Alan suffered in boredom, having spent a lonely week in ‘his’ shop. The notion that a life in a fantasy world could be this monotonous had never crossed his mind. Outside, wars raged, magic sparked in battles, royal intrigues unfolded, and heroes embarked on quests. Yet, there he was, bound to this accursed store. His wish for leisure, he realized, was more about a magical seat to the world's epic dramas, not confinement in a medieval-like dwelling. This, to him, was even drearier than his former life on Earth, where at least fantasy novels were a refuge.

Since his abrupt magical arrival in the shop, Alan had experienced the rollercoaster of 'Failed Transmigration': feeling deceived by a deity, the shock of unmet expectations, the discovery of a peculiar ability. The only stage missing was the 'ascension through an unexpected path.'

He had spent a whole day cursing when the reality hit him – he couldn't leave the shop. But then, Alan sought a glimmer of hope in his newfound power. For someone with his inclinations, this unique ability should have been a delight. However, every attempt at combining elements ended in failure. The absence of a guiding system, a mystical tome, or any form of manual left him clueless about his missteps.

Using the 'combination' power felt as natural as breathing to him. The process was straightforward: focus on an item, envision a piece of Earth's technology, and then utter the incantation 'combine'. Green smoke would envelop the object, signaling its transformation. However, a failed attempt resulted in red smoke and the object's vanishing. That's how he'd managed to deplete almost all the shop's furnishings.

Alan's frustration grew as he realized he was missing something crucial in his magical endeavors. Despite his best efforts, which included boisterously luring passersby and even convincing a bewildered mage to step inside, no one could shed light on his unique magic. The mage had hastily departed, dismissing Alan as deranged.

Resigned to his fate, Alan contemplated the grim prospect of an eternal existence in the damned shop. Immortality, it seemed, was a double-edged sword: he could suffer hunger, thirst, and injury, but not death.

Then, an unexpected knock at the door broke his chain of thoughts.

"Good sir, please, I'm in desperate need," pleaded a woman at his threshold. A mother of three, she recounted her tale of woe – her husband murdered, leaving her to fend for her starving children. She begged for any morsel of food.

The woman, appearing not a day over thirty but likely younger given her hardships, was a pitiable sight. Her tattered dress and bare feet spoke volumes of her plight. Once golden hair, now dulled and unkempt, framed her striking hazel eyes. Alan felt a twinge of sympathy, but he was powerless to assist.

"Lady, I'm as destitute as one can be," he replied, gesturing to his gaunt appearance. "I don't have a crumb to spare, nor I coin to my name."

Her expression shifted to one of confusion, clearly not anticipating such a response.

Before Alan could gently urge her to continue her search elsewhere, the woman's desperation took a dark turn. With a swift movement, she drew a hidden knife and plunged it into him.

Alan, wide-eyed and speechless, collapsed in shock.

The woman scoffed at his lack of charity and stepped over his bleeding form, shutting the door behind her. "What a stingy young man," she mocked.

In the aftermath of the unexpected attack, Alan lay there, processing the surreal sensation of the knife wound in his stomach. The peculiar mix of sharp pain and the warm trickle of blood was oddly fascinating to him. Despite having the option to rise and seek something to stem the bleeding, he chose to remain on the floor. Part of him was curious – would this be the end? However, deep down, he knew his immortality would likely spare him from death by blood loss.

Minutes later, the woman reappeared, her voice filled with frustration and anger. "How can this fool have nothing of value? Not even a bite to eat? Does he not live here?" she cursed.

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Alan couldn't help but twitch his lips in a silent retort, itching to shout back at her absurd expectations. 'Stab someone richer next time!' he thought bitterly.

She leaned over him, her voice softening with a tinge of regret. "I'm sorry, good sir... I thought you were hoarding and that made me angry... But, you see, I wasn't lying either. My good husband really died.”

Her soft expression turned wicked, “I was the one who stabbed him." With those words, she disappeared.

