The Guild Hall of Orario was a cathedral of bureaucracy. High ceilings, polished marble floors, and the hum of a thousand conversations about loot, death, and taxes.
Aiden and Lyra stood in the "Express Exchange" line, a queue reserved for adventurers who didn't have a dedicated advisor. They stuck out like sore thumbs. Around them were Level 1 and 2 adventurers in polished leather and steel, chatting about their parties. Aiden was covered in dungeon dust, dried blood, and wore a torn hoodie. Lyra looked like a ghost, her face pale, clutching a brass bell.
But the real mark of shame was the emblem on the back of their status sheets. Soma.
When they reached the counter, the receptionist—a tired werewolf woman—wrinkled her nose. She didn't say anything, but the disdain was palpable. She took the sack of magic stones and dumped them onto the counting scale.
"Twenty-four Kobold and Goblin stones. One... Lizard stone?" She raised an eyebrow, looking at Aiden's torn clothes. "You took down a Hard-Scale on Floor 1? With what party?"
"Just us," Aiden rasped, leaning against the counter to keep his legs steady.
The receptionist's eyes flickered to the broken sword hilt at his belt. She processed the exchange without another word.
"Total value: 1,150 Valis. The Lizard stone carried you. Don't expect anomalies every day."
She slid a small tray of coins across the marble. Aiden swept them into his pocket.
1,150 Valis. Plus the 300 they had left. Total: 1,450 Valis.
It was poverty wages.
"Next," the receptionist called, looking past them.
They walked out into the cool night air. The city lights were beautiful, glowing magic stones illuminating the clean streets. But they weren't heading to a tavern. They were heading to the slums.
"We have enough for food and the interest payment," Lyra calculated softly. "But not a new sword."
"I don't want a sword," Aiden said. He stopped in front of a hardware store—not a weapon shop, but a place that sold supplies for city maintenance. "Swords are precision tools. They rely on the edge. The Severance Devil doesn't care about edges; it cares about structure. When I used [Render] on that sword, the vibration tore the blade apart because it was too thin."
He walked into the shop. It smelled of sawdust and oil.
He bypassed the saws and axes. He went to the demolition section.
There, leaning against a barrel, was a sledgehammer. It wasn't a weapon. It was a tool for breaking rocks. A solid block of cast iron on a thick hickory handle.
"Eight pounds," Aiden muttered, hefting it. It was heavy. With his current Strength stat of I-2, it was unwieldy. But it was dense.
"Aiden," Lyra whispered. "That's heavy. You'll swing it once and be wide open."
"I only need one swing," Aiden said. "And iron doesn't shatter like cheap steel."
He paid 600 Valis for the hammer. It was crude, ugly, and brutal. It fit him perfectly.
They bought two skewers of grilled potato from a street vendor for 50 Valis each and ate them while walking back toward Daedalus Street. The hot food hit Aiden's stomach like a blessing, easing the lingering ache from the wine purge.
"Stats are real," Aiden said between bites. "I can feel the difference. Yesterday, this hammer would have been impossible to lift. Today, it's just... heavy."
"We need to be careful going back," Lyra wiped grease from her lip. Her eyes were scanning the shadows of the alleyways as the paved road turned to mud. "The Reverie is picking up... malice. Close by."
Aiden shifted his grip on the hammer handle. "Monsters?"
"No," Lyra stopped. She looked down a narrow alley that served as a shortcut to the Soma base. "People. Desperate, angry people."
Before they could turn back, three shadows detached themselves from the walls.
They weren't bandits. They wore the same ragged clothes as Aiden and Lyra. They had the same hollow cheeks and frantic eyes.
Soma Familia members.
"Hey," the leader croaked. He was a tall man, skeletal thin, holding a rusty dagger. His eyes were bloodshot, the pupils blown wide. Withdrawal. "New blood. Chandra said you made it back."
Aiden positioned himself in front of Lyra. "We're just heading in to pay our dues."
"Dues," the man laughed, a wet, hacking sound. "Forget Chandra. We need a fix. You got paid, right? We saw you at the Guild."
"Cannibals," Lyra whispered.
