Blacksmith vs. the System 1-5 (Patreon)

— Chapter 1

”Hey, Devon, I have your letter as well,” the postman said even as he walked through the workshop floor, passing around parcels and collecting coins as payment. “You have the payment, right?”

“Five silver. Right, Sam?” I asked, but his expression showed that it was not the case.

“No, the rates went up, now it’s six,” he said.

“Again?” I asked even as I dropped my hammer, a frown on my face. “It’s getting too much. How the hell we’re supposed to communicate with the other enclaves if it goes like this?”

He sighed even as he looked at me. “It can’t be helped, boy. Another outpost has fallen, so the letters from the coast have to be moved through another distant post. We’re not the only courier service that increased the cost.”

I reached my pouch and checked, but I knew what I would find. Five silver, and several coppers. I blushed even as I begged. I hated it, but the letter was too important. “How about you let me pay the old price? Say that you promised or something? I’ll pay you extra once —”

“Maybe you should stop, Devon,” Sam said with a sigh, his pitying tone hurting me worse than the time I smashed my hand with a hammer. “How many times it has been?”

“It’s different this time. I can feel it,” I answered. “I promised that I would work for free. With my education, they are getting a bargain. You know that…” But my confidence didn’t help as Sam passed me a letter, one that was too thin to be good news.

I checked the letter, only to throw it into the fires of my forge immediately. “Another rejection,” Sam asked.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Not when he spoke in that kind tone, like I was a stupid child. I said nothing as I pulled my pouch and passed five silvers to him. What I was able to save after a month of working overtime. “I’ll find you next month. I have another admission prepared. I heard they were setting a new think-tank in the ruins of Cleveland.”

“Maybe you should stop working on the workshop and start going into dungeons. It has been three years, and you’re still not even level 10, and you know the walls of the town are hardly —”

“That’s enough Sam. I’m sure you have a lot of garbage to carry,” I cut him off sharply. I hated myself even as I said that. Sam was just trying to look out for me, one of the few people that even bothered to do so. He didn’t deserve my anger.

He wasn’t the one who refused to acknowledge my abilities because of a stupid fluke.

I hated his kind, understanding gaze even more. “See you around, Devon. Try not to kill yourself with your stubbornness.”

I sighed even as I grabbed my hammer once again, and pulled the red-hot sword from the flames. I smashed again and again, the way the sword trembled under my hands providing a good distraction. I had hated repairing stuff when I had first started, but after three years, it had turned into a hobby. A good way to keep my hands occupied while I focused on reworking the formulas.

But, today, I found it difficult to lose myself in the comforting world of math, not when I had to deal with another rejection. It hurt … though, it was the stupid reasoning of it that hurt. I would have accepted if it was just about my capabilities, rather than my Class.

I had been rejected because I was a Blacksmith. A common class, one that didn’t even give a full range of Stats. Just Strength, Vitality, and Dexterity.

It was why I didn’t even bother reading the latest rejection letter more than a sentence, where they told me that my Class disqualified me from any kind of position in a think-tank.

Nothing else mattered. Not the fact that I had graduated college when I was sixteen, with double degrees in Math and Sociology. My doctorate in mathematical sociology didn’t matter, or the fact that I had been the leading name of my field before I even hit twenty-two.

Not when the Cataclysm hit, bringing the System along. Suddenly, no one cared about my groundbreaking papers that had the potential to reshape the socio-economical structure of the next century.

Just because I didn’t have Intelligence as a stat. Another sign of how our society degraded since the Cataclysm hit. Everyone chased bigger numbers to fight against the Cataclysm. A group of golden heroes, each identified by a mystic source of power and empowered through a convenient, easy-to-use interface, fighting heroically to stem the tide.

It was a wet dream of objectivist individualism that even Ayn Rand couldn’t comprehend.

I slammed the hammer again, watching the sparks fill the room. Truthfully, I might have accepted my defeat with grace if Intelligence actually made people Intelligent. But, no, it did not, not any more than Charisma actually making people charismatic.

For the last three years, starting merely a week after the Cataclysm, I had interviewed almost a thousand people with Intelligence — sometimes openly, but mostly disguising as a conversation at the bar while plying them with drinks — until I had developed a solid understanding of how it worked.

It functioned more like a computer showed in someone’s mind. Perfect for finding the square root of six different ten-digit numbers before multiplying them in less than a second, or calculating the Pi to the ten-thousand digit immediately … but not helpful for actually working on the science behind it.

It was like hiring someone as a researcher just because they had their own expensive computer. Most of what they could do, I could easily replicate as long as I had a decent computer… Too bad the electronics didn’t work properly anymore, anything more fragile than a calculator had long fried during the initial days of Cataclysm, taking most of the infrastructure along with it.

“I just need an assistant with Intelligence, and I can still be useful,” I growled in frustration as I continued slamming, the usual lack of calm as I worked not helping. Still, even as my focus wavered, my [Repair] doing most of the work.

I paused when most of the surface work had been completed, touched the hilt, letting my sole perk [Analyze] do its work.

