Before sunrise, Aiden opened his eyes to the heavy silence that filled his room. That silence was familiar to him, like an old companion reminding him of his past life. He quickly got out of bed, having learned long ago that waking up before others gave him an advantage, even if it was small. He splashed his face with cold water that carried the sting of ice, as if trying to wash away the remnants of dreams he couldn't remember, then proceeded to carefully make his bed, as if preparing himself for an imminent battle. This was a habit ingrained in him since his mercenary days, and despite the changing times and faces, he never let it go.
He approached the window covered with a thin layer of ice. He wiped it with his hand, revealing the scene of the city's streets shrouded in mist. The fog looked like a faint veil wrapping around the city, hiding its dark secrets. Under the light of magical stones, shadows danced like silent ghosts, while the stones flickered in pale yellow hues at irregular intervals, as if watching the world from above with a hidden eye. This scene had little effect on Aiden; he knew well that those lights were nothing but an illusion, adding a false sense of security to a city that hid merciless brutality in its dark corners.
Since this city was located on the border, a nighttime curfew had been imposed from 9 PM until 8 AM. During the day, the activities concentrated in its bustling streets, but the night was never entirely empty. In the darkness, shadows moved in secrecy: thefts, murders, and shady deals were made in forgotten corners. The black market, held once every three months in the Iron Fortress city, was the most notable event of the city's night.
Aiden whispered to himself as he watched the dense fog: "Only two weeks left before the black market opens. I must prepare well." But he felt a sense of disdain for those words. The black market wasn't just a place to sell contraband; it was a battlefield where blood mixed with money, where only the smart and strong survived. It was the perfect stage for chaos. He also remembered that during the opening of the black market, a riot would break out in Iron Fortress city, and the city would be attacked by monsters.
His tasks for the coming days were clear in his mind, yet they felt like a series of harsh challenges: meeting the blacksmith, seeking revenge and stealing money, entering the Thousand Miles Forest Dungeon, which was supposed to be entered by one of the villains. However, the author had backed out of this idea because his entry would have made him equal to the hero in the final stage, causing the hero to face two options: either kill him or face the risks.
As for the black market, he needed to exploit the chaos to gain as many benefits as possible. But the most important task was something else: continuous training.
"If there's chaos, I'll make it bigger." Aiden watched the nearly dead city streets, a sharp glint in his eyes. He wanted to make this world even more chaotic than it already was, turning the city into a bigger meat grinder for both humans and monsters.
But first, he had to finish the task issued by the system. He looked at the system screen.
[Mission: Start Daily Training]
Push-ups: 100/0
Squats: 100/0
Plank: 5 minutes/0
Running: 5 kilometers/0
Reward:
Increased stats
Despite the only reward being an increase in stats, Aiden, who sensed his stats would rise, did not feel disappointed. Skills could be gained at any time.
Aiden murmured quietly: "Status."
[Name: Aiden]
Titles: The Lonely Traveler (You walk alone in any time and place. You are protected from intrusion and identification. You are always a lonely traveler.)
Profession: Not Awakened.
Status: Calm as a lake, Malnutrition (Due to hunger and malnutrition, your stats are low. If not treated, your capabilities will be affected, so move fast.)
Stats:
Strength: 6
Speed: 8
Endurance: 6
Mana: Not Awakened. (Still a weak chicken.)
Unique Skills:
Future Sight (Level 1): You can see the future for one minute. (How can a weak chicken like you have a unique skill? This is due to the love of your friends. Always train to use this skill and don't let dust accumulate on it.)
Appraisal (Level 1): Using this, you can appraise anything and know all the information, whether it's about a person, animal, or materials.
Inventory: Open.
Missions: Open (Mission Issued: Hurry and start the task.)
Points: 0.
Although his stats had only increased by two points, Aiden felt an increase in his strength. He realized that the concept of stat points couldn't be measured by the usual standards; one point could make a significant difference.
Aiden began training before the tavern downstairs opened. He continued training for four hours. When he finished, he lay on the ground, gasping and sweating profusely, but he noticed that he didn't collapse like the previous day. Despite the exhaustion, he felt better.
He got up with difficulty, but he hadn't completed the task yet, and hadn't received the reward. He looked at the mission screen:
[Mission: Start Training]
Push-ups: 100/100
Squats: 100/100
Plank: 5 minutes/5
Running: 5 kilometers/0
Reward:
Increased stats
The running was the remaining part. He took off his shirt to wipe the sweat, noticing some muscle lines starting to form on his body. He went downstairs where the tavern had opened. He ordered a quick breakfast, then went out to finish his run.
After completing the run through the streets and alleys of the city, he felt a new surge of power in his body. The sensation was almost addictive to him. He took a deep breath and said, "This feels good... the feeling of your strength rising every day. Now, shall we go to the blacksmith street?"
Aiden headed directly to Blacksmith Street.
When Aiden arrived at Blacksmith Street, it pulsed with life in a distinct way, as if it were the heart of the Iron Fortress city. The air there was saturated with the smell of burning metal and tanned leather, mixed with the scent of rising coal from the furnaces that never ceased. Along the street, the sound of hammers striking iron resonated harmoniously, like rough music reflecting the resilience of the workers. Heavy hammers struck anvils, creating sparks that danced in the air before quickly fading, leaving a fleeting glow that instilled awe in passersby.
On both sides of the street, blacksmith shops were scattered with their open doors, revealing dark interiors lit only by the orange flames from the forges. The workers, with their strong bodies and faces smeared with soot, moved without pause. Some heated the metals, while others bent and polished them, transforming raw blocks into weapons, armor, or everyday tools.
The smoke rising from the chimneys climbed into the sky, forming a light gray cloud that covered the street, giving it a mysterious appearance, as if this place were detached from the rest of the world. Yet, the street was bustling with activity: merchants calling out their goods, customers negotiating prices, and the sound of wooden cart wheels scraping against cobbled stones.
In the corners, young children could be seen helping carry tools or cleaning the workshops, while occasionally, mysterious figures in heavy cloaks passed by, looking for special deals or secret requests. There was always a sense that this street was not just a trading hub but a place where tools were forged that could change the fate of individuals—and perhaps the world itself.
Blacksmith Street was a center of organized chaos, where noise mixed with skill, sweat with iron, creating an unforgettable atmosphere full of strength and will. Aiden watched the scenes of life that pulsed around him as he walked through the street, looking left and right. The sound of iron hammering was rhythmic like a symphony crafted by the blacksmiths, but despite these vibrant scenes, he walked in a straight line toward his goal—becoming the future King of Blacksmiths. After walking for a while, he reached the end of the street and entered a small alley behind a blacksmith workshop.
Aiden stood before a dilapidated workshop, its walls covered with cracks that seemed ready to collapse at any moment, as if time had left its mark on it. The iron door was ajar, swaying gently with each breeze, as if it couldn't bear the weight of the years of neglect. The faint light that filtered from inside revealed the details of the place: the floor was covered with oil stains, and old tools were scattered here and there, some broken and others had lost their function. There was the pervasive scent of burnt metal and coal, filling the space with a feeling of desolation and ruin.
Inside the workshop, there was a small furnace glowing with low heat, casting a faint glow through the place. On the worn tables were scattered metallic pieces.