Chapter 1: The Rebirth and the Reject (Part 2 )
Splat.
The upper half of the Red-Eye Direwolf vanished into a mist of red vapor. The remaining legs wobbled for a second before collapsing into the dirt.
Ren stood over the corpse, his fist still smoking. He wasn't horrified this time; he was fascinated. He looked at his hand, then at the glowing blue interface in his vision.
"S.U.G.A.," Ren muttered. "Did I just... delete it?"
[Correction: You applied excessive kinetic force mixed with raw mana. The target was obliterated. However, you have wasted 60% of the harvestable resources.]
"Resources?" Ren looked at the messy lower half of the wolf. "You mean the meat?"
[Negative. I am referring to the materials. Bones, fur, sinew. You possess the Unique Skill [Synthesis]. You are an Engineer of Matter. To leave raw materials unused is... inefficient.]
Ren felt a spark of interest. In his old life, he loved taking things apart and putting them back together—computers, engines, toasters. If this world had magic that let him do that instantly...
"Show me," Ren said.
He knelt by the wolf's remains. He placed his hand on the blood-stained fur.
[Activate Skill: Synthesis? Target: Direwolf Pelt + Tattered Rags.]
"Activate."
A web of purple geometric lines shot from Ren's fingers. It didn't look like mystical fairy dust; it looked like a 3D printer scanning in overdrive. The wolf's fur unraveled, cleaned itself of blood, and wove itself into Ren's potato-sack clothes. The broken ribs of the wolf snapped and fused.
In seconds, Ren was no longer wearing rags. He was wearing a sturdy, fur-lined leather trench coat with bone-reinforced shoulder pads. It was crude, but it was warm.
"Whoa," Ren spun around, admiring the coat. "I made this in ten seconds? I could... I could build anything."
[Observation: Your fashion sense has upgraded from 'Homeless' to 'Savage Warlord'. Charisma increased slightly.]
"I'll take the compliment. Now, let's find civilization."
Ren walked for hours, but he didn't find a town. Instead, he found out why this place was called the "Gray Lands."
It wasn't a forest; it was a graveyard.
As he walked, S.U.G.A. highlighted objects half-buried in the dirt. Rusted swords from human knights. Shattered breastplates from demon soldiers. Broken carriage wheels. This entire region was a massive garbage dump where the Human Kingdom and the Demon Realm threw their trash and fought their proxy wars.
"No wonder no one lives here," Ren kicked a rusty helmet. "It's a wasteland."
[Alert. Biological Lifeforms detected. Distance: 300 meters. Structure analysis: Scavenger Camp.]
"Scavengers?" Ren perked up. "People?"
He crept forward, hiding behind a pile of rubble. He looked down into a small ravine.
It wasn't a village. It was a tragedy.
About a dozen small, green-skinned creatures—Goblins—were digging through a trash heap. They weren't fighting; they were desperate. One goblin was gnawing on a leather boot trying to eat it. Another was trying to sharpen a piece of rusted scrap metal to use as a knife.
They looked sick. Their skin was greyish-green, patches of it peeling off.
"Goblins," Ren whispered. "In games, these guys are the first enemies you kill."
[Analysis: Subject Group 'Goblins'. Status: Malnourished. Poisoned by heavy metal exposure from scavenging. Threat Level: None. They are dying, Host.]
Ren watched as an old goblin (Mogs) limped over to a younger one, handing him a dead rat he had found. The younger one tried to refuse, but the elder forced him to eat.
Ren felt a heavy weight in his chest. He remembered his own life—working alone in a cubicle, eating instant noodles, feeling like a cog in a machine that didn't care if he broke.
"They're just trying to survive," Ren whispered.
CRASH.
The ground shook. The goblins screamed and scrambled back, dropping their scrap metal.
Emerging from the treeline wasn't a hero, but a monster. A Giant Boar, its hide covered in iron-like scales, charged into the ravine. It wasn't hunting for food; it was hunting for sport.
"Reeeeee!" The goblins panicked, tripping over each other.
The Elder Goblin, Mogs, stood his ground. He held up a pathetic, rusted dagger. He was shaking, his knees knocking together, but he stood between the monster and the young ones.
The Boar snorted, pawing the ground. It was going to trample him flat.
"S.U.G.A.," Ren stood up from his hiding spot.
[Yes, Host?]
"That Boar. It has Iron Scales, right?"
[Affirmative. High-quality organic metal.]
"And those goblins... they're broken. They need fixing."
Ren didn't just see a monster and victims. He saw Raw Materials and a Project.
"Let's go to work."
Ren didn't run down the hill; he jumped. He cleared the thirty-foot drop, his new wolf-fur coat flapping in the wind.
The Boar charged at the Old Goblin. Mogs closed his eyes, accepting his death.
BOOM!
The impact didn't hit Mogs.
Mogs opened one eye. Standing in front of him, stopping the charging Boar with a single hand pressed against its snout, was a figure with curved black horns and glowing purple eyes.
The stranger didn't look like a hero. He looked like a Demon Lord.
Ren smiled, but it was a cold, calculated smile. He looked at the Boar not with anger, but with hunger.
"Nice scales," Ren said. "I'll be taking those."
[Skill Activated: Synthesis (Deconstruction Mode).]
Purple light exploded from Ren's palm. The Boar didn't even have time to squeal. The moment Ren's mana touched it, the Boar's armor—the iron scales—ripped loose from its body, floating into the air like magnetized coins.
Ren clenched his fist. "Sit. Down."
He slammed his other fist into the unarmored snout of the beast. The Boar crumpled instantly, knocked unconscious.
Ren stood amidst the floating iron scales, looking back at the terrified goblins.
"Hey," Ren said casually, pointing to the mountain of unconscious meat. "I'm looking for employees. The pay is food. Interested?"
End of Chapter 1