Royal Road
SomethingOtherThanRain
Blacksmith vs. the System by Dirk Grey
Chapter 1
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"Hey, Devon, I have your letter as well," the postman said even as he walked through the workshop floor, passing around parcels and collecting coins as payment. "You have the payment, right?"
"Five silver. Right, Sam?" I asked, but his expression showed that it was not the case.
"No, the rates went up, now it's six," he said.
"Again?" I asked even as I dropped my hammer, a frown on my face. "It's getting too much. How the hell are we supposed to communicate with the other enclaves if it goes like this?"
He sighed even as he looked at me. "It can't be helped, boy. Another outpost has fallen, so the letters from the coast have to be moved through another distant post. We're not the only courier service that increased the cost."
I reached into my pouch and checked, but I knew what I would find. Five silver, and several coppers. I blushed even as I begged. I hated it, but the letter was too important. "How about you let me pay the old price? Say that you promised or something? I'll pay you extra once —"
"Maybe you should stop, Devon," Sam said with a sigh, his pitying tone hurting me worse than the time I smashed my hand with a hammer. "How many times has it been?"
"It's different this time. I can feel it," I answered. "I promised that I would work for free. With my education, they are getting a bargain. You know that…" But my confidence didn't help as Sam passed me a letter, one that was too thin to be good news.
I checked the letter, only to throw it into the fires of my forge immediately. "Another rejection," Sam asked.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. Not when he spoke in that kind tone, like I was a stupid child. I said nothing as I pulled my pouch and passed five silvers to him, all the money I had been able to save after a month of working overtime. "I'll find you next month. I have another admission prepared. I heard they were setting up a new think-tank in the ruins of Cleveland."
"Maybe you should stop working on the workshop and start going into dungeons. It has been three years, and you're still not even level 10, and you know the walls of the town are hardly —"
"That's enough Sam. I'm sure you have a lot of garbage to carry," I cut him off sharply. I hated myself even as I said that. Sam was just trying to look out for me, one of the few people that even bothered to do so. He didn't deserve my anger.
He wasn't the one who had refused to acknowledge my abilities because of a stupid fluke.
I hated his kind, understanding gaze even more. "See you around, Devon. Try not to kill yourself with your stubbornness."
I sighed even as I grabbed my hammer once again, and pulled the red-hot sword from the flames. I smashed it again and again, the way the sword trembled under my hands providing a good distraction. I used to hate repairing stuff when I had first started, but after three years, it had turned into a hobby. A good way to keep my hands occupied while I focused on reworking the formulas.
But, today, I found it difficult to lose myself in the comforting world of math, not when I had to deal with another rejection. It hurt … though, it was the stupid reasoning of it that hurt. I would have accepted it if it was just about my capabilities, rather than my Class.
I had been rejected because I was a Blacksmith. A common class, one that didn't even give a full range of Stats. Just Strength, Vitality, and Dexterity.
It was why I didn't even bother reading the latest rejection letter more than a sentence, where they told me that my Class disqualified me from any kind of position in a think-tank.
Nothing else mattered. Not the fact that I had graduated college when I was sixteen, with double degrees in Math and Sociology. My doctorate in mathematical sociology didn't matter, or the fact that I had been the leading name of my field before I even hit twenty-two.
Not when the Cataclysm hit, bringing the System along. Suddenly, no one cared about my groundbreaking papers that had the potential to reshape the socio-economic structure of the next century.
Just because I didn't have Intelligence as a stat. Another sign of how our society degraded since the Cataclysm hit. Everyone chased bigger numbers to fight against the Cataclysm. A group of golden heroes, each identified by a mystic source of power and empowered through a convenient, easy-to-use interface, fighting heroically to stem the tide.
It was a wet dream for objectivist individualism that even Ayn Rand couldn't comprehend.
I slammed the hammer again, watching the sparks fill the room. Truthfully, I might have accepted my defeat with grace had Intelligence actually made people Intelligent. But, no, it did not, not any more than Charisma actually making people charismatic.
For the last three years, starting merely a week after the Cataclysm, I had interviewed almost a thousand people with Intelligence — sometimes openly, but mostly disguising it as a conversation at the bar while plying them with drinks — until I had developed a solid understanding of how it worked.
It functioned more like a computer had shown in someone's mind. Perfect for finding the square root of six different ten-digit numbers before multiplying them in less than a second, or calculating the Pi to the ten-thousand digit immediately … but not helpful for actually working on the science behind it.
It was like hiring someone as a researcher just because they had their own expensive computer. Most of what they could do, I could easily replicate as long as I had a decent computer… Too bad the electronics didn't work properly anymore, anything more fragile than a calculator had long fried during the initial days of Cataclysm, taking most of the infrastructure along with it.
"I just need an assistant with Intelligence, and I can still be useful," I growled in frustration as I continued slamming, the usual lack of calm as I worked not helping. Still, even as my focus wavered, my Repair was doing most of the work.
I paused when most of the surface work had been completed, touched the hilt, letting my sole perk Analyze do its work.
