Miller's Hardware was quiet. Too quiet.
The windows were smashed, and the paint aisle I had destroyed in the tutorial was now a dried, colourful crust on the floor. But the basement door was still locked.
"Mr Miller?" I called out, knocking the secret rhythm on the steel door.
There was no answer, but there was a sound. A low, rhythmic scratching.
I placed my hand on the lock. [Deconstruct]. The mechanism dissolved into iron filings. I kicked the door open.
The smell hit us first. It wasn't death. It was ozone and fear.
Mr Miller was sitting on a crate of nails in the centre of the room. He was alive, but he wasn't alone. He was surrounded by small, mechanical crabs. They were made of screws, saw blades, and drill bits, chittering and clanking as they marched in circles around him.
[Monster: Junk Mimic (Lvl 3)]
The System had animated the inventory.
"They won't let me leave," Miller whispered, his eyes wide. "They... they want to be organised."
The mimics weren't attacking him. They were herding him. They were treating him like the inventory manager.
"Silas," I whispered. "Don't use the void. You'll destroy the stock."
I stepped forward. I didn't raise my weapon. I raised my interface.
[Skill: Mass Deconstruct]
It was a gamble. It drained my mana bar instantly. A wave of blue energy rippled out from my hands, washing over the army of angry power tools.
The mimics froze. The magic holding their components together unravelled. With a cacophony of clatters, a hundred walking horrors collapsed back into a pile of useful, inanimate screws and blades.
[Loot Acquired: Iron x500] [Loot Acquired: Steel x200]
"Mr Miller," I said, stepping over the pile of defeated drill bits. "Pack your bags. You're getting a promotion."