The village of Barian was slowly waking up to a legend it didn't yet understand. After the "Firewood Massacre" of the previous evening, the backyard of the smithy looked less like a workspace and more like a timber yard for a royal palace.
Arthur, however, showed no signs of fatigue. His newly awakened Persistence stat made him even more energetic.
Smith, the blacksmith, looked at Arthur with a mixture of suspicion and growing fear. He had expected the "brat" to quit within the hour; instead, he had been gifted enough fuel to run his forge for a month.
"Fine," Smith grumbled, coughing into his hand to regain some semblance of authority. "You've got the fuel. But a forge is nothing without ore. If you want to see how Jaffa is worked, you need to bring me the base. Go to the hills. Don't come back until you have 150 iron ores. And don't break my pickaxe—it's older than you."
Arthur took the rusted tool, his lips curling into a knowing smile. The irony was a delicious weight in his mind: a man who held the blueprints of countless Battlegears and Undefeated King's Swordsmanship was being sent to play "Novice Miner" by a village smith who likely struggled with a decent tempering cycle.
"At least the scenery is better than reality," Arthur muttered, adjusting his grip as he stepped out into the crisp morning air.
Arthur didn't head blindly to the mining site. He stopped just outside the village, where the limestone cliffs began to transition into mineral-rich granite. He held the pickaxe aloft.
"Appraisal."
[Smith's Old Pickaxe]
Rating: Normal
Durability: 12/12
*Description: A tool that has seen better days. It is sturdy enough for common iron, but don't expect it to crack a diamond.
[Understanding: 100%]
You have mastered the use of this tool. You have learned the production method for 'Common Pickaxe'.
Immediately, the world shifted. To a normal player, the cliff face was a gray, textured wall. To Arthur, the 100% item understanding coupled with Ciel's analytical processing transformed the rock into a transparent schematic.
Blue lines—the Structural Weak Points—zigzagged across the stone like a spider's web. These were the stress fractures where a single, precise strike would yield the maximum result for the minimum effort.
"Let's see if we can trigger the 'Persistence' feedback loop today," Arthur whispered.
Arthur arrived at the designated iron vein to find a scene of chaotic inefficiency. Half a dozen NPCs and three novice lifestyle players were there, swinging their picks with desperate, bone-jarring force.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
One player, sweat pouring down his face, cheered as a single, muddy chunk of 'Iron Ore' finally popped into his inventory. It had taken him fifteen minutes of frantic hacking.
Arthur walked to a section of the cliff that everyone else had ignored—a dark, obsidian-slick face that looked impenetrable. He didn't swing. He lightly tapped the rock with the back of the pickaxe, listening to the resonance.
Ting.
Inside his mind, Ciel calculated the frequency. A glowing red dot manifested on a hairline fissure about three inches to the left of Arthur's tap.
"There."
Arthur swung. He didn't use the raw, explosive strength that had decimated the Goblins of Patrian; he used the surgical precision of a master craftsman.
He channeled his Woodcutting Mastery into the strike, treating the rock like a log with a specific grain.
Klang!
The rock didn't just chip; it shattered along a perfect plane.
[Critical Hit!]
[You have discovered High-Purity Iron Ore!]
[Mining Skill has been acquired.]
While the others were "chipping," Arthur was "dissecting." He moved with a rhythm that was borderline hypnotic.
Ting—Klang! Ting—Klang!
* 10 minutes in: 40 Iron Ores.
* 30 minutes in: 120 Iron Ores, 5 Rare 'Black Iron' fragments.
* 1 hour in: Arthur's bag was straining at the seams.
The other players stopped mining. They simply leaned on their picks, watching him. Arthur looked like a dancer, his movements economical and fluid. Every strike was a "Perfect" hit, a synchronization of man, tool, and earth.
As Arthur struck a deep, subterranean vein, the blue lines in his vision suddenly flickered and turned a shimmering, ethereal silver.
'Wait...' Arthur paused. 'This isn't the cubic cleavage pattern for Iron.'
He focused his gaze. The silver lines didn't follow the horizontal layers of the cliff; they spiraled inward, toward a pocket of high-density mana.
"Ciel, analysis."
Arthur drove the pickaxe into the heart of the silver spiral. The rock didn't break with a crash; it groaned and yielded, like a heavy vault door opening. From the cavity, a viscous, glowing fluid began to seep—molten moonlight trapped in stone.
[A hidden mineral has been found!]
[You have acquired 'Eternal Silver Sap'.]
Rating: Rare
Description: A rare mineral fluid found only in the deepest veins of the continent. It is a key ingredient in stabilizing magical alloys and increasing the conductivity of mana-infused weapons.
Arthur's eyes lit up. He wasn't just mining for Smith; he was mining for himself. A blacksmith's lifeblood is iron, and if he intended to forge the gear that would dominate the mid-game, he needed a stockpile that would make the S.A. Group's economists weep.
He didn't stop at 150. He stayed through the night. Every time his stamina flagged, his Persistence stat flared, resetting his focus and pushing his body beyond the "exhaustion" threshold.
By the time the sun began to peek over the Barian hills, Arthur had extracted over 3,000 ores.
When Arthur walked back into the smithy, he looked like a man who had been through a war, but his eyes were bright with triumph.
He didn't just drop a few ores into the bin. He upended his bag, and a literal mountain of high-purity iron cascaded onto the floor, the sound of clinking metal filling the shop like a jackpot at a casino.
Smith, who was preparing the charcoal for a modest day of work, turned around and nearly fell backwards into his cooling tub.
"I... I sent you out yesterday morning!" Smith stammered, his eyes bulging. "I expected 150 ores... maybe 200 if you were a natural! Where did this come from?"
"The rock was feeling cooperative," Arthur said casually, wiping a smudge of stone dust from his brow. He reached into his pocket and tossed the flask of Eternal Silver Sap to the stunned blacksmith.
"I found this in the deep vein. Is this enough to start the Jaffa Arrows? Or should I go back and flatten the rest of the mountain?"
Smith caught the flask with trembling hands. As he uncorked it and saw the shimmering silver fluid, his face went through a series of complex emotions—disbelief, awe, and finally, a deep, abiding reverence.
[Affinity with Smith has reached 'Reverent' state!]
[Smith recognizes you as a 'Goddess of Labor's Chosen'.]
[The hidden recipe for 'Jaffa Arrow' is now accessible!]
"Sir Arthur..." Smith whispered, his voice cracking. "I was a fool. I thought you were a pampered lord playing at work. But this... this is the work of a man who understands the weight of the earth. You aren't an apprentice. You are a blessing."
Arthur watched as Smith began to clear his primary anvil. The "Master-Apprentice" dynamic had flipped. Smith was no longer a teacher; he was a conduit through which Arthur would access the Jaffa secrets.