Upgrade Unlocked
The moment the Scrap Hammer materialized in Luis's grip, he nearly dropped it.
It looked crude—rough edges, barely refined—but it felt right. Light, balanced, alive. The metal gave off a low hum, the echo of the 2,000 Souls poured into its creation. He swung it once.
WHOOSH.
The air split around it.
"Damn," Luis muttered, the grin creeping in before he could stop it. He began shadowboxing across the apartment like a madman, slicing the air in smooth arcs. Every swing felt natural, the +10% swing mobility making it feel like a part of him. The +5% movement boost helped too—his footwork had bite now.
Zyx hovered above the coffee table with a slow clap. "Congrats. You've officially evolved from wrench peasant… to hammer peasant."
Luis ignored him. For the first time in days, he felt like he could win.
Back Into the Woods
The forest greeted them with silence—not the peaceful kind. The wrong kind.
Luis had barely stepped past the treeline when he saw them—boot prints, crisp and fresh. Not monsters. Human.
His grip tightened on the hammer.
"Hosts," Zyx whispered, voice low. "And not the baby kind."
Luis crouched, weaving silently through the underbrush, until the sound of combat broke the hush.
In a clearing, a woman in a modified police uniform danced with a katana—each stroke elegant, deadly. Her blade tore through a Thornback Boar (Lv. 6) like it was paper. Samurai class, without a doubt.
Two others flanked her:
A man in tactical gear, rifle steady (Hunter).
A younger woman with glowing hands, focused and calm (Medic).
Their jackets bore an unfamiliar patch: GFH – Government Force of Hosts.
"Shit," Luis breathed.
He turned to leave—
CRACK.
A branch. Underfoot.
All three heads turned.
"Run," Zyx hissed.
Luis bolted.
Branches slapped his face. The Scrap Hammer's speed bonus carried him faster than he'd ever moved—but not fast enough.
THWIP.
A sticky web-like projectile zipped past him, missing by inches.
"Keep running!" Zyx barked.
But the second shot didn't miss.
Luis's legs locked together mid-stride, a glowing net binding them. He crashed into the dirt, rolled hard, and barely raised his hammer—
A katana met his throat.
"Move," the woman said calmly, "and I take your head off."
Interrogation
The Medic knelt beside him, scanning with glowing hands. "Alone. No guild insignia."
The Hunter kept his aim level. "You Crimson Blades? Free Host Coalition?"
Luis blinked. "The what?"
The Samurai narrowed her eyes. "You don't know about the guilds?"
"I've been… busy," he said, still winded.
The three exchanged glances. The Samurai lowered her blade—but only slightly.
"The city's splitting into factions," she said. "Guilds are popping up everywhere. Some want control. Some want to survive. The GFH is the government's cleanup crew."
The Hunter scoffed. "Control freaks pretending it's order."
Luis slowly sat up. "So… you recruiting?"
The Medic snorted. "Not you. You're too weak."
"Hey!"
The Samurai's gaze stayed sharp. "Class?"
Luis hesitated. "Engineer."
The Hunter groaned. "Figures."
"But he's alive," the Medic said, curious. "No team. No backup. That counts."
The Samurai seemed to agree. After a moment, she snapped her fingers. The web dissolved.
Luis scrambled upright, wary.
"Names?" she asked.
"Luis. My god's Zyx."
The woman nodded. "Aya. Samurai. Patron: Ryujin, Blade Tempest."
"Jax," the man said. "Hunter. Vexis, the Iron Sight."
"Mira," the Medic added. "Serving Aesonia, the Lifebind."
Luis gave a weak thumbs up. "Cool. Uh… see you never?"
Aya smirked. "Run fast, Engineer. Crafters don't last long in guild wars."
Luis was already halfway gone.