Blistering heat emanated from the forge. He was hard at work, quenching the frame for the shield he had been crafting. Standing atop a high stool—since everything here was made for human height—he had to make do with what he had. Short as he was, he clamped the well-crafted metal and plunged it into the oil. He planned to forge a flexible shield, one capable of rebounding absorbed strikes.
Just as he finished the steamy process, he heard his son calling. He grumbled under his breath but got up—if he didn't, that bugger would just keep yelling. Jumping down from the metal stool, he strode toward the thick iron door. Among the neighboring humans, he was considered a great blacksmith. Among dwarves? Not so much.
He puffed out his chest, putting on a brave front to scare the young lad away. Seeing the boy's thin but lean frame, and hearing he'd only just earned his Tier 1 class, he was certain the kid would back off after failing to even lift Braghmar, his hammer. It was heavy—even a Tier 2 warrior would struggle to swing it.
He threw the hammer toward the youth, expecting a failure—but to his surprise, the boy caught it. His arms dipped from the weight, but he didn't buckle. Dori internally shook his head at the new burden forming before him.
But what could he do? He'd given the boy his word.
"HAH! I am still worthy!" the boy shouted gleefully.
Raymond, if Dori had heard the name right.
Now came the real test. Hopefully, the boy's strength matched his spirit.
Aldrich walked toward the forge, hiding his excitement. He was happy for a different reason entirely.
If I remember correctly, Father's greatsword weighs about a hundred kilos, right? That means with just a few more levels, I can show Marion who's boss—HAHA!
His grin faltered. Oh yeah… I can't go back right now. The memory of the incident still lingered. As much as he wanted to return home, the time just wasn't right.
"Here we are," Dori announced. Then, glancing toward his son, he barked, "Oy, lad! Back to the desk wi' ye. Ain't got time fer ye starin' like a slack-jawed goblin. Move yer arse!"
"Aye, yes, Father," Kaelen replied, shoulders sagging as he returned to the storefront.
Such a cute duo, Aldrich thought with a smile, eyes now on Dori, who rummaged through a chest.
The forge looked just like those from the movies—massive anvil, blazing heat, soot blanketing every surface. Yep. I'm not cut out for this. I want my Netflix and my bed back.
"Here we go," Dori exclaimed, pulling out a rolled-up scroll. A contract? Blueprint? Aldrich wasn't sure.
"I know what yer thinkin'," Dori said, handing it over. "A dagger, aye? Sounds simple. Somethin' to stab or skin a beast with, right? But this ain't just a dagger—this's yer trial. Fore I call ye apprentice, ye'll forge this. Here, catch."
Dori tossed it his way again, and Aldrich caught it cleanly. The words were in Dwarven—thankfully, he'd studied up—and the instructions were detailed.
Well, it has steps. Easy peasy, right?
He scanned the text.
Wait. I've never actually blacksmith-ed anything in my life. Life's not going to be easy peasy, is it?
Huh! This is new! Aldrich's eyes widened as he finished reading.
Ding!!
New Recipe Acquired!!
Loading…
Recipe: Iron Dagger (Common)
Materials Required
Iron Ingot ×1
Wooden Hilt ×1
Leather Strip (Binding) ×1
Forge Steps:
Heat the Ingot – Place the iron ingot into the forge until it glows dull orange.
Shape the Blade – Hammer the metal into a taper. Expect it to be rough.
Quench the Blade – Submerge in water. Cracks may appear. Accept them.
Attach the Hilt – Fit tang into the grip. Bind with leather. It'll feel loose.
Sharpen & Polish – Use a whetstone. It'll still be jagged and dull in places.
Simple enough. Even a school kid could follow this, he thought, staring at the panel.
Dori eyed Aldrich's blank expression and struck his hammer against the anvil. "So? Ye gonna stand there like a beardless elf, or ye gonna get to work?"
Chuckling to himself, Aldrich got to work.
He crouched by the forge, iron ingot in hand, anxiety bubbling in his throat. The fire roared like a beast, daring him to get closer.
"Alright," he muttered, wiping sweaty palms on his pants. "Just metal. Fire. Hitting stuff. How hard can it be?"
He tossed the ingot in and watched it glow. Was it supposed to be that orange? Maybe a bit too orange? No... white now? That definitely wasn't right. Not wanting to look like a fool, he yanked it out fast—sparks leapt at him and the tongs nearly slipped.
Then came the hammering.
First strike—too soft.
Second—almost bounced the blade off the anvil.
