A/N: Last Author note I do prechapter, promise! Just want to render a quick thanks to everyone for your kind reception to the new Parallel REFORGED. From this chapter, you will begin to see the real differences in outcomes and paths taken compared to LEGACY Parallel. I will be releasing a new episode every Saturday, starting on the 18th of January! You may have noticed that each chapter is much longer than usual, and that's cause I'm treating each like an episode of a TV show or anime hence why I titled them Episodes and not Chapters. I will write each as an episode going forward but will run a few tests with releasing an Episode in bit parts (so 2-3 mini-chapters instead of 1) over the course of a week... Hope you all enjoy!

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As he walked through the streets, Kashi kept Leon's words in mind, finally stopping in front of a small training hall with a faded bow-and-arrow sign swaying lightly above the door. Compared to the larger, bustling training halls he'd passed, this one was modest, almost hidden, with a surprising lack of adventurers going in or out.

Just as he reached for the door, it swung open suddenly, nearly hitting him. Kashi stepped back to avoid the impact, watching as two adventurers—a wisben woman and a Cerulean man—stormed out, both visibly frustrated. They glanced briefly at Kashi, muttering an absentminded "sorry" before their irritation took over again.

"One gold per day for a beginner training hall?" the wisben woman scoffed loudly, shaking her head. "Who do they think they are?"

"Total rip-off," her companion agreed. "I'll just go train somewhere decent for free."

Kashi listened to their grumbling as they walked off, gaining insight into why this place seemed deserted. For most newbies, a whole gold coin was a considerable amount—enough to repair gear or save up for better equipment. Paying it for training when other places were free must have seemed absurd.

Keeping his thoughts to himself, Kashi stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him. His brow raised slightly as he took in the hall's interior; it looked less like a training center and more like a quiet tavern. Tables and chairs were scattered across the floor, and a bar lined the back wall, complete with shelves of mugs and bottles.

Behind the bar stood a tall, rugged nord, his broad shoulders and muscular build adding a quietly imposing presence to the room. He was polishing a mug, his gaze sharp and wary as he took note of Kashi's entrance. At one of the tables sat a thin wisben with caramel skin and braided auburn hair spilling over his shoulder, engrossed in a book. His light-brown robes looked simple but elegant, and he barely glanced up, only flashing Kashi a brief smile before returning to his reading.

At a nearby table, a kafu (fox-beastkin) with brown fur lay sprawled out, his legs stretched across the table. His dark leather cuirass and sturdy greaves suggested he was combat-ready even at rest. Were it not for his steady breathing, Kashi might have thought the beastkin was prepared to spring into action at any moment.

The Nord and the wisben both watched Kashi briefly as he entered before the wisben returned to his book. Kashi inclined his head in acknowledgment, then made his way to the bar where the Nord was waiting, watching him with a mildly curious expression.

"One gold per day if you're here to train," the Nord said, his tone straightforward and gruff.

Kashi gave a nod of understanding. "Understood. I'm Kashi. And you?"

The Nord raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Why the interest?"

Kashi met his gaze evenly. "If I'm going to be around here for a while, I wouldn't want to call you 'you' all the time. Seems rude."

The Nord let out a low chuckle, seeming to size up Kashi once more. "You're actually considering paying?"

Kashi's gaze remained steady. "I have my reasons."

Shaking his head, the nord finally relented. "Skardi Skaalfson," he introduced himself. Then he gestured around the hall. "But I'll be upfront—none of us here can confer the archer class on you. You're sure you still want to stick around?"

"Choosing a class isn't on my list right now," Kashi replied with a small shrug.

Skardi's brows lifted briefly, clearly surprised but not pressing further. He pointed to a doorway on the right side of the hall. "If you're really set on training, that's the way to the training hall." He then pointed at a door to his right. 'To complete our course, you have to pass the Comprehensive Test. I suggest completing the training hall before venturing into the Comprehensive Test or you could lose your life. When you're done, you'll get a certificate of completion."

"Thank you," Kashi said, then glanced at the left door. "I'll be back once I have the money to pay. Need to make some first."

Skardi chuckled knowingly. "Good luck with that. With all the Summoned out hunting, the market's flooded with meat and monster parts. For a beginner, it'll take quite a few kills to reach a hundred Syros."

Kashi gave a faint smile. "Who said anything about hunting?" He inclined his head respectfully. "See you at dawn, with the money."

With that, he turned and headed out the door, leaving Skardi looking after him with a curious, bemused expression.

The setting sun cast a warm, fading glow over the bustling streets, but as Worldborn began to wind down their daily activities, the once-packed avenues grew quieter. Here and there, a Summoned figure hurried by, their eyes bright with purpose, but most of the city was wrapping itself in the familiar cloak of evening calm. Kashi ambled through the streets, taking his time to absorb the view.

Eventually, he spotted his destination: a modest shop with thick smoke billowing from a tall chimney and the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal pouring from an open window. A slightly faded signpost above the door read "Rooks & Sons" alongside a crude anvil drawing.

