《Absolute Craft》 The Official Release (1) Chapter 1: The Official Release (1) In the year 2081, a select few individuals around the globe were granted beta access to the first-ever VRMMORPG, a game that would transport players to fantastical realms and was destined to take the world by storm. The final quests of the beta testers were livestreamed, further igniting the public''s excitement. Many could hardly contain their anticipation. As a result, those fortunate beta testers became celebrities as the masses avidly followed their exploits in the new world. Some guilds crumbled, others rose, and in the ultimate battle where all the leading guilds allied to defeat the final boss¡ªwhose demise would announce the game''s official release date¡ªsomething unexpected occurred. ¡°Stop dying like idiots! Can¡¯t you follow a simple tactic and countdown¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯re the one who can¡¯t cooperate! I¡¯ve had enough of your selfishness! I¡¯m leaving!¡± shouted a female player in charge of the healers of Cerberus, the top guild. ¡°...seems like the only sensible option. If we join other guilds and regroup quickly, we should be able to defeat the final boss without him,¡± added a man with short white hair and a cold demeanor. ¡°It¡¯s not like he cares about us. We¡¯re just tools to him anyway,¡± another prominent member of Cerberus remarked nonchalantly, his arms crossed behind his head. As if on cue, the guild¡¯s lieutenants began abandoning their guild and leader on the battlefield. Following them were other guild members who had turned a blind eye to their leader¡¯s arrogance and selfishness. In the blink of an eye, the guild leader of Cerberus stood alone amidst the battlefield''s scars left by the final boss, whose colossal form loomed over him. The Rotten Leviathan, an amalgamation of sea and land creatures whose putrid flesh dropped onto the battlefield in heavy chunks, shuddered at this unforeseen development. The man who had inflicted the most damage upon it had been cast aside even by his closest aides. How could the final boss not rejoice? Its booming, grating screeches struck Blake like an avalanche. The guild leader of Cerberus, now utterly alone, looked up, settled into his stance by bending his knees and back, and placed his right hand on his katana¡¯s hilt. He whispered as crimson flames roared within his sheath, eager to strike the final boss. ¡°Some things never change. One of them is me dying in style.¡± The ground beneath him cracked, debris billowing up as Blake enveloped himself in crimson flames, charging at the final boss like a meteor... ...that would crumble and crash upon impact. - At a mall, two men were on evening cleaning duty, mopping the floor. One of them swung his mop aggressively, his face contorted in frustration. The other calmly attended to his duties, listening to the late news from the TV hanging above them. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.[We suspect that a lot of people will go to bed early tonight.] [Ah, the official release of Ashen World Online! I can¡¯t wait either!] [We have one of the beta testers as our guest today! Mr. Alan, one of the guild leaders who defeated the final boss, will share his story with us and his expectations for AWO!] [Thank you for having me. It¡¯s been a year since that final battle. I still can¡¯t forget the thrill...] As the beta tester discussed his time in the game world, the man in the mall wielding the mop like a spear suddenly raised it and shook it at Mr. Alan on the screen. ¡°This damn bastard looks like he stepped straight out of the game! How many plastic surgeries did he get?! Huh! If only I¡¯d had access to the beta release, I wouldn¡¯t be here! I¡¯d be a millionaire like those lucky bastards! Just wait till I get into the game!¡± [There¡¯s a popular thread on SNS about The Humbled Dog¡¯s return. Do you think he¡¯ll come back to the game and establish a guild again to prove everyone wrong? Despite being abandoned in the last battle, his contribution against the boss still surpassed everyone else. That Final Meteor Rush is the second most-viewed gaming video on SNS!] [Ah... him. I met him a few times during quests and naturally cooperated in the last battle. He always struck me as overly talented but blinded by it, so I wasn¡¯t surprised when his lieutenants approached me before the last battle to discuss a potential merger.] [That''s intriguing!] [Yes. His guild members must have been fed up with him for a long time but decided to endure his selfishness until the end. There were doubts, certainly, hence the plan B.] [What do you think he¡¯s doing now? Planning a comeback? Enjoying a new hobby?] [It¡¯s hard to say. Of course, we earned substantial income after our adventures became public and were livestreamed. He could be doing anything, really. At the very least, I don¡¯t think he¡¯d take up a normal job.] ¡°Hey, Blake! You think The Humbled Dog is a millionaire?¡± the jealous man with the mop turned to his coworker. ¡°I kinda feel bad for him. That dude was a beast! But if he''s a millionaire too, then damn him!