Third—felt right, but the shape twisted, looking more like a bent bird's beak.
He gritted his teeth, hammering in a panicked rhythm. Eventually, he ended up with a flat tip and a bloated base. It resembled a metal carrot.
Still, he dunked it in the quench bucket with the energy of a man desperate to finish. Steam exploded upward; cracks webbed across the blade.
"Perfect," he muttered, eyes watering.
He moved on to the hilt. The tang slid into the wooden grip but wobbled. The leather strip slipped twice. When he finally managed to bind it, it looked like a drunk snake had tried and failed to coil around a stick.
Lastly, sharpening. He dragged the blade across the whetstone repeatedly, hoping to fix the ugly.
Nope.
It still looked like a crooked grin with an identity crisis.
He held it up to the forge light. It was… a dagger. Technically.
Crude, bent, vaguely threatening in the way tetanus was.
Ding!
Crafted Crude Dagger
+10 exp to Apprentice Forgemaster
'Oh! Now we have something going on here. I can spam create something like this, and leveling up will be a breeze. He looks at this, and a delightful gleam shone from his eyes. But when he looked at the stats of his newly crafted dagger.
[Crude Iron Dagger Crafted]
Damage: 10–14. Durability: 70/100.
Grimacing, he presented it to Dori. "I made a butter knife with ambition," he said. "Next one won't suck. Probably."
The forge hissed behind him, almost mocking.
How long was I at it? Aldrich wondered. Somehow, he'd lost himself in the process.
Wiping his face with a soot-stained sleeve, he handed the dagger over. Hope water can wash this off.
Dori studied the blade intensely, nodding and shaking his head in turn. Then he fetched a monocle from his chest.
"There's cracks on this sorry excuse fer a carrot—ugly as sin—but aye, this'll do," he muttered. Then he glanced up. "Tell me true, lad. This yer first time touchin' a forge?"
Aldrich smiled. "Yes, Master Dori."
"Hah! Not bad fer a greenhorn. Well, I gave my word. Ye pass. Yer now me disciple. Don't ye dare slack, or I'll toss ye back out faster'n I let ye in."
Despite his grumbling tone, Dori was already thinking: A diamond in the rough, this one. A rough bloody boulder, more like—but there's a glint in there.
Ding!
Quest Accomplished!!
New Attribute Unlocked: Dexterity
You have tempered your hands in labor and earned your place at the anvil.
Dexterity – A measure of precision, finesse, and control. Affects motor skills, tool handling, and the quality of crafted items.
Stat Growth: +0.5 Dexterity per level
Additional Effects:
Increases crafting speed and success rate
Reduces failure when refining/enhancing gear
Boosts accuracy and crit chance with crafted weapons
Basic Blacksmith Skills Unlocked
[Forge Item] – Create weapons, armor, and tools using blueprints and materials. Scales with Dexterity and Intelligence.
[Repair] – Restore durability using compatible materials. Can add minor buffs on high success.
[Salvage] – Break down gear into materials. Better yield with higher Dexterity.
[Tempering Touch] (Passive) –
+5% base durability on crafted items
+5% success chance for enhancement
-10% resource cost on Common items
Grinning to himself, Aldrich marveled at how Dexterity changed everything.
Maybe if I had this earlier, the dagger could've turned out better? Maybe even Uncommon? And what about my Master Blacksmith skill from the Apprentice Forgemaster class…?
"System, show me status."
[Status Panel]
Age: 2 / 75 years
Class: T1 Apprentice Forgemaster – Level 3 (10/800)
Subclass: T1 Golden Disciple – Level 3 (200/800)
Health: 90.1 / 90.1
Mana: 19.8 / 19.8
Strength: 9.01
Agility: 4.45
Dexterity: 1.5
Intelligence: 1.98
Vitality: 9.01
Skill Points: 7
Unused Attribute Points: 0
Experience: 50,200
Tier 1 Bonus: +0.2 to Strength, Agility, and Vitality
Looks much better now. Never knew Dexterity was so important for a blacksmith. I'll do better tomorrow.
Aldrich nodded to himself, staring at his panel.
Dori gave him a sideways look. "Oy, ye alright there, lad? Ye look like ye seen a gold vein in yer porridge."
"Uh, yes, Master." He bowed deeply, only now realizing—he'd actually been accepted.
Dori shook his head. All geniuses are cracked in the head, he thought. "Back here at the forge. 7 a.m., sharp. No dawdlin'. I'll be givin' ye yer first hammer—proper one, made by me own hand. Don't lose it, or I'll tan yer hide."