Kashi eyed the shop, noting how few patrons were around. As if on cue, the shabby front door swung open with a clatter, and a large, imposing man stepped out, chugging from a massive bottle. He was a Mertian, likely in his forties, with dark chocolate skin dusted in soot, a thick black beard, and an impressive, voluminous afro tied back in a bunch. Wearing a dirt-streaked apron over a simple tunic, he released a booming sigh and wiped the sweat from his brow, only to notice Kashi standing nearby.

"Great. Just great," the blacksmith muttered, his gaze narrowing in on Kashi. "What in the blazing hell is a daeben of all things doing in front of my store? World's gotta be going to shit."

Kashi kept a neutral expression. "I'm a Summoned, not a Worldborn," he said calmly.

The man's brows lifted slightly, his stare cooling as he took in Kashi's words. "Summoned, huh? Guess that makes a little more sense. But damn if you don't have crap taste, descending as a daeben."

Kashi shrugged. "Eh, my choice to live with."

The blacksmith spat on the ground with a grimace, as if ridding his mouth of some foul taste. "Alright then, Summoned. What's a daeben got business in my shop for, anyway?"

Kashi met his gaze squarely. "I'm looking for a job."

The blacksmith barked out a laugh. "A job? Here? Well, that's the funniest damn thing I've heard all day." He leaned back, chuckling before squinting at Kashi in mock seriousness. "Tell me, then, Summoned. What level of blacksmith are you?"

Kashi didn't flinch. "I don't have the blacksmith skill. I'm fresh out of the other world—still level zero."

The blacksmith's chuckle turned to a scoff. "Level zero? A whole day in, and still no levels? What, were you too lazy to kill a single boar?"

"I was exploring the city," Kashi replied evenly.

"Oh, right! 'Exploring the city,'" the blacksmith jeered, exaggerating the words. "That's what lazy folks call slacking off nowadays."

Kashi merely rolled his eyes, refocusing the conversation. "So, about the job?"

The blacksmith gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. "Even if I had a job for you—which I don't—I couldn't give you a blacksmith class. Only certified smiths from the larger shops have the right to confer that class."

"That would explain why there are no Summoned here," Kashi murmured.

The blacksmith spat again, clearly fed up. "Bunch of blind fools, all of 'em, scuttling after certification as if it's the only way to understand the heart of a blacksmith."

Kashi didn't react, merely clarifying, "I don't need the class. I'm here to learn the blacksmithing skill."

The man finally stopped to examine Kashi with a critical eye. After a long pause, he smirked, crossing his thick arms. "You're a fool, you know that? Wanting to walk both paths—a blacksmith and a warrior? You'll never reach the peak splitting yourself like that."

Kashi's gaze didn't waver. "I'll take my chances."

The blacksmith's grin faded, replaced with something darker. "Then I suppose you'll need a taste of what the blacksmith's path means." His voice dropped, and suddenly, an oppressive aura bore down on Kashi, flooding his senses with the vision of a bloody battlefield. All around him, warriors and beasts clashed, their cries of agony and rage blending into a cacophony. Blood soaked the ground, staining Kashi's boots as though he stood among the fallen. The blacksmith's voice echoed around him, deep and grim.

"A blacksmith's blade is life and death. The steel we forge must strike down our clients' enemies, and the shields we make must keep them alive. This isn't just a trade—it's a commitment to duty. Those who waver, who can't dedicate themselves fully, aren't worthy of—"

"That it?"

A scoff abruptly tore apart the horrifying vision.

In Kashi's mind's eye, fierce red eyes emerged above the bloody scene, looking down on it with contempt. His voice cut through the blacksmith's illusion, cold and steady.

"So what? I'll just make the strongest weapons, then."

The moment the words left Kashi's mouth, the battlefield shattered like glass. Kashi blinked and found himself in the real world, meeting the blacksmith's astonished expression. A prompt from the Oracle hovered in his line of sight:

[New Stat: Willpower]
Requirement met: This stat governs one's ability to impose their reality upon the world and reject illusions. Increases resistance to illusions and amplifies the potency of the user's illusions.

Make the World what you will. What does the world of a mad man look like?

Anomaly Detected: Initial value is set to 50.

Kashi dismissed the prompt, letting his eyes refocus on the man, whose wide eyes and pale complexion belied the fact he was genuinely rattled for the first time.

The blacksmith's voice was almost a whisper. "You're...really level zero?"

Kashi let his Oracle's level display speak for itself, and the blacksmith's mouth hung open as he stared at Kashi's Oracle, but after a few seconds, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head with a wry grin.

"Well, daeben," he began, his gaze shifting from incredulity to something like respect, "you've got more willpower than some seasoned fighters I know. If you hold onto that, maybe... just maybe, you'll pull off this multi-path dream of yours."

