I would buy another dagger for 300 black tokens, but I prefer to see which is more efficient, between the cheap swords or a more expensive dagger.
"Come in!" the manager says to me.
I enter the armory, the manager turns on the lights, and I can see the weapons. He is a talented blacksmith; it is evident when you see his creations.
"There are cheap swords in that barrel. Choose the ones you want and come to the counter to pay," the gaunt blacksmith tells me.
I don't know much about swords, but some look damaged, others don't look bad. In the end, I chose five swords that cost around 10 black tokens each.
I approach the counter, place the black tokens on it, and the blacksmith puts them away without even counting them.
Finally, I nod and then leave the smithy, heading for the booth where the inspectors guard the entrance and exit of visitors to the central area.
••••
Some time later, luckily there were no setbacks and I find myself back in the common area.
I look up at the sky and the sea of clouds is there.
-Dan!
I hear the voice of the hunter Lizand, and I still have a few blocks to go before I return to the squad.
-Hunter Lizand, is something wrong?
She hands me a piece of paper, I read it, and it says:
"Common Crematorium
Work shift: 4 days
Hunter aspirant: Dan Helsing"
"What is this?" I ask, somewhat surprised.
"Watson explained a little bit to me. So this is for the best. They say that the smell of the ashes of monsters and supernatural beings eliminates or covers the essence of people. Although if you want, you can go back and see the Lady in Red who has been waiting for you since yesterday," explains Hunter Lizand.
"And where is the address of the Crematorium?" I ask, rereading the piece of paper, which was actually an official document from the squadron.
"Look at the sky in that direction," -Hunter Lizand pointed, extending her right arm and pointing her index finger toward a rising cloud of gray smoke.
-Thank you, Hunter Lizand. -I say as I head toward the crematorium, although I know that a thank you is not enough in this world. Now I owe her a favor.
••••
I walk through increasingly gloomy streets in the common area. Even so, gloomy does not equal misery.
The area near the crematorium is characterized by unpainted houses and buildings. There are few people, and those you do see are quiet or have blank expressions.
Even so, when compared to the misery-filled area you see when you cross the walls of Rodem City, the place I am walking through is 100 times better.
I walk for a few minutes until I arrive in front of a slightly spacious, two-story building with a gray facade.
I enter and at the reception desk is a young man with pale skin and tousled black hair, dressed in simple gray clothes.
"Did the captain send you?" he asks me immediately.
"Yes," I reply directly as I place the document on the old reception desk.
"So you're Dan... Dan Helsing," he says as he puts the document in a desk drawer.
Shortly after, he adds:
"You can call me Jackson. See that door over there? Walk down the hallway until you reach the end, and you'll come to a black door. Knock twice, and Larson will welcome you with open arms. The workday is seven hours long."
After nodding to Jackson's instructions, I walk toward the door they pointed out, open it, and enter a hallway with several doors on either side. I ignore them, keep walking, and as I advance, the heat increases.
When I reach the black door, I knock twice, and several minutes later, a man who looks to be about 30 years old opens it. He has short brown hair, tanned skin, a robust build, but short in stature, wearing a brown sweater and black pants, with a black leather apron over his clothes and dark chocolate-colored leather gloves on his hands.
"It must be Larson," I think immediately. And seconds later, he says in a muffled voice:
"Come in. There are leather aprons and gloves on the wall next to the door, as well as boots and masks. You see the five tables over there? Grab a shovel and help me throw the remains into the furnaces. Only five shovelfuls per hour, per furnace. Take care of the three furnaces on the left, and I'll take care of the three on the right."
The heat is horrible, the smell is strange, but traces of fear can be detected in the smoke.
I put on a leather apron, gloves, boots, and a mask.
I take a wide metal shovel, approach the table, and see the pieces of humans, monsters, and supernatural beings, all mixed together as if they were just trash, or rather, in this world, only those who die are trash.
"Should I wait a while, or should I throw the five shovelfuls in right away?" I ask Larson, and he replies:
"Wait 10 minutes. You can use the clock on the wall to time it. After that, start and calculate the time again."
••••
I shovel once, then look for another shovel, and every time I lift a shovel, I smell rot and strange chemicals.
"System, am I getting poisoned?" I ask, since I've been doing the same thing for three days and the conditions and chemicals used in this place seem quite risky.
[No, host]
[The host's fear level is capable of purifying his body of the toxins that contaminate the environment]
[The host also possesses: Resistance to poison (low level)]
"Damn, that means that someone weak will sooner or later end up poisoning themselves in this place," I think to myself, then look at Jackson, who is taking the waste to the corresponding furnace.
"In any world, the weak end up suffering for their own weakness. Damn, I have to get stronger or sooner or later I'll be another victim," I think, as I use the shovel to scoop up a load of waste and take it to the appropriate furnace.