The inner structure of the sword flashed in a moment, showing me that there was still a subtle crack in its surface, one that would weaken the efficiency of its enchantment. How it would weaken, or why, I didn’t know.

However, unlike the other things, it wasn’t an impression that was fed back by [Repair], which didn’t include any magical repair knowledge, even if it was Level 24, almost about to get a second perk.

No, I learned that through repeated practice, even though I ruined several weapons in the process. Sharpness Enchantment was a simple one, just several lines of condensed mana, and it worked properly as long as I resolved the blockage.

I finished repairing it before I quenched the sword in mana water, another use of my [Analyze] confirming that it had been properly solved.

It was rare for someone to have a skill with such a high level, one benefit of the endless overtime I had pulled, trying to afford the ever-rising courier fees.

I sighed as I left my private forge room, and started walking toward the desk, carrying only one weapon. I frowned when I realized which supervisor was currently manning the desk. Mark. Not exactly my favorite person. “Only one weapon, again?” he asked with a nasty smirk.

“As usual, special order,” I said even as I put the weapon down. “The structural damage is repaired completely, and the enchantment should be working as usual.”

“Perfect. Let’s see how much money our resident genius deserves for it,” he replied with glee as he flipped open a book, and made a show of checking the numbers. “Wow, a whole sixty copper. You’re rich! I’m sure, this time you can buy that perk reset stone. I heard that the last one went for three gold.”

“Thank you for keeping an eye on me, Mark, I appreciate it,” I answered, trying to keep my voice cool. His nasty laugh showed that I wasn’t exactly successful. The fact that he was right only rankled me more.

As I walked back to my forge, I could see the others visiting the desk, and none of them carried less than five pieces of gear with them, despite the fact that none of them had their [Repair] as high as mine. All because, when Repair reached Level 10, I chose [Analyze] over [Efficient Repair], arrogant enough to plan forward how it would help me once I got a proper research job once the society started to recover.

Even if it didn’t, I assumed that the ability to repair enchanted weapons would allow me to make much more money. It looked like it would … until a dungeon nearby started to drop repair spells for mages. Just like that, the high-end repair market was gone. And, as the number of mages that could cast it continued to increase, even that was at risk.

I needed to reassign my perk. Something I could have achieved easily a year ago. That time, Perk Reset stones — the cheapest way of achieving it — went for about sixty silvers, while I was able to save almost ten silvers a week, which I wasted by hiring people to collect some data, arrogant enough to think that I was getting a head start for my job as a researcher.

Now, my [Repair] was almost Level 25, and once it reached there, the Perk Reset stone would turn useless, since it only worked on the last Perk received.

Improving skills got harder and harder, especially without renewed challenges, but even my most optimistic calculation — as a function of quality, work time, and a sudden exponential spike for the practice required to reach the next stage — suggested I had less than a month before I needed to purchase it.

Or I would get stuck with [Analyze] forever.

When I arrived at my private forge, instead of picking another weapon, I extinguished the fire, grabbed my hammer — the only thing I owned in the entire forge — and walked out of the workshop.

For once, I decided to cut the day short.

I had an important decision to make.

***

— Chapter 2

I liked having a nice glass of white wine while making monumental decisions, preferably a French Riesling of a decent vintage.

Unfortunately, it was not a luxury I was able to afford any more. Pre-cataclysm goods had long turned into an incredible luxury, even the cheapest box of wine would probably go for a gold coin during an auction. I didn’t think I could survive even seeing the price tag of my favorite vintage for such occasions.

Not when I couldn’t afford even the local moonshine. With only forty copper in my pocket, I would be skipping dinner for the next week and instead eat more during lunch — the greatest, and only perk my current work offered.

I took the long road back home, enjoying the bustle of the streets. It was a rare treat, as I was usually working during the day. And, it was rare to see people on the streets during the night. While it had been almost three weeks since a curfew had been declared, people were still reticent walking around during the night, afraid of another breach.

Not exactly an unjustified fear. The monsters were far more active during the night, and while the town had both walls and multiple patrols, they weren’t exactly a guarantee of safety. If they were, the last emergency curfew wouldn’t have been just weeks away.

I let my finger dance at the handle of my hammer even as I examined the buildings that were a mixture of wood and stone, with no signs of pre-Cataclysm architecture. They had been long destroyed during the first months of the disaster, the rebar steel in the walls far more valuable than anything else.

Though, they weren’t the only things that had been destroyed. Anything that contained metal had been long destroyed, usually cast into bars, forged into weapons that had been destroyed just as quickly as they had been made.

That trend finally stopped after the discovery of the first System store, allowing the exchange of goods and materials. It wasn’t cheap, but an enchanted sword in the hands of a high-level warrior was far more valuable than a thousand held by others.

The discovery of the System store was the first real hit for the production classes. Before, we were a critical part of the defense. Not just Blacksmiths, but Farmers, Carpenters, and many others. After the System store had been discovered just fifty miles away, that changed. We had been first reduced to repairing, and even that was the risk.

“Such fascinating developments,” I muttered. Despite all the problems it created for me, I was still captivated by the developments. After all, I was still one of the premier sociologists in the world. It was my passion to understand how human behavior shapes and shaped by various social aspects.