With a resigned sigh, he extended a thick, calloused hand. "Quavean Rooks. Owner and chief blacksmith of Rooks & Sons."

Kashi took his hand in a firm shake. "Kashi. Just Kashi—an unaffiliated Summoned."

Quavean chuckled, releasing Kashi's hand. "So, you're serious about the job?"

Kashi nodded. "I am. I need the money."

"Money?" Quavean's bushy eyebrows rose. "If it's coin you're after, wouldn't hunting be faster? With that level of willpower, you could take down a few tougher beasts and earn a decent wage."

"I've got other plans in mind."

Quavean didn't push, just gave a knowing nod. "Fair enough, none of my business. But," he added, looking Kashi up and down with a critical eye, "I'll need to test your basics. You can't be handing out shoddy work in my name." He noticed Kashi glance around at the empty storefront, then immediately spluttered, his face reddening beneath the soot. "Not that the quiet's a sign of anything, mind you! It's just late, and the regulars head out before sunset. But in this neighborhood, my name's got some weight!"

Kashi smirked, choosing not to press the issue. "What's the pay?"

Before Quavean could answer, a melodious voice cut in, drawing both men's attention. "Gentlemen, my apologies for the interruption," came the smooth, formal tone. They turned to see a tall, golden-furred beastkin approaching, dressed in a crisp blue doublet and matching pants with a tailored windbreaker draped over his shoulders. Standing at around five-foot-ten, the figure moved with an effortless grace. The feline features—rounded head, pointed ears, and large, curling tail—identified him as a felur, and his golden eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint..

"Couldn't help overhearing your conversation while passing through," he continued, voice light as a feather but dripping with charm.

Quavean rolled his eyes. "Passing through, huh?"

The felur smiled, revealing pointed teeth, and placed a paw-like hand on his chest with a polite bow. "Miote, level five Summoned, merchant path."

Kashi's and Quavean's gazes were still skeptical, but Miote pressed on, unfazed. "As I was saying, it sounds as though you two are on the verge of a business arrangement. However, I must caution you that forming such a relationship without a contract would be... unwise."

Quavean snorted, folding his arms. "So what, you calling me untrustworthy?"

Miote held up both hands in a mock surrender. "Not at all. It isn't about trust, dear sir. A contract protects both employer and employee, setting clear expectations for what is required by each party. Without it, misunderstandings arise. Better to avoid the drama."

Kashi raised a brow, shaking his head. "I won't need a contract. This isn't going to be a full-time job."

Miote's ears twitched, and he politely pushed back. "Precisely why a contract is necessary. A temporary position leaves much more to interpretation. Payment, hours, even duties can cause issues down the line if they're left vague."

Quavean's gaze narrowed, sizing Miote up. "Not saying you're a swindler or anything, but why are you here bothering with small-time contracts? Surely, the blacksmiths in the inner regions get applicants by the dozen. They'd be a better fit for your trade."

Miote chuckled awkwardly, scratching his ear as he sighed. "Ah, well, that's actually quite true." He raised his arms in mock defeat. "The major shops were all... well, let's say they're overcrowded. Most Summoned are already drawn to the larger shops, and with Worldborn merchants partnering with crafters as well, competition is fierce."

Quavean's eyes widened in disbelief. "So you thought my shop was your next-best option? You figured you wouldn't find competition here, is that it?"

The felur chuckled, nodding sheepishly. "Well... yes. Word around town is that there's a respectable blacksmith in the middle regions with a low client turnout. Thought I'd test my luck here—and lucky me, I stumbled upon your conversation."

Quavean huffed, still clearly dubious. After a moment's thought, he sighed, crossing his arms. "Alright, Miote. I'll bite. Do you have Savi's Blessing?"

Kashi glanced between them, curiosity piqued. "Who's Savi?"

Miote's eyes gleamed with pride. "Savi is the Merchant God—patron of contracts and trade. Those who are blessed by Savi can draft contracts with a binding punishment clause. Should either party breach the terms, Savi himself enforces retribution. It's the highest form of trust in the merchant world."

"And what's in this for you?" Kashi asked, leveling a sharp look at Miote.

Miote's grin widened. "Simple. When one accepts Savi's Blessing, their growth depends on the number and quality of contracts they draw. So every contract, even small ones like this, contributes to my progress."

Kashi turned to Quavean, who scratched his head, glancing at Miote with an exaggerated scowl. "Fine," he grumbled. "But I'm not drawing up a contract until I see what Kashi can do."

Miote nodded, bowing slightly. "Entirely reasonable."

With that, Quavean beckoned them both toward the shop's open door. "Well, let's see what this daeben's got."

Quavean pushed open the heavy wooden doors, gesturing for Kashi and Miote to follow him into the workshop. The moment they stepped inside, a wave of heat slammed into them, almost like stepping into the maw of a dragon.

