Most players in the Starter Town were flocking to "Gura's Smithy."
It was impossible to miss. It was a massive building right on the main street. A burly, shirtless NPC named Gura was hammering a glowing red sword, putting on a show for the tourists. Sparks flew. Players cheered.
"Come get your steel!" Gura roared. "Best blades in the First Floor! 50 silver each!"
Elian didn't even glance at the shop. He walked right past it.
"Gura is a scam artist," Elian thought. "His swords have high durability but low balance.
They chip against goblin bone."
He continued down the street until the cobblestones turned into dirt. He turned into a narrow alleyway behind the glorious smithy, where the smell of coal smoke was thick and choking.
There, nestled in the shadow of the larger shop, was a tiny, dilapidated shack. There was no sign. No cheering players. Just a rusted anvil sitting outside and an old man sleeping on a wooden chair.
The old man, Kael, looked like a beggar. His beard was singed, his apron was torn, and he was snoring loudly.
Elian stopped in front of him.
In the previous timeline, nobody discovered Kael until Year 3. It turned out that Kael was the former Royal Blacksmith who had been exiled to the Starter Town for forging a weapon too dangerous for the King.
Elian kicked the leg of the chair.
Thud.
"Mmnph!" Kael snorted, waking up with a start. He blinked bleary eyes at Elian. "What? Who? Get lost, kid. Shop's closed. Go to Gura's if you want a toy."
"I don't want a toy," Elian said calmly. "I want the trash you keep under the floorboards."
Kael froze. The sleepiness vanished from his eyes instantly, replaced by a sharp, dangerous glint.
"Watch your tongue, boy," Kael growled. "I don't have anything under the floorboards."
"Yes, you do," Elian said. "You have a failed prototype. A blade forged from 'Black-Iron' that you couldn't temper correctly. You were going to melt it down, but you couldn't bring yourself to destroy it."
Kael stood up slowly. He was short, but his arms were thick as tree trunks. "Who sent you? The Guilds?"
"Nobody sent me," Elian replied. He drew his rusted, cracked dagger and tossed it onto the anvil.
Clang.
"I need a weapon that can handle 'Force Dispersal' techniques without shattering," Elian said. "Gura's steel is too brittle. I need your failure."
Kael looked at the rusty dagger, then at Elian. He looked at the boy's stance—relaxed, yet perfectly balanced. He saw the calluses on Elian's hands that shouldn't be there at Level 1.
The old blacksmith spat on the ground.
"You've got eyes, kid. I'll give you that."
Kael turned and limped into the dark shack. Sounds of rummaging, cursing, and wood splintering echoed from inside.
A moment later, he returned holding a bundle wrapped in oily rags.
He threw it at Elian.
Elian caught it. The weight was substantial. He unwrapped the cloth.
Inside was a Longsword. But it wasn't shiny. It was a dull, matte grey, almost black. The metal looked rough, unpolished. It lacked the glamour of the weapons in the main square.
[Item Analysis]
[Name: Nameless Black-Iron Sword]
[Rank: Common (Growable)]
[Attack: +15]
[Durability: 500/500]
[Effect: Heavy. Requires 15 Strength to wield effectively.]
[Description: A rejected prototype. It is ugly, but incredibly dense.]
"It's heavy," Kael grunted. "Too heavy for a newbie. It'll slow you down."
Elian gripped the hilt. It was cold and rough. He gave it a test swing.
Whoosh.
The air parted with a low hum.
It was heavy, yes. But for Elian, who knew how to use momentum rather than brute strength, it was perfect. The high durability meant he could block heavy attacks without the blade snapping.
"How much?" Elian asked.
Kael scratched his beard. "I was gonna melt it down anyway. Give me 50 copper for the metal."
It was a steal. A robbery. This sword could last him until Floor 10.
Elian placed the coins on the anvil.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Master Kael."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Don't call me Master. And don't tell anyone you got that here. I don't want lines of idiots outside my door."
Elian sheathed the black sword on his back. It felt right. He finally had a fang.
He looked toward the setting sun. Night was coming. And with the night, the Alpha Wolves would spawn in the forest.
"I have a healer," Elian whispered. "I have a weapon. Time to skip the tutorial."