The morning after the noble’s visit, the forge was quieter than usual. Harren had barely said a word after the noble and his entourage left, but Elias noticed the man moving with a little more energy, a little more purpose. Business might pick up because of this—and he knew part of that rested on the blade he had crafted.
Elias wiped his hands clean on a rag, standing by the workbench. There was a strange satisfaction settling in him—not pride exactly, but a muted sense of accomplishment. It was new. Awkward. But not unwelcome.
Before he could retreat into his next project, Harren called out from the storefront.
“Oi, Elias! Front. Got something for you.”
He stripped off his apron and made his way over, wiping a bit of soot from his forehead.
When he reached the front, Harren leaned on the counter, arms crossed, grinning faintly.
“Good news,” Harren said, voice low but pleased. “That noble’s cousin—the one the blade was meant for—apparently liked what he heard. They’re sending a messenger back with another commission.”
Elias blinked. “Already?”
“Already.” Harren’s grin widened. “Seems word travels fast when it’s good. Minor nobles are always lookin’ to show each other up. Means more work. Good work. Might even mean better pay if they’re feeling generous.”
A second later, Harren’s grin turned sly. “And I told ’em it was your hand behind that last piece.”
Elias stiffened slightly.
“I figured you deserved the credit,” Harren added, almost gruffly. “If you’re stayin’ here, might as well build your own reputation.”
Elias wasn’t sure what to say to that. Praise had always made him uncomfortable. He nodded once, keeping his expression neutral.
Harren tossed a rolled parchment onto the counter. “Specs for the next job. Fancy dagger this time. Decoration matters as much as the steel.”
Elias picked up the scroll, feeling the slight weight of expectation settle onto his shoulders. This wasn’t just another simple miner’s sidearm. This was the start of something bigger.
And for the first time since arriving in this world, he felt a spark of something other than survival at the back of his mind.
Maybe… a chance.
He tucked the scroll into his coat and turned toward the forge, already thinking through the materials, the processes, the challenge ahead.
Time to get to work.
Elias sat at the workbench, unrolling the scroll with steady hands. The specifications were clear:
- A dagger, twelve inches total length.
- Decorative, but functional.
- Requested finish: “noble” appearance without ostentation.
In other words, something that looked expensive without being expensive.
Typical.
Elias leaned back in his chair, thinking.
Easy enough.
He didn’t have to guess this time.
When he’d worked on the sword order earlier, he’d experimented with a manganese blend—mixed in small amounts with local iron—and the result had been more than acceptable. It had polished up beautifully: a pale, slightly bluish steel that shimmered in the light just enough to catch the eye without looking cheap.
It wasn’t true “high steel” by any means, but most people wouldn’t know the difference. Especially not a noble’s cousin.
He smirked faintly to himself, feeling a rare flicker of confidence.
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No need to overcomplicate it.
He drafted a simple plan on the back of a scrap parchment:
- Core of common iron, touched with a manganese blend.
- Careful shaping to avoid stress cracks.
- A full liquid quench to maximize strength and brilliance.
- Final polish to a mirror finish, leaving just enough of the faint bluish sheen to look exotic.
He stood, moving to the material bins Harren let him dig through, and began pulling what he needed with quick, efficient motions.
This was a small job.
But it was his.
And he was going to make it shine.
_________
Elias moved through the steps with smooth efficiency.
The iron bar hissed as it entered the forge, the fire’s mana-rich heat bringing it to a cherry red far faster than he was used to back home. He adapted easily, rotating the bar with steady hands, feeling the subtle currents of heat thanks to the heat control of the forge.
He drew the blade shape slowly—short, wide, sturdy. Perfect for a noble who wanted to show off but might still find themselves in a bad alley one night.
Once the basic form was ready, he infused the manganese mixture carefully. A little went a long way. Too much and the metal would become brittle; too little and the coloring wouldn’t show. He folded the material twice, just enough to blend it cleanly without wasting heat.
At the critical moment, he activated [Quenche].
Mana pulsed subtly through the blade. The dagger’s surface tightened, locking in the internal structure even before it touched the quenching bucket.
