Chapter 15: Crafting

Sweat trickled down Lucian’s face as he carefully lifted the small hammer and tapped along the soles of the boots he was crafting. This is more tedious than I expected, but if what the merchant said is true, then it’ll all be worth it.

A memory surfaced. He had just returned from the guild after ensuring the Priestess and her party members made it back safely. She had wanted to thank him personally for going through all that trouble, but he had politely declined. There were more pressing matters on his mind.

After collecting his quest rewards—15 Gold and 1 Healing Potion—he’d grumbled his way back to the merchant’s estate. Two EXP short of a level-up. I should’ve killed something on the way back…

Upon entering, he was immediately greeted by the merchant, who was lounging in the living area. “Back already? I should have expected nothing less from—Oh my god! Do you need first aid?!” The man shot up from his chair, pointing at Lucian’s bloodied shoulder.

Lucian glanced at the wound, barely acknowledging it. “Oh, this? No, it’s already been taken care of by a Priestess at the guild.”

The merchant still looked concerned, but Lucian pressed on. “By the way, what’s this place called? The Priestess wanted to know where my room was so she could thank me, but I told her I was staying here. When she asked where exactly, I didn’t have an answer.”

The merchant blinked. “Oh. That’s right—I haven’t told you yet.” He dusted off his coat before continuing. “This place is officially called The Burberry Estate, though I doubt anyone still calls it that. If someone asks, just tell them you live by the large manor at the end of Talmar Haven Street.”

Lucian nodded. “Gotcha.” Then, without another word, he plopped onto the couch with a heavy sigh. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna craft something.”

The merchant raised an eyebrow. “Uh… from your menu?”

Lucian tapped away at his interface. “I mean, where else would I do it?”

The merchant gestured toward the window, motioning to the door across the courtyard. “There’s a crafting table and an anvil in that workshop. The tools there are practically begging for your hands to use them.”

Lucian hesitated. He glanced between the [Menu] floating before him and the workshop door. “But… this is so much faster.”

The merchant sighed, closing his book and setting it on the table before standing up. “I know it is,” he said, crossing the room. “But let me tell you why my family dominated the trade business long before you ever entered this world.”

The merchant pulled a small book from his breast pocket, flipping through its pages. Lucian watched closely, expecting to see numbers, trade routes, or maybe even some juicy guild gossip. Instead, the merchant cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

“I told my wife about my discovery, but she was reluctant to believe it. I don’t blame her. I was in disbelief, too. For years, we all thought that only outsiders had the ability to make high-quality gear from scratch. But it turns out… we can too!” The merchant cleared his throat again.

Lucian frowned. “Where are you going with this?”

“You’ll see.” The merchant grinned before continuing.

“I took some scraps from the shed and showed her. I made her a bracelet from some iron, a few flecks of gold, and a sapphire I won in a card game. I crafted it right in front of her eyes, and she was just as shocked as I was when I showed her the finished product. It was a Level 3 Bracelet. She took it off my hands, and we both knew what this meant. We could sell our handmade goods at a much higher price! Our family’s money troubles were over, and so were our troubles in the bedr— Ahem. That part isn’t important.”

Lucian blinked. “Wait. A Level 3 Bracelet?” His eyes flicked to the book. “Was that your father’s journal? How the hell did he pull that off?”

“My great-grandfather, actually,” the merchant corrected, slipping the book back into his pocket. “He discovered that crafting manually gives the crafter a much higher chance of producing high-level items from the start. It’s a trade secret our family has guarded for years.”

“Some even say,” the merchant added with a conspiratorial wink, “that legendary items can only be made by hand. The system doesn’t recognize finesse, only formulas. But finesse,” he held up a finger, “is where brilliance lives.”

Lucian raised an eyebrow. “And no one else figured that out? Sounds hard to believe.”

“But you were just about to use your Crafting skill, no?” The merchant smirked. “It’s human nature to take the easier path—especially when they don’t even realize another one exists.”

Lucian glanced toward the workshop across the courtyard. “No wonder you set all that up for me.”