The inner structure of the sword flashed in a moment, showing me that there was still a subtle crack in its surface, one that would weaken the efficiency of its enchantment. How it would weaken, or why, I didn't know.
There was no impression that was fed back by Repair, which didn't include any magical repair knowledge, even if it was proficiency level 24, almost about to get a second perk.
No, I learned that through repeated practice, even though I ended up ruining several weapons in the process. Sharpness Enchantment was a simple one, just several lines of condensed mana, and it worked properly as long as I resolved the blockage.
I finished repairing it before I quenched the sword in mana water, another use of my [Analyze] confirming that it had been properly solved.
It was rare for someone to have a skill with such a high level, one benefit of the endless overtime I had pulled, trying to afford the ever-rising courier fees.
I sighed as I left my private forge room, and started walking toward the desk, carrying only one weapon. I frowned when I realized which supervisor was currently manning the desk. Mark. Not exactly my favorite person. "Only one weapon, again?" he asked with a nasty smirk.
"As usual, special order," I said even as I put the weapon down. "The structural damage is repaired completely, and the enchantment should be working as usual."
"Perfect. Let's see how much money our resident genius deserves for it," he replied with glee as he flipped open a book, and made a show of checking the numbers. "Wow, a whole sixty copper. You're rich! I'm sure, this time you can buy that perk reset stone. I heard that the last one went for three gold."
"Thank you for keeping an eye on me, Mark, I appreciate it," I answered, trying to keep my voice cool. His nasty laugh showed that I wasn't exactly successful. The fact that he was right only rankled me more.
As I walked back to my forge, I could see the others visiting the desk, and none of them carried less than five pieces of gear with them, despite the fact that none of them had their [Repair] as high as mine. All because, when Repair reached Level 10, I chose Analyze over [Efficient Repair], arrogant enough to plan forward how it would help me after I got a proper research job once the society started to recover.
Even if it didn't, I assumed that the ability to repair enchanted weapons would allow me to make much more money. It looked like it would … until a dungeon nearby started dropping repair spells for mages. Just like that, the high-end repair market was gone. And, as the number of mages that could cast it continued to increase, even that was at risk.
I needed to reassign my perk. Something I could have achieved easily a year ago. That time, Perk Reset stones — the cheapest way of achieving it — went for about sixty silvers, while I was able to save almost ten silver a week, which I wasted by hiring people to collect some data, arrogant enough to think that I was getting a head start for my job as a researcher.
Now, my [Repair] was almost Level 25, and once it reached there, the Perk Reset stone would turn useless, since it only worked on the last Perk received.
Improving skills got harder and harder, especially without renewed challenges, but even my most optimistic calculation — as a function of quality, work time, and a sudden exponential spike for the practice required to reach the next stage — suggested I had less than a month before I needed to purchase it.
Or I would get stuck with [Analyze] forever.
When I arrived at my private forge, instead of picking another weapon, I extinguished the fire, grabbed my hammer — the only thing I owned in the entire forge — and walked out of the workshop.
For once, I decided to cut the day short.
I had an important decision to make.
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Royal Road
SomethingOtherThanRain
Blacksmith vs. the System by Dirk Grey
Chapter 2
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I liked having a nice glass of white wine while making monumental decisions, preferably a French Riesling of a decent vintage.
Unfortunately, it was not a luxury I was able to afford any more. Pre-cataclysm goods had long turned into an incredible luxury, even the cheapest box of wine would probably go for a gold coin during an auction. I didn't think I could survive even seeing the price tag of my favorite vintage for such occasions.
Not when I couldn't afford even the local moonshine. With only forty copper in my pocket, I would be skipping dinner for the next week and instead eat more during lunch — the greatest, and only perk my current job offered.
I took the long road back home, enjoying the bustle of the streets. It was a rare treat, as I was usually working during the day. And, it was rare to see people on the streets during the night. While it had been almost three weeks since a curfew had been declared, people were still reticent walking around during the night, afraid of another breach.
Not exactly an unjustified fear. The monsters were far more active during the night, and while the town had both walls and multiple patrols, they weren't exactly a guarantee of safety. If they were, the last emergency curfew wouldn't have been just weeks away.
I let my finger dance at the handle of my hammer even as I examined the buildings that were a mixture of wood and stone, with no signs of pre-Cataclysm architecture. They had been long destroyed during the first months of the disaster, the rebar steel in the walls far more valuable than anything else.
Though, they weren't the only things that had been destroyed. Anything that contained metal had been long ruined, usually cast into bars, forged into weapons that had been demolished just as quickly as they were made.
That trend finally stopped after the discovery of the first System store, allowing for the exchange of goods and materials. It wasn't cheap, but an enchanted sword in the hands of a high-level warrior was far more valuable than a thousand held by others.
The discovery of the System store was the first real hit for the production classes. Before, we were a critical part of the defense. Not just Blacksmiths, but Farmers, Carpenters, and many others. After the System store had been discovered just fifty miles away, that changed. We had been first reduced to repairing, and even that was at risk.
