Greed slowly rolled off the pile of garbage, wincing in pain as he picked himself up.

His entire body ached, but it was his side that worried him the most.

Holding his ribs, he hoped those thugs hadn’t broken any. "Maybe it's just a bruise," he muttered optimistically, though he'd never broken a bone before, so he wouldn’t really know the difference.

Now that he was up, he knew from his memories that no one here in the Outskirts would do a damn thing to help him. He had to rely on himself. Slowly, he stretched, trying to get used to the pain in his body. He quietly cursed those thugs again, wishing them the worst kind of pain.

"May you all suffer from testicular torsion," he muttered, imagining their agony.

As he stretched, he began to think about his basic plan to earn enough for a core. He needed to activate the system even if he doesn't actually know what the system would allow him to do.

He quickly asked the system, "System, do I need an entire core, or can I collect enough fragments to equal a core?"

The system replied in its monotonous voice

[Ding! Fragments equal to a core is an acceptable alternative. Energy values must match.]

Greed remembered from his basic history lessons that scientists had indeed found that those crystal fragments and cores held immense amounts of unknown energy. But other than the most basic history and life advice, the orphanage didn't bother to give any other type of support. It was highly unlikely that the kids there would ever amount to anything that would be worth investing more in so they just did the bare minimum.

Anyway knowing that fragments could replace a core at least made his future seem a bit easier. If he had to get a full core, he might have just given up and tried his hand at another reincarnation.

"I've already died once, a second time shouldn't do much harm," Greed said to himself with a shrug as he shambled out of the alleyway he was left in.

Stepping out, he was immediately hit by the sight of the slum. The narrow streets were packed with people, all moving with a purpose yet seemingly on high alert. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, unwashed bodies, and the occasional waft of rotting food. Broken-down buildings leaned against each other like drunks after a brawl, their crumbling facades giving way to the filth and desperation within.

The people around him were just as grimy as their surroundings, their clothes tattered and their faces etched with the harshness of their lives.

Greed could see the weariness in their eyes, a constant vigilance that spoke of the dangers lurking in the bad part of the Outskirts. Despite the squalor, the place was alive with activity. Vendors shouted out their meager wares, children darted through the crowds with practiced ease, and small groups huddled in corners, discussing who-knows-what in hushed tones.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Greed winced as he moved, his body protesting with every step as he navigated through the throng, slowly making his way toward the inn the orphanage had arranged for him.

It wasn’t much, just a small room for a week, but it was better than nothing. The orphanage didn’t have much funding, but they had some connections in the inner city.

Atleast enough to provide a tiny bit of support to the kids who aged out, just to keep them from immediately perishing in the streets.

After what felt like an eternity of shambling through the crowded, dirty streets, he finally spotted the sign for the inn. It was a small, rundown building, barely distinguishable from the others around it.

Pushing open the door, he stepped inside, and was immediately met with the sight of a dingy, bustling dining area. People were packed in, eating and drinking in a grim silence, their eyes darting around warily.

Greed pushed his way through the crowd, earning a few annoyed glances and muttered curses. He ignored them, his focus on getting to his room and lying down. He approached the front desk, where the inn’s owner, a shady-looking man with a perpetual scowl, was scribbling in a ledger. The owner looked up as Greed approached, his eyes widening in surprise.

The innkeeper couldn’t believe his eyes. He was sure Greed had been dragged out by a group of thugs while he was gorging himself on breakfast just yesterday. He hadn’t bothered to intervene, figuring the boy would be dead by now. In fact, he was just about to clear out the room to rent it to someone else.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the owner muttered, quickly masking his surprise with a sneer. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Greed ignored the innkeeper's remark, his mind too preoccupied with the pain in his side and the weariness in his limbs. He nodded curtly and headed up the creaky stairs, each step sending jolts of pain through his body.

He finally reached his room and pushed the door open. The room was small and dusty, looking like it hadn’t seen a duster in years. The mattress was ratty, and the single window was so grimy it barely let any light through. Greed didn’t care. He was just glad to have a place to lie down.

He collapsed onto the mattress, wincing as it creaked under his weight. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to gather his thoughts. He needed a plan. Something that would earn him enough fragments to not only survive but to save up for the system’s activation.

He considered taking a loan from one of the shady and downright deadly loan sharks in the area. They were notorious for trafficking people’s organs long before the loan was due, claiming surprise interest. “That would be pretty stupid,” he muttered, dismissing the idea almost as quickly as it came.

His mind then wandered to the sign he saw at the front door of the inn, advertising for a cook. The pay was three fragments a day, barely enough to cover the basic rent here. It wasn’t a viable option.

Finally, he thought about joining a hunting team as a porter. He remembered seeing the recruitment center where teams picked up porters like contractors picking up workers outside a Home Depot. It was an extremely dangerous job, involving digging out fragments from mutants that the hunting teams killed outside the wall of the Outskirts (yes, even the Outskirts had a wall, though it was nothing like the colossal inner city wall. It was a makeshift guard wall made from rusty shipping crates stacked on top of each other.)

Anyway, it's a deadly job because sometimes the mutants weren't fully dead, which could lead surprise attacks. But it paid well, porters got to keep 10% of whatever they dug up and it was easy to get hired since so many people died every day.

“Dangerous, but worth it,” Greed thought, weighing his options. He would have to show up at the recruitment center, sign a basic waiver stating the hunting team wasn’t responsible for his death, and hope for the best.

As he lay there, exhausted but determined, Greed decided. He would become a porter. It was his best chance to gather enough fragments and activate the system. With a plan in mind, he closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of rest before facing the harsh reality of his new life.