The merchant beamed. “That’s right. Nothing but the best for my best buds!” He casually returned to his book as Lucian stepped past him, making his way through the courtyard.

At the workshop door, Lucian retrieved the key the merchant had given him and unlocked it once more. The moment he stepped inside, he frowned. Needs more light. For now, a torch would have to do.

Snapping back to the present, Lucian glared at the blazing torch near his workstation and cursed inwardly. Why did I have to use a torch? It’s so damn hot in here!

Sweat dripped down his forehead as he painstakingly wrapped a cord of leather around the base of the boot, securing it with precise, rhythmic taps of his hammer. Satisfied, he grabbed another cord and wrapped it just above the first, hammering it in place with the same careful effort. Finally, he held up the finished boots and inspected them.

[Crafting Successful! Level 2 Mastercraft Boots acquired!]

Lucian exhaled. Not Level 3… but better than Level 1. His gaze drifted toward the Master Shield, which rested on the anvil nearby. If only I’d known about this before…

“Those look mighty fine, sir.” The merchant peeked his head into the workshop, his eyes gleaming with approval. “Once you get the hang of making items from scratch, I’m sure you’ll be able to craft them at even higher levels.”

Lucian barely acknowledged him. Instead, he materialized the Master Core into his hand. “What do I do with this, then?”

The merchant stepped fully into the workshop, eyes widening at the sight of the glowing orb. The Master Core pulsed with a radiant yellow light, outshining the flickering torch. It was different from the last one—Lucian’s first Master Core had been a steady orange glow, but this one hummed with energy, almost syncing with his heartbeat.

“What is that?” The merchant’s awe quickly turned to discomfort. “That looks magnificent—dear lord, we need to get some ventilation in here.” He fanned himself with a handkerchief he’d produced from his breast pocket, sweat beading on his brow. Still, despite the sweltering conditions, his curiosity kept him firmly inside.

“It’s a Master Core,” Lucian said simply. He nodded toward the Master Shield resting atop the anvil. “Got this one from the Dan-gow. Used a similar one to make that.”

The merchant’s gaze snapped to the shield. His expression shifted from curiosity to sheer fascination. “I must say, I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t even know how to use it for crafting.” He turned back to Lucian. “How did you do it with the shield?”

Lucian scratched his head. “Used the Crafting Menu.” He shrugged. “Then it just kinda… appeared in my hand.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The merchant rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Why not try placing it next to what you wish to craft it with? You do want to improve these boots, yes?” He stepped forward, moving the Master Shield aside to clear space on the anvil.

Lucian hesitated for a moment, then picked up his freshly crafted Mastercraft Boots and placed them beside the Master Core. Together, they stood side by side on the anvil.

Lucian and the merchant stared. And waited.

Nothing happened.

Lucian sighed. This is ridiculous. The heat was starting to get to him, his patience wearing thin. Frustrated, he reached out to put the Master Core back into his inventory—

—BLINDING LIGHT flooded the workshop.

The entire room vanished in an overwhelming golden glow. Lucian instinctively shut his eyes, feeling the immense energy surge around him.

By the time the light faded and their vision adjusted, something new sat atop the anvil. Lucian’s breath caught. The boots had transformed. Gone were the plain brown leathers he had just crafted. In their place was a pair of jet-black boots, pulsing with a faint yellow glow. A wolf emblem was embedded on the side—the same insignia that marked the Master Shield.

Lucian picked them up as the [System] notification popped into view.

[Level 2 Master Boots Acquired!]

Master Boots, Level 2

* Triple Jump and Air Stomp unlocked

* Jump Height increased

* +4 Speed, +2 Resilience

Amazing! It even retained the Mastercraft Boots’ level! And those stats are nothing to sneeze at!

Lucian stared at the boots in his hands, the weight of progress sinking in. This wasn’t just about stats—it was proof that he was getting stronger. That he could craft something meaningful in this world. Maybe even protect people with it. For the first time since he landed here, he didn’t feel like a passenger.

