The Infinite Repairman

Chapter 3: The First Client

"I think I’m done paying those," Daniel whispered to the silence of the room.

Outside, the heavy thud against the wood intensified. Jace wasn't a man who took ‘no’ for an answer.

"Don't be a fool, Daniel," Jace’s voice shifted, losing its oily charm. "You’re an F-Rank Repairer. You can’t afford to be a martyr. My boys are waiting, and they don't like the cold. Open the door before I kick it off the hinges."

Daniel’s grip tightened on the Relic blade. The metal felt warm now, humming against his palm like a living thing. He looked at the door, then back at the small, dark corner of his shack where he kept his meager collection of scrap. He didn't have food tokens. He barely had a future. But he had a secret, and for the first time, it didn't feel like a burden.

"I said move, Jace," Daniel shouted, his voice cracking slightly before he steadied it.

Before Jace could reply, a sudden, sharp rustle came from the side of the shack—the wall facing the alley. Someone was whispering.

"Daniel? Are you in there? It’s Sarah."

The tension in Daniel’s shoulders spiked. If Sarah was caught here, Jace would make her pay for his own defiance.

"Sarah? Get out of here," Daniel hissed, moving toward the side window. "Jace is out front. Go!"

"I saw him walking toward the entrance," she replied, her voice low and frantic. "I have something. I need your help. Please."

Daniel cursed under his breath. He looked at the door again, then at the sword. He couldn't leave her out there. He slid the bolt and yanked the door open just a crack. Sarah was pressed against the corrugated iron, her face pale, holding a tangled mess of synthetic climbing rope and a severely mangled carabiner.

"Quick," he muttered, grabbing her arm and pulling her inside before shutting and bolting it again.

Jace’s fist hammered against the door frame. "I heard that, Vance! You’ve got company? Maybe we’ll make it a party!"

Sarah jumped at the sound, her eyes wide as she scanned the shack. She stopped when she saw Daniel—or rather, what was in his hand. Her gaze fell to the short sword, the steel looking far too pristine to be found in a scrap heap.

"What is that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "That looks... that doesn't look like scrap."

"It’s nothing," Daniel said, his heart racing. He quickly slid the blade into the gap between his workbench and the wall, covering it with a dirty rag. "Why are you here? You know Jace owns the territory between here and your sector."

Sarah held up the mangled gear, her hands trembling. "My climb-line snapped during the shift. The hook caught on a jagged edge of the wall, and it just… shredded. If I don't get this fixed, I can't reach the upper levels for the morning scavenge. My family won't eat, Daniel."

"You came to me?" Daniel looked at the gear. It was beyond repair—the alloy was bent, the internal spring mechanism crushed beyond recognition. "Sarah, you heard Kael. I’m a ‘useless’ Repairer. Why risk coming here?"

She bit her lip, looking at his workbench, which was surprisingly clean for once. "Because everyone else wants a week’s worth of tokens just to look at it. And because… you’re the only one who doesn't look at me like I’m a stray dog when I ask for help."

"They're not wrong about the class, Sarah," he said, reaching out to take the gear.

The moment his fingers touched the damaged carabiner, the System flared to life in his peripheral vision.

[Detected Item: Damaged Climbing Carabiner]

[Condition: Critical]

[Repair Eligibility: Available]

[Bonus: Potential for Durability Enhancement]

Daniel froze. He looked at the gear, then up at Sarah. "You want me to just fix it? Or do you want it… better?"

She blinked, confused. "Better? How can you make a standard-issue carabiner better? Just make it so it holds my weight, Daniel. That’s all I’m asking."

"I need your silence," he said, his voice dropping. "If anyone asks, I just patched the metal. Nothing else."

Sarah nodded, though her confusion deepened. "Okay. Whatever you say. Just… please. The morning bell is in four hours."

Daniel took a deep breath. He didn't have much stamina left, but he felt the residual hum of the sword in his own system. It was as if the blade had opened a door he hadn't known existed. He placed the carabiner on the table.

"Stay back," he warned.

He focused. He didn't just see the damage; he saw the history of the alloy, the impurities in the cheap metal, the way the molecules had been stressed to the point of breaking. He poured his focus into it, ignoring the gnawing hunger in his gut.

