In the Golden Valley Kingdom, deep forests and winding river valleys shaped more than the land. They had shaped the weapons people trusted.

Short blades, daggers, and other compact weapons were prized here, and over time that preference had grown into a culture of its own.

These weapons had long since gone beyond simple self-defense. They were craft pieces, declarations of taste, and, in some circles, markers of rank.

The upper class liked to wrap sword hilts in the pelts of rare beasts and set them with feathers from exotic birds.

Even ordinary commoners would carve a few lucky wave patterns into a grip.

But this tight, crowded pattern of lines was unlike anything Roland had seen before.

He knew there had to be something behind it, but he could not work out what the pattern meant.

So he put the question aside, fed charcoal into the furnace, and hauled on the bellows.

Hammer blows rang across the smithy. When Roland looked down at the fine cracks spreading over the cylindrical middle section of the dagger, his expression tightened.

"This thing... is harder to forge than I expected."

"Kid..."

Hawk, who had been watching from the side, came over.

He ignored the heat still radiating from the blank and picked it up for a closer look.

After a moment, the old blacksmith spoke.

"This kind of work... even I would need to put in some effort. With your current forging level, don't waste your strength."

"Practice for a few more years. Then maybe you'll be able to make it."

The lunch bell rang before he could say more.

Hawk waved and turned away. The other youths in the smithy put down their tools and left as well.

Only Roland stayed behind.

He went over every mistake from the attempt just now, then took out a fresh metal ingot.

Bellows. Furnace. Hammer. Shape.

With [Standardized Production] supporting him, this attempt went more smoothly than the first.

But during the third heat, the same familiar cracks crawled across the surface of the rough blank.

"Failed again..."

Roland set the half-finished piece in his hand, turning the problem over in his mind.

"The ordinary tools and weapons I forged before usually only needed one or two heats to finish shaping. But this dagger..."

He thought of the special structure in the middle and released a quiet breath.

"It needs more than ten rounds of heating. Each round makes the temperature and timing harder to control. Even [Focus] barely helps."

"Even with [Standardized Production], I may need more than a dozen tries to make one successfully. The problem is..."

After three attempts, any ore he used would come out of his own pocket.

Roland weighed the five silver coins left in his money pouch, his mouth drawing into a thin line.

Unless he had no other choice, he did not want to burn money here.

He had no income right now, and plenty of future expenses were already waiting for him.

The herbs for the Mithril Body Tempering Method alone were enough to worry about.

Even after buying a full set from the herb shop last time, the remaining materials would only make two more batches of secret medicine.

If the Mithril Body Tempering Method capped at Level 3, he would need to go out again and spend more money on herbs.

Roland rubbed his temples and placed the half-finished piece back on the workbench.

"I'll think about it a little longer."

"There are still more than two months before Bronson's delivery date. If nothing else works, I'll force it through with [Standardized Production]."

With that decided, Roland packed away his tools and went to the dining hall.

After lunch, he made several finished tools under the excuse of training, preparing for his future change to the Blacksmith occupation. For the rest of the day, he buried himself in the blueprint, working through every forging detail again and again.

The youths in the smithy saw him neglecting proper work and looked at him with even clearer contempt. From time to time, they leaned together and snickered.

Five days passed in a blur.

Inside the dormitory, Roland held an iron sword and practiced Lion Swordsmanship one move at a time.

The blade cut the air. A sharp killing intent filled the cramped room, and the clumsiness from his first lessons had vanished.

[You have successfully completed a Lion Swordsmanship training session. Experience +2]

Roland lowered the sword, breathed out, and opened the occupation panel. His gaze settled on the experience bar behind Lion Swordsmanship.

"Even with the double experience bonus from [Combat Readiness]..."

He rubbed the hilt, thinking.

"Compared with the more than forty points of experience I gained from killing those dozen or so Kobolds last time, this progress is still too slow."

"Under the buff [Theory and Practice], actual combat is clearly a more efficient way to gain experience than training. Besides that..."

He remembered the change he had felt while practicing swordsmanship over the past few days and tapped the sword hilt with one finger.

"Since I started practicing the Mithril Body Tempering Method, my body has become much more coordinated. Sword moves that used to take effort now come out cleanly and naturally."

"The Mithril Body Tempering Method's benefits aren't limited to the Strength value."

Roland flexed his wrist.

"There are hidden improvements too. Muscle control, flexibility, things like that."

He walked to the wooden table in the corner.

On it, finely ground gray-black medicinal powder had been laid out in an orderly spread, gleaming with a metallic sheen under the candlelight.

With the experience from last time, Roland added the silver dust without hesitation.

The gray-black powder soon turned into a thick silver liquid. Roland drew a steady breath and braced himself.

Gritting his teeth, he smeared the sticky silver liquid across his body.

