Morning in the Silent Village was not as picturesque as the landscapes in elementary school textbooks. The air felt heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and the lingering acridity of last night's combustion.
Arkan stood before a slanted wooden building. A sign hung precariously above the door, depicting a crossed sword and axe: Adventurer's Guild – Northern Border Branch.
This building was the only place in this dying village where currency actually circulated. Arkan took a deep breath, adjusting his high school uniform, which was now concealed under a tattered cloak scavenged from a ruined shack. Beneath the fabric, The Logistic was tucked into his waistband a life insurance policy that still smelled of sulfur.
The wooden door creaked as he entered. Inside, a few rugged men with jagged scars were knocking back murky yellow ale. Their eyes darted toward Arkan for a fleeting second before returning to their mugs. At the far end of the room, a middle-aged woman with a scar running across her cheek sat behind an ink-stained administration desk.
Arkan stepped forward. His stride was steady a rhythm dictated by calculation, not hollow bravado.
"I'd like to register," Arkan said flatly.
The woman, whose name tag read Marta, looked up. Her eyes narrowed, scanning Arkan's lean frame. "Registration? You look more like a lost scholar, kid. Where's your armor? Or at least a magic staff?"
"I don't need those," Arkan replied, placing a hand on the desk. "I have Crafting abilities. I want to register as a support unit or a miner."
Marta snorted, but she pulled out an identification crystal nonetheless. "Place your hand here. We need to record your Job and Level for your adventurer card."
Arkan obeyed. A dim purple light flickered.
[Identification Successful]
Name: Arkan
Job: Craftsman (Sub-class: Architect)
Level: 2
Mana: 5 (Critically Low)
"Level 2? And a Craftsman job? Are you suicidal?" Marta shook her head. "Fine, whatever. If you die, it's not the Guild's problem. Registration fee is 5 copper pieces."
Arkan paid with a silver coin he'd found the night before, pocketed the change, and immediately grabbed several F-Rank mission scrolls. "I'll take the Blue Herb collection and the Slime extermination on the outskirts."
For the next week, Arkan lived in a state of rigorous, logical routine. He didn't rush to hunt large monsters. He started from the foundation, treating this world like a giant laboratory.
Morning, Herb Collection. Arkan didn't sell the plants raw. Using [Molecular Architecture], he extracted the active alkaloid compounds directly from the leaves in the middle of the forest, discarding the useless cellulose. He synthesized them into a concentrated healing fluid in small vials.
The result? A healing potency 300% stronger than standard potions.
Afternoon, Slime Extermination. Arkan discovered that Green Slimes consisted of 95% water and mucosal polymers. Instead of wasting lead bullets, he created "Dehydration Rounds." He gathered river pebbles and used his skill to coat them in Calcium Oxide (lime) purified from building ruins.
Upon impact, an instant chemical reaction occurred. The lime forcibly absorbed the water from the Slime's body, causing the gelatinous monster to shrivel and disintegrate without a fight. Efficient. Cheap. Lethal.
Night, Arkan didn't sleep until he finished the sketches in his notebook. The Logistic was just the beginning, but he needed something with more stopping power to pierce thicker monster hides.
"I need a shotgun," Arkan muttered under the dim glow of an oil lamp. "A spread-shot weapon for close encounters. But I need better materials. Magnetite and Crystalline Sulfur (S)."
The only place to obtain those without paying an exorbitant price was the F-Rank Dungeon: The Crustal Cavern.
The cave was dark and damp. Arkan entered with a chemical torch of his own making controlled magnesium oxidation designed to emit light without the coughing fits triggered by smoke.
His silent footsteps suddenly halted. From the right corridor, the clashing of metal and panicked screams echoed.
"Selly, Heal me now! Damn it, why didn't my Map tell me there was a swarm of Iron Rats here?!"
It was Rangga's voice.
Arkan stood behind the shadow of a stalactite pillar. Before him was a pathetic sight. Rangga was swinging his blade blindly at a swarm of rats with hides as hard as steel. Every strike produced nothing but sparks his sword couldn't penetrate their physical defense.
Dion looked pale, repeatedly pulling wooden shields from his Storage, only for them to be shredded by the rats' teeth. Selly trembled in a corner, her hands glowing with a faint light that signaled her mana was nearly depleted.
"Rangga, we have to run! Their armor is too hard!" yelled Bayu, trying to fend off a rat with a wooden staff.
Arkan stepped out of the shadows. He had no intention of saving them out of sentiment; he was intervening because this group was blocking access to the magnetite deposits he was targeting.
"You're still using primitive methods," Arkan's flat voice cut through the cavern's noise.
Rangga turned, his face covered in sweat and dust. "Arkan? What... what are you doing here?! Run, you idiot! Our weapons don't work on their skin!"
