Walking to the Iron Citadel felt nothing like a relaxing path through green trees. For one thing, no grass grew here. Just endless stretches of jagged steel parts scattered everywhere. Each step forward came slow, more a crawl than any kind of calm movement. The ground itself seemed built to trip you, slice you, stop you cold.
Leading the way, Tom swung his dark daggers, slicing tangled copper strands and creeping vines apart. Behind him came Scarlett. Each step dragged, heavy and slow. The "Level Suppression" curse made her look like she was walking through deep mud, even on flat ground. She was sweating, and her face was pale.
"Are you going to make it?" Tom asked, looking back. "I don't have a wheelbarrow to carry you in."
Scarlett glared at him. Even tired and cursed, she was scary. "I am fine. I have walked through the lava fields of the Dragon Zone. I can handle a junkyard."
A foot moved forward, then caught on cold metal, worn thin by time. The bumper, half-buried and orange with decay, stopped her like a quiet warning.
Right as she stumbled forward, Tom grabbed her arm. The glass shards lay sharp below. He held tight.
"Careful," Tom said. "You're worth five hundred gold. I can't let my paycheck get scratched."
Her hand jerked back fast. The shimmering blue suit lit up as she brushed it clean. "Money's what matters most to you, right?"
Tom laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound. "I live in Sector 4, princess. In the real world, I eat paste that comes in a tube. Money isn't just money. Money is flavor. Money is a bed that doesn't smell like mildew."
Silence fell over Scarlett. She looked at him with a strange expression. Not everyone in Aetheria showed up just to pass time or chase attention. For many, it stayed pretend. Yet seeing Tom's uneven outfit, the hunger in how he grabbed each item, made it click. His moves weren't about winning. Staying alive shaped every choice. That truth settled without noise.
And he really did loot everything.
Every half minute, Tom would pause while they kept moving.
A glint of metal caught his eye. Tom reached down, fingers brushing dirt aside.
"Ooh, a bolt," Tom said, picking up a rusty screw.
"Garbage," Scarlett said.
"Ooh, a copper spring," Tom said, shoving it into his pocket.
"Trash," Scarlett sighed.
"Hey, a mostly intact hubcap!"
"Please stop," Scarlett groaned. "My inventory is full of legendary potions and dragon scales. Watching you pick up literal garbage is painful."
"One man's trash is another man's dinner," Tom said, tying the hubcap to his belt. He looked like a walking flea market.
They walked for another hour. The purple sky began to darken. The shadows of the metal towers stretched out like long, black fingers.
"We need to find a safe spot," Tom said. "The night mobs are coming out. And I don't think you can fight them with that curse."
"I have a barrier spell," Scarlett said, tapping a ring on her finger. "But it consumes Mana. And right now, I have about as much Mana as a teaspoon."
"Great," Tom said. "So I'm the tank, the damage dealer, and the scout. I should charge extra."
A crack ran through the soil without warning.
BOOM.
Something shook. Not the ground breaking apart. A single step made it tremble instead.
BOOM.
Down went Tom, low to the ground. He whispered, "Did you hear something just now?"
Scarlett peered into the gloom. Her eyes narrowed. "That is a Scrap Golem. They are common in this area. Usually, they are Level 10."
"Level 10?" Tom choked. "I'm Level 2! That's not a fight, that's a suicide mission."
"They are slow," Scarlett whispered. "We can sneak past it."
Out from cover they moved, shadows pressed close to stacked metal boxes. A slow glance came from Tom, his head tipping just past the edge.
A giant stood there, nearly eight feet high. Not human - built from packed garbage, piece by piece. An engine block formed its torso, heavy and rusted. Steel pipes twisted together into limbs that dragged on the ground. Up top, a tiny safe served as its head, lit by one red eye burning in the middle.
[ Scrap Golem - Level 8 ]
[ Type: Construct ]
[ Passive: Heavy Armor ]
Quiet steps were their goal. Good at slipping through shadows, Tom knew every trick from years dodging gangs. Not so much Scarlett. Those stylish boots - great to look at - gave her away each time her heel struck the steel floor.
Click.
