Awakening In The Trash Pile{My System is Cosmic Scavenger}

A BEAST AND A BREAKTHROUGH

CHAPTER 004 

A young disciple ran back and forth, trying to calm a huge Stormcloud Lynx. The beast was normally beautiful silver fur flashing with tiny sparks of lightning but now its coat looked dull and dirty. It coughed weakly, a few sad sparks popping from its throat.

An Elder from the Beast Taming Hall marched over, her robes swaying. Her face was tight with worry. She checked the lynx, placed a hand on its chest, then let out a slow breath.

“It’s the Withering Flux,” she said. “Its core is corrupted. It could infect the others. Put it down. Take the body to the Rendering Vat.”

The young disciple’s eyes went wide. “Elder, please! She’s my bond beast! Please don’t make me—”

“The bond is already broken,” the Elder cut in sharply. “The core is waste. End it before nightfall.”

The disciple choked back a sob as another handler guided him away.

Kieran stood frozen. His System wasn’t.

A bright red alert flashed across his vision:

[ALERT: High-value catastrophic waste detected.]

Subject: Stormcloud Lynx (Juvenile).

Status: Terminal. Core corruption at 89%.

Assessment: Withering Flux corruption contains high-density toxic energy.

Salvage Potential: EXTREME.

Estimated Essence Yield: 80–120 units.

Directive: Acquire the body before disposal.

Kieran’s heart slammed against his ribs.

“One hundred units…” he whispered. “From one beast?”

That was more than anything he could gather in a whole month. It was a chance a real chance to actually progress.

He watched as the handlers gently sedated the lynx. The proud creature’s glowing eyes fluttered closed, filled with sadness and pain. Then the handlers locked the pen and walked off, planning to return at dusk to finish the job.

Kieran’s fingers tightened.

“That lynx…” Kieran whispered, heart pounding. “It’s my way forward. My chance.”

He stared at the locked pen. The air felt heavier now, like the whole world was holding its breath.

All he had to do was reach the beast first.

But getting caught meant real trouble punishments far worse than being thrown into the refuse pit again.

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

“This is insane,” he muttered. “Stealing from the sect? Stealing a beast? They’ll skin me alive.”

But the thought of that hundred units of Essence burned hotter.

He clenched his jaw.

“If I don’t take this risk… I’m stuck forever.”

The cliff hanger pressed on him sharp, dangerous, and full of possibility. The dying lynx wasn’t just an animal anymore. It was an opportunity. A door.

And he only had until nightfall to make his move.

The last light of day slipped across the Custodial Quarter, stretching the shadows until they looked like long, hungry fingers. Kieran leaned against his manure cart, staring at the locked pen where the Stormcloud Lynx lay sedated, barely breathing. His heart thudded so hard he could feel it in his throat.

Eighty to a hundred units.

The number glowed in his mind like a dangling miracle too bright, too perfect, almost unreal. That much Essence wouldn’t just help him… it would change everything. It was the difference between being stuck in the dirt for years and finally getting a chance to fix what everyone said was broken forever.

The calm voice of the System echoed in his mind:

[Directive remains: Secure the resource. Estimated time until termination: 45 minutes.]

“I know,” Kieran whispered, gripping the cart so hard his knuckles turned white. “Stop reminding me.”

He had watched Davin and Rory the beast handlers walk toward the refectory earlier. They were laughing, joking, completely relaxed.

They’d be back after dark. With the needle. With the order to kill the lynx.

That gave him one window.

One chance.

And what did he have? No weapon. No strength.

No friends.

Just a broom, a bucket, and a strange System that thought trash was treasure.

Kieran swallowed hard. A risky idea crept into his mind small, fragile, and terrifying. But it was the only idea he had.

They never looked at him. They never noticed him. He was invisible.

And tonight, invisibility was an advantage.

He pushed his creaking manure cart toward the back of the rendering building. There, hidden behind warped wooden beams and tall grass, was the sealed refuse chute the place where the sect dumped the really nasty scraps. No disciple ever went near it unless ordered.

The iron door was old and rusty, meant to keep out rats… not humans.

Kieran took a shaky breath. “Alright. Please work.”

He shoved the metal edge of his battered shovel into the gap between the door and its frame. The shovel bent. His arms shook. Sweat dripped down his forehead. But he leaned in with everything he had 

“Come on… come on…”

PING!

The rusted latch snapped like a brittle twig.

Kieran froze, listening to see if anyone noticed.

Silence.

He exhaled slowly, his pulse racing.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Step one… done.”

And step two?

Step two was even more dangerous.

Now he had to steal a dying sacred beast… before anyone noticed it was gone.

The smell hit him like a wall. Kieran gagged, yanking his ragged robe over his nose. Inside the chute, it was pitch black, and the slick walls made him slide down faster than he expected.

“This is insane,” he muttered under his breath.

The System’s cold, logical voice replied:

[Calculated risk. Probability of success with current plan: 31%. Probability of long-term survival without acquired Essence: 0.7%.]

That was enough. Motivation, clear as day.

He shoved the broom and bucket aside, took a shaky breath of the slightly cleaner outside air, and slid down.

The journey was short and absolutely disgusting. He landed in a heap on a mound of congealed, foul-smelling waste inside the rendering room’s collection bay. Darkness pressed in, broken only by the dim glow of a fading crystal. Giant vats and grinding machines loomed silently. A heavy interior door blocked the way to the pens.

The door was properly locked.

Panic prickled his spine. He was trapped in a dead-end room of filth.

[Scanning.] The blue System grid lit up over the nearest vat. It highlighted a panel, secured with rusted bolts.

Manual release lever.

Material: low-grade steel.

Potential: improvised pry bar.

Kieran’s eyes narrowed. “Alright… let’s see if you’re strong enough.”

He braced his feet, wrapped his hands around the cold lever, and pulled with all his might, channeling the faint hum of the 10 units of Essence in his gut.

The lever shrieked, groaned, and finally gave way. With a snap, it broke off at the base. Kieran tumbled backward, clutching a jagged, two-foot-long piece of solid steel.

“Good enough,” he whispered, a shaky grin appearing for a second.

He shoved the sharp end of the metal bar into the narrow gap between the door and the frame, right where the bolt sat. Then he threw his whole body against it once, twice, again and again.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound echoed through the big dark room like a heartbeat. Sweat stung his eyes. Each strike sent sharp pain shooting up his arms.

Thud.

Crack.

The wooden frame finally splintered. The door pushed inward by an inch. Kieran shoved his fingers into the gap and pulled with everything he had.

With a loud creak, the door swung open.

Cold night air rushed over his face. He stood in the service alley behind the beast pens. The Stormcloud Lynx’s cage was the third one down.

Then he froze.