Chronicles Of The Crafting Hero [REMASTERED]

Tyler drew in a sharp, sudden breath, his eyes snapping open. He blinked against the dim light, staring up at rough wooden planks. They were poorly constructed into a makeshift roof, with thin rays of moonlight spilling through the gaps.

He swallowed, his throat parched and scratching. *What just happened?*

The system panel materialized before him. HP: 7 / 41.

* My HP... It went up?*

He tried to sit up. The moment his abdominal muscles tensed, a hot, piercing pain shot through his stomach and back. He sucked in air through his teeth, bracing his arms against the ground to slowly push himself upward. As he sat fully upright, the hair on the top of his head brushed against the low planks of the small hut.

He pulled back a coarse blanket covering his legs. Underneath, a rough rag was tied securely around his torso, wrapping from his abdomen all the way to his back. A thick, folded cloth was wedged under the binding on both sides of the stab wound, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

*Someone came and help me? But who?*

Tyler let out a low grunt, pressing a hand firmly against his wrapped abdomen. He shifted his weight and slowly crawled out from under the makeshift shelter. Outside, the air was cool and the space completely dark. He was in another alleyway, much narrower than the one where he had been attacked.

*Where am I?*

"I have to get back," he rasped, his voice rough.

He forced himself to his feet, starting to walk. *I have to get to James. He must be worried about me.*

Every step sent a fresh wave of throbbing heat radiating from his wound. He swayed, leaning his shoulder heavily against the rough stone wall of a nearby building to keep his balance. His chest heaved with shallow, rapid pants. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself off the wall and continued forward. The narrow path opened up into a four-way intersection. Keeping his hand pressed against his stomach, he walked straight ahead.

*How do I know where I'm going?* he thought, looking at the warm lights glowing from the windows of the nearby buildings. *Should I get some help? If I tell them I'm injured, maybe they'll help.*

He walked straight until the narrow path suddenly opened up, revealing the wide cobblestone road. As he stepped onto the stone, he saw that the street was completely empty. Looking around, he recognized the area immediately, he had come out near the bakery, right by Hector's shop.

*This is the marketplace. How the hell did I get all the way here? Who helped me? And where did they go?*

The sharp chill of the night air settled over his skin, but he forced his heavy legs to keep moving. As he walked, his gaze caught a group of women on the opposite side of the street. He altered his path, dragging his boots across the cobblestones toward them. He lifted a trembling hand, his fingers stained with dried blood.

"Please," Tyler rasped, his voice barely carrying over the quiet street. "Help me."

The women recoiled, their steps faltering as they took in his bloodied, wrapped torso. They quickly crossed to the far edge of the street, giving him a wide berth.

"What happened to him?" one of them whispered loudly.

"Was he attacked?" another murmured, their voices dropping into harsh, hushed mutters as they hurried away.

Tyler lowered his hand, his chest heaving with shallow, painful breaths. A man and a woman walked by shortly after. Tyler turned toward them, taking a heavy, uneven step forward. "Please... I'm injured."

The man immediately grabbed the woman's elbow, steering her sharply away from Tyler. They kept their eyes aimed straight ahead, picking up their pace.

"Don't look at him," the man muttered, his voice carrying through the cold air. "He's probably just a beggar trying to scam a coin."

Tyler stopped in the middle of the road, his arm dropping limply to his side. He stared as their silhouettes disappeared down the dark street.

*This world is not that different from mine, Tyler thought, his jaw clenching tight as a heavy knot formed in his chest. Even if ask for help, people just ignore.*

He kept walking, dragging his feet until the dense buildings thinned out and he left the marketplace entirely. Up ahead, the dirt road split into three separate paths. Relying on his memory, he took the furthest left, the exact route James had taken him on before.

As he trudged forward, the familiar shape of the house came into view. A soft, warm light radiated from the windows, cutting through the dark.

*Finally, I'm here,* he thought.

The throbbing agony in his stomach had grown so intense that the sharp edges of the pain were fading into a heavy, terrifying numbness.

Voices carried from the house as Tyler stumbled toward the door. James’s shadow paced restlessly against the side of the house.

"I don't know. I looked everywhere," James said, his voice tight with worry. "But I just can’t find him."

