Ray Moss woke in the depot's bedroom cot, his body buzzing with the orc mutagen's effects. The pain from the previous night's activation had faded, replaced by a surge of raw power—his muscles denser, strength amplified. He stretched, feeling the enhanced might in his limbs, a grin spreading across his face. This is it, he thought, William Hatcher's scars—foster homes, bank rejections, a cafe dream crushed by reality—fading against the thrill of his new strength. No more dead ends. I'm becoming the mercenary I was meant to be. He checked his HUD, the Yomi Protocol's blue screen flickering to life, ensuring his mutagen-derived abilities—Shadow Cloak, Muscle Boost—remained hidden. A human wielding such magic would draw scrutiny, and he wasn't ready to explain his kills.
[Level: 6. EXP: 600/800]
[Stats: Strength 8/100 (Enhanced by Orc Mutagen), Endurance 6/100, Speed 6/100, Agility 8/100 (Enhanced by Dark Elf Mutagen), HP 110/110 (Full Recovery Overnight), Mana 110/110.]
[Magic (Level 6): Fire (Flames: 10 mana), Water (Drip: 10 mana), Lightning (Spark: 10 mana), Ice (Frost Touch: 10 mana), Earth (Pebble Toss: 10 mana), Wind (Gust: 10 mana), Universal Healing (Minor Mend: 10 mana), Universal Spatial (Short Blink: 10 mana, high spatial users detect), Shadow (Dark Elf Mutagen: Shadow Cloak, 10 mana), Enhancement (Orc Mutagen: Muscle Boost, 10 mana).]
[Skills: Hacking (Level 2, 1/4 uses toward Level 3), Engineering (Level 2, 1/3 uses), Swordplay (Level 5, 1/6 uses toward Level 6), Markmanship (Level 3, 1/5 uses toward Level 4), Forging (Level 1, 0/3 uses), Stealth (Level 4, 0/5 uses toward Level 5), Alchemy (Level 3, 0/4 uses toward Level 4).]
[Inventory (Dimension Pocket): Rat pelts (x30), rat blood (x30), boar hide, impundulu core, sonic essence, portable alchemy set, canisters (x4), meshes (x4), shuriken, bow, crossbow, lizardman mutagen (Bone Proficiency, Scaly Resilience), orc mutagen (Enhancement Magic, Enhanced Muscle Density), truck keys, currencies (300 daalers, lumen 200, durin 300), metal ingots, copper wiring, rubber grips, silicone components, bio-energy scraps, bone fragments, basic alloys, steel tips, troll core, low-tier goblin cores.]
Ray had unlocked Shadow Cloak and Muscle Boost from his mutagens, but he knew better than to flaunt them. A human wielding Dark Elf or Orc magic would draw scrutiny, and he wasn't ready to explain his kills. He showered in one of the depot's three bathrooms, the core generator's hot water washing away the previous day's grime. Today's the day I join White Claw, he thought, excitement surging. William's past is gone. I'm writing my own story.
[Yomi Protocol: Morning routine, kid? Stretching like an orcish champ with that mutagen strength. Strength 8—nice, but don't start lifting trucks yet, and keep those fancy magics under wraps unless you want the guild asking nosy questions. EXP: 600/800. Guild letter's burning a hole in your pocket; go make a name for yourself.]
Ray grabbed the recommendation letter, his heart pounding with anticipation. He hopped into the truck, the core-powered engine humming to life with a smooth purr. Driving to Zyra, he passed the demon scanner without issue. The White Claw guildhall stood in the mercenary district—a modest, rugged building with claw-marked walls and glowing wards, smaller and newer than the towering guildhalls of veteran factions. Every species had mercenaries—Nagual, Elves, Dark Elves, Dwarves, Fairies, Vampires, Werewolves, Sirens, Minotaurs, Centaurs, Orcs, Humans, Lizardmen—with orcs widely regarded as the best for their brute strength and combat prowess. Nagual and Sirens, however, were preferred for underwater missions, as other species struggled in aquatic environments. Nagual adopted traits of their homeworld's endemic animals, like aquatic creatures for enhanced swimming or resilience, while Sirens wielded sound magic and leveraged their amphibious biology—gills, webbed limbs, and vibration sensitivity—for superior underwater mobility and breathing. White Claw, though, was a young guild on Earth, still carving its name among the giants.
