6. Desmond town. Corpse cleaner

"Name?" the receptionist asked in a friendly voice.

"Kyle, no last name," Kyle responded, a little uncomfortable; he wasn't used to talking to anyone, let alone someone who showed him kindness.

"Age?"

"Seventeen."

"World of origin?"

"Earth?" he said, a little confused, but then seemed to remember something and said again, "B-643d, planet Earth."

It took him a moment to recall, but every world connected to the Infinite Continent had an assigned code. He hadn't heard it in years, so he got confused for a moment.

"Perfect," the receptionist smiled. "Place your hand here. We'll register your blood signature to create your identification."

The blood signature, according to the receptionist, was basically like an individual's DNA. It was an advanced way to confirm identity that was very difficult to forge. There were also energy signatures and soul signatures, but those were much more expensive to obtain—so much so that he shouldn't even consider them in his current state.

Kyle placed his hand on the device, and a few seconds later, a black card appeared.

"That's your identification. Make sure not to lose it—getting a new one is expensive," the receptionist kindly reminded him before moving on to the next person in line.

Kyle thanked her with an awkward expression before stepping through the door. The guards didn't even glance at him.

Once inside, a delicious smell greeted him. His senses took in a wide street, bustling with people coming and going in all directions. More than 70% were human, but there were also many other mixed races.

He wasn't quite sure what to do next. For now, he only had five copper coins—a rather pathetic amount, he guessed. He wasn't even sure if it would be enough to pay for a meal.

He also had no idea how to make money in this place—or anywhere, for that matter. The only things he knew how to do were steal and kill.

"Confused?"

Kyle immediately turned around when he heard a voice right behind him. His hand was already on the hilt of his machete, ready to draw it instinctively, but a hand landed on his own, stopping him in his tracks.

His eyes narrowed. That speed was beyond anything he could achieve.

"Relax, brother, I'm not hostile, okay?" The man withdrew his hand and flashed a friendly smile.

He wore full-body armor, a short spear slung across his back, and several bloodstains on his clothes. A pouch at his waist was dripping blood, and through its opening, a long green ear was faintly visible—presumably belonging to a goblin.

"What do you want?" Kyle didn't lower his guard.

"You're an ascendant from another world, right? If you want to make money, go to the mercenary guild branch and take a job," the man simply said before walking away.

Kyle stared at him, confused. He didn't really understand why someone would give him that information for free, but since he had nothing better to do, he might as well go there. He needed a way to make money to survive in this world.

The mercenary guild branch wasn't hard to find—it was even bigger and taller than the city lord's building, making it visible from anywhere in town.

Once inside, accessible to anyone with an identification card, he was met with dozens of boards filled with all sorts of missions—from hunting monsters in the forest to cleaning latrines or even working as a gigolo for those willing to pay for such services.

Kyle looked around, puzzled. This didn't feel like a mercenary guild; it seemed more like a giant office for temporary jobs.

"Whatever. I can't be picky. Anything's fine as long as it pays… although…"

His train of thought was interrupted when he saw a notice on one of the boards. It looked old, the paper already yellowed.

[We need someone to transport dismantled corpses to the incinerator.]

[Pay: 10 copper/day.]

Kyle's eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he placed his card on the paper.

The notice glowed softly, and new information appeared on his card.

[Please proceed to the dismantling center as soon as possible.]

He didn't waste a second and left.

"Wow, that guy actually took that job?"

"That's real desperation. Didn't the last guy get so traumatized that he quit eating meat and became a vegan?"

"Yeah, I remember. Poor Jimmy."

Some people who were considering taking a job stood frozen when they saw someone actually accept the corpse incineration task.

It was a cursed job. Not only did you have to deal with massive amounts of bodies and intestines, but the pay was terrible. No matter how desperate you were, there were better options.

…

Kyle took about ten minutes to reach the place. It was right next to the city lord's mansion—a complex of plain black buildings, each with doors at least three meters tall and two meters wide. He could see groups of town guards constantly delivering corpses to the buildings.

At the back, there was another older building with a sign hanging on the door: "Incinerator."

"I guess that's the place," he thought before turning toward a desk at the front of the building, where a woman was constantly writing down the monsters being brought in.

As he approached, the woman didn't even look up before pointing toward the incinerator in the back, her gaze never leaving the documents she was writing on.

"The incinerator is over there. You need to dispose of at least 40% of the waste to get paid."

Kyle wondered how she knew why he was here or how she recognized that he was the one who had taken the job. But he didn't care enough to ask—he had learned the hard way not to meddle in other people's business.

Approaching the incinerator building, he noticed that unlike the other sections—where workers were constantly dismantling corpses, processing materials, and skinning hides—this area was empty. The only people he saw were the occasional workers pushing small carts, dumping buckets filled with red sludge into a narrow chute—mostly beast guts and other unusable monster parts.

Once inside, his nostrils were overwhelmed by the overpowering scent of blood and rust. No other stench in his life compared to what he was smelling at that moment.

A massive pile of flesh and intestines—at least ten meters high—was stacked in the room. Blood seemed to be flowing out of the building, creating a macabre spectacle of carnage and decay.

In one corner, a small furnace, no more than two meters wide and one meter long, stood alone. It was clear to anyone with eyes that burning that entire mountain of flesh would take days.

It was going to be an exhausting and disgusting job, and for only ten copper coins, it was no wonder no one was willing to take it.

"This…" Kyle muttered, trembling.

"This is perfect."

He stepped forward and grabbed what looked like a small intestine. The blood didn't bother him in the slightest.

All he felt was overwhelming excitement.

"Absorb blood."