"I keep telling you, maybe he took the money and ran," Lisa replied, her tone sharp. "Why do you keep denying it?"

"No, he wouldn't," James insisted.

"What makes you say that? Why do you trust him so much?"

Tyler reached out, his fingers fumbling for the cold metal handle. He shoved the door open. Lisa was perched at the table, her brow furrowed, while James stood directly in front of her.

"Tyler!" James yelled, rushing across the room.

A wave of relief crashed over Tyler, and the tight coil of survival in his chest finally snapped. As his body relaxed, the last of his energy drained out of his limbs like water. He tried to take a step toward James, but his knees buckled. His vision swirled into a blur of brown and gold as he felt himself falling, only for James’s thick arms to hook under his shoulders and catch his weight.

"He’s back," Lisa said, her voice rising in surprise as she stood up. "What happened to him?"

"I was attacked," Tyler rasped. "And then I..."

His head lolled back, his eyes rolling into his head as the world turned to shadow. He hadn't realized how much blood he had lost on the long walk back.

"Get some water!" James’s voice echoed through the room.

Tyler felt himself being lifted. The last thing he heard was James’s low, steady voice. "Don't worry, you're going to be alright." Then, everything went black.

---

The next afternoon, Tyler’s eyelids felt heavy, but a pair of small, insistent hands were prying them open. He blinked, his vision clearing to see Heather sitting directly on his chest. She was leaning over him, staring into his eyes with intense curiosity as she held his lids apart.

"Get off me," Tyler groaned, the sound vibrating in his sore chest.

Heather let out a sharp, sudden breath and scrambled backward, her small feet thumping against the floor as she stood up and ran out of the room.

Tyler pushed his weight onto his palms, his muscles moving without the searing agony of the night before. He was lying on a thin layer of blankets spread across the floor of his room. He pressed a hand against his chest, then reached around to the skin of his back, his fingers tracing the area where the blade had pierced him. The skin was smooth. Not even a ridge of scar tissue remained.

*What the hell happened to me?*

He kicked the blanket off his legs and stood. His joints felt fluid, and the heavy lethargy of blood loss had vanished. "Fully healed," he muttered, looking down at his clean skin.

A panel flickered into existence: HP: 41 / 41.

The door creaked open, and James stepped into the room. "You're awake!"

"Yeah," Tyler said, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears. "What happened?"

"That's what I want to know," James said.

Tyler looked at his feet, his shoulders hunching. "While I was going to buy the things you sent me for... I was attacked and robbed. I'm sorry I lost your money."

James waved a hand as if brushing the apology away. "You're sorry? I'm just glad you're still alive."

Tyler’s expression remained flat, his jaw tight. He looked up, meeting James’s eyes. "How did I get healed?"

"There is a healer in town," James explained. "After we patched you up again, I went to get her, and she healed you."

"There are people who can do that?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah. They are called Healers. It's a rare class, so you don't see them often." James’s gaze drifted toward the wall, his brow furrowing slightly. "But that’s the strange part. When you stumbled through the door last night, you were already covered in bandages. It looked like someone had patched you up before you got here. Who was it?"

"I don't know..." Tyler said, his voice low as he tried to recall the hazy moments before he fainted.

"What do you mean you don't know?" James asked.

"I mean... I never saw them. When I woke up, I was already bandaged and lying in a makeshift shelter near the marketplace. It looks like someone saved me, but by the time I opened my eyes, nobody was around. So I just came here."

"A makeshift shelter in an alley..." James muttered, trying to make sense of the situation. "Well, thank goodness that person helped you out. Otherwise, you would have bled out before you made it halfway."

*He's right. I'd be dead if it wasn't for that stranger,* Tyler thought, his hand instinctively brushing against the spot on his back where he had been stabbed.

He shook his head, focusing on the present. "And this Healer you mentioned... is she still in town?"

"Yeah, but she might have left by now. She doesn't stay in one place." James looked at the spot where Tyler had been injured and muttered, "She certainly charges enough for her time, though."

Tyler stiffened. "Wait, you paid her money?"

"Well, yeah. She didn't do it for free."

"How much?" Tyler asked immediately.

"Don't worry about it. It wasn't a lot. My wife knew her, so she gave us a discount."

Tyler took a step closer, his eyes intense. "James. How much?"