The room was expansive, its walls lined with racks of half-finished weapons, tools, and armor gleaming dully under the flickering light of the forge. At the center of it all, a roaring blaze burned fiercely within a massive forge. The forge's chimney stretched high above, drawing the thick black smoke out of the workshop. Sparks flew in every direction as two young men worked tirelessly, their hammers striking hot metal in a rhythmic clang-clang-clang that reverberated throughout the space.

Both men bore an uncanny resemblance to Quavean, their dark-chocolate skin gleaming with sweat. The one with a buzz cut hammered ferociously, each strike deliberate and powerful, while the other, with an afro neatly braided at the edges, worked with more finesse, his movements calculated and almost artistic. Their focus was so intense that they didn't even acknowledge Quavean's entrance.

"Oi! Lazy sods!" Quavean's voice boomed, echoing off the workshop walls. "We've got company, and you're making us look bad!"

The buzz-cut one grunted but didn't lift his head. "We're busy, old man. Unless the 'company' is here to swing a hammer, they can wait."

The afro-braided one chuckled, sparing a quick glance at Kashi and Miote. "And unless that daeben can wield a hammer better than a sword, I don't see why we should care."

Quavean growled, muttering something under his breath about "damn cocky brats." He turned to Kashi, jerking a thumb at the two. "Meet my idiot sons, Rook Junior and Rook the Third. Yeah, yeah, I named them after myself. Keeps things simple."

Miote smirked, his golden eyes gleaming mischievously. "Quavean, you're a genius. Nothing screams originality like numbering your children."

"Shut it, cat," Quavean snapped, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Junior! Third! Stop jawing and set up a test for this daeben. We need to see if he's got what it takes to swing a hammer or if he'll break like a twig."

The brothers finally paused, exchanging skeptical glances before turning their full attention to Kashi. Junior crossed his muscular arms, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. "You serious, old man? He's got those pretty-boy daeben vibes. Looks like the type to faint if his nails chip."

Third tilted his head, stroking his chin as he scrutinized Kashi. "True, but he's got this... vibe. Like he might surprise you and wreck the place."

Kashi, unfazed by their banter, met their gazes with his usual neutral expression. "Are you done staring, or do I start swinging that hammer now?"

Junior blinked, then broke into a booming laugh. "Feisty one, huh? Alright, let's see what you've got, pretty boy."

Quavean barked out orders, pointing toward an empty anvil near the forge. "Get him a blank. Let's see if this Summoned knows which end of the hammer to hold."

Junior grabbed a chunk of raw ore and slapped it onto the anvil in front of Kashi. Third handed him a hammer, his expression almost playful. "Don't worry, daeben. We'll try not to cry when you mess up."

Ignoring the brothers' snickers, Kashi stepped up to the anvil, hefting the hammer in one hand. He adjusted his grip, feeling the weight and balance. The heat from the forge prickled his skin, but he remained calm, his red eyes narrowing in focus.

"Alright, daeben," Quavean called out, his arms crossed as he observed. "Start simple. Process that ore into something decent."

The intense heat of the forge pressed down on Kashi, but he ignored it, his focus unshaken as he examined the raw iron ore Junior had handed him. He rolled it between his fingers, his crimson eyes narrowing as if dissecting every flaw within the jagged lump of metal.

"Well? Start pounding already, pretty boy," Junior said with a smirk, leaning lazily against the workbench. "Or are you scared you'll ruin it?"

Kashi didn't reply. Instead, his gaze flicked around the shop, lingering on the forge, the anvils, and the piles of tools scattered about. A moment of silence stretched awkwardly, long enough that Miote leaned in, golden eyes alight with mischief. "Did the mighty daeben forget how to hold a hammer?"

Quavean folded his arms, his expression unreadable. "You waiting for something, kid?"

Kashi finally broke his silence. "What's the level and rank of this forge?"

The question seemed to land like a hammer strike itself. Quavean's eyes widened slightly before he nodded, his expression softening with appreciation. "Good question. Shows you're paying attention."

Miote tilted his head. "Rank? Level? What's the difference?"

Third rolled his eyes. "Seriously? Alright, listen up, cat. Metals are ranked from Common all the way up to Legendary. Beyond that, there's Divine and Mythos, but—"

"They don't count because no mortal can handle them," Junior interrupted with a snort. "Yeah, yeah, we know."

Third ignored him and continued, "A forge's rank determines which type of metal it can melt. Its level, meanwhile, tells you the forge's overall capability and efficiency. For example, a level 10 Uncommon forge can easily melt a level 10 Uncommon steel ingot but it might struggle with a level 5 Rare Obsidian Ore, and easily smelt a level 15 Common Iron Ore... Make sense?"

Miote nodded thoughtfully, his tail flicking. "Quite fascinating. And this forge?"

Quavean grinned proudly. "Level 50, Uncommon. Almost Rare. Just need a few more materials to upgrade, but that's a story for another day."

Kashi nodded, satisfied. "Lend me five ores," he requested, his calm demeanor unwavering. "I want to run a quick test."

