Chương 2510: Chapter 23.5: Only Eighteen

I wanted to ask directly. Instead I looked toward the southern processing racks. One more advancement. That was all I needed.

"Give me a bit," I said suddenly. Merris frowned.

"For what?" I did not answer. I was already moving toward the trench fires, and the others followed partly from confusion and partly because exhaustion had clearly pushed me into something bordering obsession over the past week. The Iron stalker carcass hanging beside the southern racks had been waiting for processing since dawn. Rainwater dripped steadily from pale hide while workers nearby glanced up nervously as I seized the skinning knives from the work table. Wade called cautiously, "Vey. Maybe eat first."

I shook my head.

"After."

"You've barely slept." I set the knife against the hide.

"After." The first cuts landed too hard, and I forced myself to slow immediately. Skinning required precision, not force. That lesson had nearly broken me weeks earlier, though apparently not enough to spare me learning it again. I breathed once while rain hammered softly against the canvas awning overhead, then began properly. The world narrowed to hide grain, tension lines, muscle separation, and preservation paths. The knife moved steadily beneath the skin while the camp faded into distant sound and movement.

Every previous carcass sat inside the work now. Every failed cut. Every salvaged tendon. Every hide ruined through impatience. The skill resisted force, so I stopped forcing. Something loosened immediately afterward. The cuts sharpened, not physically faster, but cleaner. The hide separated almost willingly beneath the blade while tendon bundles peeled free intact from the shoulder joints. Then the understanding settled fully. ABILITY ADVANCED Skinning has advanced from Iron (late) to Copper (early).

You now better understand hide grain, tendon preservation, carcass tension, usable cut paths, joint separation, and recovery of valuable material from dangerous beasts. Your harvesting work can now preserve Copper-level material value when using suitable tools, sufficient time, and controlled technique under field conditions. I closed my eyes immediately. The overlap hit harder this time.

Toolsmith and Skinning surged together violently inside me, no longer separate instincts but two halves of the same structure pressing against each other hard enough to blur. Bone. Hide. Tension. Recovery. Use. The concepts collided repeatedly inside my head until the waiting notice opened. Everyone nearby saw something happen. Wade swore softly first. Bren moved closer immediately. Merris said nothing at all. ELIGIBLE MERGE DETECTED Toolsmith: Copper (early). Skinning: Copper (early).

Shared nature identified: material recovery, carcass use, survival fabrication, field reinforcement. Merge available. I could feel the merge wanting to happen. Not offering. Pulling. Like two hooked chains dragging toward each other beneath my ribs. Bren crouched beside me near the trench fires.

"Easy," he said quietly. I barely heard him. The overlap widened further. Toolsmith no longer felt entirely separate from Skinning. The instincts already touched constantly during work. Hide became structure. Bone became tools. Tendon became engineering. The merge made sense, and sense, I was beginning to learn, was sometimes merely danger wearing a better coat. Bren's voice sharpened.

"Don't force it." I swallowed.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are." My breathing had quickened without me noticing. The choice remained open, waiting. Merris finally approached through the rain after setting the folded pie safely beneath the wagon bench.

"Listen to him." I looked up sharply. The old merchant's expression remained calm. Too calm.

"You've merged before," I said. Merris barked a dry laugh.

"Everyone who survives long enough merges eventually." That was not an answer. Wade folded his arms nearby.

"What happens if he forces it?"

"Best case?" Merris shrugged.

"The merge stabilises ugly." Wade's expression darkened.

"And worst?" The old merchant looked directly at me.

"You lose both skills and gain something useless enough to follow you for ten years." Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Silence settled heavily beneath the trench awning. Jory swallowed audibly somewhere behind them. I looked back toward the carcass hanging from the processing rack. Toolsmith and Skinning represented weeks of blood, exhaustion, labour, and survival. Losing them terrified me more now that the merge stood directly in front of me.

Yet the overlap already existed. I had been using it for days, and there was a strange cowardice in refusing a door simply because it had teeth around the frame. Bren's voice lowered slightly.

"Don't merge because you're tired. Merge because the path actually fits." I stared at the blood-covered knife in my hand. The heat beneath my chest pulsed steadily. The merge waited. Finally, slowly, I accepted. ABILITY MERGE ACCEPTED Toolsmith and Skinning have begun merging. Compatibility basis: beast material recovery, field construction, reinforced survival craft, hide, bone, claw, horn, and tendon use.