James frowned, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "It was ten silver. Normally, they’d ask for thirty for an injury like yours."

Tyler pressed his palm against his face, his fingers dragging slowly up his forehead and into his hair. “

*I lost the cash that James gave me,* he thought, the guilt settling in his gut like a stone. *And now they spent ten silver just to keep me alive. I’m already costing them just by being here.*

"Hey. Don't beat yourself up over it. What matters is that you're still alive," James said, his large hand squeezing Tyler's shoulder. The weight of it felt heavy, grounding.

Tyler stared at the grain of the floor, his hands clenched in his lap. "If only I was stronger..." he muttered, the words barely audible.

"What?" James asked, tilting his head.

Tyler’s gaze shot up, locking onto James’s eyes. "James, I want to be a Hunter."

James pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned. "What?" He took a step back, his brow furrowing. "No. Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous."

"I know that," Tyler said. He stood straighter, his voice growing firmer, louder in the small room. "I've been in that forest long enough to know exactly what’s out there. But I want to be stronger. I don't want to be a burden anymore."

"No one said you’re a burden, kid," James said, his voice dropping low, filled with a tired concern.

*You don’t have to say it,*Tyler thought, his fingernails digging into his palms. *I can see it in his face. He’s just acting this way because he’s a good person. He pities me.*

The thought twisted in his gut. *But if I don’t change... if I don’t use this chance to change what I am, then I won’t be able to live with myself. I need to be a Hunter. It’s not just about wanting it.*

James studied him for a long moment, seeing the silent, cold defiance in Tyler's eyes. "Tyler, do you really think you have what it takes to be a Hunter?"

Tyler nodded once. "Yeah. I do."

James let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. "Alright. Follow me."

He turned and walked out. Tyler followed him into the main living area. James sat in a heavy wooden chair and gestured to the one opposite him. "Sit."

Tyler sat, leaning forward, waiting.

James leaned back, crossing his arms. "Listen, I hear what you're saying. But I’m afraid you can't be a Hunter. Especially not you."

"Why?" Tyler asked, the word coming out sharp.

"Two reasons," James said, lifting two fingers.

Before he could continue, the sound of small, rapid footsteps thundered from the bedroom "Papa!"

James’s daughter burst into the room, a silver pendant clutched tightly in her small fist. She sprinted toward him, but her foot hooked behind her other sending her stumbling forward, flailing.

James moved instantly, catching her by the waist before she could hit the floor. "Careful... You can't be running around like that," he murmured gently, lifting her onto his thigh.

"Here," she chirped, breathless, pressing the pendant into his hand.

Tyler looked at the object. It was a simple brown chain holding a square, silver tag. Embossed deeply into the metal was the letter D.

James held the tag up, letting the light catch the silver. "This brings me to the reasons."

He tapped the metal. "First, it’s your Rank. Only E-ranks and above can be registered as Hunters. You're a G-rank." He lowered a finger. "The second reason is your Class. You're a Craftsman. That isn't a combat type. Only combat classes can be Hunters."

Heather shifted her weight, pushing against James's thighs. James instinctively lowered his arms, setting her small feet onto the floor, but his gaze remained locked onto Tyler.

"When you're a Craftsman, you only get skills aligned with your class," James said, his voice steady. "Skills that allow you to craft better weapons and things like that. But you won't get any skills that will help you with hunting or killing monsters."

"But I'm different," Tyler said.

"How?" James asked.

Tyler leaned forward slightly. "The system, remember? When I came to this world, it told me that the skills that I'm going to have aren't going to be from the same class. I'm going to get skills from different classes. For example, every time I level up, I heal. That's how I had no scars when we met, but my clothes were torn up."

James's eyes widened, the skin around them stretching taut as his posture stiffened. *He's right, he wasn't hurt at all when we met. Plus, his crafting skill was already unique. I almost forgot about his system. I was treating him like an ordinary person, but he's not. He's different.*

James let out a breath and leaned back into his chair. "Alright, what about this? I've already spoken to Hector about you. Yesterday, you asked what we spoke about. And it was about him hiring you."

"Huh?" Tyler asked, his brow furrowing.

"Yeah, since you're both Craftsmen, I thought it would be best if you worked together," James said. "Plus, Hector always wanted an assistant for some time now, and I thought you might be the best one. You could make some money through selling your weapons at his shop."

