"Did you know that in Yofel Castle, people usually stay up all night during guard duty?"
"Not only that, they even..."
"Will you please shut that mouth of yours?"
A sharp metallic clang echoed through the forge as Sylen's hammer slammed against the anvil, sparks scattering with a deep, resonant hum.
The Dark Elf blacksmith's face tightened, his pointed ears twitching, eyes narrowed with clear irritation.
"I can't focus with you babbling like that," he growled, casting a sidelong glance at Ren, who sat nearby watching with the curiosity of a child seeing iron being forged for the first time.
"If it weren't for that bastard Aisen's request, do you honestly think I wouldn't have thrown you out the moment you opened your mouth?"
Sylen let out a long, frustrated sigh before lowering his head again and lifting the hammer once more.
Ren flinched and quickly covered his mouth.
He'd only meant to make small talk, he hadn't expected the man to be this touchy.
Just the previous morning, Ren had left Yofel Castle after a long journey across the massive lake.
He arrived at the teleport gate of the fourth floor, then made his way back down to the third, resting for a night before heading toward the Mistwood.
His goal was simple: to repair his armor, which was now nearly falling apart after countless battles.
There were plenty of blacksmiths in the region, but none skilled enough to fully restore such gear.
At best, they could patch it, though doing so would lower its maximum durability, something Ren absolutely didn't want.
It wasn't that there were no capable smiths in Yofel Castle. But since he was already on the move, Ren thought he might as well strengthen his new sword and drop by to see Aisen.
Unfortunately, when he arrived, all he received was a short message:
Aisen has left camp. His mission is over. He's now on the sixth floor.
Ren sighed softly.
So not only did he fail to meet Aisen, he also got yelled at, for talking more than three sentences.
Still, there was an unexpected parting gift.
True to his style, Aisen hadn't said much. He only left a brief note and a pouch of rare materials, delivered straight to Sylen's forge.
Thanks to those, the Dark Elf blacksmith was able to refine Ren's armor to near perfection.
After hours of hammering and roaring flames, Sylen finally brought the hammer down one last time.
He snorted and tossed something heavy at Ren, heavy enough to make the boy stumble a step backward as he caught it.
Ren looked down.
It was the same old chestplate, dark gray-black metal with faint scratches, but when he opened the status window, his breath hitched.
[Blacksteel Prototype]
Type: Light Armor
Durability: 620 / 620
HP: +700
STR: +10
Physical Defense: +290
Piercing Resistance: +40
-5 AGI (may decrease based on VIT)
Equip Requirements:
Level: 15
VIT: 25
STR: 25
Its durability had increased by nearly 200 points, HP by another 100, and its physical defense reached an astonishing 290, enough to make Ren swallow hard.
"Isn't that… a bit much?"
He muttered under his breath, eyes glued to the glowing status screen.
Of course, there was the annoying speed penalty to go with it.
Now his AGI was reduced by five points, and he needed both higher STR and level 15 to equip it, up from level 10 before.
Luckily, Ren just barely met the requirements.
He checked the stats one more time and chuckled softly.
"Any tanker who sees this would probably lose their mind…"
His voice was half amusement, half disbelief.
He knew full well, this so-called light armor had stats rivaling the best heavy sets available in early Aincrad.
"Would this count as cheating?"
He mumbled, then quickly waved the thought away.
'Whatever. It's still mine.'
Ren stowed the chestplate in his inventory, then dragged it into the equipment slot.
Immediately, a faint silver aura enveloped his body, coiling and reshaping itself along every contour, weaving a new form.
Then, the particles burst like tiny bubbles and vanished into the air.
When the light faded, Ren stood clad in a sleek, black-gray armor, the interlocking metal plates hugging his form like the skin of a golem, reflecting the forge's red glow in cold silver flashes.
No longer a patchwork of mismatched pieces, now it wrapped him from head to toe, seamless, like a statue carved from obsidian silence.
Even his head was covered, the helm sealed completely, leaving no slits for eyes, yet somehow, Ren could still see everything around him clearly.
The front of the helm gleamed like polished onyx, perfectly smooth, reflecting the forge's dim light.
"You know… it kinda looks like I put a bucket on my head," Ren muttered.
Sylen instantly snapped his head around, throwing Ren a dangerous look.
"What did you just say?"
