Forger Markus produced two rotting, almost-crumbled wooden boxes and placed them before Kevin. Staring at the boxes, Kevin couldn't help feeling a wave of disappointment—this… this is the reward?
"Apprentice, don't look down on these boxes. Inside lies the lifelong dream of countless blacksmiths…" Markus spoke with a tinge of sorrow. "Many spend their entire lives chasing the title of 'Master Artisan,' but how many truly reach it? Like me—I'll only ever glimpse the shadow of that realm. Attaining the legendary level… no hope in this lifetime."
"Probably not for me either," Kevin muttered under his breath. Everyone knew reaching Master Artisan required an ocean of experience, especially for life skills. As a blacksmith without a guild or corporation funding you, without high-level players supplying rare materials… dreaming of Master Artisan was just that—a dream.
"But luckily," Markus' face broke into a sly, almost lecherous grin, "I met you. If I can't become a Master, I'll be the master of a Master. Enough chatter—let me tell you the origin of these two Artifacts."
"Wait, really? I get Artifacts already?"
"Keep dreaming—you're not playing on a private server! These Artifacts are cursed. Their seals need to be broken."
Markus casually tossed one wooden box. It shattered on impact, and a small furnace rolled out. Kevin rubbed his eyes and looked closely. No mistake—it was the most basic, no-bonus furnace sold in general stores. This was an Artifact?
Kevin picked it up, wiped it three times with his hand—nothing happened. "Open sesame, open sesame, open sesame!" Three chants—still nothing.
"That's not how you use an Artifact."
Markus drew the dagger from his belt, gestured with it in front of Kevin, and nodded meaningfully. "You know the next step. Do it yourself—I won't lay a hand on you."
"Damn, a blood pact? Do I have to self-harm? If getting an Artifact means cutting myself, is there any point in living?" Grumbling, Kevin deftly took the dagger and made a shallow cut on his fingertip.
A drop of blood slid along the blade, then—impossibly—flew toward the furnace. Yes, flew.
As the blood touched it, a ripple of light shimmered over the furnace, and the peeling, corroded surface seemed to visibly shed its age. The Artifact… awakened.
System Alert: Nine-Cycle Dragonforged Furnace has bonded with its master.
Nine-Cycle Dragonforged Furnace
Seal State: 8 layers remaining.
Owner: Nightshade
Soulbound. Cannot be traded, stolen, or dropped. Does not occupy an equipment slot.
Can smelt most ores.
Success Rate: +15%
Admittedly, its design was striking: three legs formed by upturned dragon heads, a broad chamber glowing with embers, the faint silhouette of a fire dragon flickering within, and intricate, ancient draconic patterns carved into the outer walls…
Kevin checked its stats and felt a pang of disappointment. This is an Artifact? It didn't seem much better than a high-grade furnace. Puzzling.
"Don't judge it by its current state," Markus said, reading his expression. "Remember, it's still under eight layers of curse. The first seal broke when it bonded with you. If it ever returns to its full power… you'd be drooling with joy. Just stand near a mine, and ore would practically leap into your hands. You'd be counting coins until your fingers cramp. Ore is valuable, you know." Markus painted a glorious future, and Kevin could almost see a sky raining gold coins—no, platinum coins—beckoning to him.
"Master, give me the other Artifact too," Kevin said, his face splitting into an ingratiating smile.
"You sure? This one triggers the main questline 'The Blacksmith's Legacy'… It's difficult."
What could be more tempting than an Artifact? Nothing.
Without a second thought, Kevin agreed. His mind was already in full blue-screen-of-death mode.
System: Player Nightshade has accepted the quest "The Blacksmith's Legacy."
Quest Objectives:
1. Graduate from apprenticeship.
2. Forge a weapon of your own design.
Kevin scanned the requirements. That's it? That simple?
Markus watched him with a sly, almost sinister smile. "Graduating requires reaching or surpassing your master's rank. I'm a Grandmaster. Surpassing me… seems quite challenging, doesn't it?"
Can I abandon it? Kevin knew that even a high-level blacksmith was like a protected species in major guilds. A Grandmaster? That was a legendary tier still being nurtured in some developer's imagination…
"You can abandon it," Markus said, making Kevin's gloomy face brighten for a second—until the smith added, "Then go delete your character again."
…Alright, point taken.
Kevin accepted his fate. It was just a game, after all. More challenge meant more fun.
"Go buy some healing potions. You'll need them soon. Or… maybe don't. Save your money."
Kevin eyed him suspiciously. "What's going to happen?"
"Nothing. Come here for the blood pact."
Same dagger. Same finger. (The finger protested silently: My poor, poor life…) Same eerie, crimson flight of blood.
"Master, why won't it stop? Last time it was just a few drops. Why does it need so much now?" Kevin watched his health bar slowly declining.
"Patience, youngster. This is an Artifact." Markus was back to using "Artifact" as his excuse for everything.