Tyler lowered his gaze, his eyes tracing the rough lines on the table. *He's right, if that guy hires me, I can craft weapons and sell them there, while also working as an assistant.*

"So here's what I want you to do," James said, leaning forward again to catch Tyler's eye. "Since you're awake and fine, it should be fine for me to go to the base. When I go there, you'll come with me and stop at Hector's shop. Once you see how things are, when you have worked there for at least a day, you can come and tell me how it was. Then I'll start working with you on being a Hunter. How does that sound?"

Tyler looked back up at James, feeling the steady rhythm of his own pulse. *He's trying to see if I'll prefer that over being a Hunter, but I've already made up my mind. Also, if I want to level up my skill, I have to craft more weapons. And the only way for me to do that is to get more recipes. And that is through doing quests. So I have no choice.* Tyler gave a firm, single nod. "Deal."

James leaned back until the wooden chair groaned under his weight, the sound sharp in the quiet room. He exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes shut for a brief moment before snapping open again. His gaze locked onto Tyler, heavy with concern.

"So, the robber," James started, his voice low. "What did he look like? You got a good look at him before... everything happened?"

"Yeah, I saw him. Just before he activated a skill and threw the knife."

James's brow furrowed, deep lines carving into his forehead. "He threw a knife, and you're saying it was a skill?"

Tyler nodded, keeping his voice steady. "Every time a human or a monster activates a skill, the system alerts me. I just... I can't react to them yet. Am not fast enough."

James rubbed his chin, the stubble scraping against his palm. He looked away, staring at a knot in the wooden table. *That's part of the Appraisal skill as well,* he thought, the realization settling heavy in his gut.

Tyler looked up, meeting James's eyes. "He had messy hair. Blue eyes. He was much older than me, but not quite your age... probably closer to Hector's." He paused, tracing a pattern on his knee. "He had a dark tan, too."

Suddenly, Tyler's hand stopped moving. He lifted his head, a new detail surfacing from the blur of the attack. "Oh, yeah. I think he was wearing a necklace. The tag was hidden under his shirt, but I saw the chain." He leaned forward."It looked exactly like this one." He pointed to the brown chain in james hand.

"Then he might have been a Hunter." He leaned in, his voice dropping. "Did you see his level?"

"Level 29," Tyler said.

James's eyes widened, the skin around them stretching taut. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. "So he was an E-Rank."

James stared at the wooden table, his brow furrowing deeply. *Messy black hair, blue eyes, a dark tan, E-Rank. I've been to the Hunter Base almost every day, but I don't know anyone with that description.*

He stood up abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping harshly against the floor. "When the Healer came to patch you up last night, a town guard actually came with her to take a report. But since you didn't wake up even after your wounds closed, he eventually left. They needed your statement."

"So you're going to tell them now?" Tyler asked.

"I'll report these details to the station on my way to the Base," James said, his voice heavy with frustration. "But to be honest, don't expect much."

"Why not?"

"Because just knowing he's an E-Rank hunter with messy hair isn't enough to go on," James explained, shaking his head.

"The guard already told Lisa and me that since the guy escaped, they probably won't do much. There are too many E-Ranks in this town. Without a name, the guards aren't going to waste their time hunting down a random mugger."

James took a few steps toward the bedroom. "You need to be careful from now on, Tyler. I didn't think any of this would happen."

He looked down at his hands, unable to meet Tyler's gaze. "I shouldn't have sent you on that errand."

James opened the door and stepped into the room, Heather trailing behind him like a shadow. The door clicked shut, leaving Tyler alone in the living room.

Tyler sank into the wooden chair, his elbows resting on his knees. He stared at his hands, turning them over. *Just my luck,* he thought, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. *How many times have I almost died now? This is only my third day.*

It felt like he was dodging death every sunrise. He leaned back, tilting his head to stare at the ceiling. The wood was old, mapped with thin cracks like spiderwebs. In the corner, a patch of dried fungus clung to the grain, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. Tyler found himself tracing the dark spot with his eyes, counting the seconds as they dragged by.

