The sun crept over the horizon, painting the sky in warm hues as noise from downstairs pulled Aldrich from the depths of his sleep. He stretched with a soft groan, blinking away the remnants of slumber. For once, there were no nightmares clawing at the edge of his mind.
Huh... maybe that Earth meditation actually worked.
He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the system clock.
6:00 AM.
Scratching his head, he checked the Beta Timer: 9 months and 28 days left.
He frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. That timer always sat there, ticking down like some doomsday clock—and yet, no explanation.
"Hey System," he asked aloud, still groggy. "You know anything about this Beta Timer? Will there be anything new for me?"
"Error: User Qualification is not enough for this information."
Aldrich blinked. That was... new.
The System usually gave a vague answer or ignored him altogether. But this? This felt intentional. Ominous, even.
He stared at the timer, jaw tightening. Then he let out a quiet sigh.
"Well... whatever's coming, it's coming. Might as well get stronger before that timer hits zero."
He opened the System quest log.
[DAILY QUEST: Hit a dummy 10,000 times]
Reward: 100 EXP to Warrior Subclass, +0.01 to Strength, Agility, and Vitality.
New day, new punishment. I'll knock it out after visiting the blacksmith.
Aldrich stretched again and headed toward the common bathroom on the second floor.
Lucky! No one here.
He washed up quickly, steam rising around him, the cold water chasing off the last dregs of sleep. When he emerged, he was dressed in the clothes he bought from Josephine, light and clean, with his cloth armor hidden beneath his shirt—comfortable, yet protective.
Downstairs, the inn's main lobby was quiet except for one familiar face. Ivan was awake, hunched over his counter and scribbling into a ledger.
"Morning, Van!" Aldrich called out with a grin.
Ivan glanced up and immediately rolled his eyes. "What do you need this time, kid?"
Aldrich chuckled. He's like a fantasy Squidward, he thought fondly.
"I paid for a year in advance. What's for breakfast?" he asked with a smirk.
Ivan sighed in theatrical annoyance, muttered something under his breath, and vanished into the kitchen.
"Thanks!" Aldrich called, already heading to his usual seat.
The dining area was nearly empty. Outside the window, he spotted last night's drunkard—now red-faced and sweating—as he tried to refill the crater left behind by Brynn.
Yikes. Ivan's father must be terrifying if even a drunk's taking the cleanup seriously.
Ivan returned and dropped a simple plate in front of him. "Enjoy," he muttered, deadpan.
Aldrich gave a sheepish chuckle and looked down at his meal—sweet potatoes, a fried egg, and a cup of water.
Not bad. Can't expect meat every day.
He dug in quickly, letting the warmth of the food wake him further.
So... First, visit the blacksmith—might lead to more about my class. Then buy a mirror. Then beat the crap out of a dummy ten thousand times. Easy-ish. Hopefully I'll find one on the way.
As he chewed his steaming potato, his thoughts drifted—unbidden—to his family.
I wonder if they're okay... No, I need to get stronger. Strong enough to stand beside Father, or maybe... even surpass him. That's the only way I'll be ready to return.
He clenched his jaw, setting the long-term goal in stone.
After finishing the last bite, he stood and called toward the counter, "Heading out!"
Ivan answered with a dismissive grunt.
Stepping outside, Aldrich was greeted by the same drunkard, now cursing under his breath.
"Damn it... Shouldn't have pissed off that warrior," the man muttered, still shoveling.
Aldrich heard him but said nothing, walking past. As he passed, the man muttered again, "I hope the old man doesn't see this…"
Ignoring the drunkard, Aldrich scanned the horizon. A thin line of smoke curled up in the east. Bingo.
That's gotta be the forge.
He turned toward it, walking along the pebble road. The streets were lively with hawkers calling out their goods. The smell of oil, bread, and woodsmoke filled the air.
He paused at one stall where a vendor was flipping something golden on a pan.
"Good morning, mister. What are you selling?"
"Morning, lad!" the balding vendor beamed. "Pan-fried bread! Two copper each. Care for one?"
The warm, rich smell hit Aldrich like a wave of nostalgia.
Just like Earth…
"I'll take two, please," he said, handing over a silver coin.
The vendor wrapped them in parchment-like paper. "Enjoy them while they're hot!"
Aldrich smiled, took the change, and continued on—devouring one pancake with gusto.
"These are so good."
Before he could finish the second one, he reached his destination.
A sturdy storefront stood in front of him. A wooden sign hung proudly: 'Bramble Smithy.'
Seriously. Does every shop in this town have 'Bramble' in the name? The mayor must be obsessed or something.
He pushed the door open—and his System chimed in.
Blacksmith Quest Unlocked!
Retrieving Information...
Retrieval Complete.
[QUEST: Gain Apprenticeship with the Master Blacksmith]
Though you bear the System's mark and have been Appraised as a Blacksmith, true craftsmanship cannot be inherited — it must be earned. Titles and talents are but hollow shells without the forge to shape them. To truly begin your path as a Blacksmith, you must seek out a Master of the craft and prove yourself worthy of their guidance.
Objective:
Find and convince a Master Blacksmith to take you on as an apprentice.
Reward:
• Unlock Dexterity Stat
• Gain Access to Basic Blacksmith Skills
Aldrich's eyes lit up.
Finally! Wait… Dexterity and basic Blacksmith skills? That's new.
It was weird. His class gave him tons of combat skills, but his passives were all blacksmithing-related. And now a brand-new stat and the basics, huh?