The merchant applauded Lucian, beaming with excitement. “Incredible work! Even from here, I can tell those boots are something else! I can’t wait to see what you craft next!”

Lucian grinned. “Neither can I.” His smile faded just as quickly. “But I’ll need to find another Master Beast for that.”

* * *

Lucian’s hammer came down onto the anvil. Again. And again. And again.

The ringing impact of steel on steel reverberated through the workshop, echoing out through the open door and into the courtyard. Sweat trickled down his brow, dripping onto the hot metal below—sizzling like an egg hitting pavement on a summer day.

Raising his hammer for the final strike, he brought it down hard—the finishing blow. Then, moving quickly, he seized the glowing-hot steel with his tongs and plunged it into water. Steam erupted, billowing into the workshop and spilling into the open air.

From the mist, Lucian emerged. In his hands, he held a Level 2 Javelin. Lifting it overhead, he called out, “Number… what is it now? Twenty-one! Who’s number twenty-one?”

The courtyard stirred. A young man stepped forward, his gear a complete mess—a horned helmet, a thin robe, a quiver filled with rocks, and a spellbook strapped onto a pair of heavy greaves. He held up a small slip of paper with 21 scrawled on it and traded it for the javelin.

Lucian smirked. “Hope it works well for… whatever it is you do.”

The man turned the javelin over in his hands, eyes wide. “Wow! This is way better than what I’ve been carrying for the past few months! Thanks, mister!”

“All in a day’s work,” Lucian said, stretching his arms. Then, turning back to the courtyard, he called, “Alright, who’s number twenty-two?”

The courtyard was packed. People sat, stood, and milled about. Some waited by the arches, others cleared patches of dead vegetation to sit comfortably. A few had even claimed spots inside the dry fountain. Every single one of them was waiting for Lucian to call their number. Then, amidst the hum of conversation—

“Excuse me! Um, excuse me please!”

The crowd shifted. People parted, making way as a small voice echoed through the sea of adventurers.

“Sorry! Sorry! Oh—that’s your foot! Sorry about your foot! Pardon me, please!”

Apologies continued as the unseen speaker weaved through the crowd—until finally, a tiny woman emerged at the front. She was half Lucian’s height, drowning in an oversized Wizard’s hat, with a staff clutched in one hand and a spellbook tucked under the other. She looked up at him with wide, eager eyes. “Hi! Name’s Aurora! Can you made—make—me a small necklace, please?”

Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence, and her cheeks flushed crimson. But she stood her ground, adjusting her oversized hat and holding her head high. There was determination behind those glasses—shaky, but real. Lucian had seen that same look on Raven once. The first time she dared him to keep up.

Lucian raised an eyebrow. “One necklace? That shouldn’t take long.” A wave of relief swept through the crowd behind her. “Did you bring the materials with you?” he asked.

“Yes! I do!” Aurora exclaimed, before immediately second-guessing herself. “Did—I did! But I’m missing… missing a precious stone, though.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Lucian replied, not even looking up as he adjusted his tools. “I’ve got some precious stones in the back—but that’ll cost you extra.”

“That is fine,” Aurora said with a quick nod. She pushed up her glasses, placed her book gently on the ground, and opened her [Menu]. “How much will it be?”

“Depends on the stone you want.”

She hesitated for a moment. “Do you have a diamond in stock?”

“Not at the moment,” Lucian admitted. “Best I can do is a sapphire.”

“I’ll take it.”

Lucian did a quick calculation on a scrap of paper. “That’ll come up to 52 Gold.”

Aurora squinted at him, clearly skeptical. Lucian turned the paper around, showing her the breakdown. “… Oh. That does add up.” With a satisfied nod, she materialized a pouch of 52 Gold and handed it over.

Lucian took it, tossing it into his [Inventory]. “Alright, one necklace, coming up.” With that, he stepped back into the workshop.

Lucian’s days fell into a steady rhythm. Someone would place an order and he’d make it while the crowd around him waited their turn. At first, things were slow. On the first day, only two people showed up. By the next day, more than twice that. Then twice that again. Eventually, the demand grew so much that some had to return the next day just to get their orders fulfilled.