The Golem stopped moving. Its head—the safe—rotated with a screech of rusty gears. The red light swept over the area like a barcode scanner.
It locked onto them.
"Intruder... Detected..." the Golem spoke. Its voice sounded like a radio that was underwater. "Exterminate."
"Run?" Tom asked.
"I can't run," Scarlett reminded him. "My agility is suppressed. I move at the speed of a snail."
Fingers clenched, Tom glanced toward the Golem, then shifted to Scarlett. A quiet curse slipped out.
"Fine," Tom said. "I'll distract it. You... do whatever magic you can do."
Tom stepped out from behind the container.
"Hey! Rusty!" Tom yelled. He picked up a rock and threw it.
Clang.
The rock bounced off the Golem's chest. It didn't even leave a scratch.
The Golem turned toward Tom. "Target... Locked."
It raised a massive arm. The hand was just a lump of concrete and rebar. It swung the arm down.
Tom jumped back.
Bang!
The ground where Tom had been standing exploded. Metal shards flew everywhere. The impact shook Tom's teeth.
"Okay, it's strong," Tom muttered. "Very strong."
He charged in. He used his speed—which wasn't great, but better than the Golem's—to get close. He slashed his black daggers across the Golem's leg.
Scrape.
Sparks flew. The Beetle-Bone daggers were tough, but the Golem was made of solid engine parts. Tom barely made a dent.
-2 HP
"Two damage?" Tom yelled. "It has like 500 health! I'll be here all week!"
A heavy limb cut through the air sideways. That forced Tom down fast, just in time. Still, the rush of movement shoved against his body like a shove from behind.
"Use the joints!" Scarlett shouted from the back. "Hit the hydraulics!"
"I'm trying!" Tom yelled back.
He saw a bundle of black hoses near the Golem's elbow. He waited for the next swing. As the heavy arm came down, Tom rolled forward. He ended up right between the Golem's legs.
"Sorry about this," Tom mumbled.
A sharp blade rose through tangled cords and tubing near the creature's joint.
Hissssss.
Out shot the hydraulic fluid. Staggered, the Golem faltered. Locked tight, its left leg seized without warning.
"Error... Error... Mobility Compromised," the Golem droned.
Ahead of the crash, Tom moved fast. The massive shape dropped right after.
"Finish it now!" Scarlett shouted. Up went her arm, a spark of blue light shooting out. The beam struck the Golem right in its glowing red eye.
-5 HP.
It wasn't much, but it blinded the machine for a second.
Chance appeared. Tom climbed slowly up the Golem's back, gripping tightly. Sharp edges cut into his palms—cold metal and jagged steps. He held onto the shoulder vents, which were hard and hot. The machine shook wildly, struggling with the weight. Tom kept his balance, but only just.
"Hold... still!" Tom grunted.
At the peak, he drove the blade into the crack where safe met machine. With that tool, pressure pried the parts apart. The metal groaned under the force of the wedge. It shifted - slow at first - then gave way.
"Open up!"
Strength poured through him as he tugged hard. His muscles, reinforced by the beetle extraction, bulged.
SNAP.
Loose came the head, pulled apart by force. Sparks flew as the wires snapped between neck and torso. Flickering once, then still, gone was the glow in that red eye.
The massive machine went limp. It crashed to its knees, then fell face-first into the dirt. Tom jumped off just in time and rolled to a stop at Scarlett's feet.
[ You have slain Scrap Golem (Level 8) ]
[ Exp +80 ]
Breathing hard, Tom stayed flat on the ground.
"I hate... heavy metal", he said.
Scarlett looked down at him. She was actually impressed.
"You took down a construct without magic or heavy weapons. You fight like a wild animal."
"Thanks," Tom wheezed. "I think."
Up he got. Staring at the huge heap of wreckage - what remained of the beast.
Hunger returned. This time it wasn't about eating. It was numbers he craved.
This thing was strong. It was heavy. It was dense.
"Give me a second," Tom said. "I need to check for loot."
He crawled over to the Golem. He made sure his body blocked Scarlett's view. He didn't want to explain his weird power yet.
He placed his hand on the engine block chest.
"System," Tom whispered. "What do you have for me?"