¡± ¡°He is,¡± Blake replied. ¡°You sound pretty sure,¡± the man said, squinting. ¡°The second most-viewed video they mentioned is from his perspective.¡± ¡°Ah, damn them all!¡± the jealous man vented his frustration by scrubbing the floor vigorously. Just then, their obese boss waddled in, his bulging belly bouncing. ¡°That¡¯s the passion I love to see! Keep it up, you two! The first million is always the hardest! Haha!¡± Blake bit his lip. ¡°Damn them all! Just wait! I¡¯ll stumble upon a legendary class and earn millions in the first few months! You gonna play tomorrow, Blake?¡± Blake closed his eyes. ¡°Yeah, I will. Solo grind, you know.¡± ¡°Best of luck, mate!¡± ¡°You too. By the way, there aren¡¯t any classes in Ashen World Online.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± On January 1st, 2084, Ashen World Online¡¯s official release became available to everyone! The Official Release (2) Chapter 2: The Official Release (2) Blake gazed at the sleek black capsule that had replaced his bed. After turning eighteen and following a heated argument with his family, he had taken the capsule from his parents'' house. The situation resembled an incident within the game world that had led to him being known as The Humbled Dog¡ªa nickname stemming from his guild¡¯s name and the events that transpired. Cerberus had lost its two prominent heads, leaving the middle one isolated and humbled, cast into the shadows. Only after spending time with nothing did Blake open his eyes and confront his unbearable self. He never wanted to return to that world. He didn¡¯t even want anything to do with it. All the wealth and fame he¡¯d accumulated felt like a curse, reminding him of the atrocities he¡¯d committed. In the one-year gap between the beta¡¯s finale and the official release, Blake rented a small apartment and worked for minimum wage, persistently scraping by and refusing to use his savings. As the official release approached, he knew he¡¯d return to Ashen World Online. The fact that he hadn¡¯t discarded the capsule said it all. Gently touching the capsule¡¯s surface, Blake closed his eyes and reminded himself of his new principles and goals. He¡¯d grind the game solo and participate in events alone for as long as possible¡ªnot to prove he could clear the game by himself, but because he was too afraid to face his old companions. He also didn¡¯t seek their forgiveness. He simply wanted to be part of the world that excited him the most. ¡®I can¡¯t mend those old ties, and I doubt they want me to,¡¯ Blake thought. ¡®I¡¯ll just work on myself like I¡¯ve been doing all this time.¡¯ That was quite challenging for a lone nineteen-year-old man. - Blake tilted his head upon seeing this system notification. He expected to dive into the game world and begin anew. Perhaps the gaming company had sent him some reward for participating in the final boss battle? He didn¡¯t know what it could be and even dreaded checking the message. That was a part of the past he didn¡¯t want to revisit. After five minutes of deliberation, he opened the message. If it was what he thought it might be, he would delete it. What appeared on the screen, however, surprised him. It was a message from an NPC friend, Edward. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡®They say the game¡¯s official release is set one hundred years after the beta testers'' final battle. It''s not surprising that Edward could reach me since I used the same capsule,¡¯ Blake thought, shaking his head and clenching his fists. ¡®I shouldn¡¯t be dwelling on that right now¡­¡¯ Thanking Edward for the blueprint, Blake offered a moment of silence. He then reviewed the description again and reached the same conclusion as his old friend¡ªhe would truly experience hard work by building all these things and rebuilding himself from the ground up. Blake didn¡¯t even know how he¡¯d fare in crafting. Reflecting, he recalled that crafters who relied less on the game system had higher chances of producing high-quality items and creating whatever they desired. The more the system assisted them, the poorer the quality. The game system was useful for mass production. But if one truly wanted exceptional items, using one¡¯s own hands, mind, and strength was the way, rather than letting the system control the tools to perform the task. Blake accepted this uphill challenge. With a smirk, Blake thought of his friend who must have already entered the game world in search of legendary items, while he stood in the character creation room with two of them already bestowed upon him. A moment later, Blake rubbed his face to erase the smirk. He couldn¡¯t be the only one to receive a title during character creation. Other beta testers might have schemed to receive similar messages or perhaps hidden their weapons or title tokens somewhere in the vast world to retrieve later. ¡®Thank you again, Edward,¡¯ he thought. Vargar (1) Chapter 3: Vargar (1) A familiar force seized Blake''s body. It felt as if someone were pulling him upward, even though he could still feel the ground beneath his feet. Before he knew it, he had left the