The Needle Jackal snapped at Vell's hand when he pressed his palm over the exposed core, giving him one clear reason not to let the extraction window close. Its hind legs still had strength, while its teeth could turn a lesson into a hospital problem.
The animal was dying from a rifle round, yet it refused to spend its last minutes quietly. Vell had watched a licensed team ignore it, so the animal owed nobody a graceful death.
[Dismantle requires physical contact.]
[Follow analyzed seams. Material loss follows failure.]
Vell could feel the core through the jackal's ruined chest as a dense knot surrounded by white cuts that led into glands, tendons, hide, and bone. The lines did not tell him where to move first, leaving that part to hands that could still ruin the result.
He chose the line nearest the broken rib, then cut with Dessik's knife while the creature twisted beneath his knee. A patrol worker called for the hauler nearby, putting a clock on his first attempt.
The first seam ran into a small heat-scent gland, but Vell pushed the blade too deep when the jackal spasmed. The animal's final kick carried his hand past the marked edge before he could withdraw.
Hot fluid covered his fingers as the gland collapsed, and the white line went dark beneath the Forge's attention. Nothing repaired the loss, which made the warning more useful than any clean tutorial would have been.
[Material loss: heat-scent gland destroyed.]
The result annoyed him more than the bite marks gathering on his wrist, because Pikker would pay for an intact gland and laugh at a ruined one. He remembered the price before taking another cut, making the next lesson cost attention instead of money.
He changed his grip, used the knife point to separate tissue instead of forcing it, then waited through the next violent kick before cutting again. The core stopped fighting first, leaving the body still while he followed its remaining seams.
The grey sliver came free from the core's outer layer after a slow pull, light as a splinter but hard against the blade.
[Needle-Step imprint extracted.]
[Compatible. Slotless storage stable.]
Vell focused on the sliver until the Forge separated storage from use. Keeping it slotless cost nothing, but the imprint offered two choices once he needed its speed.
[Install in Trait Slot: persistent access. Trait Slot use: 1/1.]
[Activate uninstalled: one three-meter burst. Imprint will crack after use.]
Installing the first useful trait he found would fill his only slot before he understood its value. Vell chose the disposable option without activating it, preserving both the imprint plus his future choice.
The grey sliver remained intact after the decision, proving inspection alone did not start its cost. He wrapped it twice before hiding it inside the pack lining for later.
Vell wrapped the sliver in wax paper from his pack, then pushed it beneath the torn lining where a quick search would miss it. It was the first thing he owned that could make his body move faster than a Grade One should.
The rest of the jackal had less romance but more price, so he kept working while the hunters loaded the Glassback Boar onto their hauler. The body was not a trophy, which made it easier to treat every useful piece as food or credit.
He cut the rear tendons without breaking the sheath around them, took both claws, then peeled the hide from the belly where the rifle had not ruined it. Blood made the work slower, but the Forge lines stayed visible while his palm remained against the core.
The new function did not give him clean hands or knowledge he had not earned, but it marked the useful cuts after he found them himself. Vell preferred that arrangement to a voice that might decide the next price for him.
[Recipe discovered: Needle Jackal breakdown.]
[Forge Energy gained: 110.]
The new reserve sat behind his core without strengthening anything by itself. A second read showed three uses, each demanding a decision instead of granting free power.
[Forge Energy: 110.]
[Uses available: Temper advancement, Forge recipes, evolution procedures.]
[Current Temper: 0%.]
Two scavengers reached the ditch while Vell packed the final claw, then claimed the jackal had fallen inside their marked ground. Neither had approached while its teeth were still moving beside the road.
"Leave the core plus half the hide," the older scavenger said, resting one hand on a chipped machete, "then nobody calls the patrol."
Vell looked at the untouched blood around both pairs of boots, then showed them the hunter recorder covering the road behind him. Their claim would require explaining why neither man appeared anywhere near the kill.
"You get one warning," Vell said, closing his pack, "find a corpse without witnesses."
The younger man noticed the fresh Grade 1 mark beneath Vell's collar before the older scavenger did. They left without testing whether the awakening had changed more than his stamina.
The sergeant glanced toward the ditch as Vell packed the last organs, but his people were busy securing a boar corpse that could embarrass more important men. Leaving the collar under their control was bad, though arguing for it would have been worse.
Vell walked away before the young rifleman remembered the jackal had fallen near a public hunt, keeping the collected parts under his coat. He could return for the serial through other evidence once he had money to survive the questions.
At the pump house, he washed the blood off before pushing the six credits beneath the stove.
The slotless Needle-Step imprint went into his pack lining rather than under the boards. He slept with Dessik's bent knife against the cot frame, waking twice when the pipes knocked.
