After hunting several stone golems, Ren finally found what he was looking for—the elusive meteor ore.
Staring at the shimmering rock in his hands, Ren couldn't help but grin. "Finally! Now I just need to get out of this gloomy place and get myself a proper sword."
However, there was a slight problem. He had no idea how to forge a sword.
Ren wasn't a forger, nor did he know one personally. Back in the novel, there were plenty of talented blacksmiths around the protagonist, some even considered top-tier. But Ren didn't want to rely on them.
Among them, one stood out—a hot-tempered, muscle-headed girl who was best friends with the famous alchemist heroine. And just like her friend, Ren didn't like her.
Why?
Because she was annoying.
Not only did she have a hair-trigger temper, but if she didn't like you, she wouldn't hesitate to beat the crap out of you first and ask questions later.
In the original novel, the protagonist had to spar with her countless times just to befriend her. Only then did she reluctantly agree to forge equipment for him. Since she was also a heroine, Ren immediately ruled her out.
No way was he dealing with that walking disaster.
Instead, he decided to visit a certain stingy dwarf—the legendary yet reclusive blacksmith hidden from the world.
Sure, convincing him to make a sword wouldn't be easy, but Ren had confidence in his negotiation skills… and by negotiation, he meant persistence and mild trickery.
---
Exiting the Shadow Vein Caverns, Ren was immediately greeted by the sight of a bustling market.
Various stalls lined the streets, selling everything from potions to weapons and armor. Hunters and adventurers haggled loudly with merchants, some selling their freshly harvested monster parts while others browsed for better gear.
In this world, hunting was one of the most respected professions, and it showed. Around every major hunting ground, entire mini-cities formed—filled with inns, restaurants, public baths, and entertainment areas for travelers and warriors alike.
Despite the lively atmosphere, Ren didn't stop anywhere. He walked straight toward the bigger market, ignoring all distractions.
He carefully made his way through the maze of shops until he reached a secluded alleyway. The difference in atmosphere was immediate—the crowds thinned, and the vibrant storefronts were replaced with old, rundown shops that looked like they hadn't seen a customer in years.
Among them stood one particularly shabby-looking store. The wooden sign above the door was so faded that the name was unreadable, and the whole place looked abandoned.
But Ren knew better.
Without hesitation, he stepped inside.
The moment he entered, he was greeted by the sight of dust-covered shelves lined with rusted weapons. A strong scent of alcohol filled the air, mixed with the distinct metallic tang of iron.
And there, sitting lazily in the corner with a large mug of beer in hand, was the man—er, dwarf—he had come to see.
Grumpy, stingy, and ridiculously talented.
Meet Baldric, the legendary yet miserly dwarf.
Baldric was a stout, broad-shouldered dwarf with thick, muscular arms that could hammer steel into submission. His hands were calloused from decades of forging, his bushy beard looked like it hadn't been combed in years, and his piercing blue eyes held the wisdom (and irritation) of a man who had no patience for nonsense.
At the moment, he looked thoroughly unimpressed with life, sipping his beer as if nothing in the world could possibly be worth his effort.
Ren paused, taking in the scene.
He still couldn't understand why a legendary blacksmith would run such a rundown shop in a remote alley.
"Probably one of those classic reclusive-master tropes," he mused. "Or maybe he's just really bad at customer service."
In the novel, the protagonist only stumbled upon this shop by pure luck—chasing a thief through the alleyways, he accidentally ran inside while trying to escape. That was the only reason he even met Baldric in the first place.
Despite the sorry state of the shop, Ren knew Baldric wasn't some washed-up forger. No, the dwarf was just incredibly stingy and refused to display any of his valuable items.
Honestly, Ren sometimes wondered if Baldric was part goblin.
Players had even dubbed him The Legendary Wandering Stingy Dwarf since, despite his incredible skills, he barely showed up in the story.
Only appearing once in the entire novel.
"Well, time to make history," Ren muttered before clearing his throat.
"Good day, sir," he said politely.
Baldric barely looked up. "What do you want?" he grumbled.
"I need a custom-made weapon. Can you make one for me?" Ren asked, still keeping his polite tone.
Baldric took a slow sip of his beer before giving Ren a bored glance. "Go home, brat. Shop's closed."
Ren blinked. That was fast.
Still, he wasn't about to give up that easily.
"Please, sir. It's really important," he insisted.
Baldric sighed heavily, as if Ren's mere presence was exhausting him. "What kind of weapon are you looking for?"
Ren grinned and pulled out the meteor ore from his space ring. The shimmering rock immediately caught Baldric's attention, though the dwarf tried to act disinterested.
"Hah. That thing? Just a useless rock. It won't make a good sword. Tell you what, kid—just buy one of my swords instead. I'll take that rock and a little extra coin as payment," Baldric said in his most convincing tone.
Ren stared at him.
Then he smirked.
"Oh? Is that so?" Ren raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to believe that?"
Baldric took another sip of his beer. "How should I know what you believe? I ain't a mind reader."
"But I can read expressions," Ren shot back, leaning forward. "And yours says that rock isn't as useless as you're pretending it is."
There was a brief silence.
Finally, Baldric let out a gruff chuckle. "Hmph. Fine, you got me. I don't have time for word games anyway." He stretched his arms before holding out a hand. "Show me the damn ore."
Ren handed it over, watching as Baldric examined it with great interest. The dwarf's eyes gleamed for a split second before he quickly masked his expression.
"Well, well," Baldric muttered. "Meteor ore, huh? Brat, you've got some good luck. Where'd you find this?"
"I found it lying on the road," Ren replied with a straight face.
Baldric gave him a look that clearly said, Do I look like an idiot?
"Hmph. Whatever. You're lucky, kid. Only someone like me could forge a proper weapon from this," Baldric grinned. "Follow me. And since I'm in a good mood, I'll even give you some good wine."
Ren fist-pumped internally. Mission successful.
---
Baldric's smithy was a massive workshop filled with the roar of furnaces and the rhythmic clanging of metal. The air was thick with heat, and mechanical bellows tirelessly fed the forge's flames. Tools, half-finished weapons, and stacks of metal ingots were scattered around the workbenches.
"Alright, kid," Baldric said, cracking his knuckles. "Show me your sword skills. I need to see your fighting style before I forge anything."
Ren performed a few basic swings, showing off his current level of swordsmanship.
Baldric scratched his beard. "Hmph. Your swordsmanship is crap. I'll make something that fits your level. You can upgrade it later when you stop embarrassing yourself."
Ren scowled, but before he could argue, Baldric handed him a cup of wine.
"Here. Drink this while I work."
Ren looked at the cup. It was a deep purple, almost black, and smelled rich and fruity.
Wait… isn't this the famous 100-year-old blueberry wine?
In the novel, the protagonist never even got a weapon from Baldric—he only walked away with this single cup of rare wine.
Well, too bad for the protagonist.
Ren downed the whole thing in one gulp.
The moment he did, a rush of energy surged through his body, filling him with newfound strength. His mana skyrocketed.
Then, everything went black.
Meanwhile, Baldric was already at work, grinning like a madman.
"Time to make something legendary."