The moment the Scrap Hammer materialized in Luis's hands, he nearly dropped it from sheer surprise.
It was lighter than he expected—sleek, despite its crude appearance. The metal hummed faintly, as if charged with the 2000 Souls he'd poured into its creation. He gave it an experimental swing.
WHOOSH.
The air itself seemed to part effortlessly.
"Damn," Luis muttered, grinning. He shadowboxed around his apartment, testing its weight. Every motion felt fluid, the +10% swing mobility making it an extension of his arm. Even the +5% movement speed was noticeable—his steps felt quicker, more precise.
Zyx floated nearby, arms crossed. "Congrats. You've officially graduated from wrench peasant to hammer peasant."
Luis ignored him, too busy admiring his new weapon.
Back to the Grind
The forest was quieter this time. Too quiet.
Luis had barely stepped past the treeline when he noticed the footprints—human-sized, booted, recent. His grip tightened on the hammer.
"Hosts," Zyx whispered. "And not the helpless kind."
Luis moved like a ghost, weaving through the underbrush until the sound of battle reached him.
A woman in a modified police uniform moved like a storm, her katana cutting through a Level 6 Iron-class Thornback Boar with terrifying precision. Her movements were fluid, almost dance-like—Samurai class, no doubt.
Behind her, two others stood guard:
A man in tactical gear holding a rifle (Hunter class).
A younger woman with glowing hands, ready to mend wounds (Medic class).
Their uniforms bore a patch Luis didn't recognize: "GFH – Government Force of Hosts."
"Shit," Luis breathed.
He turned to leave—
CRACK.
A branch snapped under his foot.
All three heads snapped toward him.
"Run," Zyx hissed.
Luis bolted.
The forest blurred as Luis sprinted, the Scrap Hammer's speed boost barely enough to keep ahead. Behind him, the Hunter raised his rifle—
THWIP.
A web-like projectile shot past Luis's shoulder, sticking to a tree and expanding into a net. He dodged just in time, but the next one wasn't so easy.
"GOT YOU!" the Hunter shouted.
A sticky, glowing web wrapped around Luis's legs, sending him crashing into the dirt. He rolled, raising his hammer—
The Samurai's katana hovered at his throat.
"Move, and I take your head off," she said calmly.
The Medic crouched beside him, her hands glowing faintly. "He's alone. No guild insignia."
The Hunter kept his rifle trained on Luis. "You with the Crimson Blades? Or maybe the Free Host Coalition?"
Luis blinked. "The what?"
The Samurai narrowed her eyes. "You don't know about the guilds?"
"I've been… busy," Luis muttered.
The three exchanged glances. Then, reluctantly, the Samurai lowered her blade.
"The city's splitting into factions," she explained. "Guilds are forming—some want control, some just want survival. The GFH is the government's attempt to keep order."
The Hunter scoffed. "Order's a stretch. More like controlled chaos."
Luis slowly sat up. "And you're recruiting?"
The Medic smirked. "Not you. You're too weak."
"Hey!"
The Samurai sheathed her katana. "What's your class?"
"Engineer," Luis admitted.
The Hunter groaned. "Oh, great. A crafting class."
"But he survived this long alone," the Medic mused. "That's something."
After a tense silence, the Samurai nodded. "Let him go. He's no threat."
The web dissolved, and Luis scrambled to his feet.
"Names?" the Samurai asked.
"Luis. My god's Zyx."
"Aya. Samurai class. My patron is Ryujin, the Blade Tempest."
"Jax. Hunter. Blessed by Vexis, the Iron Sight."
"Mira. Medic. Serving under Aesonia, the Lifebind."
Luis nodded, backing away slowly. "Cool. Uh… see you never?"
Aya smirked. "Run fast, Engineer. The guild wars won't spare crafters for long."
Luis didn't need to be told twice.