The irony was that, even as humanity was going through its single greatest change, I neither had the time nor the data to understand what was going on. And, no one cared about it, because my class didn’t have Intelligence as a stat.

When I arrived at my home — a tiny room that was more similar to a prison cell than a residence — I found a paper hanging on my door.

A notice, declaring that, by next week, my rent would be increased from three silvers a week to five silvers. A very steep increase. “That might as well happen,” I growled even as I ripped it off. The room was already near the wall, and absent of anything that could be framed as luxury other than being a single-person residence — including a window.

But, I couldn’t live in a shared room. Not because I would hate it, but because I needed the space. I opened the door, carefully shuffling through piles of paper that covered every inch of the room, each half as tall as me.

The reason I had to live alone. My library.

Everything I was able to find went from home to home while people destroyed every inch of the old buildings. I didn’t know if anyone else bothered to save old books, but even if they did, they were probably hoarding them as much as I did.

While the pre-Cataclysm wine went for exaggerated prices, the same wasn’t true for the old books — for any other classical art form, but those I didn’t care as intensely — which had been mostly treated as a nuisance.

Instead, people cared about the new books, ones that had been either acquired through dungeons or purchased through the System store, describing the secrets of the magic, skills, and perks, some magical enough to directly improve the skill proficiency of anyone that was lucky to read it.

Compared to those, some old college textbooks weren’t particularly valuable.

Getting a shared room meant I had to get rid of all.

“God, I need a drink,” I growled as I threw myself on the bed, burying my face into the pillow. I had too many decisions to make. The first one was whether to continue applying to the newly established research centers, hoping that someone would allow me to work there. I was willing to work for free as long as I could get a closet to sleep in. I was even willing to bribe someone — unfortunately, I lacked the money to do so.

Focusing on acquiring the Perk Reset stone was another option. If I worked hard enough and sold all my assets — including my hammer, I thought even as my fingers brushed against the handle — I might be able to afford it before my skill had been improved. Even then, it was a close call. The latest price increase had truly surprised me.

Then, of course, there was my nascent library. The increase in rent meant that just to maintain my room was enough to cut my weekly savings by almost half.

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the sudden, suffocating weight. Desperate, I reached my mind, calling the System, seeing eight lines of text that were more important than anything else I had done in the past, and would do in the future.

[Blacksmith - Level 7]

[Health 210/210]

[Vitality 14 / Strength 14 / Dexterity 7]

[Skills (3/5)

Repair (Common) - 24 [Analyze]

Forge (Common) - 8

Overhead Strike (Basic) - 4 ]

“Depressing,” I muttered even as I dismissed the screen. None of the information there was a mystery, or even changed recently. With the sole exception of [Repair], the last time one of my skills had was a year ago, when I was forced to fight against a runaway monster,, and it was even longer before I actually leveled up.

I neglected leveling up for two reasons. For once, it wasn’t really valuable when it came to repair work. Most of the time, repairing a weapon only required a fraction of my Strength, and increasing it more wasn’t exactly a priority.

Of course, if it was just the relative uselessness, I would have still worked to level up. Extra power and health were not something I would turn up my nose in such a dangerous world. But, there were two problems with it.

The first problem was simple. The stronger someone, the higher the cost of living. The higher levels required more energy, which meant more food consumption, preferably higher quality with more energy density.

It was problematic enough. Then, there was the fact that, it was expensive for a Blacksmith to level up. The easiest spots to level up had long been monopolized by the stronger groups, both the dungeons and the wilderness.

Anyone that wanted to level up either had to pay for the access, or brave the wilderness as a part of a party. Considering my financial situation was my biggest problem, the first was not an option. It was at one point, but I prioritized my research over it, which now lay in a corner of my library, gathering dust.

The second wasn’t exactly any better. There were only two groups that would accept a low-level Blacksmith, the absolute amateurs that would most likely die in the wilderness…

And, the exploration teams.

The experts pushed into the wilderness, searching for mines, new hunting spots, and even occasionally connecting with other towns. They had been critical in reestablishing the connection with the rest of the state after the Cataclysm, where even the geography had been reshaped, constantly penetrating through the wilderness.

Unfortunately, while they had achieved a lot, their death rate wasn’t too much lower than the amateur parties. They might be well-equipped professionals, but the dangers they faced were much higher. In the world after the Cataclysm, the unknown meant danger.

But, also, potential riches. A good discovery would mean an incredible payday, one that even my meager share as a Blacksmith would be measured in gold rather than silver. If I had enough gold, I could not only purchase everything I needed, but also afford to move to one of the new cities with the research organizations, getting one step closer to success.

I always avoided that, hoping to find myself a place that fit my skills rather than my [Skills], but maybe it was a mistake.

Maybe I had been too arrogant.

With a deep sigh, I stood up. It was time to make a change.

***

— Chapter 3

I disliked Broken Tankard.

It was a loud and crowded pub, filled with people who were far too happy to start throwing punches at the slightest disagreement. It was something I hated even before people started to have superpowers, and violence had become a perfectly acceptable form of self-expression once more. Also, the drinks were overpriced and terrible, and the food was even worse.

