Steve stripped the Blacksmith of everything he could possibly take. He had to admit—this place was a goldmine.
By the time he was done, his leather armor had been swapped for a full set of iron, and he'd even pried out a perfectly intact anvil.
He'd also gathered quite a few weapons—all pulled straight off the wall racks. Swords, spears, axes, hammers… you name it. The only thing missing was an iron pickaxe.
Though, honestly, that might've been for the best.
Before unlocking his first mod, the fewer advancements he triggered, the easier it'd be to claim better rewards later.
He'd thought about taking the furnace too, but after a few swings, it was obvious his pickaxe wasn't high enough level. He gave up on that idea.
Once his inventory was full, Steve climbed into the boat, ready to haul the Villager back home.
Halls stood there, completely dumbfounded, watching the whole thing unfold. He had no idea what to even say anymore.
He couldn't understand why Steve only took the weapons displayed on the racks, or how he made them vanish into thin air without a trace of magic.
No mana fluctuations, nothing. Was this golem not powered by magic at all?
And that armor—Halls had forged it himself, every piece elegant and gleaming with craftsmanship. Yet on Steve, it looked like a flat, solid plate of iron. If not for the faint engravings, Halls might not have recognized it at all.
How was that even possible?
When Steve climbed into the boat as well, Halls's body suddenly slid backward as if pulled by invisible force.
Out of pure instinct, the blacksmith reached out and touched Steve's back.
He knew every curve and groove of that armor—he'd hammered each one by hand. But now, it was perfectly smooth. Every trace of his work had vanished.
Could someone really reforge a full set of armor in mere seconds—and make it fit so perfectly?
He instinctively refused to believe it. If that were possible, what would blacksmiths like him even exist for?
But the evidence was right in front of him. The doubt crept in so deep he even forgot, for the moment, that he was still restrained.
Then the boat began to move. The oars on either side glided through the air all by themselves, slowly propelling them forward.
Halls snapped out of it. "Hey! What the hell are you doing?! Let me down!"
He slammed a fist into Steve's body, only for pain to shoot up his arm. The hit didn't even leave a mark.
Realizing brute force was useless, he shouted for help, hoping someone nearby might hear—though this place was pretty far from town.
That's when Steve suddenly jumped out of the boat. He turned to face Halls, holding a weapon that gleamed with a cold, metallic light.
Halls recognized it immediately—it was one of his own spears. Except now, it looked… different. Sharper. The contours more defined.
He shut up on the spot.
But Steve wasn't threatening him—he just thought rowing back manually was too slow.
Why waste all that time when he could just go back, trade gems for iron, and come get the Villager later once he had a railway system set up?
So he hopped out the door, bouncing on his feet like usual. Halls blinked in confusion for a moment—then immediately started yelling for help again.
Meanwhile, Jack and his group arrived at the Adventurer's Guild.
Calling it a "guild" was generous—it looked more like a lively tavern. A giant commission board hung on the wall, covered in quests pinned with iron nails.
Behind the counter sat a cheerful young girl, smiling as she processed paperwork and chatted with passing adventurers.
The rest of the hall was packed with tables and chairs. People rested, exchanged intel, shared drinks. The air was relaxed, peaceful even.
Just as they were about to step inside, a figure walked out and blocked their way.
The man pulled down the scarf covering his face. Jack recognized him immediately—it was that warrior from yesterday. His expression soured. "What do you want?"
"Did you bring the money?" The warrior tugged the scarf back up. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed with dark circles. He looked like he hadn't slept all night.
The sight made Jack instinctively shrink back, but Elina frowned. "We'll hand it to the Guild."
"No need for that." The warrior shoved them roughly, forcing them into a nearby alley. "I already talked to the Guild. Just give it to me directly."
Elina's gut twisted. She tried to back away, but he blocked the only exit.
"I wouldn't scream if I were you," he growled. "People like you aren't exactly welcome around here."
He herded them further into the alley, voice low but sharp. "Look, I'm not unreasonable. Otherwise, we'd be talking outside the town walls right now.
"Just hand over the money, and that'll be the end of it. We'll never have to see each other again."
Elina shook her head, but before she could answer, the warrior slammed a fist into the wall beside her. The burst of aura that followed cracked the stone—pure battle energy, raw and violent.
Elina froze. She hadn't witnessed what happened last night, so she couldn't understand why this man looked so… unhinged.
But with their safety at stake, she tugged on Jack's sleeve and pulled out the prepared payment.
The warrior snatched it, his hands trembling as he counted the coins. Then, with a quick glance, he grabbed Jack's bag too—and bolted down the street.
Everything happened so fast they didn't even react until he was gone.
"...Our lunch was in there," Jack muttered.
The others exchanged helpless looks. Chasing him would be pointless.
So they finally stepped into the Guild and approached the counter girl to discuss their commission.
But before Elina could even speak, the girl bowed apologetically.
"I'm so sorry for the trouble. You don't have to pay any fees for the commission."
Elina blinked. "What happened?"
"That man tried to falsely claim his teammate's death benefit yesterday," the girl explained softly. "When the deceased's family confronted him, he snapped—attacked them, then fled.
"After investigating, we discovered he'd actually murdered his own companion, killed the coachman who saw him dispose of the body, and even wounded a shopkeeper while selling the stolen goods.
"He's been officially wanted since last night. We deeply apologize for the interference with your commission."
She bowed again, her expression sincere.
Elina and the others stared at each other in disbelief.
"Why would he do all that?" Elina finally asked.
"We're not sure," the girl said, shaking her head. "But eyewitnesses said he kept muttering, 'It's all that demon's fault!' over and over.
"Maybe he went insane."
Demon?
Jack and the others stiffened. Could he mean… that man?
They couldn't help but wonder what exactly the warrior had seen—or remembered—that left him so terrified of Steve.
"In fact," Elina added quietly, "he just stopped us in that alley and took the reward money we'd prepared." She pointed toward the street. "And our lunch."
"What?" The girl's eyes widened. "He's still around?!"
She apologized again and hurried off toward the back, likely to alert the guards.