The physical changes from the system flowed into Solomon like a shot of espresso hooked up to a live wire. All of the fatigue that had accumulated throughout the day was flushed from his body in an instant. He hopped straight up to his feet with an athletic ease that he knew he wouldn't have been capable of a moment ago. Even just swinging his arms aimlessly back and forth, he could feel the effect of the system granted power and flexibility.

Of course, his hand was still missing.

He also didn't look any different. He felt stronger, and a quick heft of his backpack in his arm suggested that he actually was stronger, but the system hadn't retroactively granted him years of pumping iron in the gym. Reviewing the system's help system shed some light on the subject, as language that he had initially skipped over as technical gobbledygook became clear in light of experience: the changes that the system made didn't affect his biology directly, but rather tweaked some dimensional substructure or other to make it all work better.

The good news was that exercise would still improve his physical conditioning as it would have before, though he'd have to use more weight. The bad news was that simply dropping points in strength wasn't going to have him ready to go on stage in a bodybuilding competition any time soon. Well, it wasn't like there was anybody around who he wanted to impress.

Solomon had one last thing to do before he started spending his money. A quick dip into his inventory had him gingerly holding the mangled body of the little furball that the system had made him stow away. Solomon pointed at it with the stump at the end of his other arm and focused on that weird set of extra sensations the system had grafted onto him whenever he gained new abilities.

He shouldn't have to say anything out loud, but he didn't feel like taking any chances. "Disassemble."

Energy flowed down his arm and out through the wrist. As he watched, a glow wrapped around the furball and hid it from view. When the glow faded, he was holding a soft patch of fur about the size of a handkerchief and a glowing beast core the size of a grain of rice.

He tucked his spoils away and repeated the process with the larger furball. This time the resulting fur was the size of a small bath towel, though the ends were tattered, marked by his knife. The beast core was perhaps the size of his pinky past the last knuckle.

The two spells had cost fifteen MP altogether, an amount that he would regenerate in about twenty minutes. Solomon tossed the latest fruits of his labor into his inventory before making his way back over to Mort's store.

The blue skinned shopkeeper was waiting for him. "Welcome back."

Solomon nodded in greeting, then made his way up to the counter. He pulled out the skins and set them down. "I have these for sale."

"Interesting, interesting," Mort said, picking up each skin in turn and studying it carefully. "I can offer you one coin for the little one and three for the big one."

"That's it?"

"I'm running a business here," Mort said. "If this one weren't so damaged I could do a bit more for you. Sorry."

The frustrating part was that Solomon didn't have any idea whether he was being offered a fair price or if Mort was using his monopoly position to squeeze him. As a practical matter, though, the furs weren't doing him any good sitting in his inventory. He might as well sell them for whatever he could get.

"I'd let them both go for five coins."

"Well, you're a first time customer," Mort said, rubbing his chin. "Why not? You got yourself a deal, kid."

Mort picked up the furs, which soon vanished into whatever the shopkeeper used for his inventory. In return, he put a small stack of circular crystal discs on the counter. Solomon looked them over and saw that there were indeed five. Rather than pick them up, he pulled out the ticket that Mort had given him and used the coins to weigh it down.

"All right, let me see the catalog."

The shelves of Mort's store held what could be called dungeon diving accessories. Travel pillows, deodorant, sticks of gum, snack packs, that sort of thing. Solomon wouldn't start tacking any of that onto his order until he had his fighting gear sorted out.

The basic prices were posted on the wall behind the counter. A series of photos of simple weapons and armor, with the price written on the bottom in felt tip pen. The prices were set to fit neatly into the store credit provided by the introductory credit: twenty-five coins for each piece of protective gear and another twenty-five coins for a weapon. Solomon would have just picked four items and called it a day if not for his engineering abilities offering him more choices.

Mort reached under the counter and put his back into lifting an oversized book into view. He dropped it in front of Solomon with an impressive thud. The size of the thing reminded him of the world dictionary in the school library that he'd used back in elementary school to flatten out leaves for a class project.

Fortunately, the sections of the book were divided up by clearly labeled tabs. Solomon skimmed through the armor and weaponry sections for inspiration, then flipped to the back of the book to price out materials.

Obviously, two handed weapons were out. Solomon thought he would be able to get by with a shield strapped to his left arm and a weapon in his right. He would have liked to use his hard-purchased abilities to build a gun, but unfortunately his system-granted abilities didn't come with any blueprints. Putting together even a basic hand cannon that was more likely to harm his target than blow up in his hand would require time that he didn't have to spare.

He also harbored some hope that the first dungeon wouldn't require heavy artillery to complete. The system was supposed to be fair, after all.

None of the prosthetic hand options in his price range were at all impressive. Just simple hooks and daggers that would be easy to make for himself. Solomon look up at Mort as a thought occurred to him.

"Can I get this healed?" he asked, holding forth the stump at the end of his left arm.

Mort studied it for a moment. "What happened?"

Solomon grimaced. "It was stuck. I had to cut it off so I could escape."

Mort clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Something like that, on this planet? It'll be years, at least, before you can buy it."

He then leaned forward and turned the catalog back to the page with the lousy prosthetics before continuing. "Now, I do offer these, for a very reasonable price."

Solomon grunted and went back to his browsing. It looked like his best bet would be a spear or axe. Some sort of metal blade on the end of a stick.

With that in mind, he flipped to the back of the catalog to browse the raw materials. Buying what he needed to build a weapon was indeed much less expensive than buying the weapons directly. The same was true for armored clothing, but Solomon didn't trust himself to stitch together anything wearable with one hand when he was up against a time limit.

Twenty five coins for a new pair of reinforced boots. One of his hiking boots was almost falling apart after being shoved down the furball's gullet.

Twenty five coins for a pair of pants, woven out of a system-provided, slash and pierce resistant cloth. His old pants were looking more like shorts after the abuse they'd been put through.

Twenty five coins for an armored jacket. He didn't want the dungeon monsters lopping off any more of his upper body than he'd already lost.

Fifteen coins got him leather, wood, and metal. Enough for a shield and either a short spear or axe. He wasn't entirely sure his shaping skills were up to making an axe head, but it should at least be easier than a gun barrel.

The remaining fifteen coins were enough for some quality of life items. A t-shirt and socks made from system materials. Rations. A water bottle. Chalk that was supposed to help with item enchantments. Twine.

Solomon had his backpack, but he wanted every edge he could get in the coming fights. The more he could carry in his inventory, the better.

With all his money spent, he was just about ready to tackle the dungeon.