Junior raised a skeptical brow but complied, rifling through a nearby pile and selecting five smaller ores. "Here, all level 5 iron. We use these for buckles and small orders. Knock yourself out."

Kashi accepted the ores and grabbed a pair of tongs, placing the first one into the forge. The heat from the level 50 forge was absurd, designed to melt iron in mere seconds—a feature of this world's gamified mechanics to save crafting classes from unrealistic time commitments. Kashi counted silently in his head, and after 60 seconds, he pulled the ore out. It was already dripping molten in some spots.

"Not bad," Third muttered as he watched, his curiosity piqued.

Kashi dunked the ore into a trough to cool before setting it aside. He repeated the process with the second ore, this time pulling it after 30 seconds. The result was a spongy bloom—iron mixed with impurities.

"That's called a bloom," Third explained to Miote, who was watching intently. "Still mixed with slag. Needs refining."

For the third ore, Kashi reduced the time to 15 seconds, resulting in a barely heated lump. He frowned slightly and moved on to the fourth ore, finding the sweet spot at 27 seconds. "This will do," he said, his voice even.

Quavean's grin widened. "Smart kid. Alright, show me what you can do."

Kashi wasted no time. He placed the next ore into the forge for exactly 27 seconds, then pulled it out and placed it on the anvil. Raising the hammer, his entire demeanor shifted. The air around him grew heavy, charged with an oppressive energy that silenced the room.

The first strike rang out, crisp and deliberate, sending a flurry of sparks dancing through the air. Quavean nodded approvingly. "Strong grip. Firm strikes. You've done this before."

But then, Kashi's pace quickened. Each strike was precise, the hammer landing with a surgeon's accuracy. He turned the bloom effortlessly, breaking off impurities with every hit. The clang of the hammer echoed rhythmically, growing faster and faster, almost hypnotic.

The brothers exchanged uneasy glances. "Uh... is it just me, or is he... insane at this?" Junior muttered.

"Definitely not just you," Third replied, wide-eyed.

After 1,000 strikes, Kashi shaped the bloom into a clean, rectangular ingot and quenched it in the trough. Steam hissed as he held it up and turned to Quavean. "Done."

Quavean, his hands trembling slightly, put on thick gloves and took the processed ore. His jaw slackened as he inspected it. "Ninety-five percent purity... Ninety-five?! What kind of monster are you, daeben?! And that hammer skill... Where in the gods' names did you learn that?!"

Kashi glanced at a notification from the system:

Profession Acquired: Blacksmith [Crafts Skill] [F-] [1/20] (400xp)

Blacksmith: Forge the world in your image. You might only be able to craft the simplest of ingots at this time. But one day, with enough practice, your crafts may change the very course of nature. I wonder what a madman's crafts will look like
+5 Strength
+5 Dexterity
+12 Crafts

Next Level Req: 400xp OR 10 Refined Iron Ore with 70% Purity

Active Skill Learned: 1000 Strikes Refinement Technique [E-] [1/20](400xp)

1000 Strikes Refinement Technique: A refinement technique combining astute vision and precise strikes to bend all metal to your will

Refines Ore to 80~95% Purity

Upgrade Path: 400xp OR Produce 5 Refined Iron Ore with this technique

He suppressed a sigh. So much for trying to use a divine technique with these pitiful stats. Still, not bad. Memories of Razznik's teachings—the Demon King's relentless hammering deep within an active volcano—flooded his mind, but Quavean's sudden grip on his shoulder snapped him back to reality.

"Kashi!" Quavean's bear-like face loomed close. "Work for me. Two silvers an hour and a 10% commission on sales from any items you help make. I'll even renegotiate every month as you level up."

Miote smoothly stepped between them, waving a parchment. "Fair terms... but for Summoned like Kashi, let's set renegotiation weekly. And he'll remain a contractor. Oh, and I'll take 1% of his earnings as my fee."

Kashi raised a brow. "One percent?"

Miote grinned. "Consider it an investment. A small stake in a future legend."

Quavean let out a booming laugh. "Fine! But he starts now!"

Kashi allowed a smirk to tug at the corner of his lips as he checked the time on his Oracle, which displayed 6:28 PM. Less than five minutes to fully process the ore. For a moment, he marveled at the absurdity of this fantasy world. Back in the real world, refining iron would take hours, but here, with a level 50 forge melting a level 5 ore, everything was wildly accelerated. 'Efficiency through the roof,' he thought.

Running some quick mental math, he calculated his potential income. At 15–18 ores per hour, factoring inefficiencies, the base 2 silvers (20 syros) per hour plus 1–3 syros per processed ore commission could net him 35–74 syros an hour. That meant, at worst, he only had to grind for three hours to hit the 1 gold needed for the training hall.

Satisfied, Kashi shifted his gaze to Miote, who was leaning against a pillar, tail swaying lazily. "Miote," Kashi started, lifting a brow, "I wasn't born yesterday. I know 1% of my proceeds in your hands will stack up fast. It's a much better deal for you in the long run than a downpayment now."