character creation room and appeared on a jagged road. An icy chill slapped him in the face. He gazed up the uneven path winding toward the snowy mountain. Snowflakes cascaded in abundance, and heavy clumps frequently fell from the surrounding trees. Although the road was somehow spared from deep drifts, Blake''s boots¡ªwith wooden soles and leather uppers¡ªstill sank into the snow blanketing it. His breath hung in the air, obscuring half his vision, further cluttered by system messages warning of his current debuffs. If this continued, he would eventually start losing health points. Just then, someone reached out to him. "Ye''re a player, eh?" Turning off the system messages with a thought, Blake held his breath and looked down toward the source of the muffled voice. An old dwarf, no taller than 4''3", stood there, half his face hidden behind a brown scarf, his white Viking beard heavy with snow. He squinted as he sized up Blake, assessing his potential. Thanks to the titles Blake had received prior to arriving here, an aura surrounded him that hinted at his capabilities. The Spiritual Blacksmith title ensured he could grasp concepts more easily and craft items no one else could. The old dwarf, however, was experienced enough to tell that this was external influence, not Blake''s own talent. He harrumphed. "Ye''re a brat born with a golden spoon! We''ll see if ye''re worthy of it. I''m Vargar, the traveling blacksmith. I stumbled upon this zone and was told by the world voice that I''d meet a player on my way here." "My name''s Superbia, and I''m looking forward to working under you," Blake introduced himself using his nickname, choosing his words carefully based on his experience in minimum-wage jobs where bosses liked to exploit their authority. If there was a chance to leverage their status, most would take it. The dwarf shook his backpack¡ªnearly as big as he was¡ªby its shoulder straps and turned around. "Ye''re not bad. Time will tell how long ye''ll keep that attitude. We''re heading deeper into the mountain. Hold onto this first." Just as players wielded the system, Vargar wielded his backpack; it opened on its own and spat out a fur-lined jacket. Blake reached for it eagerly, like a parched man grasping for water, and bundled up. The brown jacket was a little too big for him, but that suited him just fine. He would have liked to squat down and hug himself, but Vargar harrumphed and started up the mountain path. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. The newly acquired stat eased the biting cold, warming his calves and feet. It was a peculiar sensation unique to the game world; in reality, people would still have cold legs despite wearing a jacket. Occasional gusts of icy air prickled him, but not enough to hinder his movement. Only the snow posed a challenge as Blake trudged along the path with his minimal stats. "So players really have returned. Many more now, ye?" Vargar asked, breaking the silence. Blake replied, "Yeah. Were you expecting their return?" "It''s been the talk these past years. More players mean more sales! I might return home to reopen the business! Haha!" Vargar laughed heartily. Blake, however, found nothing amusing. All he had been doing was following the dwarf''s backpack. He couldn''t open the game system to learn more about his titles and rewards because of the steep, treacherous path. He hadn''t received any weapons or equipment. Vargar hadn''t given him any quests, either. The old man kept prattling on about his adventures and sales. It was like being forced to listen to a boss''s ramblings back on Earth. Blake had endured such talk countless times to keep his job, and a dislike for Vargar was growing within him. It all came out at the dwarf like an avalanche. "Can''t we actually do something?!" "Aye, ye lasted longer than I thought," Vargar chuckled. "What the hell do you mean? Do you even know where we are? This is the Lost Kingdom''s zone! There must be valuable stuff all around us, buried under the snow! We don''t have to climb all the way to the mountain''s spire, do we?! It''s so boring!" Blake exclaimed. "Ye don''t have to follow me. I know ye hold the keys to this place as a player who''s been sent here, but I didn''t enter this zone intending to use a player in the first place. Just give me back my jacket before ye go your way," Vargar replied, stretching out his hand. Blake gritted his teeth. "I''ll... stay with you." "And?" "And?" "Don''t ye think ye must say something?" "...I''m sorry," Blake muttered. "Good brat," Vargar grinned behind his scarf. "I''m not foolish enough to burn bridges with a player whose connections lie in the Lost Kingdom! Ye know nothing about it, though! Do ye know about the Lost King''s Crown?" Blake clenched his fists. Now that was something he''d like to hear more about! He shook his head. Vargar harrumphed. "The Lost King wore his crown like a badge of his achievements, not just a symbol of sovereignty. He forged it himself. Rumor has it that every successor forged their own crown, each piece molded at a significant milestone. The beginning of the Lost King''s reign is such a milestone. And since the crown adorns one''s head, its first piece must also be hidden at the top of this zone¡ªthe mountain''s spire!" Blake''s blood surged with excitement. Vargar (2) Chapter 4: Vargar (2) ¡°Ye ready?