"Redrim, just what in the hell happened?"

"Some mistakes were made," I said.

Luckily, my voice speaker still worked since it was installed near my recycler core. But, for some reason, my voice had less bass and somehow less of an authoritative, menacing tone. It was just... rattly.

He stared down at me. "Well, at least do you have your share of the money?"

I grimaced. "I, uh. No. I have no money. It was lost back on my armor. We're broke again."

"You mean you're broke," Vil said. "I, on the other hand, have made more than 700 on some clever trades back in the market square."

"Did you have a license?" I asked.

"Well, no. That's why I had to quit. I was run out on the last one." He stared down at me a bit more intensely than usual.

Clang-clang. I stepped back.

He stepped forward, then knelt so that we'd be eye-level. "You know, Redrim. I think I like you better in this form."

"Because I'm small," I said. "You were intimidated by my armored form. Just say it."

"Intimidated? More like inundated with your presence. Heh. A bit dry. Nine out of eighteen."

This burned. I hated this. Was it my fault that the charisma spell was overpowered? Surely not. Just a simple miscalculation. It wasn't entirely my fault that this asshole punster came out ahead of me. Now it looked like he would make enough money for the both of us, and I sure as hell wasn't about to ask him for a slice.

In the distance, the crowd at the coliseum cheered again.

Clang, clang. I scooted back a bit more. Vil scooted forward. "Look," I said. "We still need money, and trading is off the table. We can rob a noble or steal some cash somewhere."

"No," Vil said.

"Oh? Are you too much of a weak bitch to consider it?"

Vil sighed. "No, Redrim. It's too risky. Besides, we can just do a simple odd job. Something easy."

"Like manual labor," I said. "I'm above manual labor."

"Were you once a noble?" Vil asked. "An aristocrat?"

"My past is none of your concern."

Vil stood with a grunt. "Come on then. We'll check the bulletin board for jobs."

He started off, and I followed. I rolled around on my bottom rim, a swirl of dust followed from the dirt street, and I bumped into him when he stopped.

"This won't work," Vil said. "The recyclers here don't move around like this. How long will it take for you to make a new body?"

"A while," I said.

He groaned. "I know you still have your flex arms. Wrap them together and hold onto my back. We'll make this quick."

I wanted to complain, but it was honestly a good idea. I could be his little garbage can backpack, and he could tote me around. As we walked, I could nab little bits of trash elsewhere. We would be like a walking clean-up crew.

"Fine," I said.

I slipped out four arms and interlinked the hands. He stuck an arm in and grunted as he lifted.

"You're heavy," he said.

"Yes." His back was warm against my skin.

Now, this would typically make for a really cute moment in a romantic comedy, except for the fact I was a sentient trash can, and he was an asshole. Also, I wasn't into dudes.

He took me down one of the cluttered alleys, and we walked for a while, then paused at the first load of garbage. It was a pile of black garbage bags, a big one. He set me down, then started chucking them into my mouth.

It looked stupid, not that I think about it. Just some dude in a sketchy rogue cloak suspiciously throwing sacks of trash into a recycling bin, while the bin itself had several metal tentacles the help.

Luckily, since this was trash and not just the clay of the earth, I was getting the full XP load.

Hmmmm.

+2525 Fire Element

+72369 Earth Element

+7574 Water Element

+1683 Air Element

+420,750 XP

+1 Level [Level 33]

+1 Class Point

Goddamn, that was a lot. And a crazy amount of experience as well. A suspiciously high amount of experience.

"Cassandra," I said. "Why did I get so much XP from that?"

"Because, Imsi," she said, "due to your current Efficiency skill, you recycle at a rate of 99%. You receive 5 XP per gram recycled. I understand that your math skills are lacking, so I will summarize the calculation--"

"No, that's fine," I said. "For some reason, I thought it was the other way around. That I only got 5 XP of what I put in, rather than what materials I got after."

Man, I was an idiot. I really should've blazed through the efficiency tree right off the bat. Oh, well. At least I leveled up and got another class point, which was something I had completely forgotten about since leaving the rebel village. I hadn't even had a chance to look at all of the new skills I could unlock!

I had gained two points from eating all those soldiers in that final fight, so I had three to spend. As Vil packed me up to take me to the next pile of trash bags, I went over my list of skills. And I came upon a curious conundrum.

