The transition from the humid, rot-scented air of the dungeon to the cool, diesel-choked atmosphere of the alley hit Tangeni like a physical slap, his body seizing up as the adrenaline crash finally caught up to his nervous system.
He barely registered the flashing lights of the ambulance or the shouting of the paramedics, his consciousness narrowing down to the pounding rhythm in his skull where the new presence was settling in, rewriting his neural pathways with the subtlety of a jackhammer.
Collapse was inevitable, his legs turning to water as the pavement rushed up to meet him, the last thing he saw being the blurred face of the lead hunter shouting for a medic before the world dissolved into gray static.
Waking up happened in stages, senses coming online one by one, starting with the smell of antiseptic and floor wax, followed by the annoying rhythmic beep of a monitor and finally the harsh, sterile white of a hospital ceiling tile.
Tangeni blinked, his eyes feeling gritty and dry, trying to sit up only to find his body heavy and unresponsive, a lingering lethargy that felt less like injury and more like his battery had been drained to zero.
"Easy," a nurse said, appearing at the edge of his vision, pushing him gently back down onto the pillows. "You're dehydrated and you have severe exhaustion, just stay down."
"How long?" he croaked, his voice sounding like he'd swallowed gravel.
"Twelve hours," she checked the chart at the foot of the bed. "The Guild pays for the standard twenty-four hour observation for dungeon survivors, so enjoy the sheets while you can."
She bustled out, leaving him alone in the small, semi-private room shared with an empty bed separated by a curtain, giving him the first moment of true silence he'd had since the alley tore open.
He closed his eyes, reaching for the feeling he'd had right before he passed out, that pressure behind his forehead, and found it waiting there, a cool, geometric presence that felt entirely artificial.
Open, he thought, not knowing if it required a voice command or a gesture, but the intent was enough.
Text scrolled across his vision, hovering in the air like a hologram projected directly onto his retinas, glowing with a soft, unobtrusive blue light that didn't cast shadows.
[Name: Tangeni]
[Official Rank: Unassessed]
[Actual Rank: 2]
[Class: Replicator]
[Mana: 4/10]
[Replication Level: 1]
He stared at the numbers, trying to make sense of the data that was now overlaying reality, the interface minimal and clean, devoid of the gamified decorations he'd heard some awakeners describe.
Rank 2.
The number sat there, mocking him, confirming what the academy had told him years ago, that his potential was non-existent, that he was barely above a civilian in the grand hierarchy of power.
Rank 1 was a person who could maybe bend a spoon or light a candle; Rank 2 was someone who could bend a steel bar or light a campfire, useful for manual labor or party tricks but absolutely worthless in a fight against anything stronger than a goblin.
"Awake, I see," a voice said from the doorway, dry and professional.
Tangeni dismissed the window with a thought, watching a man in a gray suit walk in holding a tablet, the Guild insignia pinned to his lapel marking him as an assessment officer.
"I'm Officer Venter," the man said, not offering a handshake, pulling a chair over to the bedside with the weary efficiency of someone who had done this ten thousand times. "We need to process your registration before discharge, standard procedure for all instability break survivors who trigger an awakening event."
"How did you know I awakened?"
"The mana scanners at the gate picked up a fluctuation when you exited," Venter tapped his tablet screen. "Plus, nobody survives six hours in a spider nest without some latent potential manifesting, it's a survival response."
He reached into his briefcase, pulling out a clear glass sphere embedded with sensors, placing it on the rolling table over Tangeni's lap.
"Place your hand on the sphere and push your energy into it," Venter instructed, watching the readout on his tablet. "Don't strain, just let it flow."
Tangeni placed his hand on the cool glass, feeling the hum in his chest, the small pool of energy that the system had labeled as 4/10.
He pushed.
The sphere glowed, but it was a dim, flickering light, barely illuminating the sensors, sputtering like a dying bulb before stabilizing at a low, steady hum.
Venter watched the tablet, his expression not changing, just nodding slowly as he recorded the data.
"Mana capacity is extremely low," he muttered, typing. "Rank 2, bottom tier, barely enough to qualify for registration."
"And the ability?" Tangeni asked, though he already knew.
"The sensors detected a matter-manipulation signature," Venter said, looking up with mild curiosity. "Can you demonstrate? Try to affect this pen."
He placed a cheap plastic click-pen on the table.
Tangeni looked at the pen, the system overlay springing to life instantly, analyzing the object in a cascade of data that scrolled too fast to read but left him with a sudden, intuitive understanding of its composition.
[Target: Ballpoint Pen]
[Composition: Polymer, Ink, Steel Spring]
[Replication Cost: 1 Mana]
He didn't try to move it or break it; he reached for the copy function, pushing his mana into the concept of the pen.
The air shimmered, a brief distortion of light, and a second pen appeared next to the first, identical in every way.
Venter blinked, picking up the copy, clicking it, scribbling on his notepad.