¡± Vargar asked. ¡°I am,¡± Blake replied with a firm nod. Gazing down the road, Blake estimated it would take them at least four, maybe even five hours to navigate the snowy path. That was his best guess, but he could easily be wrong since he''d never been part of an information-gathering team before. In battles, he relied on the intel provided to match his opponents and guide his teammates toward certain victory. This dynamic changed significantly when Blake reached the top and no one else could match his vision and pace. ¡°Will we have a dispute at the top?¡± Blake asked. ¡°Ye can take the piece of the crown if we find it. Too much hassle and responsibility for a wandering blacksmith like me! I''m more interested in the natural resources up there!¡± Vargar replied. ¡°Ye''re quite honest about it, though.¡± ¡°I''m terrible at reading the room,¡± Blake admitted. ¡°I''d rather be straightforward these days.¡± ¡°I see, I see.¡± As the two conversed as equals, Blake learned more about The Lost Kingdom and the art of blacksmithing. Both subjects intrigued him greatly since he knew little about them and only had some knowledge of The Lost Kingdom from his time as a beta tester. Time passed more quickly now that they shared common ground. Before long, the skies darkened, and the snowfall intensified into a blizzard. Vargar''s backpack opened on its own, releasing a red-framed lantern containing a brightly shining magical stone. Catching the lantern with practiced ease, he pressed onward. Eventually, the duo reached the end of the road, which lay far below the spire. A wall of snow loomed before them, but Vargar pulled out a shovel without hesitation and began digging through the obstacle. ¡°Let me help,¡± Blake offered. He grabbed the second shovel and tackled the snowy barrier. He wasn''t as fast or strong as Vargar, but he still eased the dwarf''s burden. After a while, Vargar struck something solid. He leaned in and brushed the snow away with his hands, revealing a metal door adorned with intricate carvings, none of which he understood. He tried to push the door open, but it wouldn''t budge. ¡°Well, that''s foolish of me since ye''re the key,¡± Vargar said, turning to glance at Blake, who had been beside him the whole time. Placing his hand on the cold frame, Blake gave it a gentle push, and the door yielded. It screeched from years of neglect and being buried under snow before swinging open to reveal a dark interior. Vargar extended his lantern inside, illuminating parts of the room. His eyes sparkled upon noticing a workbench, an anvil, a forge, and tools hanging on the brick wall. ¡°This must be The Lost King''s first smithy!¡± Vargar exclaimed. Meanwhile, Blake finally received his first quest. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. This quest laid the groundwork for Blake''s skills. He didn''t have any blueprints for weapons or armor, meaning he could improvise, search the smithy for useful items, or seek guidance from Vargar. For the second objective, he could rely on himself. The third one... seemed the easiest. While Blake weighed his options, Vargar explored the smithy and fortunately found a switch for the lights, which he activated. Caught off guard, Blake instinctively covered his eyes and dropped into a fighting stance. ¡°Calm down. It''s just light,¡± Vargar chuckled. Rubbing his eyes, Blake adjusted to the brightness and clicked his tongue. ¡°Next time, warn me before you turn anything on.¡± In a corner, there was a large double chest that Vargar opened, revealing various ores and limestone inside. Blake joined him and peeked inside, not understanding much. Noticing his confusion, Vargar explained, ¡°This one''s copper, this is tin, and that''s iron ore. The limestone is crushed into flux and added to the ore before smelting to extract metals. Tin and copper make bronze. Iron is useful on its own but can also be made into steel, though I don''t think ye''re at that level yet.¡± Blake scratched his chin, pondering these resources. There was clearly much more to blacksmithing that he needed to learn. It would be best to have Vargar''s guidance. ¡°Please, make me your disciple!¡± Blake asked earnestly. He had been feeling an overwhelming desire to fight monsters and level up, which he tried to suppress through conversation. But now he genuinely wanted to forge his own weapon and armor, to focus more on self-improvement. Before he began forging, he channeled his battle urges into his crafting ambitions. ¡°Aye, aye,¡± Vargar said, stroking his beard. ¡°If ye promise to work with me in the future back in The Dwarven Kingdom! It''s an honor to be the master of the future Lost King, but ye must know the other title The Lost King received from the world.¡± ¡°Which is?