I watched the trainees for a few moments longer behind the glass, my attention drifting across their still forms. They lay quiet and motionless beneath thin sheets, bodies damp with sweat, chests rising just enough to convince an untrained eye that they were simply asleep. I found myself wondering what each of their abilities would become once the process finished, what shape their power would take when they woke.

  I wondered about my own.

  I sincerely hoped it would not be related to poop. That would be truly unfortunate, but I would deal with it if that was my lot in life.

  Whatever it was going to be, it would be. The thought settled with surprising ease, as if my mind had already accepted that some outcomes were outside negotiation. That acceptance reminded me of what I believed the god of iron had told me in my dream. There had been no warning, no poetry, and no attempt to soften the truth. Just a simple statement of fact. Growth was possible if I was willing to take it, and the manner in which I took it mattered less than the fact that I did.

  I waved Greta goodbye and turned away from the glass. I passed Lamb and Devon on my way out. Devon flinched and pulled back as I went by, his shoulders tensing, his eyes dropping to the floor as though avoiding my gaze might somehow make me disappear. Lamb did not look at me at all. She remained where she was, facing the observation glass, her posture rigid, her attention fixed entirely on the trainees beyond it as if I had already ceased to exist.

  I made my way back to my room. I unlocked my chest and took out the three tin cores my father had gotten for me, the ones he had bought without complaint or hesitation, trusting that I would use them when the time was right.

  I held them in my hand for a long moment, turning them over slowly, feeling their weight, and questioning my sanity more than once. There were easier paths. There were safer ones. This did not feel like either.

  Then I swallowed them, one after another, without ceremony.

  The god of iron had told me that consuming them would raise my capacity. That was, in theory, what upgrading a core already required. This was simply skipping steps, or perhaps taking a different route through the same process. I had not known if it would work until I committed to it, and by the time doubt surfaced again, it was already too late.

  The cores were far easier to swallow than I had expected. They slid down without resistance, leaving behind only a faint warmth that spread slowly through my chest. For a brief moment, it felt as though that was exactly what they were meant to do, as though my body had been waiting for this. As though it had already adapted. Eating the cores felt natural. My body accepted them without hesitation, long before I had time to think about whether that should worry me.

  I did not know what the change would ultimately do. It would be minor compared to a full upgrade, I was sure of that, but the cores were now safe from thieves, and I would gain something from them, even if I could not yet measure it.

  In the back of my mind, I set a simple mental projection, a habit from my last life.

  progress to copper: 30%

  I knew it was not necessary. I knew it was only a construct, a way of visualizing something that did not truly need numbers attached to it. Even so, it helped. It gave shape to something invisible, and it reminded me, quietly and persistently, that I was moving forward, whether the world approved of how I did it or not.

  Then my stomach roared.

  Not from hunger. Gods, I wished it was hunger.

  I doubled over, clutching at my stomach as a wet heat rolled through me. Before I could even process what was happening, black ooze began to seep from my skin, thick and foul-smelling. Panic hit hard and fast. I bolted, tearing at my clothes as I ran, stripping them off because I could already tell this was going to be disgusting.

  I had made a terrible mistake.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I had assumed the cleansing process only triggered during a full core upgrade. Apparently, it did not care about my assumptions. The moment the cores settled, my body decided it was time.

  I ran for the healing hall, gagging from the stench coming off me. I kicked off my boots, then my socks, not bothering to slow down. I tripped, skidded, and barely caught myself, and I did not care. I needed a sealed room. I needed containment. Whatever was happening to me was going to be vile.

  I started shouting names as I ran. Myrda. Greta. Even Randall. Anyone.

  The one who reached me was Lamb.

  She must have been closer than the others. She took one look at me and stopped short, her expression shifting instantly. There was no disgust there, and no anger. Just sharp calculation, followed by understanding. Whatever she thought of me before vanished under the weight of professional instinct.

  She grabbed me properly this time, hands under my arms instead of my collar, lifted me clean off the ground, and ran.

  “How many?” she demanded.

  “Three,” I managed.

