The sun barely crested the horizon, a pale disc that scarcely warmed the parched earth beyond Iron Crest’s western wall. Cain and Lira had left the ruins at dawn, trudging along a dusty path flanked by thorny shrubs and broken rocks. The air smelled of ash and something sickly sweet, like rotting fruit, a reminder of the cracks lurking outside the city. Cain moved with cautious steps, his body steadier after the market’s bread and fruit, but hunger lingered, a constant gnawing in his gut. Lira led the way, her cloak fluttering in the dry wind, her ears swiveling to catch any rustle in the brush.

  The village appeared after an hour’s march, a cluster of wooden and stone huts huddled around a central well. The houses were patched with broken planks and tattered tarps, and smoke rose from makeshift chimneys, tinging the air gray. A few figures—gaunt humans, a demi-human with short horns—moved between the structures, their steps slow and wary. There were no walls here, just a splintered wooden fence that seemed more decorative than protective. Cain took it all in, his mind cataloging: Poverty. Exposure. Vulnerable to cracks.

  “Not Iron Crest,” Lira said, pausing at the village’s edge. “But it’s got the basics. Food, work, and fewer eyes than the market. If we move fast, we can eat today.”

  Cain nodded, tugging his tunic to cover his arms. “What kind of work?”

  She glanced at him, her tail tracing a slow arc. “Vermin hunting. Small monsters, like the one you saw in that alley when I found you. They’re no big deal, but they mess with crops and chickens. Pays a pittance, but it’s enough for bread.”

  Cain frowned, recalling the creature that attacked him after arriving in this world: a scaly thing the size of a small dog, with short claws and a screech still buzzing in his memory. He’d used Flesh Shaper on instinct then, stretching his fingers into clumsy claws to kill it. “And non-awakened hunt them?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

  Lira grinned, flashing sharp teeth. “If they’re smart, yeah. With a long, sharp stick and some prep, you can skewer them without getting touched. Awakened like us have it easier, but they don’t pay extra for that. One head, one copper. Two coppers, one bread. That’s how it works.”

  He processed this, his mind already spinning. Good opportunity, he thought. Not just for food, but for practice. If he could face these vermin, he could train his ability and survival instincts at the same time. “Then we hunt,” he said, straightening. “Where do we start?”

  Lira pointed to a larger hut near the well, with a nailed-up board reading “Jobs” in crooked letters. “There. Let’s go.”

  The hut’s interior smelled of sweat and stale leather. A demi-human with scales on his neck stood behind a makeshift counter, counting copper coins with thick fingers. He looked up as they entered, his reptilian eyes narrowing. “What do you want?” he growled, his voice like clashing stones.

  “Work,” Lira said, leaning on the counter with a casualness Cain knew was feigned. “Vermin hunting. How many today?”

  The man snorted, pulling a burlap sack from the floor. “Five heads. One copper each. Bring them before noon, or no pay.” He tossed the sack to Lira, who caught it effortlessly.

  Cain followed her out, the sack dangling from her hand. “Five,” he muttered. “Doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “It’s not,” she said, grabbing a wooden pole from a nearby pile. It was long, nearly two meters, with one end sharpened like a crude spear. She handed it to Cain. “For you. I use this.” She unsheathed a dagger, twirling it between her fingers. “We’re heading to the north field. That’s where they nest.”

  The north field was a patchy stretch at the village’s edge, filled with dry grass and earthen mounds that looked like burrows. The wind carried a high-pitched chitter, like nails on stone, and Cain felt a prickle at the back of his neck. Lira stopped a few meters from a mound, pointing with her dagger. “There. Check the hole. Fresh dirt means one’s inside. Hit hard and back off.”

  Cain nodded, gripping the pole with both hands. His arms shook slightly, but the weapon’s weight gave him a sense of control. He approached the mound, noting the loose soil around the hole. The chitter grew louder, and before he could overthink it, he thrust the pole down hard. The tip pierced the earth, and a screech erupted from below. The creature shot out: gray scales, tiny red eyes, short claws slashing the air. It was faster than he remembered, but not big. Cain yanked the pole back, striking again. The tip sank into the monster’s back, and with a sharp twist, he pinned it to the ground. It writhed, spitting black liquid, but stopped moving after a few seconds.

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  Lira gave a low whistle, stepping closer. “Not bad for a scrawny guy. Use more weight next time, or it’ll jump you.”