Pain struck again. This time, perhaps because he had already practiced the Mithril Body Tempering Method once, it was far less severe than before.

[You have successfully performed Mithril Body Tempering Method training. Experience +1]

[You have successfully performed Mithril Body Tempering Method training...]

[You have successfully performed...]

As the golden text appeared before him, the thick silver liquid lost its luster, returned to gray-black powder, and fell to the floor.

"Haa..."

Roland opened the occupation panel.

[Name: Roland]

[Race: Human]

[Age: 16]

[Occupation: Blacksmith Apprentice, Recruit, Scholar]

[Strength: 4.5]

[Agility: 2.5]

[Spirit: 1.8]

[Skills: Lv.MAX Ore Smelting, Lv.MAX Bellows Pulling, Lv.MAX Forging, Lv.MAX Basic Swordsmanship, Lv.2 General Knowledge (179/200), Lv.2 Lion Swordsmanship (19/200), Lv.1 Mithril Body Tempering Method (67/100)]

[Traits: Humble Apprentice, Combat Readiness, Focus]

[Extra Buffs: Hundred Forgings Make Steel, Theory and Practice, Standardized Production]

"Strength only increased by 0.6?"

Roland's brow creased.

"It looks like the Mithril Body Tempering Method weakens with repeated training. But..."

He checked the other two attributes, and one eyebrow rose.

"Spirit increased by 0.1? That is a pleasant surprise."

After confirming every change, he rubbed his palm, pressed down the excitement in his chest, and said under his breath, "Change occupation to Blacksmith!"

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

[Requirements: Strength 4, Agility 2, three max-level forging-related skills, forge 10/10 qualified weapons]

[Proceed with job change?]

"Confirm job change!"

[Job change successful. Current occupation: Blacksmith]

[Attribute bonus gained: Strength +2, Agility +1]

Before the golden text fully faded, warmth gathered in Roland's chest and poured outward.

It felt like the first mouthful of hot soup in winter, warmth running through his blood and soaking into his limbs.

"Haa..."

Roland exhaled, unable to hide his joy.

Unlike the attribute increases from his previous job changes, the two-point Strength boost from the Blacksmith occupation was unmistakable. He could feel his body changing.

More surprising was how natural the strength felt. It had not been crudely forced into him. It felt recovered, a power that should have been his all along, fitting into each movement without resistance.

After a brief daze, Roland curled his fingers. His joints cracked cleanly.

He looked down. The arm muscles that had once appeared only when he strained now showed clear lines even while relaxed at his sides.

The contrast made him reach out and grip the iron candlestick at the head of the bed.

Creak...

With a faint metallic groan, the metal that normally needed both hands to bend shifted slightly under one hand.

"This is... unbelievable."

"If I faced a Mutant Kobold now, I should at least be able to trade a few blows with strength alone... though killing it would still be difficult."

Thinking of the hard scales covering the Bloodscale Kobold, Roland gave a helpless shake of his head and turned back to the occupation panel.

[Upon inspection, Host has mastered three max-level forging-related skills. Skill Merging...]

A moment later, the line changed.

[Merge complete]

[You have learned Basic Blacksmithing. Current level: Lv.1]

The instant the words appeared, a clarity Roland had never felt before rose in his mind.

Countless pieces of forging knowledge rushed through his thoughts, colliding deep in his consciousness and throwing off bright sparks.

What had once been scattered and incomplete now joined into a single system.

The essentials of each forging movement and the handling of each material's properties all found their proper place.

Roland stood still for a moment. Then he shook himself and reached for the iron sword beside him.

When his fingers touched the hilt, a strange sensation rose.

The iron sword seemed connected to his body.

He could sense every inch of texture along the blade. He could even make out the tiny flaws left during forging.

"Amazing..."

The text before him changed again.

[Trait gained: Furnace Heart]

[Furnace Heart: Greatly improves fire affinity and significantly enhances fire resistance]

"Furnace Heart..."

Roland murmured the name, his face turning thoughtful.

Then he dressed quickly and strode outside.

Before long, he stood in front of the smithy.

The sky had only just begun to brighten. The other youths were still asleep, and the smithy lay quiet.

Roland pushed open the door, added charcoal to the furnace, and pulled the bellows.

Air roared through the furnace. The fire strengthened, and heat began to build inside the smithy.

This time, the suffocating heat that usually weighed on him felt refreshing instead.

Roland noticed the difference and tested it by extending his hand into the flames.

The fire that should have scorched him gave off only comfortable warmth.

Even more remarkable, while touching the flames, he could faintly sense their fluctuations.

The perception was separated from him by a thick pane of glass. He could see what lay beyond it, but he could not truly reach through, much less communicate.

"So this is fire affinity?"

Roland's attention sharpened, and his breathing quickened.