Eventually, Alan mustered the strength to stand and search for something to bandage his wound. The bleeding had ceased, but death was still not an option for him. "Looks like I need to be more wary of hidden weapons," he mumbled to himself.

Finding no spare cloth in the store, Alan resorted to tearing a piece from his sheet. The risk of infection didn't bother him much. However, the sight of blood downstairs prompted him to use the rest of the sheet for cleanup. The absence of customers made it unnecessary, but the sight was nauseating.

Then, something caught his eye near the bloodstain – a small, rusty metal blade.

"She dropped the knife," he noted, a hint of irony in his voice.

Alan eyed the fallen knife, a pang of pain halting his movement as he attempted to bend down. He remained standing, contemplating the blade with a mix of annoyance and curiosity. The sight of blood nearby only added to his irritation. With a snicker, he concocted a plan to clean it up without straining his wound.

Shuffling over, Alan tossed the torn sheet onto the bloodstain and used his feet to scrub it away. Then, an impromptu experiment crossed his mind. Positioning himself over the blood-soaked sheet, he focused intently and called upon his magic.

"Combine!"

Green smoke swirled around the sheet, only to turn red and engulf it into nothing. "Great," he muttered sarcastically, realizing he'd just uncovered a mundane aspect of his power. 'The legendary cleaner,' he thought dryly. 'No mess stands a chance.' It was a poor consolation, but something nonetheless.

His gaze shifted back to the knife. Initially planning to obliterate it, Alan paused, a new idea forming. What if he tried a purposeful combination? He pondered making the knife float – a seemingly fitting feature for a magical weapon.

Magnetic levitation came to mind first, but he quickly dismissed it as too unwieldy. Then, he recalled an article about college students using Neuralink technology to control a drone. The specifics were fuzzy – experimental tech he'd never seen in action, uncertain if it would even merge with the knife to grant it mind-controlled flight. Despite the odds, he decided to proceed. After all, what did he have to lose?

Focusing on the knife, Alan envisioned the mind-controlled drone, even going as far as mentally outlining its dual functionalities.

"Combine!"

Green smoke again enveloped the knife. Alan circled the smoky veil, peering for a glimpse inside, half-expecting the familiar disappointment. But the green lingered unusually long. His heart raced with a mix of anxiety and a sliver of hope. And then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the smoke vanished.

"No... way!"

There it was – the knife, not just intact but floating. Alan stared in disbelief, a rare moment of genuine surprise washing over him.

His excitement was palpable as he exclaimed, "It worked! It worked!" He twirled around the room, his jubilation overshadowing the sharp pain in his stomach. His magical ability to combine items had finally borne fruit, resulting in an admittedly rusty but awe-inspiring floating knife. He gleefully maneuvered the knife through the air, but his enthusiasm waned when it suddenly zipped towards the shop's door. "Oops... Maybe I should avoid intense emotions while handling this," he mused, slightly embarrassed yet still beaming.

Mastering control over the knife required some practice. Alan was acutely aware of the potential danger – a stray thought could easily lead to unintended harm. The floating weapon responded only to his deliberate commands, remaining inert otherwise. The specifics of why this particular combination succeeded were a mystery to him, but he didn't dwell on it. The thrill of playing with his new airborne toy was too enticing.

But, true to his nature as a child of the internet era, Alan's fascination with the knife was fleeting. By the next morning, his curiosity had shifted from play to analysis. He pondered over his many failed attempts and concluded that the key to success lay in the item itself. The knife's ordinary, non-magical appearance ruled out any inherent enchantment. It wasn't the type of item either, as previous attempts with different knives had failed. Experimenting with his own blood brought no success either.

After much consideration, Alan theorized that the store itself, to which his life was inexorably tied, might influence his ability. Since the knife wasn't originally his, perhaps only items that were exchanged or gifted to him were viable for combination. The circumstances under which the woman left the knife – intentional or accidental – remained clear. His only choice was to test this hypothesis with items from other people.

The unexpected turn of events revived Alan's desire to experience the wonders of this fantasy world from the comfort of his strange shop.