¡± Blake asked. ¡°The Hollow King. He became so self-sufficient that he never relied on his people and only sought to make the kingdom the best place for them, which led to him ignoring them. He alienated himself from his subjects. In the past, The Lost Kingdom had a strong significance despite the word ''lost,'' as they were so advanced that people claimed they came from the future and were lost in the current era. ¡°I don''t want ye to become The Hollow King,¡± Vargar said, turning away. ¡°It''d be such a loss to lose ye.¡± Blake looked down. ''Did you know about this, Edward? This is eerily similar to my situation.'' The First Craft (1) Chapter 5: The First Craft (1) Unaware of Blake¡¯s reflections, Vargar interrupted his train of thought. He asked, ¡°What do ye want to craft first? A weapon, I wager.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Blake nodded. ¡°Which one? A sword, ye?¡± Vargar asked with an odd smirk. It was a knowing smile that suggested even youngsters in the fantasy world favored swords over any other weapon. Despite being primarily wielded by nobles, swords attracted even those of humble origins, including players. Blake shook his head. ¡°A katana.¡± His reply elicited an unusual reaction from Vargar as the old dwarf¡¯s face twisted. He looked like he¡¯d swallowed a sour lemon. But Blake wasn¡¯t interested in picking up another weapon. Choosing the craftsman occupation was already pushing him out of his comfort zone. The katana style he¡¯d learned¡ªor rather absorbed like a sponge¡ªduring his beta tester days was too dear to him. It never felt like he¡¯d worked hard to learn katana stances and techniques. They were so enjoyable and intricate that Blake yearned to wield the same weapon as before, but perhaps with a different element than fire. ¡°What¡¯s with that expression?¡± Blake asked. Vargar harrumphed. ¡°A katana, ye? Demanding! It¡¯s such a demanding weapon! The arduous process aside, steel is the weakest metal required for this weapon to be functional! Any weaker metal like iron or copper will cost ye your life. Ye¡¯re going to skip a few steps!¡± Blake recalled his guild¡¯s craftsmen sighing whenever he approached them with his katana low on durability and on the verge of crumbling. His weapon back then was precious, imbued with rare ores and enchantments that allowed it to endure his fire skills. Didn''t that mean his blacksmiths had even more work to do? As Vargar elaborated on the difficulties and precise forging required, Blake unconsciously lowered his head and stared at the floor in shame. He realized he hadn''t appreciated his guild members'' skills and efforts at all. It hurt him, even though those days were in the past. When Vargar noticed that something was bothering Blake, he stopped talking and simply watched him. Sensing his gaze, Blake met the dwarf¡¯s eyes and said, ¡°I¡¯ll forge my katana, even if it means skipping easier materials.¡± ¡°¡­I like yer spirit,¡± Vargar smirked. Without wasting time, they got to work. Vargar donned his personal apron, gloves, and goggles, while Blake found similar items hanging near the tools and put them on to protect himself from injury. ¡°This furnace has everything we could ask for in the steel-making process. It¡¯s advanced enough to handle iron smelting and steel refining,¡± the old man said, admiring the cold furnace, which he¡¯d love to take home. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.After admiring the furnace, Vargar proceeded to guide Blake. ¡°We shall heat the iron ore, coal, and limestone flux. This will produce molten pig iron and slag. The latter will fetch ye good pocket money as the quality of resources here is great.¡± Blake loaded the furnace with the materials, and its mouth lit up in flames. Using his game system, he checked the resources and found that everything here was rare¡ªthird grade, after uncommon¡ªwhich meant the ore itself was one rank higher than the jacket he''d worn to survive the harsh winter. As Blake gazed into the tongues of flame, Vargar smacked him on the back. He shouted, ¡°Work those bellows! Keep the heat optimal!¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Blake gripped the bellows¡¯ handles with both hands, squeezing hard. This process required considerable strength, which Blake lacked since he was only a level one player. Even so, he could see something forming within the furnace, bubbling to the top of the molten iron. It was dark and bubbling. "That must be the slag Vargar mentioned. I can see it clearly, and there¡¯s a system window next to it with a percentage... ninety percent? Which means I should skim off that slag at one hundred percent!" Blake thought. It was one of the passive skills of The Spiritual Blacksmith¡ªThe Hearth¡¯s Spirit (legendary)¡ªwhich allowed Blake to connect with the furnace and perceive its process in the finest detail. If he were more experienced and knowledgeable, he¡¯d be able to see much more, but that would surely come with time. What Blake didn¡¯t know was that skimming off the slag was an advanced task that required precision, experience, and timing. It needed to be done quickly and within the proper time frame. Unaware of these nuances, Blake grabbed a slag rake and thrust it into the furnace¡¯s mouth, aiming to skim off the slag on his own. All he could tell was that it was orange and bubbly, and that was precisely what he needed to remove. Vargar fell silent when he saw this and swallowed his words upon witnessing Blake taking matters into his own hands. The old dwarf stepped back and observed the young man¡¯s actions. As Blake leaned in, his face reflecting the raw flames and perspiring profusely, he strained his arms, trying to skim off the slag, but to no avail. He knitted his eyebrows and bit his lip, refusing to give up. Vargar harrumphed. ¡°Enough. This molten iron is ruined.