Well, not gonna say no to free power and skills...
Before he could think more, a deep voice interrupted him.
"What do you need, laddy?"
Aldrich looked up and froze. Behind the counter stood a stout, broad-shouldered man—clearly a half-dwarf. Muscular, bristly, and solid as an anvil.
It was the first time Aldrich had seen someone from a fantasy race up close. He stared too long.
"You deaf?" the half-dwarf asked, this time more annoyed. "I said, what do you need?"
Snapping out of it, Aldrich straightened up and cleared his throat. "Yeah—sorry. I, uh... I'd like to speak with the Master Blacksmith."
The man's eyes narrowed. "And where's your name, boy? Learn some manners before you go making requests."
That knocked the wind out of Aldrich's 'cool guy' act. He shrank a little, awkwardly extending his hand. "Raymond. Nice to meet you."
The half-dwarf stared at the hand. "Kaelen," he said finally. "I'm the blacksmith's son."
He reached for a handshake, but with his short arms and Aldrich's taller frame, their hands met in mid-air awkwardly. Aldrich leaned in and finished the handshake with a sheepish grin.
"So, you want to meet Pops, huh? Need something forged? Armor? Weapon?"
"Actually..." Aldrich took a breath, steadying his nerves. "I want to know if your father is accepting disciples."
Kaelen blinked—then burst out laughing, a deep, belly-shaking sound that echoed in the smithy.
"You? A disciple? Bahahaha! That's rich!" he slapped the counter, grinning like a lunatic. "You even know who me da is, lad?"
Aldrich flushed slightly. "Not really... I just—"
Kaelen leaned forward, still smirking. "He ain't just some village hammer-jockey, boy. You're askin' to train under Dori Stoneheart, Iron Knight o' the Emberhall Clans, Tier Two smith—and a hells-damned stubborn bastard to boot."
"…Oh." Aldrich blinked. "Didn't know that."
Kaelen raised a bushy brow. "No, ye didn't. Or you wouldn't have walked in here so chipper." He folded his arms, muscles rippling under soot-streaked sleeves. "Da doesn't take disciples. Says most are soft as bread and twice as dumb. Had one fella piss himself just from the heat."
He eyed Aldrich critically. "But you've got some stones, at least. Ain't flinched yet. That's somethin'."
Kaelen's smirk returned. "I'll fetch the old goat."
He turned toward the back and yelled, "POPS! Got another wide-eyed twig wantin' to be your apprentice!"
A deep, gravelly voice answered, muffled by the hiss of steam and the pounding of metal.
"Is 'e still breathin'?"
Kaelen grinned at Aldrich. "For now."
The heavy forge door creaked open. From the smoky depths emerged a dwarf who looked more boulder than man.
Stocky. Square-jawed. A beard thick enough to hide a dagger in. Burn marks tattooed his leather apron like battle scars. His eyes glinted like molten ore, sharp and ancient.
"Right," he grunted. "Which twig am I threatenin' this time?"
Aldrich took a steadying breath and stepped forward. "Raymond, sir. I'd like to become your disciple."
Dori snorted, unimpressed. "Raymond, eh? Sounds like a scribe's name. You write poetry too, lad? Or just want to waste my time swingin' hammers for fun?"
Aldrich stood straighter. "No, sir. I want to learn. I'm a Blacksmith class."
Dori's eyes narrowed. "Aye? That so?"
Kaelen cut in. "Says he's got the class proper, Da. Could be the real deal."
Dori turned to his son. "The last one who said that dropped your mother's best tongs on his foot and cried for an hour."
Kaelen winced. "Aye, true."
The older dwarf sized Aldrich up. "You got calluses, boy. That's a start. But so does me anvil, and it ain't never forged nothin' worth a damn."
Then, without warning, Dori reached behind the counter and hauled out a hammer—massive, scarred, and angry-looking.
"This here's Braghmar. She weighs ninety kilos. First test: catch."
And with a casual flick, Dori tossed it toward Aldrich.
Time slowed. Aldrich's instincts screamed. He reached out, heart thundering, and caught the handle in both hands.
His arms buckled—slightly. But he didn't fall. Didn't drop it. The weight slammed down like a god's handshake, but he stood tall.
Silence.
Kaelen's jaw dropped. "By me beard… he caught it."
Dori grunted. His eyes glinted with something dangerous—interest.
"Hmph. Not bad. Didn't shatter like glass. That's worth somethin'."
Aldrich grinned, still holding the hammer. "HAH! I am still worthy!" he proclaims just like that one action superhero.
Kaelen snorted, then laughed. "Bold too. I like him already."
Dori scratched his beard. "Still got to see if ye swing like a warrior or a wet fish. And more'n that—if you listen."
He stepped forward, poked Aldrich's chest with a thick, calloused finger. "This forge ain't no school for pretty sparks. You'll sweat 'til your bones ache. You'll burn your hands, break your back, and if you're lucky... you might craft somethin' decent before you're old enough to piss straight."
Aldrich nodded solemnly. "I understand."
Dori grinned—a slow, toothy thing like a mountain cracking open.
"Aye, then. Let's see if you're as stubborn as you look."
He turned on his heel. "Follow me, lad. We'll start with bellows and coal. Kaelen! Make sure he don't drop dead."
Kaelen saluted with mock seriousness. "Aye, Da. If he dies, can I have his boots?"
"Only if you pry 'em off yourself," Dori barked back.
Aldrich couldn't help but grin as he followed the dwarf into the forge's glowing maw.