  “All right,” she said immediately.

  “We got off on the wrong foot,” I said.

  “Forget it,” Lamb continued. “Right now, you’re a patient, and I’m treating you as one.” Her grip tightened as she ran. “You’re a child, and you’re in distress. Listen carefully. This is going to hurt.”

  She glanced down at me. “What core rank are you?”

  “Tin,” I said, choking as another black glob forced its way up my throat.

  “Spit that out,” she ordered.

  I did, over her shoulder.

  “Good. Good,” she said. “This would be much worse if you were copper or iron. There’s a reason people usually do this all at once.”

  “I think I understand now,” I said weakly. “Does this happen every time someone ingest a core?”

  “Yes,” Lamb replied. “Every single one cleanses you more. And no, it is not pleasant.” She let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’ll be fine, though. You’ll probably go catatonic for a few hours. When you wake up, you’ll feel better.”

  She adjusted her grip as the healing hall came into view. “I don’t know what a thirty percent tin progression feels like. I’ve never heard of anyone foolish enough to stop at the beginning. But it won’t be as bad as insertion. There’s usually no real downtime after this.”

  I nodded, barely holding myself together. Half of me wanted to vomit from the smell clinging to my skin. The other half wanted to vomit from the taste of black ooze still coating my mouth. And somehow a third half of me just wanted to die.

  Lamb shouted ahead of us, “Devon, open the chamber door.”

  I heard Devon’s wheezy voice answer back, panicked. “But it reeks in there. Why would I open it?”

  “Just do it, you goddamn idiot,” Lamb yelled. “Do it now, or I will personally make sure you never get your papers. Do you hear me? Now.”

  That was oddly comforting. She might not like me, but she clearly liked Devon just as little. The thought helped while I threw up again.

  “Oh gods,” Lamb muttered. “That is never coming out. I’m going to have to burn these robes.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tried to say.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she snapped. “Just aim better. We can clean the floor. Or burn it. I liked this robe.”

  We hit the door at speed as Devon finally hauled it open. Lamb barreled through and laid me down without ceremony. The moment I hit the surface, she started pumping divine magic into me, stripping away the worst of the sickness.

  “You need to turn your head,” she said. “It’s going to suck. Look at the floor if you can.”

  I did, and the world tilted violently as my equilibrium failed. My cells were changing too fast, everything inside me lagging behind the next moment. I understood then why taking all of them at once killed people.

  Oh gods. What would happen when I took the remaining seven? Would it be a clean death, or would it be this, stretched out even longer? I found myself hoping for death.

  It felt like the black sludge was eating me from the inside. The smell was unbearable, like something had set fire to the inside of an asshole and then cooked socks in it. There was no better way to describe it. My stomach twisted hard enough that it felt like it was turning inside out.

  The ooze just kept coming, dripping and pooling onto the floor beneath me.

  “Yeah,” Lamb muttered, “this is exactly why you don’t do this.” She glanced at me sharply. “Where did you get the cores?”

  “My dad bought them for me,” I said.

  “And he didn’t tell you not to take them?”

  I swallowed, then shook my head. “Who told you it was possible?” she pressed.

  “No one,” I said. That was close enough to the truth. A dream was still just a dream.

  I tried to explain myself, but it came out as another wave of vomiting instead. When it finally stopped, I managed to get the words out.

  “I didn’t want Devon to steal them. They were in my chest.”

  Lamb looked at me for a long moment, clearly choosing her words. “If you hadn’t assaulted him, I would have reprimanded him severely. He was in the wrong. But because you assaulted him, the situation changes.”

  She met my eyes. “There are rules I have to follow. Rules you have to follow. The Healers Guild handles its own.”

  I nodded. I understood what she was telling me. If Devon caused trouble again, I was supposed to tell her, not beat the shit out of him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I lost my temper. Then I tried to fix it by using my father’s name.”

  I swallowed. “I thought I could act like some young master I’ve seen before.”

  The admission settled lightly, as I would have laughed at the absurdity of it. We both knew I wasn’t one, luckily.