¡± Walking a few steps away from the furnace, Blake dropped flat onto the ground and glared at the furnace with a mix of confusion and anger. He had definitely seen the percentage indicating the state of the iron and slag. How did he fail? What was the reason? Vargar harrumphed. ¡°Ye¡¯re naive!¡± ¡°Oh, shut up!¡± Blake inwardly shouted. The First Craft (2) Chapter 6: The First Craft (2) ¡°Hmph!¡± Vargar harrumphed again upon noticing Blake¡¯s expression. He didn¡¯t doubt that the young man had cursed at him. He must have been so frustrated that he forgot to show respect or even reverted to his former demeanor. Even so, his frustration didn''t seem baseless. Many people give up on blacksmithing after experiencing its difficulties, growing frustrated to the point of no return. Blake, however, seemed determined to attempt melting iron ore, coal, and limestone flux once more. He demonstrated this resolve by standing up and questioning the dwarf about his failure. ¡°Where did it go wrong?¡± he asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he walked toward the old man with heavy steps, his voice insistent. Vargar clasped his hands behind his back and stood motionless, offering no reply. Blake gulped and added, ¡°Sir?¡± Vargar sneered. ¡°I don¡¯t know what ye have seen, but ye obviously missed a lot of cues. What did ye see? Let me guess: bubbling slag and red metal. Ye didn¡¯t see anything else!¡± Blake¡¯s face twisted as if he''d swallowed something bitter. Vargar guffawed. He used a long tool to extract the failed product. ¡°Ye listen to me, but ye are so impatient. It¡¯s good that ye aren¡¯t relying on your player¡¯s advantages¡ªthose cheap methods. But I can¡¯t understand where this impatience and arrogance come from. Don¡¯t forget ye need a guide before forging alone!¡± ¡°¡­I was at the top,¡± Blake whispered. ¡°Ye were?¡± Vargar asked curiously. ¡°I¡¯m similar to the Hollow King¡ªyou could say we''re two peas in a pod. My friend gave me those titles to remind me not to repeat the same mistakes, but something inside me resists. I told myself I''d work hard for my own growth, but maybe I''m incapable of that; maybe I''m just an arrogant prick. I want everything handed to me because I believe I deserve it, having been at the top before... If I just pick up a katana, I could achieve so much!¡± In making that candid confession, Blake recalled Edward''s advice not to wield a katana too soon. Here he was, trying to forge one for himself. Was that really the path he should have taken? Why did he feel so confused and lost? In the real world, he could endure hardships and eke out a living, but why did he so easily lose himself in this game world? Blake looked away in shame. Stolen novel; please report.Vargar hummed thoughtfully. ¡°¡­ye''re still malleable, like mythril. And why? Because ye''ve acknowledged ye''re similar to the Hollow King. Ye''re the best person to change the fate of the Lost Kingdom¡ªand yerself! Whether ye achieve it is up to ye!¡± He placed the flawed iron on the workbench and walked over to his backpack, retrieving a bottle of beer. ¡°When I¡¯m down, I drink plenty and hammer metals as if they were misbehaving mistresses!¡± Vargar raised the bottle in a toast, thumbed it open, and downed it in one go, causing Blake''s eyes to widen. ¡°My wife prefers it slow and romantic, after all.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t need to hear that!¡± Blake exclaimed. ¡°Haha! Someone¡¯s spirit is up!¡± Vargar guffawed. ¡°Giving up on the first day is pathetic! Come, I¡¯ll explain to ye what exactly went wrong!¡± Blake nodded. Only a sore loser would abandon the pursuit of legendary titles. If they weren''t meant for him, he''d find another way, but it was too soon to say. He approached the workbench where the cooled iron lay. It looked terrible, even to an untrained eye. Vargar began, ¡°Heat management is paramount. Remember when I told ye about optimal temperatures? Ye must maintain it consistently while skimming the slag! Precision is crucial. Improper skimming results in losing valuable iron and leaving impurities behind! The slag needs to be removed promptly; otherwise, it cools and solidifies with the iron. Visual cues like bubbling patterns or color changes are vital to observe so ye can properly skim off the slag.¡± This explanation illuminated his mistakes. Blake had monitored the percentage of slag bubbling out and the iron melting, but then became lost during the skimming process, which he had performed clumsily. He hadn''t observed other visual cues, controlled the heat, or even handled the tool correctly. He inhaled deeply. ¡°Can I get a bottle?