All Items Can Be Synthesized

"......"

My hand stopped.

Certain I had misread it, I went over the line again and again. The information did not change. It could synthesize every item — and grant positive modifiers on top of that.

What the hell is this?

My heart began to pound. If the thing truly worked as described, it was no mere piece of junk. It might be a treasure the world would never see twice.

"Hey."

Lee Jeong-ho stamped the butt of his greatsword into the floor.

"What are you staring at for so long? Don't tell me you promised to buy the whole lot and now you're picking through it."

I set the basket down and arranged my face into something as blank as I could manage.

"I am buying all of it."

"Then price it by weight."

I looked at the lumps of stone heaped on the counter. I was not about to get cheated again. But the Goblin Basket had to end up in my hands.

"The stone fragments are excluded."

"What?"

"I told you last time. I can't purchase rocks like these."

Lee Jeong-ho's face twisted.

Bang!

His kick sent the display rack lurching.

"You bought them last time!"

"In exchange, I'll pay top price for everything else."

"You little shit..."

His ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hand shot out. I saw it coming, and I still couldn't dodge. He seized me by the collar and hauled me into the air.

"Ghk!"

"Trash-tier, and you still manage to be a pain in the ass."

Thud!

His fist drove into my solar plexus. My breath locked, and my vision washed white.

"Cough... cough..."

I hit the floor. Rage surged up through me, but there was no strength behind it. As I was now, I could not beat him.

Which was all the more reason.

This basket has to be mine.

I had no intention of handing a treasure back to garbage like them.

"All right."

I swallowed the coughing and pushed myself up.

"I'll calculate it by weight."

"Should've done that from the start."

I set everything on the scale, stone fragments included.

"One gold and twenty silver, all together."

"Good."

They pocketed the money with satisfied faces.

"See you next time, trash-tier."

"Don't call a person trash-tier. He has a name."

Cha Hye-ryeon added it with a smile.

"See you, scrap iron."

Only after the three of them were gone did Johnson, who had been hiding in the back of the shop, creep out.

"Ahem. Rough one."

This old man. Honestly.

"Heard they're pitting summoners against each other over results these days. Didn't think it'd come to this. Tsk."

None of it really reached me. My eyes were fixed on the Goblin Basket and nothing else.

"Boss."

"What?"

"I'll buy those goods."

"What?"

"We got stuck with them because I failed to handle the sale properly. I'll take responsibility."

If he had spared a thought for an employee who had just been beaten, the normal thing would have been to stop me. Johnson was not normal.

"Ahem. If you truly insist on eating it... I'll still swallow twenty silver of the loss."

A miser to the bone.

"Thank you."

Even if I sold every piece of junk, I wouldn't get a full gold back. It didn't matter. The Goblin Basket alone was enough.

"Then I'll leave early today."

"Go on. You took a beating, so rest."

I swept the junk into a sack, and slipped the basket in with it as if it belonged there. On the outside I stayed as calm as I could. The moment I stepped out of the shop, my heart began to hammer as if it meant to break my ribs.

It synthesizes every item.

How far did that reach? Could I turn junk into something better? Artifacts, even? And then, unbidden, I remembered the two trash-tier ability stones I had seen that morning.

Schizophrenia.

Forced Multi-Pact.

Each ability was exceptional, and each was garbage no one would touch, because of a fatal penalty. But if — only if — I could draw out nothing but the advantages of those two stones and fuse them...

"...Crazy."

A laugh escaped before I could stop it. A year since I had fallen into this world. For the first time, a real chance might have appeared in front of me.

"Char. You're early today."

The moment I stepped into the Jerik Martial Arts Hall, a massive, rough-hewn man turned his head. Jerik — master of the hall, and a former adventurer. My benefactor, who had taken in a near-beggar come to learn the martial arts, accepted pocket change for it, and even given him a room.

Char was the nickname the people here had stuck on me, unable to pronounce Cheol-woo properly.

"Yes. Something came up at the shop."

"Something?"

Jerik's gaze went to the sack slung over my shoulder.

"Old man Johnson making you work from home now?"

"Something like that."

"That miser really does grind people down to nothing."

Johnson's usual conduct made the excuse an easy one.

"And tonight's training?"

"I'll rest, just for today."

"You?"

Jerik's eyes narrowed. For half a year I had not missed training even when I was sick. The suspicion was fair. I tapped the sack.

"I have goods to sort."

"...Fine. Tomorrow's double, then."

"Yes."

Slipping past Jerik's eyes, I went into the small room tucked into a corner of the hall. The lock was barely a lock, and the place was nothing but a rented closet, but it was the first space of my own since I had fallen into this world.

The latch clicked. The moment the door shut, I set the sack on the floor, and out spilled a broken bone knife, goblin tableware, scraps of leather, a shriveled mushroom, and gravel.

And in the middle of it all, a sorry-looking bamboo basket showed itself.

No matter how many times I checked, the description stayed the same.

"All items..."

If it was true to the description, the thing was absurd. But I could not trust a system description on faith alone. My trait was Ungraded — it did not even have a rank — and the item that trait had found was ungraded as well.

Test it first.