Many of the skills I had been unlocking were for the Mecha Frame and the War Machine body, both of which I wasn't using at the moment. I was just a trash can, so I didn't have access to my Mecha Frame Dagger Cleats, but I did have access to the Speech Drive and the Activation skills. It seemed that the skills that impacted my recycler core were the ones that stuck, even without having to wear my War Machine armor.

In my mind's eye, those skills in the list that I couldn't use were greyed out, mostly the obvious stuff like Robust Plating on the mech legs or added Strength on the armor.

Mobility

1

+100 Dexterity

2

+200 Dexterity

3

+300 Dexterity

Strength

1

+100 Strength

2

+200 Strength

3

+300 Strength

Weatherproofing

+95% Rust Resistance

Heavy Jacketing

+50% Water/Lightning Defense

On-Site Arms manuf.

-50% Ammo Cost

Bulwark Mode

Protective Shield Arm

2

100% thicker

Sniper Mode

Scoped Rifle Arm

2

Anti-Material Rifle

Communications Mode

Long-Range Antenna

Mining Mode

Ranged Recycle: Short

2

Ranged Recycle: Mining

3

Ranged Recycle: Industrial

Self-Destruct

Explosive Self-Coup de Grace

Looking at the rest of the skills made my little trash can heart skip a beat. Not only were the cool skills not greyed out--which meant I could somehow use them on all my trash can forms--but they were things which I could definitely make use of.

The first choice was obvious: Mining Mode. The stats on the Ranged Recycle skill that it unlocked were just too good. The fact that I could zap a mining laser to drink up resources was incredible and would save so much time while I was in my armored War Machine form.

"Unlock: Mining Mode."

"Mining Mode unlocked."

I wasn't sure what a .50 cal was, but I had heard of a sniper before, so I had the gist. It seemed useful, but I elected to not unlock it for now. Instead, I unlocked the Bulwark Mode.

"Unlock: Bulwark Mode."

"Bulwark Mode unlocked."

"Redrim," said Vil. "Are you whispering to yourself?"

"No."

I considered unlocking the next tier of the Mining Mode, but I decided against it. I always liked to sit on a class point or two just in case something came up later, and I really needed a skill then and there. So, for now, I just let it be.

Vil set me down near the next mound of garbage bags. It was on a street corner, and people cast us curious glances as they walked by. When Vil started to work, the people ignored him as just another city employee.

-17,000 Earth Element

Mining Mode 1/2 activated.

My outer wall clacked, and a small section of it unfolded like a revolving door, revealing a short, blocky arm. It was something that resembled a gun barrel wrapped in a small block of wood--or in this case, metal. Vil winced at the sound, saw the contraption, then looked around to see if anyone noticed. No one did.

"What the hell is this, Redrim?" he hushed. "This isn't something recyclers do."

I said nothing back. There were people around, and I didn't want them to know there was a living, talking garbage can in their vicinity. Instead, I shot the laser. Just a quick burst. Just to see how it felt.

Bzzzz!

Fuck, it was kinda loud!

+430 Earth Element

+10 Air Element

+2,200 XP

It wasn't even a full second burst, but the feedback of actually getting something was enough. This was more than just a tool. Looking at the scorched and smoking bag of trash, I could tell that this could even be a weapon. Maybe not a very good one, but hey, it was something.

Some people passing by noticed the burning trash smell, and they hit us with that stank face. Like it was somehow our fault. Bunch of dweebs, they were.

Vil hurried to stuff my mouth full, then nudged me with his foot when he saw that the bags were almost spilling out of me.

Hmmmm.

+2346 Fire Element

+67260 Earth Element

+7039 Water Element

+1564 Air Element

+391,050 XP

Man, these were juicy gains, but it was alarming that this didn't level me up. I double-checked my stats and saw that I was just on the knife's edge of the next level, but still. The fact that these levels were requiring more and more work to grind out was unsettling. There were just so many skills to unlock, and I only had so many points that I could reasonably get before the XP requirements got too high. I needed to plan my build carefully.

Vil tried to lift me to carry me off again. He grunted as he yanked my arms, but I was too heavy. It was like trying to lift a huge slab of concrete or something. What a weak, little man.

Feeling marginally sorry for him, I went ahead and checked my stock.

350 Blood Element

4,971 Fire Element

131,089 Earth Element

14,613 Water Element

3,257 Air Element

I might have lost some elements when I activated Mining Mode, but since there was no penalty for keeping it on, it wasn't a bad deal.