"Duplication," the officer said, sounding unimpressed. "Manufacturing support class, useful for logistics or supply chain work, but useless in the field since the mana cost usually outweighs the value of the item produced."
"Manufacturing support," Tangeni repeated, testing the words.
"It's a recognized ability," Venter said, taking the sphere back. "There are guilds that hire Rank 2s to replicate ammo or bandages in safe zones, saves on shipping costs, pays minimum wage."
He stood up, sliding the tablet into his bag, his interest in the case clearly evaporated now that he knew he wasn't dealing with a hidden gem.
"Your registration card will be mailed to the address on file, or you can pick it up at the central office," Venter said, heading for the door. "Welcome to the awakened community, try not to get eaten next time."
The door clicked shut, leaving Tangeni alone with his two pens and his Rank 2 assessment.
He picked up the copy, twirling it in his fingers, feeling the solidity of it, the reality of the matter he had created from nothing but energy.
Manufacturing support.
The Guild saw a photocopier; they saw a way to save on shipping costs for bullets.
They didn't see the inventory window he could open with a thought, the unlimited storage space that defied physics.
They didn't see the analysis data that broke down the molecular structure of everything he touched.
And they definitely didn't see the [Enhancement] tab that was currently grayed out but visible at the bottom of his interface.
The door opened again, softer this time, and Lola slipped inside, looking like she hadn't slept in a week, her clothes still dusted with the grime of the industrial district.
She stopped at the foot of the bed, staring at him with wide, guarded eyes, her hands gripping the straps of her backpack until her knuckles were white.
"You're alive," she whispered, as if saying it too loud might change the fact.
"I'm alive."
"They said you awakened," she moved closer, keeping her voice down, checking the hallway to make sure nobody was listening. "The nurses were talking about the kid who survived the spider nest."
"I did."
"What is it?" She sat on the edge of the mattress, leaning in. "Fire? Strength? Speed?"
"Better."
Tangeni picked up the water bottle she had in her bag side pocket, a battered plastic thing half-full of warm water.
[Target: Water Bottle]
[Composition: Polyethylene Terephthalate, H2O]
[Replication Cost: 2 Mana]
He held it in his palm, focusing on the image in his mind, feeling the drain on his reserves, a sudden dip in his energy that felt like skipping a meal.
The air warped, a soft pop, and a second bottle appeared in his other hand, condensation already forming on the plastic.
Lola stared at the two bottles, looking from one to the other, her mouth opening slightly.
"You can copy things," she said, her voice rising in pitch.
"Anything non-living," Tangeni confirmed, handing her the copy. "So far."
"Tangeni," she gripped the bottle, squeezing it to test the pressure. "Do you know what this means? Food. Water. Tools."
"Money," he added quietly.
She looked at him, the realization hitting her, the strategist in her waking up and pushing past the fear.
"We need to test the limits," she said, her eyes darting around the room. "Can you do money? Gold?"
"Not yet, I need to understand the costs," he swung his legs over the side of the bed, testing his weight, finding that while he was weak, he could stand. "And we can't do it here."
"You're being discharged?"
"I am now."
He grabbed his clothes from the plastic bag on the chair—his shirt torn and stained with spider fluids but washed by the hospital staff—and dressed quickly, wincing as the fabric rubbed against the bruises on his back.
They walked out of the hospital twenty minutes later, Tangeni clutching the discharge papers that declared him medically stable and officially Rank 2, stepping out into the blinding afternoon sun of Windhoek.
The city looked the same, the traffic noise the same, the heat shimmering off the pavement the same as it had been yesterday.
But everything had changed.
He wasn't just a homeless kid anymore, he was an awakened hunter, even if he was the lowest possible rank.
He touched the metal railing of the hospital steps as they descended, the system instantly flashing data across his vision.
[Target: Galvanized Steel Railing]
[Composition: Iron, Carbon, Zinc coating]
[Structure: Tubular, Hollow]
[Replication Cost: 8 Mana]
He let the data fade, a small smile touching the corner of his mouth.
"Where to?" Lola asked, adjusting her pack, looking at him for direction.
"We have the deposit money," Tangeni said, patting his pocket where the fifty dollars was still miraculously safe, dried and crinkled but legal tender. "We get the room."
"And then?"
"And then," he looked at the sprawling city, at the markets and the shops and the guild towers rising in the distance, seeing them not as obstacles but as a catalog of things he could own. "Then we start a business."
They walked toward Katutura, two specks in the crowd, one holding a backpack of scavenged trash and the other holding the power to break the economy, moving toward the boarding house that would be their first headquarters.
The spiders hadn't eaten him.
The city wouldn't either.
He checked his mana, watching the bar slowly tick up from 2/10 to 3/10 as he walked, a renewable resource that cost him nothing but time.
"Chicken," Lola said suddenly, breaking the silence. "You promised chicken."
"I did."
"Double portion?"
Tangeni looked at the water bottle in her hand, the one he had created from thin air.
"Yeah," he said. "Double portion."