Several minutes later, the door opened again. James stepped out, Heather perched on his hip. He had changed into his leather armor, the material creaking softly as he moved. His boots were laced tight, and the sword at his hip settled against his thigh with a dull clink. The silver necklace rested against his collarbone, but he tucked the tag inside his tunic, hiding it from view.

"Let's go," James said.

Tyler stood up. His legs felt solid, no trace of the numbness from the alley. He went to his room, slipped his shoes on, and joined James at the door. They walked in silence to the marketplace, the morning crowd beginning to swell around them.

James stopped and pointed at Hector's shop.

"I spoke to him earlier this morning," James said, turning to face Tyler. "You can go in and tell him I sent you. He'll understand."

James shifted Heather's weight, adjusting his grip on her. "I'm going to take Heather back to her mother. After that, I'm heading out for a hunt." He paused, his gaze lingering on Tyler for a moment. "I'll see you tonight."

"Okay. I'll see you later," Tyler said.

He watched James walk away, the hunter's figure disappearing into the throng of people. Tyler turned back to face the shop. Before he even touched the handle, he could feel the rhythmic pounding of metal vibrating through the floorboards. *Is he crafting something?*

He pushed the door open. A small bell above the frame rang out, sharp and clear, but the sound was swallowed by the louder clang of steel on steel coming from the back room.

"Hello?" Tyler said, but his voice was barely audible against the rhythmic pounding coming from the other room.

He glanced toward the noise, realizing shouting wouldn't work. Tyler moved around the counter, his eyes lingering on the armor and swords hung on the walls. He reached the metal door and pushed it open.

Inside, Hector stood over an anvil, hammer raised. He brought it down on a glowing red sword. The anvil sat near a hot furnace, and Tyler immediately felt the radiating heat press against his skin.

"Hello," he said, louder this time.

Hector stopped and looked up. "Oh, you're here."

"Yeah," Tyler said. "James sent me."

Hector turned back to the red-hot sword, inspecting the blade. He plunged it into a metal bucket full of water. A sharp hiss erupted as steam billowed into the air. He set the sword on a metal table and wiped his hands before walking toward Tyler.

"Come here," Hector said, passing him.

Tyler followed Hector back into the main shop. Hector stopped behind the counter and leaned forward, resting his weight on his hands.

"So, I'm guessing James already told you why you're here," Hector said.

Tyler nodded. "Yeah."

Hector's eyes narrowed. He leaned in slightly. "So it's true then. You're a craftsman?"

Tyler nodded once more. "Yes. That's my class."

Hector smiled. "That's great. How did you find out that you were a Craftsman?"

Tyler paused. The lie sat heavy on his tongue. "I checked at the Hunter Base," he said.

"It must have been a big surprise," Hector said, wiping his hands on a cloth. "After all, our class is pretty rare. Were you disappointed?"

Tyler shook his head. "No. Not really."

Hector nodded. "Oh, that's good then. That's good to hear." He leaned back slightly, his posture relaxing. "Some get very disappointed. There are a few of us who actually appreciate our classes."

He crossed his arms over the counter. "So, what rank are you? James didn't tell me."

Tyler stammered, his gaze flicking to the side. "Um, I'm E-rank."

Hector frowned, the lines on his forehead deepening. "E-rank? Oh, that is very low." He paused, seeing Tyler's expression soften. "But don't worry, we can work with it. You'll... raise your level in time."

"Raise my level?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah, but that's only if you're ready," Hector said. "Once you're fully prepared. Otherwise, you won't be able to raise your skills." He tilted his head. "What skill did you get?"

Tyler shifted his weight, feeling the weight of the question. It felt like an interview.

"Weapon Craft," Tyler said.

Hector paused, looking at Tyler. "What kind of a skill is that?"

"Well, it's a skill that allows me to craft weapons," Tyler explained. *It's Kinda self explanatory*

Hector's brow furrowed further. "How come I've never heard of it before?" He shook his head slowly. "I thought you might say Smith eye or Tolerance. Normally people start with either those two. But Weapon Craft... I've never heard of it before. There's not single skill name like that in our class at all."

Tyler stayed silent for a moment. *So I'm the only Craftsman with this kind of skill?*

He took a second to think, glancing back toward the forge room. *Well, he was manually crafting a weapon when I got here. That means he can't craft like me.* Tyler looked at Hector's hands, then back to his eyes. *Unlike him, I don't need to exert myself using a hammer.*

"James said the same thing. I was also surprised, but it'll be easier for me to show you."

