Standing under the icy spray from the broken water main, Haider scrubbed vigorously at the dark, viscous film coating his skin. As the foul-smelling impurities sluiced away, the changes beneath became startlingly clear. His skin, once ordinary, now had a subtle, healthy *luminosity*, like polished stone under a thin layer of water. Running his fingers over his forearm, it felt incredibly smooth, yet when he pressed the tip of his borrowed machete against it experimentally, it met surprising resistance – yielding slightly but refusing to pierce. It was tougher, more resilient. Internally, the feeling was profound. The wellspring of Spirit Energy within him felt vast, deep, and calm, a significant expansion from the turbulent stream he'd known before. Testing his perception, he closed his eyes and focused. The world bloomed in his mind – he could sense Malik's restless pacing eight meters away near the carcass, feel the minute vibrations of Mahin wringing out his shirt ten meters down the alley, even discern the sluggish, cold energy signatures of distant jombies shambling beyond the immediate block. His thoughts flowed with unprecedented clarity; plans, risks, and possibilities aligned with cold precision. His body felt simultaneously denser with power and unnervingly light, as if gravity had lessened its grip just for him. He'd ascended significantly on the path of Body Tempering.
Emerging clean, Haider gestured for Mahin to take his turn under the makeshift shower. Malik, sweating and frustrated, was trying to skin the massive mutant dog with his machete. "Skin's like cured leather wrapped around steel cable," he grunted, the blade barely making a dent. "Blunt as a spoon now."
Haider assessed the carcass. "Forget skinning here. We take it whole. The camp will have tools, and they'll want to see the source." He crouched, gripped the beast's massive forelegs, and lifted. The 500+ pound weight, which would have been impossible hours before, now felt manageable, like hoisting a heavy sack of grain. He settled the carcass across his broadened shoulders, the thick fur rough against his newly toughened skin. "Malik, Mahin, watch our flanks. Let's move."
**The Return & The Commotion:**
Trekking back towards the highway refugee column with Haider carrying the monstrous beast was like walking with a magnet for stares. Whispers rippled through the exhausted crowd: "*Shaitan-er kukur!*" (Devil's dog!), "*Dekho! Oi lash ta!*" (Look at that carcass!), "*Ora kineche?!*" (How did they kill that?!). People pressed back, creating a wider path, their expressions a mix of awe, fear, and desperate hope. The sheer spectacle of the kill confirmed the rumors of monstrous threats and the existence of those strong enough to face them.
Reaching the recruitment tent, the same young woman's eyes widened comically. "You... you actually *brought* it?" She quickly directed them to an open-sided supply tent nearby. Haider lowered the carcass with a heavy thud that drew more onlookers, including curious soldiers.
"Mission accomplished," Haider stated, unshouldering their packs heavy with antibiotics, painkillers, and antiseptics. "We cleared two pharmacies. And we brought the hunter."
The girl quickly verified the medical supplies, relief evident. "Excellent. This is desperately needed." Then, nodding at the beast, her voice dropped, tinged with excitement. "You probably don't know the full value of *this*. Mutant beast meat... it's not just edible. It's *potent*." She leaned closer conspiratorially. "For ordinary people? Eating enough of it significantly increases the chance of Awakening. It kickstarts the body's adaptation to Spirit Energy. For those already Awakened?" She gestured at Haider and Mahin. "It directly nourishes your core, strengthens your body further, replenishes and expands your energy reserves. The demand is astronomical. The military, research teams, wealthy refugees... they'll pay top value."
The trio quickly conferred. Preserving that much meat without refrigeration was impossible. "Sell most of it," Haider decided. "Keep enough for ourselves for a few meals. We take the payment partly in high-value food coupons, the rest... we need better tools."
The girl nodded. "The medical supplies earn you the double rations voucher plus a basic gear voucher. The beast meat... that's a separate, substantial trade. What do you need? Firearms?"
Haider shook his head. "We saw how little effect bullets had on that crimson boar and the hide of this thing. Loud, attract hordes, ineffective against the real threats. We need cold weapons. High quality. Durable. Things that can channel strength."