Bind. Strengthen. Mend.

A soft, golden-brown glow flickered from his fingertips. Sarah gasped, backing away until she hit the wall. "Daniel, your hands… they’re glowing."

"Don't talk," he gritted out, his teeth clenched. "Just watch."

The metal began to move. It wasn't the violent process of the sword; it was a rhythmic, folding motion. The cracks in the alloy sealed up as if they were never there, and the dull, grey surface of the metal deepened, taking on a subtle, polished sheen. He felt the internal spring tighten, its tension shifting from 'standard' to 'precision.'

He felt a massive drain on his energy, his head spinning, but he pushed through it. Finish it.

With a final, soft click, the process stopped. The carabiner sat on the table, looking brand new, but with a strange, dark weight to it that hadn't been there before.

Daniel slumped into his chair, gasping for air. "Take it."

Sarah stepped forward tentatively. She picked up the gear, her eyes widening as she tested the gate. It moved with a smoothness that shouldn't exist for common gear. She clipped it to her belt, then gave it a sharp, hard tug. It didn't budge. She gripped it with both hands and pulled with all her strength, her face turning red. It remained locked, rock-solid.

"How?" she breathed, looking at him with a mix of awe and terror. "This is better than the gear the Academy Vanguards use. Daniel, what did you do?"

"I told you," Daniel said, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I’m a Repairer."

"No," she shook her head, her voice rising in excitement. "You're not. You're something else. You fixed this in seconds, and it feels… it feels indestructible."

"Sarah, please," he warned, glancing at the door. "Jace is still out there. If he finds out, he won't just take tokens. He’ll take me."

She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. She moved to the door, hesitating before she unlocked it. "You saved me, Daniel. I won't forget this."

"Just go," he whispered.

She slipped out into the darkness of the slums, moving with a newfound confidence. Daniel slumped back against his desk, closing his eyes. He heard the sound of her boots fading, but then, he heard something else. A muffled conversation at the end of the alley.

"Hey, Sarah!" a voice called out. It was Toren, one of the neighborhood kids who worked the lower-level scrap runs. "You find something? You look like you just won the lottery."

"I didn't," Sarah’s voice floated back, vibrating with excitement. "But I found someone who can make it look like you did. You need gear? Go see Daniel. Don't tell anyone I sent you, but he’s… he’s got a gift, Toren. A real one."

Daniel buried his face in his hands.

"Great," he groaned. "So much for keeping a low profile."

He reached out to the workbench, his fingers brushing against the hilt of the sword. The hum returned, deeper and more insistent than before.

Outside, the hammering on his door stopped abruptly.

"Vance?" Jace’s voice was right on the other side of the thin metal. "I heard that. You're fixing stuff for people now? That sounds like a business. And businesses pay taxes. Open up, or I’m going to make sure your shop stays broken for good."

Daniel stood up, his legs feeling steadier than they had in years. He picked up the sword. The dull, matte grey surface caught the dim moonlight filtering through the slats of the roof.

"I think I’m done with taxes, too," he muttered.

He walked toward the door, his heart calm, his resolve forged in the same fire that had mended the blade. If he was going to be an F-Rank, he would be the one that everyone feared to cross.

He gripped the hilt, pulled the bolt, and kicked the door wide open.

Jace stood there, flanked by two bruisers, his hand already reaching for a heavy iron rod. He looked at Daniel, then at the sword in his hand. His mocking grin faded, replaced by a flicker of genuine confusion.

"What's that, kid? You gonna poke me with a piece of junk?"

Daniel didn't answer. He simply raised the blade, the metal humming in a low, dangerous frequency that made the very air in the alley feel heavy.

"I’m done, Jace," Daniel said, his voice echoing in the narrow space. "Turn around. And don't come back."

Jace stared at the sword, his eyes narrowing as he realized the blade wasn't just metal; it was something else entirely. For the first time in his life, the scavenger king looked like he was the one holding the scrap.

"You're a dead man," Jace spat, though he took a half-step back. "You have no idea what you've just started."

"Maybe," Daniel replied, taking a step forward. "But I’m the one with the sword."