Then he plunged it into water.
A hiss of steam erupted.
When he pulled it free, the dagger was a pale blue-grey, with just a hint of shimmer under the forge light.
Perfect.
He took his time grinding and polishing, leaving the blade clean and elegant. No complicated fullers or unnecessary decoration. Just a simple, proud weapon. Decorative, but still deadly.
Elias wiped the sweat from his forehead and set the finished piece on a clean cloth, stepping back.
It looked… good.
Professional.
Before he could second-guess it, Harren came stomping over, eyes narrowing as he examined the dagger.
The smith grunted, picked it up, tested the balance.
“You do good work,” Harren said finally. His voice was gruff, but there was no hiding the respect in it. “Real good. Better than I expected for a ‘caravan stray.’”
Elias just nodded, feeling a small knot of pride tighten in his chest.
Harren slapped the dagger back onto the cloth. “From now on, you’re handling most of the custom orders. Real clients, real coin. I’ll keep the mass work — horseshoes, mining picks, bulk nails — off your back so you don’t burn out.”
He paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
“Don’t screw it up.”
Elias gave a small, genuine smile. “I’ll do my best.”
As the adrenaline of finishing the blade faded, Elias felt the now-familiar nudge of the system stirring inside him.
The notifications came one after another.
?
[Crafting Task Complete:Decorative Dagger]
[Quality Rating:Uncommon]
[Level Up!]
[Level 5 → Level 6]
[Stat Point Gained:2]
[Skill Point Gained: 1]
?
Elias blinked as the information settled.
Another level.
Another step forward.
He hadn’t even noticed how close he was while working—but it made sense. Noble commissions, even minor ones, probably carried more weight than mass production. And his system seemed to reward quality over quantity.
Still, he wasn’t expecting a skill point and an extra stat point along with it.
Leveling past five must’ve triggered a milestone.
He flexed his hand unconsciously, feeling the slight shift in strength and awareness that came with every level up.
Two stat points. One skill point.
Not bad for a days work.
He turned away from the forge, wiping sweat and flecks of powdered flux from his jaw with the edge of his sleeve. The system’s blue glow lingered faintly in his vision, waiting for his decision.
One skill point.
He brought the interface up again, revisiting the list. Quench had already proven its usefulness, especially with inferior materials. But now, another name caught his attention—one he’d skimmed before without a second thought.
[Basic Crafting]
You have an innate grasp of form, function, and fit. Increases baseline crafting efficiency across all item types. Slightly improves durability and aesthetic balance. Helps avoid basic mistakes.
Not flashy. Not specific. But something about it stuck with him.
He remembered what Harren had said when showing him the shop’s older gear: “Most young smiths try to get clever too early. Forget the fundamentals, and the work starts falling apart.”
Elias tapped the skill, locking it in.
[Skill Basic Crafting] Upgraded to [Novice Crafting]
His fingertips buzzed, subtly. Not with power, exactly—but familiarity. As if the forge, the hammer, and the process itself had shifted a fraction closer to instinct.
Next came his stat points.
He looked at his current spread, eyes lingering on the lower numbers. He wasn’t weak anymore. And his forging rhythm had improved since day one. But something still gnawed at the back of his mind—something that had nothing to do with metal.
He hovered over Wisdom, then tapped it once. Not for magical intuition or any grand insight. Just a quiet hope that maybe it would help him read situations better… people better.
Then, after a longer pause, he slid a point into Charisma.
Just in case.
He didn’t like people. Still didn’t trust them. But talking to them—navigating this world—wasn’t going away. If he had to deal with it, he might as well not be awful at it.
?
[+1 Wisdom]
[+1 Charisma]
[Stat Allocation Confirmed.]
?
Elias exhaled slowly.
The forge hissed quietly beside him, coals still glowing in the hearth. Outside, the muted hum of the town pressed faintly through the walls—carts rolling, voices rising, life moving on.
And here he was. Level six. Sharpening steel, learning new rules, adapting one swing at a time.
He could live with that.