For that instant, countless possibilities came to mind. In the end, he only shook his head.

"Focus on what's in front of me first."

Roland took a metal ingot from the side.

Perhaps because of [Basic Blacksmithing], the moment the ingot entered his hand, he sensed its weight and quality by instinct.

He placed the ingot into the furnace and recalled the blueprint once more.

Then his gaze fixed on the metal reddening in the fire.

An intuition he had never possessed before rose within him.

In the past, he had relied on the metal's changing color to judge the heat. Now, with [Furnace Heart], he could read the internal and external heating of the ingot through the state of the flames.

Before the color fully changed, he clamped the ingot with iron tongs and pulled it out.

When it landed on the anvil, it was in the perfect state for forging.

Roland did not hesitate. He raised the hammer.

Bang, bang, bang!

Clean strikes echoed through the smithy as heating and forging alternated.

Time lost meaning. Only when the rough blank matched the shape on the blueprint did Roland breathe out and plunge the red-hot metal into cold water.

Hiss!

White mist surged up. Roland lifted out the formed blank and polished it carefully in his hands.

Before long, a strangely shaped dagger with a cold, sharp gleam appeared before him.

"It's done!"

His excitement had barely left his mouth when a line of golden text appeared.

[You have successfully forged a finished tool. Basic Blacksmithing Experience +1]

"Oh... looks like Basic Blacksmithing gains experience differently from the other forging skills."

"It isn't based on actions. It counts finished products. In that case..."

Thinking of the experience caps of one hundred for Level 1 and two hundred for Level 2, Roland felt a headache coming on. Much of his good mood from forging the dagger drained away.

"And the Blacksmith occupation didn't resonate with the other three occupations. Is that because the other three are base occupations, while Blacksmith is an upper occupation?"

While he was thinking, Hawk's booming voice came from behind him.

"Kid, you're here early! You..."

Roland turned. The sturdy old blacksmith strode closer, then stopped mid-sentence when his gaze landed on the dagger in Roland's hand.

"You... forged that thing?"

Hawk snatched the dagger and brushed his fingertips over the blade. The shock on his face deepened.

"Good heavens..."

After a long pause, he breathed out. When he looked at Roland again, his expression had grown complicated.

Surprise, and a measure of gloom.

"If I hadn't set the rules long ago..."

Hawk rubbed the dagger, his voice low.

"I'd take you as my apprentice right now."

Roland's eyes brightened.

"Mr. Hawk, do you mean..."

"I mean your level is already qualified!"

Seeing the youth's still-green face, Hawk gave an irritated snort. Annoyance rose in his chest without warning.

He had thought this child merely had decent talent.

But the dagger in front of him had clearly reached a standard only a blacksmith steeped in the craft for years should have achieved.

Hawk thought of his own past.

He had mastered the basic skills in three months and produced fine finished tools in half a year.

By now, any blueprint that reached his hands could be turned into a finished piece after a single look.

But he had spent forty full years walking that road.

And Roland?

In less than three months, he had reached the threshold Hawk had spent half a lifetime approaching.

At this pace, surpassing him was only a matter of time.

Then Hawk let out a rough laugh. Furnace fire threw moving light across his weathered face.

He rubbed the beard on his chin and remembered what the old dwarf blacksmith Balend had once said while patting his shoulder.

"The heart of a true craftsman does not lie in hoarding skill, but in watching it pass on like sparks."

The knot of irritation in his chest loosened and disappeared.

"Well done, kid. Keep preparing."

"Yes, Mr. Hawk."

Roland did not understand why Hawk's mood had changed so quickly, but he caught the goodwill in the old blacksmith's eyes.

He bowed slightly toward Hawk's departing back, then picked up a file and began engraving the complicated lines onto the dagger.

Compared with forging, carving the lines was not especially difficult, but it demanded patience and a great deal of time.

To complete the transaction with Bronson as soon as possible, Roland poured nearly every waking hour into the work.

Aside from eating and sleeping, his hands almost never stopped.

Even so, it still took nearly twenty days. He finished only when the examination was close at hand.

"Haa..."

Roland massaged his aching neck and looked toward the dim yellow sky outside the window.

After stretching his stiff limbs, he wrapped the cold-glinting dagger in coarse hemp cloth and walked toward the small house in his memory.

Knock, knock, knock!

The clear knock carried through the quiet estate.

Before long, the wooden door opened with a creak.

Dim lamplight spilled through the gap, outlining Bronson's tall, slightly hunched figure.

His gaunt face was half hidden in shadow. Only his deep-set eyes glimmered in the dark.

Before Roland could speak, Bronson's pupils contracted.

"What is that thing in your coat?"

Roland's brow tightened. His right hand moved toward his chest by instinct.

Resting there was the scarlet crystal left behind after the Bloodscale Kobold burned to ash.