[ TARGET ANALYZED: SCRAP GOLEM ]
[ AVAILABLE ESSENCE: DENSITY ]
[ TIER 1 PHYSICAL EXTRACTION ]
"Density?" Tom asked. "What does that do?"
[ EFFECT: Increases the user's mass and muscle density without increasing size. You will become heavier. You will hit harder. You will be harder to move. ]
Tom thought about it. In a fight, weight mattered. If he was heavier, he couldn't be knocked around. And if he punched someone, it would be like hitting them with a wrecking ball.
"Extract," Tom commanded.
HUMMM.
A low vibration traveled through his arm. It felt heavy. It felt like liquid lead was being poured into his veins. His muscles tightened. His bones felt like they were turning into steel bars.
[ EXTRACTION COMPLETE ]
[ Tier 1 — Density Applied ]
[ Weight increased by 200% ]
[ Physical Impact increased by 50% ]
[ Mental Integrity Cost: -5% ]
Tom gasped. He felt... grounded. He felt like a mountain.
He tried to stand up.
CRUNCH.
As he pushed himself up, his hand sank into the metal ground. He wasn't trying to break it. He was just too heavy.
"Whoa," Tom whispered.
Up he rose, slow and cautious. Into the soil his boots pressed, sinking deep. Heavy as stone that suit seemed, yet his body carried it without effort.
Scarlett walked over. "Did you find anything?"
"Just some scraps," Tom lied.
Forward he moved, closing the distance to where she stood.
THUD.
A tremor ran through the earth beneath.
Scarlett frowned. "Why are you walking so loudly? You sounded like the Golem."
"Uh, heavy boots," Tom said quickly. "I found... heavy boots inside the Golem."
Bare feet caught Scarlett's eye.
His toes curled into the cool grass. The morning light touched each one slowly.
"Invisible heavy boots," Tom corrected. "Very rare drop."
Scarlett stared at him for a long moment. Then she sighed and rubbed her temples. "You are a very strange person, Tom. I am too tired to question your invisible boots. Can we please find a place to rest?"
"Right," Tom said. "Follow me."
Ahead he moved. Each stride carried weight. A tiny stone met his foot. Not rolling - flying - it tore across the ground, then punched a hole in metal plating downrange.
Tom grinned.
A shift had taken place. Now he smashed through obstacles like force itself.
A space had opened up between stacked wooden boxes, just big enough to crawl into. Sheltered from rain and gusts, it held still air. A flame caught when Tom scraped metal against cloth soaked in grease.
Frost bit at Scarlett's skin despite the flames close by. Her strength in the physical world weakened as the spell tightened its grip.
Out came a wrapped thing from Tom's pocket.
"Here", he said.
A "Nutrient Bar," picked up earlier from the tutorial box. The item sat there, dull and dense. Brown. Chalky shape. Like something meant to last forever but never taste good.
"Eat," Tom said. "It tastes like dirt, but it keeps you alive."
Scarlett looked at the bar with disgust. "I usually eat Gryphon Steaks buffed by a Master Chef."
"Well, the Master Chef isn't here," Tom said, taking a bite of his own bar. "So enjoy the dirt."
For a moment, Scarlett paused. Then she nibbled at the edge. It puckered her lips, yet down it went.
She spoke quiet. A small thanks slipped out.
"Don't mention it," Tom said. "I'm adding it to your bill. That's 10 gold."
Laughter bubbled out of Scarlett. Real laughter, not forced. "You're unmanageable"
"I'm expensive", Tom corrected.
He looked out of the cave entrance at the dark, twisted skyline of the Rustlands. In the distance, he could see a faint orange glow. The Iron Citadel.
Nearing now. Still, Tom saw it clear - the threat didn't come from creatures of shadow. Humans brought worse harm.
Should Scarlett truly matter like she claimed, hunters wouldn't stop coming, far beyond mere outlaws chasing scraps.
Fingers curled tight, knuckles white. With a shift in weight, the space around him split like old wood.
"Let them come," Tom thought. "I need more stats."
He closed his eyes, listening to the hum of the system in his head, and drifted into a light, watchful sleep. The heavy weight of his body anchored him to the ground, immovable and ready.