I picked up the most worthless thing there.

I dropped two stones into the basket. Tap. Tap. And I waited.

"......"

Nothing happened. Five seconds. Ten.

Then—

A flash. A small light flickered through the gaps in the bamboo.

"It worked!"

I flung the lid open. Only one piece of gravel remained inside.

"...What?"

Two had become one, but the description was identical.

"Did one of them just disappear?"

Disappointment rose, but one fact, at least, was proven: the basket was no ordinary object. This time I put in the gravel I had just made, together with a fresh piece.

Flash. One again.

No change. I put in another stone.

Flash.

"Let's see which of us gives in first."

Nearly half the junk I had brought was gravel. I fed the stones in without a pause. Flash. Flash again. The gravel kept collapsing into one, but nothing obvious changed.

It might be a little smoother.

More likely my imagination. Then, once I had combined more ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠than ten pieces—

Flash.

"Oh."

A single word had changed. That one word mattered. Repeat the synthesis, and the quality rises.

I went straight for something else: a bone spoon smaller than my palm, and a bone fork with a broken tine. Both went into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the basket.

Flash.

What came out was a strange utensil, the fork's tines fixed to the end of the spoon.

"They combine like this, too?"

It was not simply one of the two objects surviving. If their uses were similar, the functions themselves merged. Next I put in two broken bone knives. One had a sound handle. The other had a blade that was relatively intact.

Flash.

Only the intact portions of handle and blade had been joined. The old scraps of leather were the same: the torn parts vanished, and the more I synthesized them, the tougher the leather became.

It keeps the advantages?

I started shoving the rest of the junk in at random. Dried mushrooms combined with one another, but mushrooms that were not fully dried — that still had some life left in them — would not synthesize. Objects of the same material reacted at a high rate. Objects of different materials did not. Even things that looked alike failed if their use or their composition differed too greatly.

After several dozen trials, I had the rough shape of the rules.

First. Only objects of similar material or composition synthesize.

Second. Living things do not synthesize.

Third. Repeated synthesis restores damaged parts, or raises the quality.

Fourth. Objects with similar functions may have their respective advantages combined.

"So it isn't the sort of thing that spits out an artifact if you dump junk into it."

A little disappointing. Not disappointing enough to matter. Being able to turn ten pieces of trash into one intact item was value enough on its own.

And above all—

Functions and advantages combine.

The two ability stones from that morning came back to me.

Both abilities had a clear strength and a clear flaw. If the basket worked on ability stones as well, then the power to divide a consciousness and the power to contract multiple spirits might merge. There was even a chance that each fatal penalty would be removed, or at least weakened.

"Insane."

I could not even begin to picture what kind of ability that result ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would be. I wanted to sprint back to the general store that instant. I barely managed to stop myself.

Go back now and ask for the ability stones, and he'll get suspicious.

Trash no one would buy — and on the very day I appraised it, I suddenly wanted to purchase it. Johnson was blinded by money, but he was no fool. He knew, in particular, that I could see the hidden information on ability stones.

Buy them tomorrow.

No one could be allowed to learn what this basket really was. Not even Jerik, my benefactor. Even if he would never betray me, a single word leaking out would be the end. In this world, a powerless man holding a treasure was as good as guilty of a crime.

"Hoo..."

I tried to crush the anticipation down. My hands shook anyway. It was the first time since I had fallen into this world — the feeling that a road my effort alone could never have reached had suddenly appeared in front of my eyes.

Knock, knock.

"Char."

Jerik's voice came from beyond the door.

"Evening training's starting."

"I said I'd rest today."

"I know."

"Then why..."

"Your voice is too wound up. Leave you to rest and you'll do something stupid."

He was right. I looked at the basket and the junk for a moment, then hastily threw a cloth over them.

"Coming out."

Only wearing my body down to nothing, I thought, would settle this excitement.

The next day, I reached the general store earlier than usual.

"Sun must be rising in the west today."

Johnson peered at me over his monocle.

"A man shows up early and you still complain?"

"It's ominous because it's you showing up early."

I ignored him and started on the cleaning and the displays. My head, though, held nothing but the two ability stones sitting at one end of the case. An empty stretch followed, without a single customer. Lunch passed. Only when the sun had tilted west did I carefully open my mouth.

"Boss."

"What?"

"Sell me those ability stones."

Johnson's hands stopped.

"What?"

"The two trash-tier ability stones I appraised yesterday."

The old man's eyes sharpened.

"Why?"

The question I had expected.

"Getting worked over by those bastards yesterday changed my mind."

I pressed the bruise still sitting over my solar plexus. Thanks to the pain, I didn't even need to act the anger.

"Stay like this and I'll be treated as trash-tier my whole life, and then I'll die. Even if there are side effects, I'm getting power."

"...What you appraised. You're certain?"

"Are you doubting me right now?"

I raised my voice, and Johnson's eyes slid aside.

"No. It's just that you suddenly say you'll buy them."

"If you don't trust me, take them to the Magic Tower and have them appraised again."

"That costs..."

"Forget it. I'll find them somewhere else."

I pulled off my apron and threw it on the counter.

"And as of today, I quit."