Aldrich's heart warmed. Everyone he'd met so far had been kind. What he didn't know was that kindness often came at a cost. Rejection—that was something he hadn't faced yet.
The forge door creaked shut behind him, the muffled roar of fire and hammering now a distant echo. A light breeze tousled Aldrich's dark hair as he stepped into the streets of Brambletown, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the cobbled paths. The heat of the forge still clung to his skin, but the open air brought welcome relief.
Time to prepare for the next step.
He made his way through the winding alleys toward the central marketplace, a lively sprawl of colors and noise. Stalls brimmed with everything from herbs to iron nails, the scent of roasted chestnuts and sweetmead dancing on the breeze. Traders called out, coins clinked, and children darted through gaps, laughing.
His gaze scanned the stalls until something caught his eye—an old mirror, framed with tarnished silver. The glass had faint smudges, but it was clear enough for what he needed.
"How much for the mirror?" Aldrich asked, approaching the vendor, an older woman with gray streaks in her hair and a sharp gaze that had likely seen its fair share of thieves.
"Five silvers," she replied without hesitation. "No hagglin'. That piece comes from the old noble district. Still reflects the truth."
Aldrich handed over the coins without complaint. "Do you know a place nearby where I can train? Somewhere I can practice striking—like a yard or something with targets?"
The vendor's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You look like a young Adventurer—try the Adventurers' Guild. They've got a proper training room inside. Reinforced dummies, good space, and decent lighting. Or," she added, nodding toward another row of stalls, "you can buy practice dummies here. Cheaper, but don't expect 'em to last forever. A strong blow will snap 'em in two."
Aldrich mulled over the options, rubbing the back of his neck. The Guild, huh? Sounds tempting… but I've got enough eyes on me already. Better to keep a low profile for now.
"Thanks," he said with a polite nod. "I'll go with the dummies."
A few stalls down, he found what he needed—simple wooden practice dummies padded with hay and cloth. Each one cost a silver, and he bought five, just in case. The vendor, a gruff man with missing teeth, raised a brow at the quantity but said nothing.
He carried the supplies behind a building, then he put the dummies and mirror inside his system slot. He went towards the gate where the thin Tim was guarding.
"Well now, if it isn't Raymond," said Tim, leaning on his spear. "Got that determined look again. Off to wrestle a bear or punch some trees?"
Aldrich laughed, a bit of the day's fatigue falling away. "Not today. Just going to catch some fresh air."
Tim nodded. "Sure, just be back before dark, yes?"
"I'll manage," Aldrich replied, picking of some cooled down metal from his shirt. "Thanks though. I'll be as soon as I'm done."
Beyond the town walls, Aldrich found a quiet patch of grass along a low ridge, with the distant treeline swaying under the golden sky. The wind whispered through the fields, and for a moment, the world felt still. Peaceful.
He planted the five dummies in a semi-circle, testing their stability with a few prods. They wobbled but held. Setting the mirror up against a rock, he studied himself.
The boy staring back had soot on his cheeks, sweat matting his hair, and a smudge across his jaw—but his eyes were sharp. Alive.
He took a deep breath and began. Wielding the crude dagger he crafted.
The strikes came awkwardly at first—too shallow, too wide, or lacking force. But repetition brought rhythm. The weight of the crude dagger, the resistance of the straw, the sound of wood creaking under force—it all began to align.
[Daily Quest Progress: 300/10,000]
He adjusted his grip, trying again. And again. Hours passed.
[Daily Quest Progress: 9,907/10,000]
Sweat poured down his back, as he finished his daily quest. All five of the dummy's arms broke off, another leaned sideways, he looked the mess that he did but he felt accomplished.
[DAILY QUEST: Hit a dummy 10,000 times] (Completed)
Reward: 100 EXP to Golden Disciple, +0.01 to Strength, Agility, and Vitality.
'Claim! Open Status.'
[Status Panel]
Age: 2 / 75 years
Class: T1 Apprentice Forgemaster Level 3 (0/800)
Subclass: T1 Golden Disciple Level 3 (300/800)
Health: 90.2 / 90.2
Mana: 19.8 / 19.8
Strength: 9.02
Agility: 4.46
Dexterity: 1.5
Intelligence: 1.98
Vitality: 9.02
Skill Points: 7
Unused Attribute Points: 0
Experience Points: 50,200
Bonus Attribute:
Tier 1: +0.2 to Strength, Agility, and Vitality