Hector looked at Tyler for a second, then turned. "Alright, follow me."

Hector went back into the crafting chamber, and Tyler followed. The heat from the furnace still lingered in the air. Hector stopped near the metal table and turned to face him.

"Alright, how do you plan on showing me your skill?" Hector asked.

"Well, I'm going to need some ingredients. Materials I need to craft," Tyler said.

"Alright, what do you need?"

"I need three medium iron ores."

Hector went to the far right, to the wooden crates lining the wall that were filled with all types of metal ores. The ores were almost round in shape, but they looked more like steel rocks. He picked out three medium iron ores and placed them on the metal table.

"Alright, what's next?" Hector asked.

Tyler looked at the iron ores. *I have no choice. To use the System, I have to reveal the Inventory. I'll just have to bluff and say it's part of the skill.

The iron ores disappeared into Tyler's inventory with a faint blue glimmer.

Hector flinched, stepping back. "What the hell? What just happened?"

"Don't worry, it's a part of the skill's process," Tyler said.

"They disappeared..." Hector murmured, his eyes fixed on the empty space on the table.

The system panel appeared before Tyler, a question written across it: CRAFT IRON SWORD - YES/NO?

Tyler mentally selected YES. The system panel disappeared. Another appeared in its place with a loading bar.

Hector looked at Tyler. Tyler stood still, his gaze fixed on the empty air before him. Hector was silent, his brow furrowed as he watched the space where the ores had been. He didn't understand the skill's mechanics.

*What kind of a skill is this?* Hector thought, his gaze lifting from the empty table to Tyler's face. His eyes searched for any sign of trickery, but Tyler remained still.

Tyler watched the system panel hover in his vision. The circular loading bar filled smoothly, segment by segment. When it completed, the text vanished, replaced by a new notification: Crafting Successful: Basic Weapon: Iron Sword.

Tyler smiled, the tension in his shoulders releasing. "It's done."

"Done?" Hector repeated, the word sounding skeptical in the quiet room.

Tyler extended his hands, palms open. The sword materialized instantly, the weight settling into his grip with a solid heaviness. It was 65 centimeters long, the metal a dull grey that seemed to absorb the light before catching it in a sharp gleam from the afternoon sun streaming through the window.

Hector's eyes widened. He reached out, his calloused fingers wrapping around the hilt as he took the sword from Tyler. He lifted it toward the light, turning the blade slowly. The metal was thick along the spine, and at the tip, it curved backwards slightly, the small point hooking back toward the hilt.

"Kid, this is impressive," Hector said, his voice lower now, filled with a professional respect.

The smile never left Tyler's face. *I'm also impressed,* he thought, flexing his fingers where the hilt had been. *I didn't think it would come out looking like this. It's the first time I've crafted a metal weapon. It kinda looks like a Shotel from back home.*

Hector rested his chin on his hand, his thumb rubbing along the flat of the blade. He held the hilt with one hand, testing the balance. "I won't deny it looks impressive on the outside," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But to be fully honest... though it's made of iron, it's not durable."

"Huh?" Tyler said, the sound escaping before he could stop it.

Hector nodded, his gaze intensifying as a faint focus sharpened in his pupils. "Smith's Eye says so. It's strange." He lowered the sword, the metal catching the light one last time. "If you didn't have my skill, you would think... This is a perfect sword."

He set it down on the metal table. The blade landed with a heavy clank, vibrating slightly against the surface. "This would likely be used by knights and fighters if ever purchased."

He slid it across the table, placing it next to his own weapon.

*Due to its length, this sword is typically designed for close-quarters combat. Did he do that on purpose* Hector thought.

"That's the only one I've unlocked so far," Tyler said.

. "Well, even if it's the only one, it's useful. You don't have to stand over an anvil all day. Saves time."

"Yeah."

Hector smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He lifted the blade he'd been working on earlier, turning it until the light caught the fuller. "But you won't feel the passion."

*Passion?*

"You feel it when you finish," Hector said, running a thumb along the flat of the blade. "When you look at what you've made, you feel proud. All Craftsmen have that pride. It's what keeps us going."