"What?"

"How am I supposed to work for an employer who won't even trust his own employee's appraisal?"

"No — wait! If you quit out of nowhere, where am I supposed to find a replacement!"

Urgency climbed over Johnson's face. Only now, it seemed, did he remember that I was cheap to pay, that I could appraise general goods, and that I kept the shop without complaint even when no customers came.

"I'll sell! I'll sell them!"

"At cost."

"That's a bit..."

"Then I quit."

"One gold for both!"

Johnson shouted it in a rush. Half of half a year's wages. Steep, for trash ability stones — but a proper low-grade ability stone ran more than ten times that.

"I'll buy them."

I took out the money I had saved and set it on the counter. Clink. The coins vanished, and two ability stones came into my hands. Half of everything I owned was gone.

No regrets.

Not yet.

"I'll leave early today."

"You're coming tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Probably."

"Probably, my ass! I'll raise your pay, so you'd better show up!"

Instead of answering, I pocketed the ability stones and left the shop. The moment I turned into a deserted alley, I drew the Goblin Basket out from inside my clothes and dropped both stones in.

Tap. Tap.

Synthesize.

Junk had reacted within ten seconds. I slowed my steps and looked down into the basket. Ten seconds. Twenty. A full minute. No light appeared.

Does it need more time?

Ability stones and junk were not the same in value. It could be that. Forcing myself toward a hopeful thought, I walked all the way to the martial arts hall. The basket never shone.

"Char. What's with that face?"

Jerik asked it at the entrance.

"It's nothing."

"Somebody hit you again?"

"I said no."

Once I was in the room, I set the basket on the floor. The two ability stones were exactly as they had been.

Don't tell me things that hold mana can't be synthesized.

Anxiety crept up, slow and cold. One hour. Two. Nothing happened.

"...So it only works on junk?"

The strength left my legs. I dropped where I stood. Half my fortune. It was not only the money I had lost. The time I had spent gathering that money had vanished with it, and the day I could afford a normal ability stone had just been pushed back by months, at the least.

"Fuck..."

Worse than the thought that the basket was no treasure was the fact that I had clutched at another empty hope. A trait with no grade. A basket with no grade. Common sense said I should never have expected anything from the start.

My money...

Money mattered. I had learned that down to the bone from the time I was very small. Without money, it is not merely that a person cannot do what they want. They cannot do what they must. My parents were the ones who taught me that — with their lives. And now I had gone and thrown money as precious as those lives into empty air.

"...Damn it."

The lament was still leaving me when the door shook under a fist.

"Char! Get out here! Training time!"

"I'm resting today."

"You rested yesterday."

"I don't feel well."

Bang!

The door opened. Jerik came into the room and looked down at me.

"A sound mind dwells in a sound body."

"My mind is sound."

"Don't say that with a rotten look on your face."

He caught me by the scruff and dragged me out as I was.

"Training."

"Wait. It's already night — there is no training!"

"Starting today, you're in the special class."

"There was no such class!"

"I just made it."

I was hauled to the center of the training ground before I had a chance to resist.

"Start with running! Begin!"

"Begin!"

Boys and young men broke into a run as one. I followed behind them, unwilling. At first, nothing circled in my head but the vanished money and the basket. After more than an hour of running, there was no room left to think.

"Your feet are a mess!"

Thwack!

A stone Jerik had thrown struck my forehead.

"Kh!"

"Focus!"

I just got ruined by rocks, and now he's throwing rocks at me.

I cursed inwardly and kept running. The moment the run ended, a training iron spear was put into my hands.

"Intensive class, to position!"

The intensive class was me alone.

"How many things do you have to do?"

"Two!"

"Say them!"

"Thrust, and evade!"

"Master just those, and you'll survive the lower floors of the Labyrinth. Begin!"

"Begin!"

I drove the heavy iron spear straight ahead. One step, my whole weight behind the thrust. Two steps, withdrawing on a diagonal to the rear. A motion I had repeated thousands of times over half a year. Today, I could not focus.

My money.

I thrust.

Half my fortune.

I retreated.

Three more months of work.

Thwack!

This time the stone hit my temple.

"Char! Watch the spear tip!"

"Yes!"

I clenched my teeth. Fine. Call it one wasted hole dug in the dirt. I had fallen into this world with nothing but my body and survived by begging. I had learned the language in a city where I could not understand a word, found work, and trained every single day for half a year without a rest. If losing a few months' money was enough to make me quit, I would have died long ago.

I can save it again.

I thrust.

The basket still works for synthesizing junk.

I retreated.

I'll find a way into the Labyrinth even without an ability stone.

I thrust again. Little by little, the noise in my head went quiet. Feet. Waist. Shoulders. Arms. The tip of the spear. I saw nothing but a single point. Weight into the supporting leg. A twist of the waist. I drove the spear not with my arm, but with my whole body.

Paang!

Blue light flared from a spear tip extended to its perfect length.

"...What?"

In that instant, something seemed to drain out of my body, and my strength gave way. The iron spear fell from my hands.

"Mana, in half a year..."

I heard Jerik's startled voice.

"Well done, Char."

With those words, my vision went black.