Miote's grin widened, his golden-furred ears twitching with amusement. "My, my, Kashi, such confidence. Dare I say, you're quite the visionary."

Kashi crossed his arms, his serious red eyes meeting Miote's mischievous golden ones. "Not to brag, but I know what my potential is worth, especially if I dabble in crafting. Not that I'm planning to focus on it."

That last line caused Miote's grin to falter for a moment. "Not planning to focus on crafting?"

Kashi thought about Razznik. The Demon King, a legend in King's Journey, had mastered every crafting field to god-tier levels. Razznik's methods had been painstaking, eschewing system automation to perfect manual techniques. Those years of brutal grinding had left their mark on Suzuki. And now, Kashi carried that knowledge, ready to replicate it here in Live No Evil.

"Five percent," Kashi said suddenly, raising his hand and splaying five fingers. "You'll get 5% of my contracts, exclusive rights. In return, you'll need to handle promotion. I don't know squat about marketing and don't have time to think about it. I need commissions to meet my goals, not just base pay. If you can make me a household name, we've got a deal."

Miote's grin returned, his tail flicking behind him. "If that's all you need, then consider it done. I'll make you one of the most sought-after blacksmiths in the city."

"Not just a blacksmith," Kashi corrected, his sharp gaze locking Miote in place. Miote opened his mouth to ask what that meant, but Kashi had already turned to Quavean.

"When can I start crafting swords?" Kashi asked, his voice steady but eager.

Quavean let out a long sigh, scratching his beard. "If it were up to me, I'd have you banging out blades right now," he said, his booming voice echoing in the workshop. "But two things stand in the way. First, weapons worth selling start at level 10 and usually have an Uncommon rating. That's a standard for clients to use them longer. At level 0, you don't have the stats to wield the hammers for level 10 weapon crafting."

"Fair," Kashi admitted.

"Second," Quavean continued, "the Blacksmithing Union's rules. To stop frauds from selling junk, smiths are not permitted to sell weapons until they hit F+ in blacksmithing. Daggers, and arrowheads—those are your starting point. You can work up to swords when you have achieved F+."

Kashi nodded, digesting the explanation. "That makes sense," he admitted. "No point rushing a subpar product."

Rising from his seat, Kashi turned toward the pile of raw ore stacked in a corner of the workshop. His grin widened, a sharp, almost predatory glint in his red eyes. "Fine then," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's start with getting to F+. Pass me those ores."

Quavean barked a laugh, clapping his massive hands together. "You've got guts, Daeben. Junior! Toss him the level 5 iron ores."

As Junior rifled through the pile, Miote chuckled, leaning closer to Kashi. "Not just a blacksmith, huh? What else do you have in mind, I wonder?"

Kashi didn't answer immediately. Instead, he caught the first iron ore Junior threw his way, gripping it with confidence. "You'll find out soon enough," he muttered, setting the ore on the anvil. His charcoal-black skin gleamed in the forge's light, his long hair swaying as he prepared his tools. "One thing at a time."

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Kerta, the sun had set over the bustling city, casting a dark curtain held back by the soft glow of lanterns hanging from rooftops and street posts. The warm, inviting hum of taverns spilled into the streets, mixing with their patrons' laughter, songs, and occasional dramatic outbursts. Summoned and Worldborn crowded the avenues, sharing drinks and tales that blurred the line between reality and fantasy.

Amid this lively atmosphere, the usual rhythm of the streets came to an abrupt halt.

Conversations trailed off, tankards paused mid-air, and heads turned in unison gazing at the ethereal beauty striding through the streets, her presence commanding attention like a goddess among mortals.

The woman, a Wisben, stood nearly six-foot-five, her stature alone making her impossible to ignore. Her sleek black hair, tied into a high ponytail, cascaded down her back, swaying gently with each purposeful step. Under the lantern's light, her caramel skin seemed to glow faintly, a warm contrast to her cold, piercing black eyes that surveyed her surroundings with the precision of a hawk.

Though dressed in simple leather armor, its practical design only enhanced her natural elegance, as if a goddess had tried, but failed to blend into mortal society by wearing local clothes. Her aura radiated a sharp dichotomy: the grace of royalty and the threat of someone who could end a life in a heartbeat.

"Who is she?" a Worldborn whispered, their voice barely audible over the collective awe.
"Some Summoned, maybe? She doesn't look like she's from around here," muttered another.
"Summoned don't walk like that," a third chimed in, staring unabashedly. "She's on a whole different level."

The woman—Ayumi, though only one person in the city would recognize her by name—ignored the whispers and stares. Her brow was furrowed, frustration simmering just beneath her composed exterior. Stepping into another training hall, her voice dropped to a muttered growl.
"I swear, if you do not show yourself..."

