Edward leaned back, stunned. "You're eight years old, kid. The sewers are crawling with threats that would eat a noble brat for breakfast."
"Then let's make a deal," Ryan countered. "I will take the qualification test right now. If I pass with a 'Special Merit' rating, you give me the sewer contract and the Discovery Rights for what I find."
Edward let out a rough laugh. "A Blackhart with a spine. Fine. But if you fail the combat test, you leave the Crimson Moon talk to the professionals. Deal?"
"Deal."
Ryan left the office with a predatory spark in his eyes. To pass the test and secure the anvil, he would need the right tools. Before heading to the training grounds, he made a detour to the guild's equipment shop to purchase the basics: a dagger, a short sword, and a guard lance.
The Rank 1 player was about to show the Ashbury Guild that "level-appropriate threats" were a matter of perspective.
******
Before the combat test could begin, Ryan stood in the center of the Guild's workshop. Edward Harvey watched from the sidelines, arms crossed over his barrel chest, his eyes full of skepticism. To the Guildmaster, the boy was just a noble playing at being a craftsman.
"You said you wanted a 'Special Merit' rating," Edward grumbled. "That requires more than just swinging a sword. You need to prove you understand the tools of the trade. If you want that sewer contract, show me you aren't just a child with a fancy name."
Ryan didn't answer. He laid the newly purchased weapons on the anvil: a standard iron dagger, a mass-produced short sword, and a common guard lance. Beside them, he placed small bars of refined iron and pouches of powdered silver he had brought from the forest manor.
In the game, this was called 'Material Infusion,' Ryan thought, his eyes narrowing as he gripped the smithing hammer. Most blacksmiths in this era use heat and force. They don't realize that if you vibrate the metal at the same frequency as the mana flowing through it, you can rewrite the weapon's molecular structure.
He ignited the forge. Instead of the usual orange glow, the flames took on a subtle, dark-violet hue as he channeled a fraction of his Infernal Mana into the coals.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The rhythm was perfect. With every strike, Ryan folded the silver into the iron, creating thin, shimmering veins that looked like a nervous system within the steel. The servants had seen this before, but Edward Harvey watched with growing bewilderment. The boy wasn't just hammering; he was weaving.
By the time the sun dipped below the city walls, three new weapons sat cooling on the rack. They were no longer the dull, grey tools of a common foot soldier. They were lustrous, obsidian-black, with silver filigree that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat.
"The Blackhart Dagger, the Blackhart Sword, and the Blackhart Lance," Ryan announced, wiping the soot from his forehead.
Edward stepped forward and picked up the short sword. The moment his calloused hand gripped the hilt, his eyes went wide. He channeled a sliver of mana into the blade—it didn't just accept the energy; it amplified it. The mana flowed through the silver veins with zero resistance, a feat usually reserved for Master-Grade weapons.
"This... this mana conductivity," Edward whispered, his voice trembling. "I've heard of these. The 'Blackhart Series' that appeared in the high-end auctions last month. Collectors have been tearing the kingdom apart trying to find the smith."
He looked from the sword to the eight-year-old boy standing calmly before him.
"You?" Edward breathed, the skepticism finally shattering. "A child made these? These aren't just basic weapons. They're catalysts. Even a low-level adventurer could hit like a veteran with these in their hands."
"I told you, Guildmaster," Ryan said, his voice cold and focused. "I have my ways. Now, are we going to proceed with the combat test, or have I proven enough with the hammer?"
Edward slammed the sword onto the table, a shark-like grin spreading across his scarred face. "The blacksmithing portion is a 'Special Merit' pass, kid. But out there, the monsters don't care how pretty your sword is. Let's see if you can actually use them."
The Guild's training arena was a sunken pit of sand and stone, overlooked by a gallery where a few lingering adventurers stopped to watch the unusual spectacle. In the center stood a High-Ranked Training Golem—a massive construct of enchanted granite and reinforced iron, powered by a core that mimicked the durability of a B-Rank threat.
"The rules are simple," Edward Harvey shouted from the balcony, his voice booming. "The golem won't stop until you're incapacitated or you strike its core five times. Most C-Rankers can't even dent its shell. Start when you're ready, Blackhart."
Ryan didn't wait. He drew the Blackhart Dagger in his left hand and the Blackhart Sword in his right.
In the game, Golems had high physical defense but weak resistance to 'Internal Vibration' attacks, Ryan calculated. He kicked off the ground, his small frame moving with a speed that blurred the air.
As the golem swung a massive stone fist, Ryan didn't retreat. He slid beneath the strike, dragging the silver-inlaid dagger across the construct's knee joint. He funneled a pulse of Infernal Mana through the blade—the silver veins glowed crimson, and the granite joint didn't just chip; it fractured as if hit by a pressurized blast.
Strike one.
The golem roared—a mechanical grinding of stone—and unleashed a whirlwind of blows. Ryan danced through the gap in its reach, his sword humming. Every time the Blackhart Sword connected, it left behind a faint trail of dark energy that ate away at the golem's enchantments.