Tyler leaned in slightly. Near the hilt of Hector's sword, stamped deep into the steel, was a mark. A circle with two lines emerging from opposite sides, thinning out to become pointy at the ends, leaving a small space between them. It was precise and permanent.

"Of course," Hector added, lowering the weapon, "that depends on the person. Some prefer faster methods."

"I get what you're saying," Tyler said. His voice sounded flat to his own ears.

"Can you craft more?" Hector asked. "Different weapons?"

"Sorry. Only this sword for now."

"Only this sword?" Hector's brow furrowed.

"Yeah." Tyler scratched the back of his head. *I need to complete quests to unlock more items,* he thought. *I can't tell him that.*

"That's unfortunate." Hector rested the sword on the table. "If you can only make one thing, then your skill is a bit... limited."

"I need to level up to upgrade the skill."

"Right. Maybe once you do, you'll have more variety." Hector studied him. "So, you want to sell this one?"

"Yeah. Wait. No."

"Why?"

*I don't have a weapon,* Tyler thought. *If I walk out there without one, yesterday happens again.* Beside his hip, his arm hung loose, but his fingers curled slowly into a fist. The tension tightened his forearm, hidden by his sleeve.

"I need it for something important," Tyler said.

"Oh." Hector wiped his hands on his apron. "Tell you what. If you stay and work starting today, I'll pay you by the end of the month. Sixty silver."

*Sixty silver?* Tyler thought. *That's enough to save up. That's real money.*

But the math didn't work. *If I'm here all day, I can't hunt and level up. I don't think i can accept this...*

"I'm sorry," Tyler said. "I don't think I can work here."

"Huh?" Hector's shoulders dropped. "Why?"

"Well, the truth is..."

The bell above the door rang.

"Hello? Is anybody here?"

The voice came from the shop floor. It was deep and rough.

"Hold on," Hector said, turning away. "I’ve got a customer."

He left Tyler alone in the back room.

Tyler stood frozen for a moment. *What should I tell him? I don't think I can trust him with the secret of the System. And judging from his reaction to the sword earlier, James didn't tell him anything about me.*

He walked to the door, stopping at the threshold. He peeked out into the main shop.

A young man, roughly Tyler’s age, stood at the counter. He had short blonde hair and wore a set of light leather armor that looked similar to James’s, though far less worn.

The man rested a hand on his waist. "I heard the prices are a bit cheaper here. Not like the old man’s rates."

"Yeah. What do you need?" Hector asked, leaning one hand on the wood of the counter.

"I want to buy a dagger. Can you show me the different kinds you have?"

"Of course."

Hector turned and walked back into the storeroom. He brushed past Tyler without a word and went to a stack of barrels in the far corner. He rummaged through them, the sound of metal clinking against wood filling the small space, before pulling out six distinct blades.

He returned to the counter and laid them out in a row. "These are the ones we have in stock."

The young man leaned in, inspecting the steel. There were short, stiletto-like blades and longer, heavier ones. He picked up a silver dagger with a blade that curved slightly upward.

"I want this one," the man said, testing the weight. "How much does it cost with reinforcement?"

"The price is three silver. Five with reinforcement."

The man nodded. He fished five silver coins from a pouch and placed them on the counter. "I'd like the reinforcement, please."

Hector swept the silver into a drawer behind the counter. He then took the dagger by the hilt, holding it up to the light.

A system panel flickered into existence before Tyler’s eyes:

LV 51 HECTOR HAS ACTIVATED SKILL: REINFORCE.

“He’s a C-Rank,” Tyler thought, his eyes widening.

A black substance, like fine powder, surged from Hector’s grip. It crawled up the silver blade like thousands of tiny ants, coating the metal in a layer of darkness. The steel seemed to drink it in, turning from polished silver to a matte, heavy black.

"Done," Hector said, handing the weapon back.

The man looked at the dagger, turning it over in his hands. "Nice."

He sheathed the weapon and walked out the door, the bell chiming as he left.

Hector turned and walked back into the room, leaning against the table. He crossed his arms, staring at Tyler. "So. Why can't you work here?"

"Because I'm too weak," Tyler said, meeting Hector's gaze. "I need to level up. When I can make a sword that doesn't break... that's when I'll work here."