To make the War Machine armor, I needed:

[5,000 Blood Element]

[10,000 Fire Element]

[20,000 Earth Element]

[5,000 Water Element]

[5,000 Air Element]

Looking at what I had, I needed to transmute some materials to move things around.

Hmmmm.

-80,000 Earth Element

+10,000 Blood Element

+10,000 Fire Element

+10,000 Water Element

+10,000 Air Element

There. It felt wasteful, losing about half the resources to transmute, but I was glad that it worked out.

Now that I had enough, I just needed to activate my War Machine armor, but there was a problem. Vil couldn't lift me, people were starting to stare at the humming, vibrating, whispering garbage can--I had... somehow been talking to myself in a soft voice this entire time--and if I just rolled away, the musketeers down the street might come asking too many questions.

Wham! Vil kicked me over, and I face-planted into the grit of the street. Then, using his feet, he rolled me along. Since I wasn't perfectly cylindrical, I sort of wheeled a bit to the left, which he had to fix with more aggressive, correctional kicks. Soon, he rolled me along to a nearby alley, into a dark corner. He paused to listen. No one was nearby.

He knelt. "Okay, Redrim. What's the plan? Do you have enough now, or not?"

"Yep," I said.

He stood and dusted himself off. "Good. Then hurry."

-5,000 Blood Element

-10,000 Fire Element

-20,000 Earth Element

-5,000 Water Element

-5,000 Air Element

War Machine activated.

Hrmmm-click-click-click.

Hrmmm-click-CLACK-click.

I wasn't conscious the last time I did this, but I was now. My body clicked and clacked as my trash can outer walls unlocked and disconnected as modular panels. Hot, steaming iron coalesced onto each one, then was flipped and moved by the panels, which made a new panel, which flipped and reformed into my constituent parts.

I was building outwards, which each piece helping build the next, and so on. My entire body shook and rattled just as you would expect of a shoddy trash can, and while I felt totally awesome the first time, I was somehow... embarrassed now.

Within a few moments, I found myself resting on my hands and knees, my metal shell cooling, hissing with steam, and I coughed.

"Disgusting," Vil said. "You smell like garbage."

"I was made from garbage," I said back.

"Trash manifest," he smiled. "Or I guess... trash manifester. Haha. Thirty out of thirty-five."

"Fuck off."

"Come one," he said with a gesture. "Now that your less useless, we can look for work."

I stood and stretched out my armored limbs. I felt again the skeletal bones beneath the armor--the mecha frame--and I rolled my shoulders, cracked my knuckles, and stepped along to join him.

It was a bright sunny day, just past noon, and the air was a bit warmer now. A breeze blew through the streets, and it rustled the little trinkets and chimes that were strung up along the alleyway overhang.

We first went back to the lavender purple building, the portal company building, and we checked the bulletin board there. There were a few jobs posted, mostly just long-term contracts and the like. Being a barista didn't sound fun, so we elected to look elsewhere.

Vil told me of a better place, so we went back to the market square, skirting the lunch-rush crowds, and we pushed our way to the market board. It was a huge bulletin board with work-wanted posters, gig work, part-time and full-time jobs, and even a huge advertisement for the arena.

"Arena?" I asked. "Would you like to fight?"

Vil scoffed. "We don't have time for an arena arc, Redrim. We're in a hurry."

"Fair."

"How about this one?" he asked. "They need someone to move cow shit from the--"

"No," I said.

He sighed. "It was a simple, quick job that paid well."

"I'm above manual labor," I said.

"But you're not above poverty," he said back. "Look here. Another simple one that doesn't involve hard work. All we need to do is help organize books at the cathedral. It won't cover the entire cost, but it says there might be more work after."

I groaned. It was that fuckin' place. The one place I did not want to ever be near. I glanced back at Vil to see him waiting for my answer, and to be honest, I was starting to feel sorry for him. Here he was chasing after the girl of his dreams, desperately trying to make the rendezvous in time, and here I was almost dead weight.

Make no mistake; this wasn't empathy. It was like feeling sorry for a wounded dog. Because he was beneath me. Of course.

"Alright," I said. "Let's get this over with."

He smirked, and this time, I led the way. I was the leader of this trip, after all.

And so we walked toward the sound of church bells in the distance, past the cheering crowds of the coliseum, abandoning any hope of having a cool, yet ultimately unnecessary series of fights at the arena, and on to that one place that I had been so many countless times before.

The place where I had first started.

The Main Quest.