"Such fascinating developments," I muttered. Despite all the problems it had created for me, I was still captivated by the situation. After all, I was still one of the premier sociologists in the world. It was my passion to understand how human behavior shapes and is shaped by various social aspects.
The irony was that, even as humanity was going through its single greatest change, I neither had the time nor the data to understand what was going on. And, no one cared about it, because my class didn't have Intelligence as a stat.
When I arrived at my home — a tiny room that was more similar to a prison cell than a residence — I found a paper hanging on my door.
A notice, declaring that, by next week, my rent would be increased from three silvers a week to five silvers. A very steep increase. "That might as well happen," I growled even as I ripped it off. The room was already near the wall, and absent of anything that could be framed as luxury other than being a single-person residence — including a window.
But, I couldn't live in a shared room. Not because I would hate it, but because I needed the space. I opened the door, carefully shuffling through piles of paper that covered every inch of the room, each half as tall as me.
The reason I had to live alone. My library.
Everything I was able to find as I went from home to home while people destroyed every inch of the old buildings. I didn't know if anyone else bothered to save old books, but even if they did, they were probably hoarding them as much as I did.
While the pre-Cataclysm wine went for exaggerated prices, the same wasn't true for the old books — for any other classical art form, but those I didn't care as intensely — which had been mostly treated as a nuisance.
Instead, people cared about the new books, ones that had been either acquired through dungeons or purchased through the System store, describing the secrets of the magic, skills, and perks, some magical enough to directly improve the skill proficiency of anyone that was lucky to read it.
Compared to those, some old college textbooks weren't particularly valuable.
Getting a shared room would mean that I had to get rid of them all.
"God, I need a drink," I growled as I threw myself on the bed, burying my face into the pillow. I had too many decisions to make. The first one was whether to continue applying to the newly established research centers, hoping that someone would allow me to work there. I was willing to work for free as long as I could get a closet to sleep in. I was even willing to bribe someone — unfortunately, I lacked the money to do so.
Focusing on acquiring the Perk Reset stone was another option. If I worked hard enough and sold all my assets — including my hammer, I thought even as my fingers brushed against the handle — I might be able to afford it before my skill got improved. Even then, it was a close call. The latest price increase had truly surprised me.
Then, of course, there was my nascent library. The increase in rent meant that just to maintain my room was enough to cut my weekly savings by almost half.
I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the sudden, suffocating weight. Desperate, I reached my mind, calling the System, seeing eight lines of text that were more important than anything else I had done in the past, and would do in the future.
[Blacksmith - Level 7]
[Health 210/210]
[Vitality 14 / Strength 14 / Dexterity 7]
[Skills (3/5)
Repair (Common) - 24 [Analyze]
Forge (Common) - 8
Overhead Strike (Basic) - 4 ]
"Depressing," I muttered even as I dismissed the screen. None of the information there was a mystery, or even changed recently. With the sole exception of [Repair], the last time one of my skills had was a year ago, when I was forced to fight against a runaway monster, and it was even longer before I actually leveled up.
I neglected leveling up for two reasons. For one, it wasn't really valuable when it came to repair work. Most of the time, repairing a weapon only required a fraction of my Strength, and increasing it more wasn't exactly a priority.
Of course, if it was just the relative uselessness, I would have still worked to level up. Extra power and health were not something I would turn up my nose in such a dangerous world. But, there were two problems with it.
The first problem was simple. The stronger someone, the higher the cost of living. The higher levels required more energy, which meant more food consumption, preferably higher quality with more energy density. That alone was problematic enough.
Then, there was the fact that it was expensive for a Blacksmith to level up. The easiest spots to level up had long been monopolized by the stronger groups, both the dungeons and the wilderness.
Anyone that wanted to level up either had to pay for the access, or brave the wilderness as a part of a party. Considering my financial situation was my biggest problem, the first was not an option. It was at one point, but I had prioritized my research over it, which now lay in a corner of my library, gathering dust.
The second wasn't exactly any better. There were only two groups that would accept a low-level Blacksmith, the absolute amateurs that would most likely die in the wilderness…
And, exploration teams.
These were experts who pushed into the wilderness, searching for mines, new hunting spots, and even occasionally connecting with other towns. They had been critical in reestablishing the connection with the rest of the state after the Cataclysm, where even the geography had been reshaped, constantly penetrating through the wilderness.
Unfortunately, while they had achieved a lot, their death rate wasn't too much lower than the amateur parties. They might be well-equipped professionals, but the dangers they faced were much higher. In the world after the Cataclysm, the unknown meant danger.
But, also, potential riches. A good discovery would mean an incredible payday, one where even the meager share that would be given to me as a Blacksmith would be measured in gold rather than silver. If I had enough gold, I could not only purchase everything I needed, but also afford to move to one of the new cities with the research organizations, getting one step closer to success.
I always avoided that, hoping to find myself a place that fit my skills rather than my [Skills], but maybe it was a mistake.
Maybe I had been too arrogant.
With a deep sigh, I stood up. It was time to make a change.
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