Arkan didn't run. Instead, he pulled out a small metal tube containing molecularly isolated liquid nitrogen. "Their hides are a natural iron-carbon alloy. Extremely resistant to impact, but highly brittle under extreme temperature shifts."
"What are you talking abou—"
CLANK!
Arkan hurled the tube into the center of the swarm. As the vessel shattered, liquid nitrogen vaporized instantly. The temperature in the area plummeted. The Iron Rats, previously agile, froze in their tracks as their steel hides underwent cold brittleness.
"Now," Arkan raised The Logistic.
BOOM!!
A single pebble-shot, reinforced with a trace of mana, struck the lead rat. Instead of bouncing off, the steel rat shattered into tiny fragments like falling glass.
Rangga, Dion, and Selly stood frozen, mouths agape. They nearly died against monsters that Arkan dismantled with a single toss and a small shot.
Arkan walked past them as if they were nothing more than visual noise. He stopped in front of a glowing dark cavern wall where pure magnetite clung to the rock.
"Are you finished with your business?" Arkan asked without turning around, his hands already working to extract the iron sand. "I have a tight production schedule. If you want to stay alive, I suggest you leave before the temperature here returns to normal."
Rangga stared at Arkan's back with a mix of shame, bewilderment, and a hint of fear. The person he had discarded as "trash" possessed a power that the world's leveling system couldn't explain.
"Arkan... wait..." Selly called out softly, but Arkan was already busy calculating the atomic mass of the iron in his hands. To him, they were no longer relevant variables.
The Secret Workshop: Birth of the Enforcer
Back at his shack, Arkan immediately went to work. He didn't need a giant forge or a sledgehammer. He had atomic manipulation.
On a rickety wooden table, Arkan laid out the steel bars refined from the magnetite. He visualized the structure of a Smoothbore a barrel thicker and more reinforced than The Logistic. He rearranged the iron crystal lattices, interlacing nickel and chromium atoms extracted from silver coins and old cutlery to create a stainless steel alloy capable of withstanding massive gas pressure.
"Double barrels... Break-action mechanism... Twin triggers."
Arkan's hands glowed with a faint blue light. The metal molecules shifted, fused, and hardened with a micrometer precision impossible for any blacksmith in this world.
Next, he crafted the ammunition. This time, it wasn't just a single bullet. He created mana-reinforced paper shells filled with high-pressure gunpowder and dozens of lead pellets coated in corrosive slime bile.
[Molecular Synthesis: 100%!]
[Item Created: "The Enforcer" – Double Barrel Shotgun]
A heavy, matte-black twin-barreled weapon now lay on the table. Arkan lifted it, feeling the perfect weight distribution. With this, close range was no longer his weakness, it was his kill zone.
The Adventurer's Guild: A Calculated Goodbye
That evening, Arkan returned to the Guild to turn in his herb requests. The usual rowdy atmosphere turned dead silent the moment he walked in. Rumors of a "Craftsman" who annihilated a swarm of Iron Rats in seconds had already spread through Bayu and the others.
As Arkan received his copper coins from Marta, three shadows blocked his path.
Rangga, Dion, and Selly stood there. Rangga's arrogance was gone; his shoulders slumped, and his short sword hung listlessly.
"Arkan," Rangga started, his throat dry. "Back in the cave... thanks. If it wasn't for you, we'd be corpses by now."
Arkan looked at him blankly. "I was only clearing my mining path. Don't factor it into a debt of gratitude."
"No, Arkan," Selly stepped forward, her eyes brimming with tears. "We know we messed up. Back at the palace... we were scared. We thought if we didn't follow Rangga, we wouldn't survive. We're sorry for leaving you behind."
Dion nodded, offering a small pouch of mana potions. "Here... take this as an apology. We can team up again, right? With your brain and our power, we can level up way faster."
Arkan stared at the pouch, then at the hopeful faces in front of him. Inside his mind, he ran a probability simulation.
This group is unstable. Their morality depends on fear. Their combat efficiency is a mess due to over-reliance on system stats.
"I decline," Arkan said coldly, stunning the three of them. "You speak of 'getting back together' as if this is a school reunion. But in this world, you are unpredictable variables. I have no use for a team that only moves when they feel superior and only apologizes when they feel cornered."
Arkan pocketed his coins and threw his cloak over his shoulder, concealing the newly built Enforcer.
"I forgave you the moment we landed in this village," Arkan added, his tone finalizing the separation. "But forgiveness doesn't mean I have to work with people who don't understand the basic logic of survival. Walk your path. I'll walk mine."
Arkan walked past them without looking back. The Guild door creaked open, revealing the blood-red light of the setting sun. Rangga and the others could only watch, realizing that the true hero wasn't the one with the sharpest sword, but the one with the sharpest mind.
Arkan disappeared into the darkness of the woods, ready to test The Enforcer on something much bigger.