Year 138 of the Luminous Moon Calendar, North Wind Month.

Golden Valley Kingdom, Blackwater Territory.

Winter had settled in, but the smithy on Baron Forsling's estate sweltered.

"Boys! Move!"

Hawk, the blacksmith, strode through the crowded workshop, his rough voice carrying over the clangor of hammer on iron.

"The examination is in three months! If you don't want to pack your things and go home, put your backs into it!"

The youths scrambled back to work.

None of them were even blacksmith apprentices yet, and their fumbling did nothing to satisfy Hawk.

"That slow on the bellows? What are you doing, heating bathwater for your grandmother?"

"And you! How many times have I told you? Watch the timing when you smelt ore!"

Hawk shook his head and pushed on through the crowd.

Then he stopped with a low grunt.

Ahead of him, a lean, black-haired boy worked the bellows with everything he had. Each pull sent flames leaping more than a foot above the furnace.

Sweat beaded on the boy's face and dripped from his chin, but his rhythm never broke.

The instant the iron ingot shifted from dull red to bright orange, the boy snatched up the tongs. A turn of the wrist, and he had the glowing ingot clamped, pivoted, and set on the anvil.

Clean. Steady. Not a wasted motion.

"That kid..."

Hawk gave an approving nod, walked over, and clapped the boy hard on the shoulder.

"Your name's... Roland, right? Good work."

The simple praise drew envious looks from everyone nearby.

Hawk was famous for his severity. Until now, he had never praised anyone.

"Thank you, Mr. Hawk."

Roland wiped his forehead and managed a shy smile.

Hawk only waved him off and turned away.

Before long, a crisp bell rang out—the signal calling the estate's servants to eat.

"Phew..."

Roland stretched his aching limbs, picked up a rag, wiped the ore debris from around the furnace, and jogged to the food station.

Two pieces of black bread, a fingernail-sized sliver of cheese, and a bowl of vegetable soup with who knew what floating in it.

In his previous life, Roland would have touched food like this only if he were starving.

Now he wolfed down every scrap, found a quiet corner, and sat.

He focused, and lines of golden text appeared before his eyes.

[Name: Roland]

[Race: Human]

[Age: 16]

[Occupation: None]

[Strength: 1]

[Agility: 0.8]

[Spirit: 1.2]

[Skills: Lv.2 Ore Smelting (169/200), Lv.2 Bellows Pulling (174/200)]

"Both skills should level up again soon..."

Roland was not from this world.

His vision had gone dark in the middle of an overtime shift. When he woke, he was here, in a place he had never seen.

The only thing that had crossed over with him was the modifier hovering in his vision.

It was a game mod he had downloaded for his first playthrough, back when he wanted to see everything the game had to offer. In theory, so long as he met the requirements, he could take on an unlimited number of occupations.

Unfortunately, the modifier had yet to trigger a single job change prompt.

"If I'd known this thing would follow me here, I would've downloaded something far more broken."

He was rubbing his forehead when a muffled voice sounded beside him.

"Roland! Knew I'd find you here!"

He looked up. A tall, broad-shouldered youth was ambling over—his best friend, Sean.

"Sean, shouldn't you be practicing? Mr. Hawk already chewed you out this morning."

"Don't remind me."

Sean scratched at his brown curls.

"I don't have your talent. I'll probably be kicked out before long."

"So what's the plan after that? Take over your old man's butchering trade?"

"Butchering? No way. I'm not doing something that dull. Besides, my dad and Uncle Peyton have been at each other's throats lately. Last thing I want is to be stuck at home."

Sean sighed and dropped his voice.

"When I went home last month, my dad said the monsters in the Black Fir Forest have been getting bolder. They've already raided a fair few villages."

"So Baron Forsling had no choice but to order Lord Beckham to recruit soldiers for a culling expedition. With my build..."

He slapped a thick, muscled arm and grinned.

"I'm sure I can get into Lord Beckham's ranks. Who knows, I might even make Knight Attendant! And when that happens..."

He laughed and thumped Roland on the shoulder.

"You'll have to bow when you see me!"

"Are the monsters in the Black Fir Forest really that bad?"

Roland ignored the jab, frowning.

"Bad enough that they need knights?"

"Who knows? But however vicious the monsters get, they're no match for a transcendent professional."

Sean brushed the worry aside and looked at Roland.

"Anyway, enough about me. What about you? Feeling good about the exam in three months?"

"The exam..."

Roland glanced down at his thin frame and gave a rueful smile.

Unlike the big, sturdy Sean, he had no fallback.

His mother had died young. His sickly father, before passing, had sold their only ramshackle mud-brick house to scrape together the money to send Roland here for training.

If he passed the exam, everything would be fine.

A blacksmith in a noble's service, even a mere apprentice, drew generous pay and stood several rungs above an ordinary freeman.

But if he failed...

The thought of ending up destitute, with nowhere to go, chilled him.

"A transmigrator who dies broke and beaten? Too pathetic."

He wasn't being paranoid, either. Dozens of youths had come to learn the craft this round, many of them sons of blacksmith families.

There was only one spot.

Even with the modifier, Roland could not afford to relax.

"You don't need to worry so much..."

Sean was still fishing for something comforting to say when Hawk's bellow rolled across the yard.

"Boys! No slacking off. Get over here and line up!"

"Let's go."

Roland brushed the dust from his pants and came to his feet, the hesitation gone.

Whatever happens, I'll grind Ore Smelting and Bellows Pulling to max level first.

With that, he hauled Sean up and headed back into the workshop.

Smelting ore. Pulling the bellows.

The work was tedious, but every correct motion made the golden text flicker, and every flicker gave the panting Roland fresh motivation.

[You have successfully performed bellows pulling. Experience +1]

[You have successfully performed ore smelting work. Experience +1]

After what felt like an age, the unchanging text finally shifted.

[Bellows Pulling has reached max level]

[Ore Smelting has reached max level]

[Upon inspection, you qualify for the base occupation: Blacksmith Apprentice]

[Requirements: Strength 1, Agility 0.5, two max-level forging-related skills]

[Proceed with job change?]