"Master, I'm… almost out of HP."
"I know. We'll just resurrect and continue."
"Is that really necessary? Seems cruel."
"It's to save money. Coins don't grow on trees. Spend wisely."
"I'm dead."
...
Resurrect. Die. Resurrect. Die…
Kevin felt the world spinning, swirling, grinning at him through a veil of blood-red haze…
Death numbed his nerves. The sensation of life force draining away was painfully clear, yet unstoppable.
Each sting in his finger announced: You're back, brother. And brother, you're about to die again.
He lost track of time.
Eventually, Kevin slowly opened his eyes. Still in the hidden room. Still surrounded by clutter. Still facing the blacksmith's annoyingly cheerful grin.
How many times did I die? Kevin was morbidly curious.
The blood pact didn't require much—just a few thousand HP worth. Since his full HP upon resurrection was less than a hundred… that meant roughly a few hundred deaths. The thought alone was horrifying. Kevin hastily opened his character sheet. His death count still showed 0. He breathed a slight sigh of relief. Good… the system doesn't count these deaths.
Nine-Cycle Dragonforged Pickaxe
Owner: Nightshade
Soulbound. Cannot be traded, stolen, or dropped. Does not occupy an equipment slot.
Mining Speed: +150%
Ore Yield: +50%
Ore Quality: +25%
The description was brief. Another pretty花瓶 (flower vase—all looks, no use)?
"Master, this is a bit… underwhelming. I'm officially disappointed in 'Artifacts,'" Kevin said, though inwardly he was already celebrating.
"You think having Artifacts makes you invincible? Give others a chance to live, will you? Kid, learn to be content. You've taken the quest, I've given the rewards. Your future depends on your own efforts now."
They returned to the main forge area. "By system rules, before you graduate, you must turn in a daily ore quota: 100 units of初级 (basic) ore. The ore grade matches your Mining skill level. You can submit higher-grade ore if you wish, and your rewards will increase accordingly." Kevin started doing mental math. Basic ore went for about 1 gold per unit, meaning 100 gold daily. Seems like I'm getting the short end of the stick…
"Master, any chance of a… discount?"
"It's not my rule—it's the system! Do you know what 'system' means?"
Kevin consoled himself again: Such challenges make the game more exciting.
This, he realized, was how professional miners were forged.
"You're free to go. I have forging to do. Go play elsewhere." With that, Markus practically shooed Kevin out of the smithy.
Stepping outside, Kevin thought, The game goes on. And I own two Artifacts now. How proud is that? He looked around, deciding to visit every shop in the village. No money? No problem. He'd play the browser—Just looking, thanks. Not buying.
The sky in-game darkened. Night here meant dawn in the real world.
Kevin sorted his thoughts. First day after reset—full of surprises. He'd gained Blacksmithing, obtained two Artifacts, earned 100 gold (even after being ripped off for 5 gold on a map at the general store)… Net profit. His heart swelled with excitement.
Ah, the map. It showed the terrain, monster distribution, and—crucially—ore vein locations around Grimwater.
Grimwater was surrounded by mountains. Ore veins were mostly near the slopes, theoretically easy to mine. Theoretically. Reality… he'd find out soon enough.
He logged out. A brief wave of dizziness, and he was back in the real world. Sometimes Kevin struggled to tell which world felt more real.
After washing up and changing into clean, casual clothes, he headed out for "business." And by business… well, you know.
The subway—Kevin preferred it. High foot traffic, plenty of targets, chaotic enough for easy escape. He sat quietly in a corner, observing the absurd world. He recognized a few faces—other pickpockets. They didn't know him, but he knew them. A thief only needs to recognize the undercover cops; successfully lifting a wallet is recognition enough.
Modern society emphasized teamwork, and thieves were no exception. Kevin watched two pickpockets working in tandem near a middle-aged man who looked every bit the gentleman but kept sneaking glances at the cleavage of a nearby young woman. If you want to look, just look, Kevin thought. Sneaking peeks is pathetic. Serves you right if you get robbed.
The duo moved smoothly. Wallet acquired. Exit stage left.
Kevin seized the moment, "accidentally" bumping into the two as they passed. "Sorry, brothers, my bad!" He flashed his signature harmless smile.
"Get lost," one snapped without looking back. Thieves avoided attention.
Kevin sidestepped, making way.
As he watched them leave, he muttered softly, "Just trying to get by, guys. You've got a team, business is good… this one's on me."
Somehow, a wallet had already found its way into his hand. He pocketed the cash and tossed the leather billfold into a trash bin.
Scene shift: The two thieves.
"Where's the wallet?Hand it over—let's see the take."
"You have it."
"Stop joking.Give it here."
"I really don't have it."
"You keeping it for yourself?"
A scuffle erupted. No bond, it seemed, could withstand the test of immediate profit.
Exiting the subway, Kevin entered a public library. His "work" for the day was done. Greed ruined the fun. Knowing when to stop was part of the art.