He crafted maces, spears, longswords, and even sewed together mantles. He forged hammers, boots, and shields. At one point, he assembled an entire suit of steel armor. Gold rolled in steadily, stacking up from his growing clientele. And Lucian knew exactly where he wanted to spend it.

As he handed off a double-headed war axe to a satisfied customer, he turned to the merchant and shoved a large sack of Gold into his arms. “Here. This should be enough, right?”

The merchant, who had been busy serving drinks and snacks to the guests, blinked in confusion. “Enough for what?”

Lucian scoffed. “To help fix this place up.” His voice came out louder than necessary, catching the attention of the gathered adventurers.

The merchant stared at him, baffled still. “You’re serious?”

“You’re letting me stay here rent-free.” Lucian shrugged. “Least I could do.”

A wave of amused chatter rippled through the courtyard.

“What a kind man.”

“An absolute angel of a person.”

“What a beauty of an axe this is!”

Lucian turned at the comment, recognizing his most recent customer. “Well?” He smirked. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” The man gave the axe a few dramatic practice swings, making whooshing sounds with his mouth. “I can do some real damage with this baby.” He was about to leave when Lucian called out again.

“Hey—you look experienced out there. Know anything about Master Beasts?”

The man scratched his chin. “Master Beasts? Nah. But that Levy Gorsky guy—he’s the best Beast Hunter in the guild. Maybe you should ask him.”

Same old answer.

Lucian forced a smile. “Alright, I will!” He waved the man off. “Thanks for coming!”

Turning back to the workshop, his gaze caught the clock on the wall. He sighed and turned toward the crowd. “Sorry, everyone! We’ll have to clear out now. It’s getting late, and I don’t want to be too much of a nuisance to the owner.”

A few groans of disappointment rippled through the courtyard, but most nodded in understanding. “What a nice dude,” someone muttered. “Pausing his business just to make sure his landlord isn’t inconvenienced.”

Lucian chuckled to himself. “Don’t worry! We’ll continue tomorrow!” he called as the crowd thinned out.

A tap on the shoulder pulled his attention away. The merchant stood beside him, grinning. “You know, it’s fine if you keep your business running late into the night.”

Lucian shook his head. “Yeah, but that would interfere with your evening tea time and midnight snack. I wouldn’t forgive myself if either of those experiences were less than stellar.”

The merchant gasped. “You’re such a nice roomie!” Then, as if struck by inspiration, he clapped his hands together. “A roommate and a best friend… A best roomie… A bestie!”

Lucian’s eye twitched. Ugh, I hate that word. His thoughts drifted for a moment. Hmmm… I wonder how Raven’s doing. He glanced up at the orange sky, which was darkening by the second. Bah! No time for that. Need to figure out how to find more Master Beasts. The first one was accidental… and the last one was just dumb luck.

The sky reminded him of the first night he met her—sharp tongue, sharper blade. He hadn’t realized how quiet things felt without her constant commentary. It was annoying… how much he’d gotten used to having her around.

“Got time for one more?”

The voice came from beside the workshop. Lucian turned to see a hooded woman standing near the entrance. His shoulders tensed. The voice was familiar.

“Nope. Sorry. Gotta close up for the night.”

The woman tilted her head. “Really? No time even for an old friend?” She turned, pulling her hood down. Raven stood there, hands on her hips, smirking.

Lucian just stared. For way too long.

Her smile faltered. She shifted slightly, starting to wobble under the weight of his silence. “Well?” she huffed. “Say something!”

Lucian didn’t say anything—not yet. He was too busy processing the relief he hadn’t expected to feel. For all her sarcasm, Raven made things feel… real. Like he wasn’t just some guy roleplaying a hero. She brought gravity. And she brought trouble. But more than that—she brought him back to himself.

Lucian sighed, walking past her toward the workshop. He grabbed a broom from behind the door. “Hey, Raven.” He started sweeping. “There’s tea on the way, if you’re interested.”