Despite all those, it had one redeeming factor, one that made sure I had to visit the place many times. It housed the single most active job board in the whole town for the people who were not a part of the guilds. People looking for parties, specialist jobs, trainers, guides, miners…

I bypassed the crowd and walked toward the receptionist's desk. Only to be interrupted by a familiar face. “Wow, that’s a sight for the sore eyes, Devon. Do you need information on the dungeons again, or are you buying information on the other towns?” Rosie greeted me. “We have managed to connect with another cluster, and I have some interesting stuff for you.”

Rosie was an interesting woman. She was young, cheerful, personable … and absolutely deadly in combat. I didn’t know what her class was, but it was clearly something better than a mere warrior. I had seen her go through a large group of wannabe gangsters who decided that trying to force her to pay a protection fee was a smart decision.

It was not. There was a reason it had turned into the defacto center for the independents. She had enough strength to ensure that she could hold the payments in escrow without being targeted by thieves — naturally, for a modest fifteen percent cut — or intervene as a third party in case of disputes.

She wasn’t exactly a bank, but it was close.

She was also too important to deal with an unimportant washed-up Blacksmith who made wrong bets in this new world until he turned completely irrelevant, but I had been a customer of hers since the beginning, so we had some rapport.

I shrugged. “Unfortunately, no,” I answered as I lifted my pouch, which was noticeably empty. “This time, I’m looking for a job.”

She frowned. “Follow me,” she said as she gestured, and I followed her to her office. “Don’t tell me you’re having problems with the workshop. Is it Mark?”

I wasn’t surprised that Rosie knew about my new supervisor even though it had been a while since my last visit. Her business relied on information. “No, he’s annoying, but not enough to kick me out. I’m still the only one that can repair the sharpness-enchanted weapons.”

She said nothing, and I sighed. I had already made that decision, but it didn’t make sharing any easier. “I decided to take a different job. Outside,” I commented.

That earned a raised eyebrow. “That’s a change of pace for you,” she commented. “What happened to Mister I’m-not-a-barbarian-thank-you-very-much.”

I shrugged. “He has been screwed up because he has misread the situation,” I said with a shrug.

“Oh, it’s rare for you to admit that,” she said. “What are you looking for?”

“Preferably as a part of the group that’s not filled with complete idiots,” I said. “Security over speed, but I need at least three gold coins as payment, but I wouldn’t say no to more,” I explained the conditions.

My request was not excessive. Three gold coins were hard to earn in the town, but the same wasn’t true for expeditions outside. A good working day meant somewhat around one and a half silver for me most days, and that was with working overtime.

Meanwhile, even a mediocre day outside for a hunting party brought more revenue. Anyone with revenue below five silver would be complaining about a slow day, and a good hunter easily had a revenue of twenty silvers a day. A gold coin in five days.

An incredible business … but one with a terrible rate of mortality. The exact rate was hard to pin down with many hunters going to long expeditions, sometimes choosing to just settle in another town without informing anyone.

Still, even without exact numbers, it was enough that a hefty hazard premium for the jobs outside the wall had become common place, with three times being the accepted benchmark, adjusted by the exact circumstances and need.

Meaning, that just by accepting to repair weapons outside, I could expect to earn at least five silvers a day rather than one and a half at a minimum. More if it was a more dangerous job, or it was something that required my abilities.

The post-Cataclysm economy was difficult to understand, especially without a central authority to guide it.

The only thing that prevented it from completely collapsing into barter was the System. For some reason, the dungeons actually produced money. Not just metals, but actual coins, stamped by the System. It was possible to melt them, but considering they were the only currency accepted in the System Stores, no one was stupid enough to do that for material gain.

Ordinary gold and silver were far less valuable.

Of course, I still didn’t understand why a hundred copper coins equaled a silver coin, and a hundred silver coins equaled one gold. It was a weird fixed exchange rate … or not so much, not in a world where monsters popped from every corner and every single person had superpowers.

“Perk Reset stone?” she asked. I nodded, not surprised by her accurate guess. “You want to switch to Efficient Repair.”

“Looks like the best method,” I replied. “With the repair spell getting more and more ubiquitous, it looks like the best way.”

She paused, hesitant. Interesting.

Of course, I didn’t believe that she was actually hesitant. Not even for a second. While I trusted myself to read people well — one benefit of working as a professor for years — Rosie wasn’t as easy to read. I saw her hesitation, because she wanted me to see. “Come on, let’s not waste time. Just spill it,” I said.

She frowned before her expression settled to a calm smile. “Fine, ruin my fun,” she said. “You want to change skill just because you want to make money, right?” I nodded. “There’s a better way for you to do so. It’s still a secret, but…”

“Let me guess. You’re willing to introduce me to them for a finder’s fee,” I said.

“It’s good to do business with smart people,” she said. “It’s such a pity that you didn’t get a class with Intelligence.”

I didn’t respond to that. Rosie was too smart not to know my frustrations about that topic, meaning she was doing it intentionally to unsettle me. Another trick that my old career as a professor helped me to handle. Mobbing through snide comments was hardly unfamiliar.

