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

INTO THE CUSTODIAL QUARTER

CHAPTER 003

The pain didn’t stop it only grew sharper.

Suddenly, glowing words flashed across his vision:

[Emergency Salvage in progress.]

[Host body identified as primary ‘waste site.’ Initiating purification protocol.]

Kieran sucked in a shaking breath. “W-What now? What are you doing to me?”

A strange new feeling rose inside him, mixing with the agony. It wasn’t pain this time. It was… a low, powerful vibration, like something deep in his chest had finally woken up.

The voice echoed again, calm and cold:

[Processing foreign toxins. Converting waste into usable energy.]

Kieran’s eyes widened. “You’re not fighting the poison… you’re eating it?”

The glowing grid in his vision flickered wildly, numbers and symbols racing faster and faster.

“Hey slow down!” he shouted, gripping his head as the data streamed past. “I can’t even read that!”

But the system didn’t listen.

Isolating ‘Yin’ attribute energy…

Filtering ‘Beast Resentment’ emotional residue…

Converting lethal toxicity into base spiritual particulates…

Channeling particulates through fractured meridians for structural analysis…

The pain didn’t stop, but it changed. Instead of sharp agony, it turned into a heavy pressure, like something inside him was being crushed… then rebuilt.

The gray color on his skin slowly faded, replaced by burning heat. The dark smoke around him pulled back into his body, as if sucked through his pores.

After what felt like forever, the shaking ended.

Kieran lay on the ground, breathing hard, covered in sweat and grime. He felt emptied out but also strangely full. A slow, pulsing energy sat deep in his gut, warm and unfamiliar.

The overseer, Corbin, tapped him with the end of his hook.

“Hey. You dead or not?”

Kieran groaned and rolled onto his side. His body still hurt, but it was the kind of hurt that meant he would live.

A cold message flashed in his mind:

[Salvage successful. Nightmare Ember processed.]

[Yield: 7 units of Unaspected Primordial Essence. Essence compatible with all cultivation paths. Can bypass damaged channels for reinforcement.]

[New Function Unlocked: Internal Foundry. Host may refine consumed ‘waste’ into Essence.]

Kieran blinked. “I’m… alive.”

Corbin snorted. “Shame. You can’t even die properly.”

He waved the hook toward Kieran. “Well, you’re the sect’s mess now, not mine. Get up. I’m not keeping you in my trash pit.”

Kieran pushed himself to his knees, surprised at the strength returning to him. The 7 units of Essence pulsed warmly inside him, like hidden fuel.

“Where am I supposed to go?” he asked.

Corbin pointed at a small, broken-down group of wooden huts in the distance.

“Where do we dump anything that’s still barely useful?” he said. “The Custodial Quarter. You’ll sweep floors, scrub toilets, and wait to die. Now move. You’re making the air smell worse than usual.”

Kieran stood on shaky legs, wiped his face, and took a breath.

For the first time, the air didn’t burn his lungs.

And that tiny warmth inside him whispered:

Not useless. Not anymore.

With no other choice, Kieran walked in the direction Corbin had pointed. His steps were unsteady, but he kept moving.

He walked along the edge of the outer sect, where the real disciples lived. Their clean grey robes swished as they passed him, and every face twisted with disgust.

One disciple whispered loudly, “Look, the channel-cripple is still alive.”

Another snickered. “He survived the pit? Tougher than a cockroach.”

A third murmured, “Marcus won’t be happy he’s still breathing.”

Kieran lowered his head and kept going. Their words didn’t surprise him they never had. But the small, hot spark of Primordial Essence burning inside his stomach was new.

It felt like a coal of defiance refusing to go out.

The Custodial Quarter looked exactly as terrible as people described: broken buildings, peeling wood, and a sour smell of old work and older misery.

An elderly supervisor with a permanently sour face Garth didn’t even try to hide his annoyance when Kieran approached. He threw a ragged brown robe, a cracked bucket, and a stiff broom at Kieran’s feet.

“Your bunk is at the end of the hall,” Garth muttered. “Third pallet on the left. You start at dawn. You’ll be cleaning the Spirit Beast Pens.”

He finally glanced at Kieran just long enough to sneer.

“If you’re going to die, do it somewhere I don’t have to mop up.”

Garth walked away without waiting for a reply.

That night, Kieran lay on a thin, itchy pallet in a room that smelled like dust, sweat, and quiet despair. In the dark, he finally dared to let his mind touch the System.

“What is this Essence?” he asked silently.

A calm, cold answer appeared in his mind:

[Primordial Essence is the raw energy before it becomes Qi, Mana, or Divine Power. Your broken channels cannot hold refined energy, but they can be reinforced and rebuilt using this base material.]

“Rebuilt?”

The word hit him like a spark to dry wood.

Hope sharp, bright, and dangerous stabbed through his chest.

[Affirmative. Current Host status: Meridian Damage: 99%. Estimated Essence required for basic functionality (1st Stage of Qi Condensation): 1,000 units.]

A thousand units.

Kieran stared at the number on the System screen. The deadly Nightmare Ember had nearly killed him… and it had only given him seven units.

A thousand felt impossible.

He swallowed hard. “How do I get more?”

The System answered immediately:

[Directive: Find and absorb high-yield spiritual waste. Recommendation: Your assigned location the Spirit Beast Pens contains suitable materials.]

Kieran sighed. “Of course it does.”

The next morning, still sore and tired, he made his way to the Spirit Beast Pens.

The smell hit him like a punch.

“Ugh,” he gagged. “Smells like something died… twice.”

The pens were huge, noisy, and chaotic. Azure Falcons screeched from their perches. Stone-Tusk Boars snorted and slammed their bodies against wooden rails. Other creatures he didn’t even know the names of roared, chirped, or hissed.

His job?

Shovel dung.

Scrape filthy straw into a cart.

Mop the floors with buckets of foul water disciples threw at him with amused grins.

“Hey, cripple,” one handler shouted, laughing, “try not to fall into the boar pen. They don’t like bony snacks.”

Kieran clenched his jaw and kept working.

But the System never stopped scanning.

Pile of Stone-Tusk Boar dung.

Contains undigested fragments of Iron-Reflex Herb.

Potential Essence: 0.5 units.

(Requires Internal Foundry.)

Even poop had value.

Disgusting value, but still value.

Whenever no one was paying attention, Kieran quietly pocketed small things the System pointed out: a molting feather from a sick falcon, a chipped fang from a beast’s trough, a handful of glowing soil.

Garbage to everyone else.

Gold to him.

At the end of the day, Kieran crouched behind the manure cart, hidden from sight.

“System,” he whispered, “process everything.”

[Initiating Internal Foundry.]

A grinding, burning sensation filled his core. It wasn’t painful just uncomfortable, like something inside him was chewing through metal.

After a few minutes, the result appeared:

[Salvage complete. Total yield: 3.2 units of Primordial Essence.]

[Cumulative Essence: 10.2 / 1000.]

Kieran stared at the number.

Ten point two.

A whole day of disgusting labor… for almost nothing.

“A thousand units,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “At this rate, I’ll die of old age before I even finish step one.”

For a moment, despair pushed at his chest like a heavy stone.

But then the small burn of Essence inside him flickered warm and stubborn.

And he clenched his fists.

“No,” Kieran whispered. “I’m not giving up. Not again.”

Before he could think further, loud shouting came from the main training pen.