John tensed.
The circle felt tighter now, the air heavier, as if the building itself was listening. His fingers curled around the concealed knife at his side, knuckles pale despite his effort to stay still.
Jake’s glare locked onto him first—sharp, assessing.
Then his eyes slid back to Arthur.
Arthur exhaled slowly.
“I know when I’m outnumbered.”
He reached into his pouch and pulled out five gold coins, letting them clink softly in his palm.
Jake smiled.
“Did I say five?” he asked. “I think I meant a hundred.”
A few of the men laughed.
“I mean,” Jake continued, eyes flicking to Arthur’s pack, “you are here on official orders, right?”
Arthur’s jaw tightened.
“Ten gold. That’s it.”
Jake pretended to think it over.
“Twenty.”
“All I’ve got on me is fifteen.”
Jake’s smile widened.
“What’s in your bag? Anything of value?”
“Tools,” Arthur said flatly.
Jake chuckled.
“Builders, huh?” His tone shifted, thoughtful. “Then maybe we strike a different deal.”
He gestured deeper into the district.
“My headquarters could use some work. Repairs.”
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The way he smiled made John’s stomach sink.
“You do it for free.”
Arthur hesitated only a moment.
“Alright,” he said. “We have a deal—but only repairs.”
“Yeah,” Jake replied. “Only repairs.”
The men laughed as they escorted them forward.
---
The slum streets were lined with people who barely looked up as they passed. Some begged. Others simply watched with hollow eyes. Buildings leaned at odd angles, boards nailed over broken windows, rot creeping through stone and wood alike.
The smell of smoke and something bitter hung heavy in the air.
Jake’s headquarters loomed ahead—a structure of old wood, scrap metal, and broken stone forced together into something barely standing.
John studied it as they approached.
This hadn’t been built by builders.
Or anyone with real knowledge.
Everything was rigged. Temporary fixes stacked on older mistakes. Supports placed where they looked right, not where they mattered.
“This hardly counts as building,” John murmured. “Some added support beams might make it stable for a while. But the walls and floors won’t hold. This whole thing would need to be torn down and rebuilt.”
Arthur grimaced.
“Unfortunately, I agree,” he whispered. “But we don’t have months.”
He glanced toward Jake.
“We rig in supports. Reinforce what we can. Make it safer.”
---
Jake laughed.
“Alright, builders. Fix my headquarters up.”
Arthur was already pulling support beams from his bag.
“John,” he said quietly, “start reinforcing the floors and walls. I’ll get the beams ready.”
John went inside.
Each strike of his hammer sent a faint glow through the floor. The structure shifted, grain tightening, boards settling—but it was still too weak.
Then warmth spread through his chest.
His ID card pulsed.
Builder — Lv. 2 achieved
New Skill Unlocked: Scraps to Riches
Magic Reinforcement — Converts scrap material into solid construction matter
John struck again.
The glow deepened. The floor fused, solidified, held.
Arthur stepped inside and froze.
“My god,” he whispered. “That’s incredible.”
Then his expression hardened.
“This isn’t good,” he said urgently. “If they see this, they won’t let you go.”
Jake’s voice echoed from outside.
“Hurry it up!”
Arthur leaned in.
“No glow. Make it ugly.”
Arthur subtly lifted boards with his tail. John scuffed the surface with his dagger.
Jake entered, smiling.
“Feels sturdy,” he said, stomping once. The floor creaked faintly.
“Still’s got that old charm.”
Satisfied, Jake left them to finish.
Arthur lowered his voice.
“You hand me materials. I’ll do the visible work.”
John nodded.
They reinforced the walls and upper floor. When it came time for the support beams, Arthur handed them to John.
“Supports are harder to notice,” he whispered. “Do it there.”
John worked carefully. No glow. Just strength.
---
Jake returned as they finished.
“Not bad at all,” he said. “Next, I’ll need a lookout tower.”
One of his men laughed.
“And a bathhouse.”
Arthur straightened.
“We agreed to patching. That’s it.”
Jake stepped closer.
“Deals change.”
Arthur saw the opening—and took it.
He slammed into Jake, shoulder-first, driving him back into the reinforced beam. Dust shook loose from the ceiling as Arthur’s tail snapped up and coiled around Jake’s throat, crushing the air from his lungs.
The spear clattered to the floor.
“We’re leaving,” Arthur growled. “That’s final.”
Jake clawed uselessly at the tail, face darkening as panic set in.
“Stand down!” he choked. “Stand down!”
The room froze. One of the men nearest them took a half-step back. Another lowered his weapon without realizing it.
Arthur released him and shoved him back.
Jake collapsed to one knee, coughing violently. A deep red mark circled his throat.
John’s heart hammered. It had happened so fast—one moment words, the next fear and submission.
He followed Arthur out without hesitation.
Behind them, the reinforced building loomed—stronger now, safer than it had been minutes ago.
Jake dragged in air, one hand pressed to his neck. When he looked up, the smile was gone.
“I’ll remember this,” he rasped.
Arthur didn’t turn.
“You better,” he said. “Maybe next time you’ll know not to try and play me.”
They didn’t look back.
Behind them, the slums watched in silence.
