Volume 1: The Foundation of the Abandoned
Chapter 2: The Engineer of Flesh (Part 1 )
The Boar was down. The Goblins were staring. And Ren was trying very hard to look like he knew what he was doing.
"I'm looking for employees," Ren had said. It was a cool line. He was proud of it.
But the reality was a bit messier.
Mogs, the Old Goblin Elder, collapsed. The adrenaline that had kept him standing in front of the Boar faded, and the deep wound on his side began to gush dark blood onto the dirt.
"Elder!" The younger goblins shrieked, rushing toward him.
Ren dropped his 'Cool Demon Lord' act instantly. He ran over, sliding on his knees next to the old goblin.
"Don't touch him!" Ren ordered the panicking goblins. "You're covered in filth. You'll infect the wound."
Ren hovered his hands over the gash. It was bad. He could see a cracked rib and something pulsing that definitely shouldn't be exposed to open air.
"S.U.G.A.," Ren hissed under his breath. "Do we have a First Aid Kit? Bandages? Potion?"
[Inventory Check: Empty. You possess a Wolf-Fur Coat and a Bone Knife. Neither is sterile.]
"He's dying! Give me a solution!"
[Analysis: Subject 'Goblin Elder'. Vital signs dropping. Conventional healing is impossible without Holy Magic. However...]
The blue interface flickered in Ren's vision, highlighting the massive, unconscious Boar lying ten feet away.
[Proposal: Biological Synthesis. You have a 'Damaged Host' (Goblin). You have 'High-Grade Spare Parts' (Boar). Method: Graft the Boar's vitality and muscle tissue onto the Goblin to replace the damaged organs.]
Ren felt his stomach churn. "You want me to... scrap the Boar and stick it into the Goblin? Like changing a tire?"
[Correction: Like upgrading a computer with a new graphics card. Except wet. And sticky. Stop hesitating. Survival probability drops to 0% in 30 seconds.]
Ren gritted his teeth. "Okay. Okay, let's do it."
He looked at Mogs. The old goblin was gasping for air, his eyes glazing over.
"Hey, old man," Ren said softly. "Listen to me. I can save you. But you're not going to be the same. You're going to be... mixed."
Mogs grabbed Ren's wrist with a weak, trembling hand. "Save... the pack... give me... power..."
"Power. You got it."
Ren stood up. He walked to the Boar and placed his left hand on its massive flank. He reached out with his right hand and placed it on Mogs's chest.
"S.U.G.A., manage the mana flow. Don't let me explode."
[Acknowledged. Initiating Surgical Synthesis Protocol. Warning: This will be visually unpleasant. I recommend not vomiting.]
"Shut up."
Ren closed his eyes and pushed. [Skill: Synthesis].
SQUELCH.
It wasn't a magical sparkle. It was visceral. The Boar's body convulsed as if it were being sucked through a straw. Red strands of muscle, white shards of bone, and grey patches of iron-scale skin unraveled from the beast and flowed like liquid through the air, entering Ren's left arm, traveling across his chest, and shooting out of his right arm into the goblin.
"GAAAAAAH!" Mogs screamed.
It was a sound of agony and growth.
The goblin's small, malnourished frame cracked. His spine elongated. His thin arms bulged, muscles knitting together instantly with the density of the boar's strength. The open wound on his side hissed as it was sealed shut, not by skin, but by a patch of thick, grey iron-scales.
[Progress: 40%... 80%... Constructing new skeletal structure... Adding 'Iron Stomach'... Reinforcing heart valve...]
[Complete.]
Ren pulled his hands back, gasping for breath. He felt drained, like he had just run a marathon.
The Boar was now just a deflated sack of skin and bones.
But Mogs... Mogs was different.
The old goblin stood up. He was a foot taller. His hunchback was gone. His skin was a dark, metallic green. He looked down at his hands—they were thick, powerful, and ended in black claws.
Mogs flexed his chest, and the iron scales rippled.
"I..." Mogs's voice was deeper, vibrating in his chest. "I feel... full."
The other goblins stared in silence. Then, Pip (the small thief goblin) whispered, "He's... he's beautiful."
[Observation: 'Beautiful' is subjective. He looks like a toad that swallowed a tank. But he is alive. Good job, Host.]
Mogs turned to Ren. The fear and hesitation were gone. In their place was absolute, religious devotion. He had been broken, and this stranger had rebuilt him.
Mogs dropped to one knee, lowering his head so low his forehead touched the dirt. The impact cracked the dry earth.
"My flesh is your flesh," Mogs rumbled. "My life is yours. Command me, My Lord."
Ren scratched the back of his head, looking at the kneeling tank-goblin.
"First command," Ren said, pointing to the deflated boar carcass. "We're going to need dinner. Butcher the rest of that pig. And... uh... maybe get me a chair? My legs are shaking."
"As you wish, My Lord!" Mogs roared, standing up with new energy.
[Notification: Title Acquired 'Flesh Shaper'. Reputation with Goblin Faction: Maxed. Reputation with Local Boar Population: Hated.]
Ren sighed. "I can live with that."