The recruiter girl sighed slightly. "Wise, but limiting. There *are* rumors... scientists believe ancient artifacts, weapons imbued with history or legend, might be passively absorbing Spirit Energy, becoming more than just metal. But finding those? Pure luck. We don't have anything like that *here*." She gestured towards a larger, heavily guarded tent nearby, emitting the clang of metal. "Sergeant Das handles the armory. He'll show you what we have for trade."
**The Armory & The Exchange:**
Inside the armory tent, the air smelled of oil and steel. A portly sergeant with keen eyes (Sergeant Das) looked up from an inventory list, eyeing the trio, then the massive carcass being discussed by his subordinates outside. He appraised them, lingering on Haider's calm intensity and Mahin's unnatural stillness.
"Recruiter sent you? Vouchers?" Das asked gruffly. Haider presented the food coupons, the gear voucher, and explained the beast meat trade value assigned by the recruiter. Das grunted, then led them to racks holding an array of blades, poles, and blunt instruments – clearly salvaged, repaired, or mass-produced recently.
"Pick carefully. No refunds," Das stated.
Haider moved methodically, hefting axes. He rejected several as too light or poorly balanced. Finally, he found one: a heavy, double-bit fire axe, its head reforged and sharpened to a wicked gleam, the haft replaced with solid, dense ironwood. It felt brutal, solid, capable of cleaving bone and thick hide. *This will channel my strength.*
Malik, drawn to practicality, chose a sturdy, slightly curved machete-sword hybrid, almost a cutlass, with a thick spine and a sharp edge – good for hacking and thrusting. Mahin surprised them. Instead of another cleaver, he selected a straight, double-edged short sword, about two feet long, with a simple crossguard. It was light, balanced, and felt precise. "Easier to use with my other hand free for ice," he explained quietly. Sergeant Das noted their choices and deducted the value from their meat credit and vouchers.
**The Nourishment and the Watchful Rest:**
With their new weapons secured and extra food coupons in hand, they headed for the communal soup lines. Tonight, however, they had their own feast. Using part of their rations voucher, they secured cooking space and boiled a large pot of the mutant dog meat with scavenged wild onions and salt. The aroma was rich, gamey, and strangely invigorating.
As they ate, the effect was immediate. A subtle warmth spread through them, deeper and more energizing than regular food. For Haider, it felt like cool water trickling into his vast internal reservoir, a small but noticeable top-up. For Mahin, the warmth seemed to soothe the residual ache in his hands from using his ice power, the energy subtly reinforcing his core. But the most dramatic effect was on Malik. He ate ravenously, color rising to his cheeks. "It's... hot," he mumbled between bites, flexing his hands. "Not spicy hot... like... energy hot. I feel... stronger? Like after a really good workout, but instantly." He experimentally gripped his new sword hilt, feeling the difference. Mahin nodded, sensing the faint, healthy energy signature radiating from his brother, a sign the meat was indeed working its subtle magic on his potential.
Sated and energized, they toured the sprawling, makeshift refugee city under the smoke-hazed twilight. Tents stretched endlessly. Makeshift clinics overflowed. Soldiers patrolled nervously. The air thrummed with exhaustion, fear, and the fragile hope of reaching Chandpur. They saw Awakened individuals occasionally – a man moving crates with impossible ease, a woman with eyes glowing faintly as she scanned the perimeter. The hierarchy was becoming visible.
Finally, exhaustion, both physical and emotional, caught up. They found a relatively quiet spot near their registered recruitment tent, rolled out scavenged blankets, and set a watch rotation. Haider took first watch, leaning against a pile of crates, his new axe across his lap, his enhanced perception sweeping the 8-meter radius around them. He watched the sea of humanity, the distant glow of Chandpur promising sanctuary, and the darker shapes moving beyond the camp's flickering lights – reminders that the journey was far from over. He had better tools, a stronger body, capable allies, and a clearer path. But the weight of finding his family and the sheer scale of the mutated world pressed down. He closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to feel the smooth flow of Spirit Energy within him, a river of power in the darkness, ready for the trials ahead.