¡± ¡°Aye,¡± Vargar nodded, fetching another bottle of beer and handing it to Blake. Blake popped it open and drank as Vargar had done. Being only a nineteen-year-old human, he coughed and spat foam onto his blacksmith''s apron, eliciting laughter from the old dwarf. He licked his lips and declared, ¡°I¡¯m not leaving this smithy without forging full armor and a weapon.¡± Vargar chuckled. ¡°Haha! There¡¯s still plenty of fun ahead!¡± he said, knowing that Blake would face more hurdles¡ªmilestones¡ªon his first crafting journey. The First Craft (3) Chapter 7: The First Craft (3) Through trial and error, Blake built his knowledge of smelting. Everything he learned was absorbed by his legendary skill¡ªThe Hearth¡¯s Spirit¡ªwhich displayed vital information, ranging from the furnace¡¯s temperature to the minutest details of the ores immersed in the flames. Different patterns and colors appeared in Blake¡¯s vision, guiding him in producing optimal pig iron, which he then refined into a steel ingot with the aid of coal and under Vargar¡¯s supervision. This time, Blake stayed true to his word, patiently working and refraining from getting ahead of Vargar¡¯s instruction. Because he possessed the legendary blacksmithing title, he made fewer errors than most novice blacksmiths, saving significant time. Though the starry blanket covered the skies and many players logged out in preparation for tomorrow, Blake wasn''t ready to end his first day in Ashen World Online without fully immersing himself in blacksmithing. Vargar didn''t feel like calling it a night either. Using long tongs, he picked up the molten steel and placed it on the anvil. Beside him, Blake stood with a hammer in his hand. In Ashen World Online, equipment provides skills and stats. That said, Blake¡¯s hammer only slightly increased his strength. Nevertheless, this was helpful since he was a level-one player with no accumulated stats yet. Blake speculated that he hadn¡¯t gained anything from his blacksmithing utensils and gear because he was just beginning his path as a craftsman. Not only did he have a whole smithy to himself, he also had an abundance of rare-grade materials at his disposal. This was more than sufficient. Too many advantages could make him miss valuable insights. Even with the hammer providing +5 Strength, the task proved more demanding than he''d anticipated! ¡°Flatten the steel, thinning and elongating it,¡± Vargar instructed, signaling him to begin. ¡°Imagine this steel as your enemy or the monster you¡¯re so eager to defeat to level up!¡± Staring at the orange, malleable steel, Blake imagined his name written on it. He then envisioned himself arrogantly dragging his guild members into battles, his selfish tactics causing harm, which sparked uncontrollable disgust within him. He swung his hammer. ¡°BLAKE!¡± Vargar caressed his beard. ¡°I wonder who is that Blake... ayo, brat! It¡¯s good that ye started from the middle, but keep the strikes consistent and precise! Go along the blade! Ye hear me?!¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.Blake didn''t hear him. Instead, he let the wave of anger take hold as he swung the hammer with all his strength. Though his eyes reflected a mix of hatred and sadness, he remained consistent and precise. On the contrary. He wielded the hammer like a weapon. Moreover, he could see the points he needed to strike thanks to yet another skill from his legendary title¡ªThe Blacksmith¡¯s Spirit (Legendary). Just like The Hearth¡¯s Spirit, this skill absorbed Vargar¡¯s advice and assisted Blake in the process of thinning and elongating the steel. As Blake entered a battle mindset, his standout qualities¡ªfocus and calculation¡ªwere heightened. Because of this, the skill could replicate Vargar''s expertise even though Blake wasn''t listening. BANG! ¡°The sound is different,¡± Blake said as he stopped hammering, holding his hammer above the steel whose colors had darkened. Vargar nodded. ¡°Indeed. I¡¯m amazed ye have noticed it. In this state, I mean. We need to reheat it now!¡± Once the steel cooled off, the sound it produced upon being struck was different, which Blake naturally noticed in his battle mindset. It calmed him down. Putting the steel into the furnace, Vargar asked, ¡°Who is that Blake?¡± ¡°Me,¡± Blake replied. The old dwarf incredulously shook his head. ¡°I know that humans are deeply attached to their social lives, much more than most races, but ye¡¯re too hard on yerself. Ye were at the top, ye? And no one tried to help ye? Just left ye alone at the end?¡± Blake narrowed his eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t remember.¡± Someone must have extended their hand toward him, but he¡¯d dismissed it with a shrug and carried on with his gaming routine. He was so self-absorbed that he couldn¡¯t even recall who had truly exploited him and who had genuinely wanted to help him. ¡°Good news, though,¡± Vargar said while carrying the malleable steel back to the anvil. ¡°Ye have a knack for hammering and striking! Haha!