Chapter 22 — The First Contract
The credits from the guild transfer cleared by evening. My slate blinked with more numbers than I'd ever owned in my life. I sent Raze 50,000 as thanks for opening the door.
Ten minutes later, a message came back:
> Raze: Generous for a rookie. Keep it quiet. People talk.
I smirked and slipped the slate into my pocket. People always talked. I'd rather they talk about how I paid my debts than anything else.
---
The canteen was too crowded, so I tried one of the small restaurants along the spine. A wood sign above the door read The Iron Bowl. Inside, the air smelled of grilled meat and spice. Families sat together, guild members in clean coats swapped stories, and a mounted screen streamed an arena match.
I ordered steak, bread, and a glass of house wine. It was better than anything I'd eaten outside the Wall. Tender meat, real seasoning, wine smooth instead of sour. A reminder that life inside the Tower ran on a different scale.
The arena fight on the screen drew loud cheers from the tables. Two ranked fighters tore into each other, one armored in scales, the other using a lightning spear. The commentators called their names like heroes.
"Sixth straight win for Rygar!" someone at the next table shouted.
"No way—Lancebreaker's got this one!" another argued.
They talked about the fighters like they were celebrities, as if the arena made them more than human. I kept my head down, eating quietly, watching, listening. Noticing.
---
When I finished, I left credits on the table, enough to cover the meal and then some. Outside, the spine glowed with lanterns. My slate buzzed with a new notification: Contribution Exchange contracts updated.
I tapped it open.
> Contract #4729 — Hunting Party (Boar Culls)
Type: Mutated Beast (Tuskgut Boar)
Size: Large (2.5–3 meters tall, 6 meters long)
Notes: Dangerous charge, thick hide. Preferred meat among nobles.
Reward: 400,000 credits / team, meat sold to Tower butchers.
Team Requirement: 4 minimum.
Tuskgut Boars. I'd heard of them. Big as trucks, hide like stone, tusks sharp enough to split a man in half. Mutated, not noble—beatable, but only in numbers.
I accepted. Within minutes, the guild slate pinged me with a roster. Three other names.
---
We met at Transit Dock C the next morning.
A thin man with cropped hair introduced himself first. "Joran. Scout." He carried twin short spears and moved like he wanted space between himself and everyone else.
A broad-shouldered woman grinned and slapped her hammer against her shoulder. "Kerrin. Don't get in front of me when I swing."
The last was quiet, younger than the rest. He had daggers at his waist and shadows under his eyes. "Silas," he said simply.
They looked at me. "Avon," I said. Nothing more.
Joran nodded. "Simple job. We tag one boar, bring it down, carve the meat. They like the tusks and fat. But don't underestimate them—one charge can scatter a squad. Stick to the plan."
We loaded into a small transport sled and rode out beyond the wall. The gate shut behind us, sealing the Tower away.
---
The wasteland stretched in gray and red. We followed Joran's map until we reached a cracked valley dotted with low brush. Tracks gouged the dirt—wide, deep prints. The boars had been here recently.
"Two to the left," Joran whispered after climbing a rock for a better view. "One big male, one smaller female. We take the male. Cleaner reward."
We spread out. Kerrin took the front, hammer ready. Silas slipped into shadow on the right, daggers drawn. I moved with claws ready under my skin, but kept my transformation low—just enough strength, not enough to give myself away.
The boar emerged from the brush, massive, tusks curving upward like spears. Its hide was mottled gray, eyes burning red. It grunted, pawed the ground, and lowered its head.
"Steady," Joran hissed.
The beast charged.
Kerrin roared back, swinging her hammer into the ground. The impact cracked stone, throwing up dust. The boar barreled through, slowed but not stopped.
I darted left, claws raking across its flank. Sparks flew where hide met steel. Not deep enough.
Silas appeared from shadow and drove both daggers into its underbelly. The boar screamed, twisting, throwing him off.
Joran's spears sang as he hurled them—one striking the neck, the other glancing off a tusk.
The boar swung its massive head and slammed into Kerrin's shield, sending her staggering.
I lunged onto its back, claws sinking deeper this time, ripping through the armor of hide to find flesh. Hot blood sprayed. The beast bucked, trying to shake me loose, but Kerrin's hammer came down on its leg, shattering bone.
The boar stumbled. Silas rolled under its belly again, daggers flashing. Joran closed and drove a spear into its eye.
The giant shuddered once, twice, then collapsed with a crash that shook the valley.
We stood panting, blood spattered, weapons slick.
"Mutated hide," Kerrin said, pressing a hand to the corpse. "Strong one. The butchers will pay well."
We carved the tusks, marked the carcass, and tagged it for guild retrieval. The scent of blood spread fast, but the transport sled would come soon to haul it back.
---
Back at Dock C, our account slates pinged with the payout: 400,000 credits divided four ways. 100,000 each.
Not as much as selling noble traits, but steady money.
"Good work," Joran said, wiping blood from his arms. He nodded at me. "You held your ground."
Kerrin grinned. "Not bad for a first run."
Silas just gave a short nod before melting back into the crowd.
I pocketed my share and walked the spine toward my room.
The Tower was alive around me—markets buzzing, children laughing, gamblers shouting, guards watching. I'd eaten real food, fought in a team, earned clean credits.
But as I lay down that night, the mattress soft under me, I thought of the orphanage again. Director Wen's voice, Mara's sharp eyes, the kids who'd never see steak or credits.
I was inside now. I'd made it.
And I owed them.