Take your medicine first."
Mira looked at the orange packaging. "New medicine?"
"Yeah."
"You bought it?"
"Yeah."
Mira stood, picked up the packaging with both hands. "Thank you, Ren."
Ren opened it, took out one tablet, and gave it to her. She swallowed it with water.
"Bitter," she said.
"But it heals."
Mira nodded and went back to the window.
---
Ren took the plastic bag and pulled out the iron bar, the metal sheet, and the bone. He set them on the floor.
"Metal and bone," he said. "Let's see what happens."
From the bedroom, Mira's voice: "Ren."
"Yeah."
"What are you doing now?"
"Experiment."
"With what?"
"An iron bar and a monster bone."
Mira was quiet for a moment. "Where did you get a monster bone?"
"From work."
"Is that allowed?"
Ren paused. "...Probably not."
"Ren once left the stove on for three hours."
"That was different. This is science."
Mira didn't answer.
---
Ren held the iron bar in his left hand and the bone in his right. He closed his eyes.
He squeezed.
Skill activated.
The cramp came. From his palms to his wrists, down his forearms. Pressure from inside.
The iron bar and bone began to change shape. Melting. Merging.
The cramp climbed to his shoulder. His left shoulder seized. Ren clenched his teeth.
Then the vibration stopped.
Ren opened his eyes.
In his hands was an object. Elbow to wrist in length. Irregular shape. One end pointed.
He held it. Heavier than the original iron bar.
He took a piece of old newspaper and pressed the pointed end against it. He pulled.
The paper split clean. Not torn. Split.
Ren stared at the pointed end. Didn't look sharp. But it cut.
"...Oh."
He set the object on the floor. His left hand was trembling. His left shoulder was stiff.
He opened his notebook and wrote:
Iron bar + monster bone = sharp thing. Works better than expected. Left shoulder hurts.
He set down the pencil and held his shoulder.
---
Ren looked at the blade. Then at his phone. The photo of the announcement board was still saved.
Dungeon Level 1, Zone C. Reward 500 thousand. Minimum rank D recommended.
Five hundred thousand. That was weeks of grunt work.
He looked at the blade on the floor. Then at his trembling hand. Then toward the bedroom.
From the bedroom, Mira coughed. Once. Short.
Ren stood and walked to the bedroom door. Mira was still near the window.
"Ren," she said.
"Yeah."
"Later, if you have a lot of money, what would you buy?"
"A mattress."
Mira turned. "A mattress?"
"Yeah. A soft one. So you don't have to sleep on the floor."
Mira smiled a little. "I don't mind the floor."
"But I do."
Mira blinked. "You're not the one sleeping on it."
"No. But I'm the one thinking about it."
Mira stared at him. Then she said, flat and honest: "Ren, you think too much."
She turned back to the window.
Ren stood at the doorway.
"...Okay," Ren said.
He went back to the front room, picked up the blade and put it in the drawer near the stove.
Ren lay down on the floor. Beside his head, the notebook open.
Two things hung in his mind: the left shoulder that hadn't recovered, and the dungeon mission he hadn't taken.
"Maybe," he whispered. "But I'm still going to make that blade better."