¡± Blake faintly smiled at the old dwarf. Given his recent behavior, those words could be interpreted ambiguously, but he appreciated the sweat he''d worked up hammering the steel. He felt truly absorbed at the time and sensed a connection between him and the steel. In Vargar''s words, the steel was like a willing mistress craving more. Blake massaged his temple before continuing with the work until late at night. ¡°We¡¯ll continue tomorrow!¡± Vargar said, exhausted. Blake nodded. Lifes Brutal (1) Chapter 8: Life¡¯s Brutal (1) Blake opened his eyes to the blaring sound of his alarm. He fumbled for his phone until he found it beside his pillow. He turned off the alarm, stared wearily at the dark screen, and dropped the phone before burying his face into the pillow. Oh, how he longed to just close his eyes and go back to sleep. He''d give anything for a day off, but he couldn''t afford it on his minimum-wage job. That''s when the familiar, fleeting thought assaulted him: like a devil''s whisper, telling him he could live a lavish¡ªor at least normal¡ªlife with just a few taps on his mobile banking app. This temptation prompted him to stand up and head to the bathroom. He couldn''t touch that money unless absolutely necessary. It was dirty money that had made him a bastard, hurting his family, friends, and many others with his obnoxious selfishness. At nineteen, a high school dropout due to his career as a beta tester, Blake couldn''t find any decent work. He also wasn''t mentally prepared to return to school and pursue a degree. ''I''ve already started playing the game despite promising myself I wouldn''t... I need to be stricter with myself,'' Blake thought as he stared into the bathroom mirror. His tiny one-room apartment was so small that he could see most of it reflected in the mirror. His only belongings were the game capsule, a pillow, and a closet¡ªall, except for the black capsule, as gray as the room''s gloomy atmosphere. He didn''t look great either: weary eyes, pale skin, and dull brown hair. He resembled an invalid, an appearance he often tried to hide beneath his clothes. He put on his work clothes, bundled up, and left the house. The mall where he worked was close to his apartment block, so Blake met up with his co-workers quickly. His overweight boss assigned him to a section and a partner, then retreated to his office to laze around. Blake was once again teamed up with Joel, a jealous man, likely because they were both high school dropouts of the same age. "I''m claiming the riding floor scrubber!" Joel announced, taking what he considered the most enjoyable machine for himself. Blake nodded and went to pick up other equipment. As he rode the machine, Joel asked, "It''s been three days since the official release. How you doing, bro? Still the same?" If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation."Yeah, just hammering and drinking beers," Blake replied. The katana required a lot of arduous, repetitive work. It could be finished in a single day, but it would lose significant strength and bonus stats, which Blake couldn''t accept. So he had been repeating the same tasks for three days, enjoying the food and beer in between. Players could sample many new foods and drinks in the fantasy world for the novelty, but eating was also an important aspect of their gaming experience. An empty stomach halved one''s stats and increased stamina usage, making one more vulnerable to crowd control effects like stuns. Joel pressed his fingers to his forehead and exclaimed, "You''re missing so much fun, bro! You haven''t experienced the thrill of fighting monsters! At least try out a few weapons in the tutorial zone. I picked up a spear and have already skewered a few creatures! There''s an abandoned village in my tutorial zone that''s like an event area where players team up. I met a sassy woman there who looked down on me after I freaked out when a rabbit leaped out of the darkness. She called me a loser who picked a spear because he''s afraid of fighting monsters up close!" Blake swallowed his laughter and asked with a poker face, "How did you reply?" "Bro, I called her a dishwasher, and she went at me as if I''d killed her entire family. I lost," Joel sighed. "She''s so lucky I haven''t received my destined legendary title yet." "Yeah, good luck with that," Blake replied before distancing himself from his co-worker. He couldn''t recall any events happening this early, let alone in the tutorial zones, back when he''d been a beta tester. Could it be that the game company had changed their strategy, or that a hundred in-game years after the last boss''s defeat had made the game much more demanding? Perhaps teamwork was now essential. Rumor had it that the AI controlling the game world was so advanced it could send players back three thousand years into the past, allowing them to face new enemies or perhaps even change the future. ''I need to forge a mask after the katana''s done,'' Blake thought, fearing he''d be forced to play with others sooner than he expected.