The pain arrived immediately, not physical exactly, though my hands clenched hard enough that the blade bit through skin. It felt like memories being torn apart and rewoven into different shapes: tool grips, bone channels, tendon anchors, structural pressure, hide tension, carcass processing, reinforcement paths. Separate instincts collided violently, then vanished. For one terrible heartbeat, nothing remained. I nearly collapsed forward. Wade caught my shoulder first.

"Easy." The emptiness frightened me more than the pain. Toolsmith was gone. Skinning was gone. Familiar instincts simply disappeared, leaving hollow space where reliable understanding used to sit. Then something new settled into the gap. Lower. Much lower. The reset hit like humiliation. I exhaled sharply while the new skill spread through me rough and incomplete. Yet beneath the weakness sat breadth. Bone. Hide. Tendon. Claw. Horn. Not tools exactly. Not skinning exactly.

The useful remains of beasts and how to turn them into survival. MERGE COMPLETE Toolsmith has been consumed. Skinning has been consumed. Beastcraft has awakened at Iron (early). This evolved ability begins below its source abilities but carries a broader path: recovering, shaping, reinforcing, and crafting survival materials from beasts. Merris watched me carefully.

"Well?" I flexed trembling fingers.

"It worked." Jory leaned forward immediately.

"What'd it become?" I hesitated.

"Beastcraft." Wade scratched his beard slowly.

"Could be worse." Jory nodded after a moment.

"Could definitely sound better." Bren ignored them both while studying my face.

"Grade?" I looked away.

"Iron (early)." The silence afterward landed heavily beneath the trench awning. Even Jory stopped joking. Finally Merris nodded once.

"Good." Everyone looked at him. The old merchant shrugged slightly.

"Strong roads reset hard." Then he nodded towards the processed hides, tendon bundles, claw plates, and reinforced fittings stacked under the canvas.

"And I'll give you six copper for that pile before you decide to turn it into philosophy." I stared at him. Merris sighed and reached beneath his coat.

"The sale can wait one more minute. Apparently another account came due today." He produced a small round cake wrapped in waxed paper, barely wider than his palm, its browned top cracked from the wagon ride. A squat metal flask followed it.

"Eisenfeld mead. One swallow. The cake is yours, but Pike touches neither." Jory had already leaned nearer.

"I had not yet volunteered." Merris placed one hand over the cake.

"Your face submitted the application." Wade turned the flask until the maker's stamped mountain caught the firelight, then passed it to Bren without drinking. Bren read the mark, looked at me, and gave a slow grunt.

"Eighteen, lad?" The number did not belong to the day at first. I counted backwards through rain, patrol rotations, the eastern wall, and the weeks since Orven died before the date found its proper place.

"It's my birthday." Merris' mouth tightened.

"Yes, dear boy. Most people notice before the merchant has to explain it." I had remembered every hide awaiting a knife and every brace likely to fail before dawn. My own birthday had vanished somewhere among them without leaving a mark. Merris pressed the cake into my cleanest hand, then loosened the flask cap and measured one mouthful by eye before passing it over. The mead tasted of honey, smoke, and something sharp enough to make the bite in my palm sting.

Heat followed it into my empty stomach while Bren took the flask away before Jory could become hopeful. No one sang. The trench workers were still hauling timber through the rain, and a horn sounded once from the northern line before falling quiet. Wade cut the cake with the same cleaned knife Merris had used on the pie and divided it badly enough that one piece was twice the size of another. Merris handed me the larger piece without comment.

I ate it beside the processing rack with blood drying beneath my nails and Beastcraft sitting inside me like a rough new tool made from the ruins of two better ones. Iron (early) still felt like a loss. Beneath the embarrassment and fatigue, however, the broader skill waited with ugly patience. Merris collected the empty paper, counted six copper into my palm, and left one thumb briefly over the coins until I closed my hand around them.

PAYMENT RECEIVED You received 6 copper pieces for processed beast hides, tendon bundles, claw plates, bone supports, reinforced fittings, and field-ready materials. Your Current Coin is now 9 copper and 70 iron pieces.