It was a known phenomenon in the Soma Familia. The weak preyed on the weaker to steal money for wine. It was a cycle of abuse sanctioned by the God's indifference.
"Walk away," Aiden warned, lifting the sledgehammer. "We're on the same side."
"There are no sides," the man spat. "There is only the wine! Give us the Valis!"
The leader lunged. He was fast—faster than a Level 1 should be. The remnants of the divine wine in his system gave him a stat boost, even in his emaciated state.
Aiden was tired. His stamina was in the single digits. But his mind was cold.
[Threat Assessment: Human (Level 1 - Boosted Agility)] [Strategy: Trade blows. Use mass.]
Aiden didn't try to dodge the dagger. He twisted his body, letting the blade slice through his left forearm—a non-lethal cut. He used the pain to focus.
He swung the sledgehammer.
He didn't use [Render]. He didn't have the stamina. He used gravity.
The iron block caught the man in the ribs.
CRUNCH.
The sound was sickening. The man folded like a wet cardboard box, flying into the mud wall of the alley. He slid down, gasping, clutching a chest that was now concave.
The other two junkies froze. They looked at their leader, then at the heavy iron hammer dripping with rain.
"I said," Aiden growled, stepping forward, "walk away."
Lyra stepped up beside him. She raised her brass bell. Her eyes glowed with a faint violet light. She didn't have much mana left, but she had enough for a bluff.
"Do you want to sleep forever?" she whispered, the bell humming with a low, dissonant tone.
The psychological weight of the Reverie Devil hit them. To a junkie, the idea of sleep—of missing the next drink—was terrifying.
They broke. They grabbed their fallen leader and scrambled away into the dark, cursing.
Aiden lowered the hammer. He fell against the wall, sliding down until he hit the mud. He clutched his bleeding forearm.
"Idiot," Lyra hissed, ripping a strip of cloth from her own shirt to bind his wound. "You took the hit on purpose."
"Couldn't dodge," Aiden grunted. "Too slow. Had to bait him into the swing range."
"You're going to bleed out before we even hit Level 2," she tightened the knot.
"We kept the money," Aiden closed his eyes for a second. "And we have a weapon."
They rested for a minute in the filth of the alley, two transmigrators from another world, beaten, bloody, and armed with construction tools.
"Aiden," Lyra said softly. "The System... it rewards conflict. Not just with monsters."
Aiden opened his eyes. A blue text box was hovering in the rain.
[Combat Encounter Resolved (PvP)]
[Opponent Level: 1 (Mid-Tier)] [Experience Gained.]
[Aiden Cross Strength: I-2 -> I-4] [Aiden Cross Endurance: I-0 -> I-1]
"Endurance went up," Aiden muttered. "Getting stabbed counts as training. Good to know."
They hauled themselves up and finished the walk to the Soma base.
The basement was as loud and smelly as before. Chandra was counting coins at a table. He looked up when they entered, eyeing the sledgehammer and the fresh bandage on Aiden's arm.
"Rough night?" Chandra smirked.
Aiden walked to the table. He counted out 200 Valis—the daily interest on their debt. He slammed the coins down.
"Interest," Aiden said.
Chandra swept the coins into a box. "And the principle?"
"Working on it," Aiden said.
"Don't work too slow," Chandra's eyes gleamed. "The wine gets expensive. You sure you don't want a sip? Just to... heal that arm?"
Aiden felt the tug. His body remembered the warmth of the wine. It screamed for it.
"No," Aiden said. "We're going to sleep."
They found a corner of the main hall, away from the others. They couldn't afford a room tonight. They sat back-to-back, using each other for warmth.
Aiden laid the sledgehammer across his lap. Lyra held the bell.
"Tomorrow," Aiden whispered, drifting into a restless sleep. "Floor 2."
"Goodnight, Chainsaw Man," Lyra murmured.
Aiden's eyes snapped open for a second. The name. It felt... right. And terrifying.
Inside his soul, the Severance Devil curled around the concept of the sledgehammer. It liked the weight. It liked the bluntness. It whispered a new possibility.
Don't just cut. Break.
[Weapon Acquired: Iron Sledgehammer (Durability: High)]
[Relationship Deepened: Shared Trauma.]