Back at Rooks & Sons, Kashi blissfully unaware of Ayumi's search, had been grinding away at the forge for just over two hours, his hands and arms moving with mechanical precision. The rhythmic clang of his hammer filled the workshop as he focused on meeting the next level requirement: crafting five iron ingots with 90% purity in a row. It was a feat most players in Live No Evil would struggle to achieve, especially at the lower levels when their skills and tools were barely functional.

But for Kashi, this was child's play, especially as he was working with a level 50 forge that severely cut down the refinement time.

"Most players would call me lucky," Kashi mused as he inspected his fourth ingot, its surface flawless. "They'd be wrong. This isn't luck—it's skill."

The thought of Razznik briefly crossed his mind again. That demon had drilled into him the value of true mastery—where luck had no place, only effort, and understanding. The stubborn refusal to rely on the system now paid dividends. While others would fumble with low-level forges and inconsistent refinement techniques, Kashi could walk into any blacksmith shop and be given the keys to the best forges and techniques.

The key lay in his 1000 Refinement Technique, a rare skill that allowed him to purify ores with unparalleled precision. On his first attempt at the forge, Kashi had hammered out a 95% pure ore—a feat that even Quavean, a seasoned Journeyman Blacksmith, admitted could not replicate if he dealt with ores on his level.

Quavean stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching as Kashi finished his final ingot. A satisfied grin spread across the older blacksmith's face.
"This Daeben... he's a diamond in the rough, alright."

Over the past two hours, Kashi had processed 46 ores, far exceeding his initial estimates. It wasn't just skill, either—he'd gained several attributes boosts from leveling and his successful crafts: +5 Strength, +3 Dexterity, and +2 Constitution.

Taking a brief moment to inspect his stats, Kashi grinned.

[Profile: Kashi]

[Name]: Kashi

[Bloodline]: Daeben (F-)

[Affiliation]: —

[Class]: —

[Level]: 0 [0/200xp]

[Experience Points]: 2,275

[Fame]: Unknown

[Coins]: 20 Syros

[Titles]: Scourge of Farukath [F-/S]

[Attributes]

Physical: 18

Strength: 23

Constitution: 15

Dexterity: 23

Speed: 10

Mental: 21

Intelligence: 12

Wisdom: 10

Charisma: 11

Will: 50

Luck: 12

[Skills]

Archery [F-] [1/20] (400xp)

[Professions]

Blacksmith [F] [2/20](5000xp)

1000 Refinement Technique [E-] [10/20] (10,000xp)

[Miscellaneous Skills]

Silent Step [F-] [2/10] (800xp)

Kashi accepted his promotion to F-tier Blacksmith with a satisfied nod, though his eyes quickly darted to the requirements for the next tier. F+ Tier demanded the crafting of five Common Weapons across swords, daggers, and spears. Each weapon was a test of skill and patience—a far cry from the relatively straightforward task of refining ore.

Yet Kashi felt no trepidation.

In terms of understanding what it took to be a blacksmith, there were few, if any, who could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Not just in Live No Evil, but even in the real world. Razznik's hard-earned mastery in King's Journey wasn't a fleeting memory. It was a blueprint etched into Kashi's very being. The realization that Razznik's lessons applied here brought a glimmer of confidence to his crimson eyes.

What he lacked, however, were raw stats.

Kashi leaned against the workbench, his muscles taut and arms slick with sweat. "Quavean," he asked, his tone casual but his intent razor-sharp. "How much Strength would I need to forge a Level 10 Iron Sword?"

Quavean paused mid-bite of a half-eaten apple, his eyes narrowing as he crunched the numbers in his head. "Hmm... for a Level 10 Iron Sword, I'd say around 40 Strength. Any less, and you'd struggle to wield the hammer properly, let alone shape the blade."

Kashi furrowed his brows, running the math in his head. With his initial Strength stat at 12, by reaching Level 10, he'd have accumulated 22 Strength from natural growth. Assuming the Blacksmith class added 10 to 20 Strength, he would barely scrape past the 40-point threshold.

It all added up. The system clearly intended for players to invest time as apprentices, gradually gaining the stats necessary to transition to crafting weapons. The progression path was sensible, logical—and utterly unappealing to Kashi.

"Most people would hit the field to grind levels now," Kashi muttered to himself, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "But when have I ever been most people?"

Kashi didn't immediately stand up. Instead, he took a moment to reflect on the past two hours.

He had to admit, he'd lost himself back there. The rhythmic strikes of his hammer, the fiery spray of sparks, the searing heat that kissed his charcoal-black skin—it had all consumed him. For a while, he'd forgotten his original goal, entranced by the hypnotic dance of hammer and flame.

His muscles screamed in protest, tearing and rebuilding themselves with every swing, but he didn't stop. With each strike, he shaped the destiny of lifeless ore into something with potential—a foundation for weapons and tools that would shape the future of the world.

Kashi reached out and held up one of the iron ingots he'd refined. It gleamed in the workshop's light, its surface smooth and flawless, unmarred by impurities. He had no idea what it would eventually become, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that he'd given it the best start possible.