She seemed to realize that it wasn’t effective, but that didn’t seem to bother her. I liked her, but she was not a particularly nice person. “A new dungeon is discovered. It’s about a week’s travel,” she said.

“I see,” I replied, tensing. “You want me to join there? Why?”

“Yes, and for payment, I just want you to write a report.”

“Really?” I asked. “Even if I don’t have Perception or Intelligence.”

She waved her hand. “I’m not worried about it. You might not have a good class, but I’m aware of just how much you know about them,” she commented. “I just need a detailed report from you about the dungeon, and I’ll not even ask for a cut.”

Coming from anyone else, that statement would have scared me. Despite my best efforts, I didn’t know much about the dungeons, but considering their importance, even the little knowledge I had could have turned me into a target. The only reason it didn’t scare me was the fact that Rosie was the middleman for all those transactions, and knew exactly how much I knew. Not to mention, my research focused more on the general details and how it affected the nearby towns rather than more militaristic details that people cared about.

While I spent a lot of money collecting data, it was not something most people found useful. I wasn’t trying to find the ideal skill and class combination to raid a dungeon efficiently, but to understand its impact on the communities around.

Ironically, it made me even better for her purposes. However, it was clearly not as simple.

The discovery of a new dungeon was not a simple thing. Every dungeon was essentially a pocket universe, or at least some kind of expanded space. Their geography and the hazards hidden had little to do with the location they were in.

They were also filled with all kinds of monsters, some just enlarged beasts, some too hard to contemplate. Every step of a dungeon might result in death. Yet, people raided them regularly. One reason for survival. Letting a dungeon sit untouched too long was never a good idea. Its potential continued to build up … until one day, it broke, spreading those nightmares around.

Yet, that wasn’t the reason people were desperately searching for dungeons. They searched for it, because every dungeon represented a giant economic opportunity. There was no guarantee what kind of treasures it would spawn. The repair spell it had generated that ruined my income was a good example.

“And, they need a blacksmith?” I asked. “One that can repair enchanted weapons? Why?” It was obvious with her comment about not changing my perk.

“The dungeon doesn’t have any mana,” she explained.

A smile appeared on my face. That changed things. Unlike Health, which was easily replenished by food, mages relied on the mana from their surroundings to replenish it. A cheap, renewable source was why a repair spell had ruined our business. While it took half a day for me to repair an enchanted weapon, they could repair dozens with ease.

A scale I could never match.

But, if the dungeon had no mana, it meant that they had to rely on mana potions and other portable sources. And, those methods were expensive, ridiculously so.

Meaning, I would not only get far more money than I expected, but also I would be an important part of their logistic. The more importance I had, the safer I would be because the fighters would protect me.

As far as risking my life went, it was a good deal.

“That sounds like a fascinating deal,” I said. “But, I have two conditions.” She nodded, gesturing me to speak. She didn’t warn me about not having any excessive requests, as I wasn’t a moron. I might be lucky enough that my unique perspective was valuable, but it had limits.

And, it was safer to leave things on the table than to push excessively.

“One, I need a small storage room. I need a place to keep my books and other stuff,” I said.

“Easy.”

“And, I want you to negotiate with the expedition for me. You can take a ten percent cut from my share,” I added.

“Oh, interesting,” she said. “Sometimes, I’m forgetting how smart you are. Fifteen percent.”

“Deal,” I said. As much as I needed money, Rosie’s involvement would help more. Not only did she know the details of the expedition better than I did and could assess the value better, but also it was a way to signal her protection.

Working with a bunch of people I didn’t recognize, it was better safe than sorry.

***

— Chapter 4

Once my deal with Rosie was done, I didn’t even wait for her confirmation before visiting the workshop to resign and empty my apartment.

One underrated benefit of Strength, it made moving much easier. No need to call friends and arrange for pizza and beer. And, once I brought things to the storage room Rosie provided at the basement of Broken Tankard, I spent the rest of my time rearranging my books, wondering if I should bring any.

Ultimately, I decided to pick some scientific journals that were about mechanical engineering and metallurgy, which I had purchased when I had been making good money. They hadn’t been as useful as I had hoped, partially because I lacked the basics. While having one of my bachelor's degrees in Math helped me to understand the gist of the topic easily, ultimately, I wasn’t familiar with the basics of engineering enough to make a difference.

Though, to be fair, I didn’t really push myself. Back then, I was still confident that my career as a Blacksmith was temporary, a blip before I once again started working as a researcher.

Now that I was facing another opportunity to make serious money as a blacksmith, I didn’t want to miss my chance. The dungeon without mana was a good opportunity to make some serious cash regardless of what it would produce.

This time, I planned to make some serious money before the opportunity was gone.

Naturally, the dungeon would stay there for a long time, but sooner or later, other blacksmiths would join the fray. Perk Reset stone was not unique to me, and it wasn’t my genius that gave me the ability to repair enchanted weapons. It was easy to figure out as long as someone was willing to spend some money.

The number of blacksmiths capable of it would increase, and as a consequence, the money we could make would go down. Simple supply and demand.

Once I picked the books I would bring along, I went upstairs to her office. I knocked, and she invited me.