Ray strode in, letter in hand, his resolve firm. This is my shot. The reception was lively, with mercenaries—humans, elves, a few orcs—sharpening blades and swapping tales. A stern elf woman behind the desk looked up. "Name and business?"
"Ray Moss," he said, handing over the letter, his voice brimming with confidence. "Recommendation from Kael. I'm here to join White Claw and fight for Earth's future."
She scanned it, eyebrows raising. "Kael's word carries weight, even for a small guild like ours. Wait here."
She led him to a private room, where a burly orc with a scar across his eye waited, clad in core-forged armor. "I'm Varg, White Claw's recruiter," he rumbled, tusks glinting. "Kael says you cleared a bandit depot solo. Impressive for a kid. Earth's mercenary guilds ain't like the ESF or EDF—government forces with tight leashes. We're private soldiers, licensed by the world government to use force within our quest purview: retaking lost territory from mutants, mythicals, and spectrals. Space colonies? Their guilds have their own mandates—some hunt rogue sentients, others guard portal routes. Here on Earth, we follow the code: no collateral—avoid unnecessary harm to civilians or infrastructure—and no rogue ops—stick to sanctioned missions. Orcs might be the best mercs, and Nagual or Sirens handle underwater jobs—Nagual with animal trait transformation, Sirens with sound magic and amphibious biology—but White Claw's building a name with all kinds. At your level, you'll have a monthly mission quota, but you pick from a list. Each job's got a recommended level, though you're free to choose any."
Ray's eyes lit up, his excitement palpable. The freedom to choose missions thrilled him—he could plan strategically, balancing risk and reward. "I've been training for this my whole life," he said, voice burning with determination. "Taking down those bandits was just the start. I'm ready to pick my fights, meet the quota, and make White Claw proud."
Varg grinned, impressed by the kid's fire. "Let's test you. Academic first—monsters, magic, tactics."
The test was grueling: questions on portal scars' unpredictability, monster weaknesses (e.g., impundulu to overload, leviathans as tier 10 requiring coordinated teams of Nagual, Sirens, or high-level mercenaries), rune mechanics, and mutagen perks (e.g., Nagual's Transformation Magic granting animal traits like aquatic resilience, Sirens' sound magic with amphibious biology). Ray aced it, his Yomi Protocol knowledge shining, his enthusiasm driving every answer. I won't fail like William did.
Next, physical: a sparring ring with Varg. Ray dodged with Short Blink (Mana: 100/110), used Gust to push Varg back with wind blades (Mana: 90/110), and struck with his core-forged sword, relying on his natural agility and swordplay rather than mutagen magic to avoid suspicion (Swordplay: 2/6 uses toward Level 6). His movements were fueled by a burning desire to prove himself. Varg blocked but nodded approvingly. "Flying colors, kid. You fight like a human should—no funny business."
They handed him a contract to sign—outlining the monthly mission quota, pay (quest-based daalers), the mission selection process with recommended levels, and Earth's guild code of no collateral or rogue ops. Ray signed with a steady hand, his mind racing with visions of battles and glory, excited to choose his first missions. This is my new beginning. They gave him a guild wrist watch—a sleek device for communication, identification, and accessing the mission list.
"Welcome to White Claw," Varg said. "Check the mission board and pick your first jobs to meet the quota. Be smart about it."
Ray left, the wrist watch vibrating with a welcome message. He felt alive, the weight of William's failures replaced by the thrill of his new path. I'm a mercenary now, with choices to make. He decided to call it a day, driving back to his parents' house for one last night. Lila and Torin were relieved to see him, but the tension lingered from yesterday's confrontation.
After dinner, Ray retreated to his room, his excitement still burning. 24 hours had passed since the orc mutagen—the lizardman mutagen was next, Bone Proficiency and Scaly Resilience for endurance. He activated it, pain surging as his skin hardened, bones reinforcing. The Yomi Protocol flashed: System Activation: Lizardman Mutagen. Bone Proficiency Unlocked. Scaly Resilience Perk Added. Pain Threshold Exceeded.
Ray blacked out, collapsing onto his bed.
[Yomi Protocol: Lizard skin, kid? Bone Proficiency'll make you tough as nails, but fainting again? You're making it a hobby. Guild's calling—check that mission board and don't sleep through your quota. Keep those mutagens secret, or you'll have some explaining to do. EXP: 600/800. Keep that fire, or you'll crash like your old self.]