"Blacksmithing," Kashi murmured, "isn't just about brute strength. It's patience, precision, and will." He traced a thumb over the cool surface of the ingot, his lips curling into a soft smile. "Every strike carries intent. Every flame breathes life into metal. This... this is art."

As if responding to his thoughts, a system prompt flashed before his eyes, its golden text glowing faintly against the backdrop of the forge.

[System Prompt]

Congratulations! You have unlocked a new feature: Comprehension

Blacksmith Comprehension [F-]: The Embers of Understanding

You have taken your first steps toward understanding the bond between creator and creation in the eternal flames. The faint spark of connection has been ignited, bridging the creator's will with lifeless material. Each swing of the hammer draws you closer to true comprehension."

Effects:

Passive: +50% boost to Will

Active: +100% boost to Will when forging

Kashi furrowed his brows at the system prompt. Comprehension? Will? These terms might as well have been in another language. Neither existed in King's Journey, leaving him adrift in uncharted waters.

"A 50% boost to Will sounds great," he muttered, scratching his head. "But... what the hell does Will even do?"

His confusion lingered, but he decided to shelve the matter for now. I'll figure it out later. Maybe it'll make sense when I start using it... whatever it is. With a shake of his head, he refocused his thoughts and stood, brushing soot off his leather apron.

"I'm heading out," Kashi announced.

Quavean, who was busy putting away tools, glanced up. "Out? Where to?"

"To learn the four major crafting professions: Blacksmithing, Carpentry, Weaving, and Leatherworking," Kashi said with a determined nod. "There are others, like Culinary, Alchemy, and Goldsmithing, that I'm curious about, but I just don't have the time to pursue everything."

Quavean froze mid-step, his eyebrows shooting up. Then he scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Didn't I warn you about biting off more than you can chew? Trying to juggle all of that at once could end in disaster."

Kashi shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'll manage."

The blacksmith studied the daeben for a moment, weighing his words. Finally, Quavean chuckled, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a shiny gold coin and flicked it toward Kashi. The daeben's reflexes kicked in, and he snatched it out of the air with ease.

Kashi blinked at the coin in his hand, his confusion evident. "What's this for?"

Quavean grinned, crossing his arms. "I'm investing in talent."

The answer caught Kashi off guard. "...You're serious?"

"As a heart attack." Quavean nodded toward the forge, where Kashi's refined ingots gleamed like trophies. "If your knowledge of the other professions is even half of what you've shown for blacksmithing, then I'd be a fool to doubt you. Talent like yours doesn't walk through my doors every day."

Quavean leaned in, lowering his voice slightly. "If you're not interested in mastering any single crafting profession but want the best teachers for each, I know a few people who owe me favors. Their shops are all within five minutes of each other. I'll tell you where to find them."

He gave Kashi the directions, describing the locations with the precision of a seasoned craftsman.

Kashi pocketed the coin with a rare glimmer of genuine gratitude. "Thanks, Quavean. I'll make sure this investment pays off."

Quavean smirked. "You'd better."

Turning to Miote, Kashi motioned for him to follow. "Let's hit the Weaver's shop first."

The feline grinned, his tail swaying lazily behind him as he trotted after Kashi. "Weaving, huh? Didn't peg you for the fabric-and-threads type. What's next? Knitting scarves?"

Kashi shot him a deadpan look. "You want to eat that tail of yours?"

Miote laughed, his voice echoing through the workshop as the duo exited.

The clang of the door shutting behind Kashi and Miote left an eerie silence in the forge. Quavean's jovial expression faded, replaced by a grim seriousness.

He walked to the workstation and picked up one of the iron ingots Kashi had forged. The edges were unnaturally smooth, their surface nearly flawless. Even by his seasoned standards, the craftsmanship was stunning.

From the shadows, his eldest son, Junior, stepped forward. "Dad..." he started hesitantly, his gaze lingering on the door Kashi had exited. "That guy... His will is... It's not normal. It's almost like he's touched—"

"Comprehension," Quavean finished, his voice heavy.

Junior nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. And he's not even aware of it, is he?"

Quavean shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "That's the scariest part. He doesn't even realize what he's doing."

Turning the ingot in his hands, Quavean sighed. "We might be witnessing the birth of a monster. If he keeps this up... I don't know if anyone can keep up with him."

He placed the ingot down with deliberate care, his gaze distant. "Enough for tonight. It's already way past closing time. Go to bed, Junior."

The younger man hesitated but finally nodded, his apprehension clear as he climbed the stairs.

Left alone in the workshop, Quavean cast one last glance at the pile of ingots Kashi had refined. The fire in the forge was dying, but the faint glow of the embers seemed to flicker in sync with a growing unease in Quavean's chest.

"Kid," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his beard. "What kind of life have you lived to forge a will like that?."

The embers dimmed, the forge growing cold, but the weight of Kashi's potential lingered in the air long after.