She wasn’t alone. Two other people were sitting on the other side of her desk, both female. One of them was a redhead, and wore a robe while the other was a blonde and was dressed in a thick chainmail. Their outfits radiated the distinct aura of an enchantment. It was subtle, but working with enchanted weapons for years gave me a good sense of their potential.

Neither enchantment was weak, but the robe was much stronger than the armor.

The one with the robe spoke first. “So, you’re the reason we have to take the long road. Merely Level 7, how disappointing,” she commented, which earned a glance from her armored friend … bodyguard. Not for nothing. Using skills like that was considered as rude as just going through someone else’s phone pre-Cataclysm.

“I presume so. Assuming, of course, the deal is complete,” I answered, not reacting to her rude and obvious attempt to establish control. She was clearly unaware of how much information she had revealed by declaring that. Not only she was rich — identification skills were strategic resources, therefore very expensive — but also she was coddled. The entitled declaration was not just rude, but also it revealed a pretty important secret of her own.

She reminded me of one of my more entitled students.

From her wince, I could see that the blonde understood exactly what her companion did but said nothing. It made it more likely that she was a bodyguard rather than a friend.

“Mostly. You just need to check the details,” Rosie said as she pushed a piece of paper toward me. I read, doing my best to keep my expression neutral, but I wasn’t sure that I succeeded. The deal was good. Too good.

“I hope that he’s as good as you promised,” the redhead spoke. “If not, I might change my mind about the rest of your promises.”

“Don’t worry. Ten more blacksmiths that fulfill the conditions, and a hundred warriors, in two weeks. I keep my promises.”

That explained the generosity of the deal even more. Rosie was using me as some kind of proof of concept. It actually made me feel better about the extremely generous deal.

Not only I would receive two silver every hour while I was at the repair station regardless of the work, with bonuses based on my success rate and efficiency. That alone was an incredible deal.

Then, there were additional lines about them supplying me with weapons with different enchantments if they needed me to repair anything other than a simple sharpness enchantment, as well as giving me the right to join the fighting for two hours under the protection of someone called Eleanor to help me level up.

There was even a line about compensation if I got attacked any other time than my leveling journeys.

It was a good deal. Too good, even. I looked at Rosie, whose smile looked very soft and friendly. At that moment, I realized that maybe I shouldn’t have just believed that I was lucky. Rosie had another reason for arranging it.

What, I didn’t know. I was tempted to pull back, but I couldn’t. I got greedy believed myself smart, and swallowed the bait. Now, I needed to deal with the consequences. At least they wouldn’t be deadly.

Rosie had a weird sense of humor, but she was not malicious … at least to people who didn’t antagonize her.

“I can’t believe we have to travel all day just to pick up a mere blacksmith,” the redhead muttered.

“Maria,” the armored one whispered, her tone kind but filled with a warning, no doubt warning her friend about being rude. Amusing.

“What, I’m right. We have more important things to worry about,” she said.

“You should have double-checked your calculations, then,” she replied, and the redhead blushed. It gave me a better idea of what was going on. Then, she turned to me. “I’m sorry about Maria, sir. It’s her first time leading an expedition and she’s tense. I’m Eleanor,” she said.

“Devon,” I said as we shook hands. “I hope that I can help you, but do you mind sharing the details.”

”Later,” Maria cut in, even more abrasive after she had been admonished. A spoiled student, indeed. Too bad I couldn’t threaten her by dropping her participation score. “We need to be at the camp at dawn. I don’t want to delay the raid any more than necessary.”

I looked at Rosie once more. She had explicitly mentioned that the dungeon was a week away. She responded with an amused smirk. “See you around, Devon,” she said with a big smirk. “Make sure to hang on tight.”

Then, it clicked. “We’re going to fly there,” I said, my face getting paler.

“Is there a problem?” Maria asked.

“No, just surprised,” I said, not willing to admit my … distaste for the spoiled young woman who was clearly looking for a chance to mock me. It would be unpleasant enough.

Eleanor seemed to catch the reason, but she just nodded. Not ideal, but better than nothing.

“Good. Then, let’s go. We have wasted enough time,” Maria declared as she stood up, her gaze locked on Rosie. “Make sure you hold the end of our bargain. You don’t want to cross my family,” she declared, with a hint of threat.

“Of course not,” Rosie replied, but I didn’t miss the way her smile tightened. Another mistake on Maria’s part. Rosie didn’t like being threatened. But, coming from someone that might as well be a spoiled trust fund kid — or, whatever the equivalent was in our new society — it was easier to shrug off.

Looking at their maturity, it was hard to believe that they were more or less at the same age, just below twenty-five. Then, I chuckled, realizing that, even in my mind, I sounded ancient rather than my true age, merely thirty-two.

Starting to work as a professor before my twenties distorted my perspective a bit too much on that.

“Let’s go,” Maria said as she looked at her bodyguard, and didn’t even look at me. I followed them after putting on my helmet. There was no hiding my identity from anyone relevant, but I rather not be a part of the gossip.