The Forge did not repair a full night's hunger, and his new Grade did not change that Pikker charged extra whenever a man looked desperate. He ate the first pork strip before entering the market, refusing to negotiate on an empty stomach.
Morning made the scavenger belt loud with the hunt recording, which showed a branded exile cross the causeway while licensed hunters argued over whether to shoot him. The story was not kindness, but it made people pause before treating him like a stray dog.
Vell let the story travel ahead of him, because a rumor made a useful wall when people had decided he was safer at a distance. The rumor also made his jackal parts worth a little more, since buyers enjoyed touching a famous danger.
Pikker looked over the jackal parts in the market aisle, turning one tendon between stained fingers before naming a price.
"Ninety credits," he said, watching Vell rather than the meat, "the core is shot and your hide has marsh grit in it."
Vell touched the bundle beneath the counter, letting Analyze separate the remaining materials while Pikker's shelves came into focus beside him.
Three jars marked Wiretail musk held rat musk mixed with chalk, and the right jar had a cracked seal hidden under a fresh thread wrap.
"You can have the parts for two hundred thirty," Vell said, lifting the bad jar where two nearby buyers could see it, "or I explain why your kites burn blue."
Pikker took the jar back so fast that the cap rattled against the counter, then looked past Vell to judge how far the customers had heard.
"You sound expensive after one night with a core," Pikker said, pushing the credits across the counter one stack at a time.
"You sounded cheap before it," Vell replied, taking the money and leaving the trader his pride for whatever it was worth.
Food cost six credits at the next stall, buying dried grain, salt, two strips of pork, and water tablets that tasted of metal.
The smith charged forty credits for a recycled truck-spring knife, but its edge stayed straight when Vell tested it against a hanging bone.
"Break it on armor, bring back the pieces," the smith said, tightening the grip pin with a stubby wrench.
"You repair broken promises too?" Vell asked, passing over the credits before he took the knife.
"I make smaller knives," the smith replied, putting the wrench away as if that settled the matter.
Vell counted one hundred eighty-four credits inside his inner pocket, then moved through the market with food weight against one side and the new knife against the other. He had bought a few days of choices, which was more valuable than calling it security and pretending the distinction mattered.
The extra money changed how people watched him, though none of them knew the exact count beneath his coat. Pikker had seen the sale, so the rest of the market would learn before noon that Vell carried monster money.
He used that attention to inspect the stalls he had avoided while hungry. One seller marked diluted water tablets as military stock, while another offered a cracked core shard as payment for a full meal.
Vell left both cheats alone because their victims could walk toward another table. The city factor's certified scale carried an Association tile, turning the same theft into official business.
He watched an assistant press the tray beside a load of furnace wire, lowering its weight before the scavenger could see. The man's daughter held an empty food sack while her father accepted half the metal's value.
Two more desperate sellers took the same insult without raising their voices, showing Vell exactly how the booth protected itself. People who needed its money today could not afford to lose access tomorrow.
A woman laid clean Wiretail wings across the licensed scale while the assistant pushed its weight down with his thumb. Vell recognized her helpless pause before the factor named twelve credits for a pair worth four times that amount.
She looked toward the food stalls instead of the wings, showing him exactly why the factor expected acceptance.
"The left tray is sticking," Vell said, stopping beside the counter while the woman pulled the wings closer to her chest.
"Licensed equipment," the assistant replied, tapping the Association tile without looking at the scale, "bring your complaints to somebody who rents chairs."
Vell picked up the spare counterweight, studying the white seam at its base before placing it beside the first weight. The assistant reached for it, then stopped when the nearby scavengers leaned closer to see.
[Counterweight: hollow. Internal lead removed.]
[Scale calibration altered: 19%.]
The woman looked from the screen to the assistant's hand, then took her wings off the tray before he could claim a completed sale. She did not thank Vell, which suited him better than a speech would have.
Other scavengers began checking their own bundles, which made the assistant reach for the booth alarm beneath the counter.
The city factor appeared behind the window wearing a smooth shirt, his eyes settling on Vell's face before they settled on the exposed weight. Recognition reached him after one slow breath, then the booth gained a different kind of attention.
"Ardan," he said, saying the name softly enough that everyone nearby leaned closer, "the court made you brave."
"Your employee made you obvious," Vell said, stepping away from the counter before the factor could turn a cheated scale into a fight.
The factor looked at the Grade-One mark under Vell's collarbone, then made a small motion below the booth window. Vell saw the assistant's fear turn into calculation before the factor's hand reappeared.
The bounty board at the market entrance refreshed with a sharp click, replacing Vell's old notice with a larger number.
{VELL ARDAN. Branded murderer.}
{Bounty: 400 credits.}
Two men near the board stopped pretending to shop, and Vell saw both of them reach inside their coats.