"N–nothing at all…" Ren waved his hands quickly, fumbling to open the system interface. With a single tap, the helmet vanished, revealing his face and the familiar mess of hair beneath.
He glanced over his reflection in the display window. Clad in his new golem-like armor, Ren looked like a slender yet sturdy ancient knight, a perfect fit, almost unnervingly so.
He could've lightened the load by removing a few plates around the shoulders or arms, but Ren figured ditching the helmet was more than enough.
Besides, losing five points of AGI wasn't nearly enough to slow him down.
With forty-five points left, Ren was still faster than most warriors he'd ever met.
Sylen allowed himself a faint smile, tinged with pride, as he admired his own work.
The forge's light flickered across his face, catching the pale gold of his Dark Elf eyes, which gleamed strangely in the glow.
But that smile faded the moment Ren tossed him his sword.
Sylen caught it on reflex, his brows twitching slightly.
"You want me to… enhance this?"
Ren nodded, calm as if he'd just handed him a fruit knife.
Sylen was silent for a moment. He rotated the Swiss Saber in his hand, the ashen-gray blade glinting under the forge's golden light.
"…Be honest," his voice came out gravelly. "Did you steal this from some viscount's treasure vault?"
Ren folded his arms and pouted. "You say that because you're jealous, right?"
Sylen exhaled slowly, as though suppressing an entire tirade.
"I can enhance it, three times, at most."
He ran a finger along the sword's spine, studying it with the eyes of a veteran craftsman standing before something both precious and absurd.
"It's not that I don't want to do more," he continued, voice measured, "but the materials here just aren't enough. Even back in Lyusula, the Royal Capital, you'd be hard-pressed to find anything that can withstand the kind of heat this sword demands."
Ren gave a quiet nod, his gaze fixed on the fire flickering in the forge.
"I understand," he murmured. "But… could you give me some advice? When enhancing, should I focus on damage, durability, or attack speed?"
Sylen gripped the sword a little tighter, then seemed to notice something strange. He lifted it, gave it a few test swings, and frowned.
"This thing's a lot heavier than a normal Swiss Saber… usually they're only around 1.2 to 1.4 kilograms."
He whistled softly, both intrigued and puzzled.
"This one… is at least four kilos."
Sylen shot Ren a half-smile, half-probing look. "You sure you can handle this monster?"
Ren frowned slightly, replying in his usual flat tone, "If not, just give it back. I'll find someone else."
Sylen chuckled quietly and pulled the blade closer before Ren could reach for it. "Relax. I'd say you should enhance it for speed and damage."
He laid the sword on the table, tapping the flat of the blade thoughtfully with one finger.
"A balanced upgrade would work better. If you focus too much on damage, it'll clash with your fighting style. If you go all in on speed, you'll waste this sword's true potential. Its durability's already high enough, unless you're trying to break it, you won't have to worry."
After a moment of thought, Ren nodded in agreement.
Naturally, he'd have to provide the enhancement materials himself.
Thankfully, the first three upgrades didn't require anything too rare... just Wind Bee wings and stingers, though in ridiculous quantities.
First enhancement: thirty wings, forty stingers.
Second: forty and fifty.
Ren already had a decent stockpile, originally meant for his WindSlash project.
"Forget that," he chuckled inwardly. "We've got something better now."
When the sword was finally returned, Ren felt it grow slightly heavier, yet somehow, its rhythm pulsed more vividly in his hand.
Its damage had risen from 320 to 360, and its attack speed penalty had dropped from -5% to -4.4%. A small change, perhaps... but to Ren, it meant more than any number could show.
After re-equipping the sword and paying off the remaining fee, Ren let out a soft breath of relief.
At least, he no longer had to worry about money. The reward from Viscount Yofilis was enough to keep him comfortable for quite some time.
His pouch now held nearly 200,000 Cor.
Leaving the Dark Elf camp behind, Ren returned to the settlement on the third floor. The dim afternoon light fell across wooden rooftops and the nearly empty market streets, lending the place a rare stillness.
He headed straight for the Teleport Gate, where a great circular sigil shimmered in a faint blue glow.
His next destination: the first floor.
Ren needed to return there to purchase the skill [Dash], along with another passive ability.
Basic skills like those could easily be found in bookshops, no special quests, no reputation requirements with important NPCs.
A small task, but a necessary one, the kind of careful, methodical preparation Ren always made before starting over.