I followed them to the outskirts of the town and arrived at the gates. According to the laws, the gates were supposed to stay locked all night with no exception. Eleanor didn’t even need to say anything. She just made a gesture, and the guards opened the door, looking nervous. I would have understood if their nervous glance was targeting Maria, but they were looking at Eleanor like that.

There must be a story behind it, but I didn’t ask. I was too busy psyching myself to the upcoming encounter, wondering about the exact method of flying. The destruction of the technology meant there were no planes or helicopters — good riddance — but the replacements were hardly better. A slew of magical items, starting from flying carpets, replaced them. I never had the money to use them in the first place, so it didn’t matter until now.

But, when I saw our mode of transportation, I froze. Mounts. Flying mounts. Two griffins, tied to a tree like horses, a glowing shield around them, though whether to keep them captive or to protect them, I didn’t know.

“Have you ever ridden a Griffin?” Eleanor asked kindly. I shook my head, not in the mood to answer. “I’ll help you,” she said. I followed. The beast looked calm and obedient, not unlike a well-trained horse. I wasn’t scared of it, at least as long as it was on the ground.

As I climbed behind it, the straps of the saddle moved automatically to wrap around me. “Now, all you need to —” Eleanor started.

“Enough, we wasted too much time already,” Maria called from the other griffin, and started to fly.

“Sorry. Just relax and don’t worry. You don’t need to worry. It’s actually very safe,” Eleanor said, which only made my reticence worse. It reminded me of the constant insistence of the flight attendants about how their flying death traps were actually perfectly safe.

Then, the griffin stretched its wings, and we were in the air. I grabbed the saddle desperately and closed my eyes. It was worse than a plane. At least, there, as long as there was no turbulence, I could convince myself that I wasn’t flying.

It was impossible here, not with the wind flowing around my face like a whip. Not with every flap of the wings shaking us worse than even the worst tribulation.

Worse, soon, the cries of monsters reached my ears, interrupted by a sudden flash of red. I couldn’t keep my eyes closed, not with the monsters around us. I watched as Maria casually burning a flying monster that would have killed me instantly.

I hated my new job already.

***

— Chapter 5

We arrived at the camp at dawn. As much as I hated the necessity to keep my eyes open more than necessary, I forced myself, trying to catch the important details. It was smaller than I expected. A wooden palisade around about twenty wooden buildings, surrounded by double the amount of tents. Also, there was quite a bit of empty space.

The number of guards I could see on the wall was less than I expected. I could only count a dozen on each wall, each armed with bows, but the safety of the camp suggested that they were stronger than our town guards.

Even from such a great distance, the quality of their armor was apparent, and each was marked with a stylized griffin. I hoped that it was a guild, and not one of the new houses that was popping out, quick to declare themselves as nobles.

Three years after the Cataclysm, and the political situation was still in flux.

The rest of the camp was barely stirring into movement. A quick estimation suggested that there were about three hundred people currently in the camp, including the guard. Less than I expected considering the size of the camp. I assumed that they were at the dungeon.

That was all I was able to assess until the vertigo hit, forcing me to close my eyes once more. I fought against monsters many times, but still, the heights were my greatest enemy.

“Finally, we’re here,” Maria called loudly as we landed, stretching her legs. Eleanor helped me to step down. I appreciated her help. I doubted that I would have been able to do so without help. “Hey, are you alright?” Maria asked, noticing my state.

“Just a cramp. It’s my first time riding a griffin,” I replied, doing my best to be calm and collected. I failed. Luckily, Maria didn’t care about me to care about why I was reacting like that. “Eleanor, let’s go. Father expects a report.”

“Just a minute. Let me show Devon his workshop first,” she said. Maria didn’t look happy. “The sooner he settles, the sooner he starts working. We need sharpened weapons to move deeper. We’re running low,” she said.

“Alright, but don’t waste too much time. We still need to lead the team to the dungeon,” she said before moving to the central building.

While Eleanor led me toward another building, I looked around, trying to catch the movements. “Anything I need to know,” I asked. “We haven’t been able to talk a lot.”

“There’s nothing too exciting,” she said. “It’s a lower-tier dungeon, populated with some kind of giant beetle with thick armor. The fire magic would have been a good way to deal with them, but the mana density prevents it from being a sustainable solution. But, they have several weak spots. Sharpened methods are the most efficient method of taking them down.”

“Ah,” I said. Suddenly, I understood the reason for the good contract. Sharpened weapons were cheap — compared to other enchanted weapons, still starting somewhere around fifty silver at a minimum for second-hand ones — and useful, but their durability was their biggest problem. “Their shell degrades the weapon even more, right,” I asked.

“Worse. They have some kind of secretion that ruins the edge,” she replied. “Even with multiple weapons assigned to each person, it goes slowly. And, we can’t keep going to the nearest town to repair.”

Understandable, as even with a flying mount, travel wasn’t exactly easy. We didn’t struggle against monsters because Maria was strong enough to deal with them easily. However, it wasn’t exactly smart to assign the top combatant to logistic work.

Especially there was a limit for the carrying capacity of the griffins.

“I see,” I replied, considering the implication. The fact that the edge was the part that was being damaged was good news. It was far easier to sharpen a new edge than repair structural damage, which meant that I would be making even more on bonuses than I had initially expected. “How about my work. The contract outlines my job requirements, but nothing else.”