  Cain took a deep breath, pulling the pole free. The monster was dead, its body limp and oozing. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. But his mind was elsewhere. Flesh Shaper. The market food had given him energy, and this vermin was a test. “I’m going to try something,” he said, kneeling beside the corpse.

  Lira watched, curious but wary. “Again, with that? What, you going to eat it like the rat?”

  “No,” he said, setting the pole aside. “Practice.” He closed his eyes, focusing on his right hand. He visualized the skin, the collagen layers, the fractal lattice he’d imagined before. Harden, he thought, letting the tingling flow. The skin tightened, turning rough like polished stone. He held the change—ten seconds, like in the ruins—and then pushed further, testing a new limit. Pain came, a faint pinch, but he ignored it. Fifteen seconds. He exhaled, letting the skin revert. Not perfect, but longer, more stable.

  “Progress,” he muttered, flexing his hand. Then he looked at the monster. Nutrients, he thought, recalling the rat. He extended his hand over the corpse, imagining cellular breakdown, absorption. The tingling returned, and the creature’s flesh softened, a thread of energy flowing into him. It was less than with the rat—the body was smaller—but enough to ease the hunger for a moment. Nausea hit again, a reminder of the incompatibility, but he endured it.

  Lira watched, her dagger still for once. “Still creepy,” she said, but there was a hint of approval in her voice. “How long can you keep that up?”

  “Not long,” he admitted, standing. “But it’s getting better. If I keep practicing, I can control it.”

  She nodded, slicing off the monster’s head with a clean stroke and tossing it into the sack. “Then keep going. Four more, and we eat today.”

  The next hour was a cycle of hunting and practice. The second monster burst from a larger mound, faster, scratching the pole before Cain pinned it against a rock. He used Flesh Shaper again, hardening his forearm to block a swipe. The change lasted twelve seconds, and the pain was milder. The third caught him off guard from a bush, nearly biting his leg, but Lira skewered it with her dagger in a blur of speed before Cain had to react. “You owe me for this one,” she said, laughing as she severed its head.

  The fourth was easier: Cain lured it by stomping the ground and speared it mid-leap. He tried reinforcing a muscle this time, his bicep, imagining spiraled fibers. The change was clumsy, lasting only five seconds before pain forced him to stop, but the strike with the pole had more force. The fifth they took down together: Lira cornered it with her speed, and Cain finished it from behind, hardening his skin for fifteen seconds to avoid a scratch.

  When they finished, the sack was full, and Cain was panting, covered in sweat and dust. The vermin were weak, but each fight was a lesson: how to move, how to strike, how to use his ability without collapsing. The energy siphoned from the monsters sustained him, though the nausea lingered, a price for forcing his body with alien flesh.

  Lira tied the sack, eyeing him with a mix of amusement and respect. “You’re not as dead as I thought,” she said, cleaning her dagger on the grass. “Those things are no big deal, but you handled them well.”

  “No choice,” he replied, leaning on the pole. “If I don’t get better, I won’t survive.”

  She studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Let’s get paid. Five coppers, two breads. Not a fortune, but it’s something.”

  They returned to the demi-human’s hut, where he grunted at the sack but didn’t argue. He counted out five dull copper coins and slid them across the counter. Lira took them, and minutes later, they stood before a bread vendor, a wiry man with a scruffy beard. Two coppers bought two small, hard but fresh loaves, and Cain felt an almost physical relief holding one.

  They sat in a village corner, under a hut’s shadow, eating in silence for a while. The bread was plain, but each bite was a victory. Cain looked at Lira, who chewed calmly, her tail swaying slowly. “Thanks,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “For the dagger. That third one almost had me.”

  She shrugged, swallowing a piece. “Wasn’t going to let vermin eat you. You’re useful, after all.” She grinned, a small but real gesture. “Besides, you’re not half bad with that stick. Keep practicing, and you might survive a week.”

  Cain laughed, a dry but genuine sound. “That’s the plan.” He finished the bread, feeling a clarity he hadn’t had in days. The vermin were a small threat, but also a tool. Survival and power, he thought. Step by step.

  Lira stood, brushing off crumbs. “Rest a bit. Tomorrow, we hunt more. This village isn’t safe for long—cracks are close—but for today, we’re good.”

  Cain nodded, leaning against the wall. The bread filled him, and the fights had strengthened him, if only slightly. Flesh Shaper was growing, and with Lira at his side, he had a chance. For now, that was enough.