“You’re going to join our team of blacksmiths. We currently have six capable of repairing enchanted weapons, each with both Analyze and Warm Blow. Seven with your inclusion. There’s also a dozen other apprentices that are working hard to raise their Repair over twenty-five with some disposable weapon so they could join the main work.”

I frowned, wondering whether I should mention that I didn’t have [Warm Blow] yet, which was a perk that allowed the blacksmiths to repair the enchanted weapons without heating it too much, as it had the risk of destabilizing the enchantment. Then, I decided against it.

There was no mention of it in the contract, and could the repair in any case. No need to give them useless information that could change their mind. People had weird expectations when it came to Stats and Skills, seemingly determined to ignore that we were not robots, and could easily surpass the limits.

The lack of Warm Blow didn’t mean I couldn’t keep up with the others. It would be some help, but even without it, I could keep up with the performance requirements outlined in the contract easily. All the tricks I figured out during the three years I spent working overtime were enough. All I needed was to be careful about the heat.

I didn’t rely entirely on the instincts fed to me by the skills.

In the end, I decided to stay silent. In the worst case, I could focus on bringing my Repair Skill to the next level. It should take only a few days as long as I was willing to ruin some weapons.

Eleanor continued to talk, giving me a quick tour of the camp while I watched. “And, this is the forge, where you’ll be working —” she started, only to freeze.

I assumed the reason was the tall, armored man at the center of the room. He was decked in full plate armor. On his chest, there was the symbol of a griffin like the guards, but it was far more intricate. All of it identified as a high-ranking member of the same group, but another thing commanded my attention. One that was radiating an aura that demanded respect and adulation.

Charisma.

I cursed internally. Of all the stats that were brought by the System, I hated Charisma the worst. On the battlefield, it worked wonders, allowing people to fight with a greater focus and coordinate better. In social life, it was disgusting. It was like an airborne drug.

Luckily, it was a pretty rare stat, and none of them deigned to live in a small town, making sure I never had to deal with them.

Even without my own prejudices relating to their existence, I could sense that he was bad news from Eleanor’s reaction. Up until now, she had given me the impression of a kind, affable woman despite her very obvious power.

The moment she saw him, her attitude changed, radiating a dark, dangerous feeling. It was like I was standing next to a giant sword, ready to spill blood. “Sir Thomas, how can this servant help you?” she said, but I had heard people less frustrated being thrown into the garbage. She didn’t bother hiding her hatred.

“Is this the way a retainer should act, Eleanor? Why are you on your knees?” he said, his smile mocking. His Charisma turned even more pointed, focusing on Eleanor. Her legs trembled, but she resisted it.

I took a step back, not willing to be affected. I hated the impact of Charisma, especially since the level difference made it very difficult to resist.

“As the sworn sword of Lady Maria, it’s not appropriate, my lord,” she replied.

Thomas smiled. “How fun,” he said. “I wonder how long you’ll be able to resist until you beg for me to save you from your grievous mistake.”

“This humble servant doesn’t deserve your concerns, my lord,” she replied. As I watched them absentmindedly, I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the way culture had changed in merely three years. Centuries of traditions relating to democracy and equality had been abandoned, replaced by a mockery of tribal politics, often with a cursory veneer of medieval nobility.

I never understood how such a drift could happen in less than a year, which was another reason I had been so enthusiastic about joining the rare research institutes that were finally popping around — only to fail.

Thomas smirked, no doubt about to follow up with another subtle insult, but his expression changed when Eleanor grabbed her sword. “Don’t worry, Eleanor. We’re old friends. I’m just worried about my dear cousin, and wanted to see if I can help any.”

“She’s busy, and she doesn’t want to see you,” Eleanor replied. “But, feel free to visit and see if she changes her mind.”

“Oh, what a pity,” he said, his smugness back. “I’ll just deal with my mission and leave, then,” he said.

“Your mission,” Eleanor asked.

“Yes. The family council honored me with an emergency mission of protecting one of the trade routes. And, I’m here to get the necessary resources.”

Eleanor froze as he passed her a sealed envelope. “No. That’s against the deal. We have been promised no interference.”

“From our side of the family, and we fulfilled it. We can’t help if the family council assigned me with a critical mission that’s more important than a mere dungeon subjugation.” He smirked as he looked at the blacksmith. “Anyone employed directly by the family, follow me. You have your orders,” he said.

I watched from the side as the majority of the employees had left the room, leaving only five behind.

Eleanor followed them, panicked, and the rest of the blacksmiths followed her, no doubt wanting to leave.

I considered following them but decided against it. I had no idea what would happen, but there were two options. Either the operation was dead, or it would continue. If it continued, getting familiar with the workshop and the weapons would be useful.

And, if the operation was dead, I better repair a few weapons. Maybe I could push the repair to the next rank before they kick me out.

After all, even if they failed, the dungeon wouldn’t disappear. Another team would establish a new camp, where I could work.

Either way, it was better than watching a pointless competition between a bunch of rich kids to finalize.

***